Weight Loss 4,000

If you've been following my blog (and if my comment section is any indication, no one is), you might remember a post I made back in May about my weight loss goal.  If you don't remember, and you're too lazy to click on the link and read that post, I stated the following:

As of right now [this was on May 2nd], I am down to 172 pounds...

...I still have a bit of a gut, so I still want to lose more weight. My goal is to get down to 155 by the end of the summer. I don't know if it's realistic or not, but I'll be happy if I can get close.

Well, being since today marks the official end of summer, I just thought I'd check in with my current weight.  I am down to 162 pounds, and even though it's not exactly where I want to be, I'm pretty happy to be where I'm at.  I have a long way to go though and I keep telling myself that too.

Now, I don't mean I have a long way to go in terms of my weight loss goal.  I'm pretty close on that.  What I mean is that staying in shape isn't something you accomplish once and then go back to being out of shape.  It's not something you cross off your bucket list and then go back to not exercising and eating whatever the hell you want all of the time.  If it's important to you, it's something that you have to work at your whole life. I plan on living for a very long time, so I still have a long way to go.

Some of you might be wondering what I'm doing to lose weight.  Well, here's my diet and exercise regimen:

Diet

I eat pretty much the same things every day for breakfast and lunch.  One of my biggest problems is that I'm a very picky eater, but it is also a strength in this case.  Since I don't like very many things, I don't really ever get tired of the things that I do like.  For breakfast, I have a bowl of cereal (usually either Kix, Cheerios or Apple Jacks) with 2% milk, a banana and a glass of orange juice.  In between breakfast and lunch, I usually eat an energy bar that is about 150 calories or so.  For lunch, I have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, either an apple or some grapes, an ounce of mozzarella string cheese and sometimes either pretzels or tortilla chips.  In between lunch and dinner, I always eat a protein bar and sometimes a handful of peanuts if I'm really hungry.

Dinner is always a wild card for me, but I almost always have a baked potatoes and either green beans or corn (because those are the only vegetables that I like).  Meat-wise, I eat chicken, pork chops, beef/pork roast, steak and hot dogs. Not all in one night of course, only one meat at a time (that's what she said?).  I also sometimes eat spaghetti and lasagna (again, on separate occasions).  After dinner, if I'm hungry, I sometimes eat some pretzels, a handful of peanuts or a fruit of some sort (like a banana, an apple or some grapes).  Oh, and once a week, I cheat on my so called diet and order a pizza, go out to a restaurant or do fast food.  I pretty much eat whatever I want though, I just have to limit myself on the amount that I consume and restrict myself to eating "bad" once a week.  It's not perfect, but it seems to be working pretty well for me so far.

Exercise

I started out, back in December of 2009, doing an easy program on the treadmill one time a day for 20 minutes (the program only went 4.5 MPH and was on a 1.5 incline).  In January of 2010, I did that same easy program once a day for 20 minuets.  In February, I did that same easy program and added another more difficult 30 minute program (the more difficult program went as fast as 6 MPH and the incline varied from 1.5 to 8.0).  In March, I started lifting weights with my dad twice a week and running on the treadmill, doing those same two programs, on my non-lifting days.  In April, I got one of those exercise balls and did that on occasion, although I don't do that much anymore (it just wasn't my thing).  In May and throughout the summer, I swam at least once a week in addition to everything else.

In June, I bought a set of those resistance tubes, which came with a DVD, and I added that to my weekly routine.  In July, my grandma and I bought an exercise bike and I replaced one of my two treadmill runs with a ride on that.  At the end of August, I started jogging outside once or twice a day, along with all of the other things that I do.  I don't know how long I'll be able to jog because winter is coming soon.  I don't mind running on the treadmill and riding the exercise bike once each a day, but I would hate doing it more than that.  I really enjoy the jogging, even though I don't go too fast, because it seems to curb my appetite after lunch and after dinner.  I guess I'll have to figure out what I'm going to do once the cold (and snow/ice) finally curtails my jogging.

My new goal is to stay around my current weight throughout the fall and winter.  It will be impossible to do any more exercising than I'm doing now because of the coming seasons.  In fact, I I'll probably be doing less exercising because I won't be able to go outside and jog anymore. I'll also be cooped up in the house a lot more, so the temptation of readily available food will be all around me.  Anyway, I'll check back in at the end of winter/beginning of spring to tell you, the non-existent reader, how I'm doing.  Until then, you stay classy, San Diego.

NFL Predictions

Here are my predictions for the 2010 NFL season.  I'm going to start with my local team, the Detroit Lions, then move on to the Lions' division, and then the AFC, NFC and Super Bowl championship games.

Detroit Lions schedule

at Chicago (Win)
vs Philadelphia (Loss)
at Minnesota (Loss)
at Green Bay (Loss)
vs St. Louis (Win)
at New York Giants (Loss)
vs Washington (Win)
vs New York Jets (Loss)
at Buffalo (Win)
at Dallas (Loss)
vs New England (Loss)
vs Chicago (Win)
vs Green Bay (Loss)
at Tampa Bay (Win)
at Miami (Loss)
vs Minnesota (Loss)

I'm going to state the obvious here.  The Lions' future hinges on the development of Matthew Stafford.  Will he end up another Joey Harrington?  That remains to been seen, but I don't think so.  He has to show marked improvement this year though because it usually doesn't take the good quarterbacks that long to develop anymore (see Matt Ryan and Joe Flaco).  My expectations for him this year are 3,500 yards, 20 touchdowns and 12 interceptions.  Now, I don't expect Stafford to ever be an elite-level quarterback like Drew Brees, Peyton Manning or Tom Brady.  I do, however, expect him to be in the next tier of quarterbacks that are good enough to lead their team to the playoffs year in and year out (and I expect that to happen as soon as next year).  That's where I'm at right now as a Lions' fan.  Just make the playoffs and build from there.  And hopefully, I'll get to see them win a Super Bowl before I die.  You've got about 50 years guys.  Make it happen!

About my prediction for the Lions though.  I've got them at 6-10.  I also have them winning three road games, which will be an amazing feat if you consider their recent road woes.  They haven't won a road game since October 28th, 2007 against the Chicago Bears.  Their current road losing streak stands at 20 games and I see that ending in week one against the Bears.  I'm not 100% confident with that pick, but I'm making it anyway.  I'm also not very confident about them winning in Buffalo either because it can be a tough place to play during the winter months (they play them there in the middle of November, so the weather could be a factor).  I'm still going to say that they are going to win that game too.  Their other four predicted wins, to borrow a basketball analogy, I see those as slam dunks.  I'm fairly confident in saying that they will beat St. Louis, Washington and Chicago at home and Tampa Bay on the road.  As for their ten loses, I really don't see much hope for a win in any of those ten games.  Maybe at home against Minnesota the last game of the year, if Minnesota has nothing to play for or if Favre's ankle falls off his body somehow before the game.  I guess I can maybe see them winning at Miami, but if I had to pick one game I have as a loss to be a win instead, I would go with that final game against Minnesota.

Okay, here is how I think the NFC North will look like at season's end:

NFC North standings

Packers (12-4)
Vikings (10-6)
Lions (6-10)
Bears (5-11)

Yes, the Lions will finally dig themselves out of the cellar of the division and move up one spot to third!  It's progress I tell you, progress!

Alright, moving on to my prediction for the AFC, NFC and Super Bowl championship games:

Championship Games

AFC: New York Jets vs Baltimore Ravens
NFC: New Orleans Saints vs Green Bay Packers
Super Bowl: New York Jets beat Green Pay Packers

So, that is my prediction for the 2010 NFL season.  It'll be interesting to look back on this to see how close or far away I was.  I hope I'm not too far off, but a lot can happen on any given Sunday.  Until next time, you stay classy, Detroit.

College Football Predictions

Here are my predictions for the upcoming Michigan and Michigan State college football season:

Michigan

vs Connecticut (Win)
at Notre Dame (Loss)
vs Massachusetts (Win)
vs Bowling Green (Win)
at Indiana (Win)
vs Michigan State (Loss)
vs Iowa (Loss)
at Penn State (Loss)
vs Illinois (Win)
at Purdue (Win)
vs Wisconsin (Loss)
at Ohio State (Loss)

That leaves them at 6-6, which would get them into a bowl game.  I don't think that will be enough to save Rich Rodriguez's job though, especially since he will have went 0-3 to the three biggest rivals if my prediction is correct.   The only two games I debated about were Notre Dame and Michigan State.  I really think those two games could go either way, but I just don't see Michigan winning either one.  I do, however, think they have a better chance of winning the Michigan State game because the Notre Dame game is on the road.  If they do that, I believe that will be enough to save Rich Rodriguez's job, but I honestly don't think that will happen.  Moving on to Michigan State's season.

Michigan State

vs Western Michigan (Win)
vs Florida Atlantic* (Win)
vs Notre Dame (Win)
vs Northern Colorado (Win)
vs Wisconsin (Loss)
at Michigan (Win)
vs Illinois (Win)
at Northwestern (Win)
at Iowa (Loss)
vs Minnesota (Loss)
vs Purdue (Win)
at Penn State (Loss)

*Game will be played at Ford Field

Notice that Michigan State's first seven games will be played in the state of Michigan.  That looks like a recipe for success to me.  If my prediction is correct, they will start out 6-1 and finish the season with an 8-4 record.  I debated about two games on the schedule and those two games were Michigan and Minnesota.  Michigan State always seems to lose a game or two that they shouldn't lose, so I could see them dropping at least one of those games (and I predict it's the Minnesota game). If I am not right about that though, and Michigan State loses to both Michigan and Minnesota, that will drop Michigan State to 7-5 and bump up Michigan's record to 7-5 (if everything else I predicted falls into place).

Well, that is my prediction for the two major teams in my area.  I don't expect to be right because a lot of things can and will change during the season, but there's a reason they are called predictions. You do it before the fact, not after, so I'm going to have to stick to them and try to learn from them until I do it again next season.

The Wedding Crashers

I went to a wedding today and had a very fun, and eventful, night.  In fact, I haven't had this much fun since Fender and Kelly's wedding night, which was about two and a half years ago.  I think more people I know need to get married, otherwise my life is extremely dull and boring.  Before I tell you why the night was so eventful though, I would just like to say congratulations to Michelle and Joe Szparaga.  May your days together be long and your nights just as pleasant.  Okay, now that that is out of the way, on with the evening!

The day started off innocently enough.  I arrived at Tina's Country House with my sister and my parents.  As we walked up to the building, I immediately saw Fender and Kelly.  I walked over and talked with them until the ceremony started.  The ceremony was held outside and it was very nice.  If I ever get married (which will probably never happen), I would like it to be outside as well.  Anyway, if you've ever been to a wedding before, you know the basic outline of the ceremony.  Various poetic things are said by the minister, some symbolic stuff is done, vows are exchanged by the bride and groom, more words are said, and then the I do's with the kiss at the end.  Basically, a process that should take all of five minute is dragged out to be a much longer ordeal (I'm kidding, of course).  It really wasn't that long, it only lasted about thirty minutes.  Someone told me that a traditional Catholic ceremony can last over two hours, so I think that thirty minutes is a nice compromise.  In any event, the most memorial part of the ceremony, at least for me anyways, was at the end.  When everything was said and done, the Star Wars theme played to usher everyone into the banquet hall, which was conveniently located right next to the outdoor ceremony (and that's another thing to keep in mind if I ever do get married, have the ceremony/reception right next to one another).  And in there, my friends, is where the fun really began.

I arrived at the banquet hall and found out that I had to go to table 11.  I asked myself, "why didn't they just make table 10 a little bigger?"  Then I thought, "no, these go to 11" and went to sit down at my table (you get 11 internets if you can guess the movie reference before clicking here).  Anyway, I sat down at table 11 with my sister, my parents, Fender and Kelly.  We had to wait a little while for the wedding party, they were off somewhere taking pictures.  When they finally came in, they stood in front of their table and the DJ requested that everyone go up and greet the wedding party.  Everyone got up, formed a line around the room, and went up to each person in the wedding party to greet them in whatever manner they deemed appropriate  (which I thought was a very nice touch to start off the reception).  Shortly after everyone got back to their seats, the best man and the bridesmaid gave their speeches.  I didn't know the bridesmaid, but she gave a wonderfully  heartfelt speech.  I did know the best man though, he was none other than Michael Pienta.  He started the speech off as if he was giving a eulogy for Joe, which got a laugh out of the crowd.  I don't remember much else about the speech, other than he ended it with "and may the force be with you."  I was tempted to shout "Knibb High football rules!" when he finished, but I didn't want to ruin the moment.  Pienta did a great job though, I didn't have the balls to give a speech at Fender and Kelly's wedding when I was the best man.

After the greetings and the speeches were over, we had dinner.  The dinner was very good, but one particular item caught my attention.  That item was the meatballs.  Now, I don't even like meatballs, so why would that particular item catch my attention?  Well, I jokingly said to my sister that it would be funny if she reenacted this scene with the aforementioned best man. Frankly, I should have known better because she did just that.  She told Pienta to close his eyes and put out his hands.  He did so and then she put the meatballs in his hands and said "I'm paying you in meatballs."  I don't know if he got the reference, but he took it like a champ.  He just walked away to dispose of the meatballs and clean off his hands.  That really surprised me though, I really thought that he was going to throw the meatballs back in her face or something.  That is why Pienta was the best man and he showed why right there.

After everyone got done eating, there was dancing, of course.  Now, I don't dance, so I stayed in my seat and talked to my sister, Fender and Kelly.  Fender, my sister and I debated on going over to the other wedding party and crashing that wedding, but I decided against it when I realized that I have no game whatsoever.  We did come up with a funny story though.  To make it seem like we were a part of that family, my sister came up with the idea of saying that we were distant cousins and then referencing an uncle (we'll call him Uncle So-and-so because I don't remember the name we were going to use).  To make her story seem more legit, I added "remember that game Uncle So-and-so used to play with us, the one where he told us to reach into his pocket to find the snake?"  So then my sister said, "yeah, and we never could get the snake to come out."  And then Fender said, "yeah, he told us it must have crawled down his leg!"  That story would have gotten us in for sure.  It was bulletproof, I tell you, bulletproof....

And now, we have finally reached the part that truly made this night unforgettable.  It is the crescendo, if you will, of my entire time spent at the wedding.  I don't think that I can ever top this at any wedding that I ever go to.  It is something that I will look back on and remember fondly for as long as I live.  Here's what happened.

Michelle just got done throwing the bouquet to some lucky girl.  Now it was Joe's turn to throw the garter to some single guy.  If you don't already know, whoever catches the garter has to do something with the girl who caught the bouquet.  Now, I am extremely shy, and I didn't think anyone would even notice if I didn't go up there, so I remained in my seat to watch this event unfold.  Joe (or was it Frank?), however, got on the microphone and called me out.  I wasn't going up though, so I stayed in my seat.  Well, Joe and Pienta started coming for me, so I got up and sprinted to the door.  As soon as I got outside, I ran as fast as my legs would go.  I heard Joe and Pienta behind me, but I didn't look back.  To quote Forrest Gump, "I was running."  All of a sudden, some guy came up on the left of me.  I thought, "how the hell did Joe or Mike catch up to me that quick?"  It wasn't Joe or Mike though.  It was some random guy, from the other wedding party, drinking a beer in the parking lot (for what reason, I don't know).  He was coming right for me, so I put a juke move on him that would have made Barry Sanders proud and faked him out.  His reaction to the fake out was to throw the liquid in his beer mug at me.  The liquid soaked the entire upper left side of my chest.  I started running again immediately after I got soaked, and I'm lucky that I did because then he threw his beer mug at me.  The beer mug hit me in the upper part of my back, but by then I was going close to full speed again, so it just barely grazed me.  I kept running after it hit me though because I didn't know what the guy was going to do next.

I didn't see this part, but Joe and Mike told me this.  They saw the guy throw the liquid at me and yelled out at him just before he was about to throw the mug.  After he threw the mug, they stopped him and asked him why he did that.  Well, I guess he thought that they were chasing me because I stole something from the wedding.  They set him straight on that though and then went back inside to finishing the throwing of the garter.  By the time I got back in, which was only about a few minutes later, it was over.  The garter had been thrown.  I successfully got out of the garter toss and now I have an interesting story to tell about how I did it!  I did have a small mark on my back where the mug hit me, but it didn't hurt very much.  No blood, no foul, is what I always say.  All in all, it was a really enjoyable night and I look forward to the next wedding that I attend.

Double Rainbow All the Way Across the Sky

YouTube is one of the greatest non-pornographic websites ever created. It provides hours upon hours of (mostly) mindless entertainment for me. Where else can you find a baby named Charlie biting fingers, a Lady named Gaga with those large, haunting, strangely seductive (wait, what?) eyes, and an inspirational comedian taking you through the evolution of dance with some mad moves. These three videos are among the top ten most viewed YouTube videos of all-time and three of my personal favorites.

The video I'm going to talk about today isn't in the top ten most viewed YouTube videos of all-time, yet. I have a feeling that one day though, not too far from now, it will be. If you have no idea which video I'm referring to, please click here to view it (and then please come back for some semi-professional analysis).

Now, before I break it down, I have three different theories about what was going on in the video:

1. The man was on some serious drugs and was, as the kids say, tripping balls over the double rainbow
   
2. The man has a rainbow fetish and was masturbating to the double rainbow
   
3. The man had a religious experience and saw God in the double rainbow
   

At first glance, each of these three theories is equally valid. In order to determine which theory is the most valid, I'm going to break the video down and assign the theory that best matches for each segment. So, without further delay, let's examine the tape, shall we?

The video starts off, innocently enough, with a man filming a double rainbow and describing it. From 0:24 to about the 0:49, he appears to be overcome with joy. He says "oh my god" several times and shouts various other exclamations of pleasure. This segment of the video could really be any one of the three theories. But being since I have never heard anyone even approach his reaction to a rainbow, I'm leaning more towards theory #1. I mean, sure, a double rainbow is twice as amazing as a single rainbow, but it's not that amazing. His reaction seems a little out of the ordinary, to put it mildly, so I'm going to have to go with theory #1 here.

At the 0:50 mark, he says "it's starting to even look like a triple rainbow." This is where I really question his mental state and think that he's on drugs. Unless the camera didn't capture it, I did not see a triple rainbow. And since he saw a triple rainbow that wasn't there, we can assume that he was on some type of drugs. Some people look at their hand and ask "have you ever really looked at your hand?" while on drugs. This guy, apparently, looks at "triple" rainbows. Score one more point for the early front-runner, theory #1.

Oh, and at the 0:57 mark, he first utters the words "double rainbow all the way across the sky". These words will forever live in infamy. That will be the man's catchphrase until the day he dies. I wouldn't be surprised if that was the epithet emblazoned on his gravestone. A song was even made centered around those very words (see this video), which further solidifies the phrase, and the video, as a YouTube sensation. Okay, that was just an interesting side note that requires no further analysis. Moving right along.

From 1:00 to 1:18, he appears to be crying. Shortly after the 1:18 mark, he asks "what does this mean?" This is clearly a statement asking someone what something means. And unless he was talking to his dog (who you'll hear later in the video), we can assume that he was addressing his question to God. Oddly enough, God is dog spelled backwards (and vice versa), so maybe they are one and the same? I really don't know, I don't know animals. Anyway, chalk this one up to theory #3.

At 1:20 until about 1:40, he makes several orgasmic noises, while also saying "it's so bright and vivid." You may think he's describing the rainbow with that statement. I, on the other hand, know better. Vivid Entertainment is the largest adult video producer in the world. Don't ask me how I know this, I just do. Suffice it to say that just like you can't sneak a piece of cheese by a rat, you can't sneak a pornographic reference by me. With that in mind, one can conclude that the man has a rainbow fetish and was masturbating to the double rainbow. Theory #2 finally gets some credence to it.

He begins crying again at 1:40 and doesn't let up much until shortly after the 3:00 mark. He says such things as "it's so beautiful" and "oh my god" over and over. He explores the metaphysical nature of it all again by asking "what does it mean?" and implores someone to "tell me what it means." The camera is also shaking a lot during this time period, so we can again come to multiple conclusions (it's hard to keep the camera steady when your other hand is doing some ungodly act, you know). But being since I don't know of anyone, besides myself, who cries while they masturbate, I'm going to have to discount theory #2 and go with theory #3 again.

His dog barks at the 3:04 mark, which could be God's way of telling him to get the fuck a hold of himself and stop crying over a stupid God damn double rainbow (that's how I interpreted it anyway). He seems to compose himself shortly thereafter, but he continues to breath heavily and makes several orgasmic noises until the conclusion of the video at the 3:30 mark. Before it ends though, he makes the remark of "it's so intense," which is something you would say after you have reached your climax, especially if you were narrating your own orgasm. That's something I need to put on my own bucket list, narrate my own orgasm (or better yet, have Morgan Freeman narrate it). Again, we have multiple conclusions that we can draw from this segment, but I'm leaning more towards theory #2 this time.

Well, it's been a long, strange trip, and we appear to be right back to where we started. If you were keeping score at home, you can see that we have a three-way tie (if you weren't keeping score at home, please pay better attention next time). So, which theory is the correct theory?

In my semi-professional opinion, he probably ate a full packet of skittles laced with acid, while masturbating into a bowl full of Lucky Charms with everything but the rainbow shaped marshmallows picked out (admit it, you did something similar as a kid, minus the masturbating part of it probably), and he thought he saw God in the double rainbow to justify his unsavory behavior. It really is that simple. Well, maybe not. I guess I'll just leave it to you to decide for yourself.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my breakdown of the Double Rainbow video. If not, I'll try to do better the next time. Until then, you stay classy, Detroit.

All Apologies

Dear non-existent reader,

I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while. My last blog entry kind of made me lose the will to blog, for whatever reason. I'm now over that though, which is a good thing for you (hopefully). I promise to never desert you like that again (maybe). I look forward to writing many more entries for your entertainment, even though you don't exist. It's kind of like when I was a kid and I played with my imaginary friend, Charlie. Sure, he didn't exist, but he let me put things up his butt. Wait, that came out wrong! I mean, he let me touch him in his naughty spots. Oh hell, I shouldn't have typed that either! Shit, my backspace key is broken! It looks like I'll have to leave all that. I hope that I don't make any more tpyos for the remainder of this post. Yes, that's what those were...typos. If you would be so kind though, please forget that I said anything about putting things up my imaginary friend's cornhole. The same goes for the part about touching his naughty places. Those were very confusing times that every child goes through. You probably experimented the same way yourself, right? Right?

Anyway, expect better blog entries from me in the future (this isn't one of them). And yes, I realize that better is a very subjective term. If my past is any indication, however, you're in for some real mediocrity. I like to set the bar low and then hit it out of the infield (I also like to mix my metaphors). I've been average all of my life and I don't intend to stop being average now. When I played Little League baseball, I was often times the ninth batter and right fielder. As you may or may not know, the ninth batter is typically your worst hitter and the right fielder is typically your worst fielder. I was both. And while some would argue that being the ninth batter and right fielder is far from average, I have this to say. I know you are but what am I? Yes, I just went Pee Wee Herman on you (that sounds kind of dirty). Deal with it.

So, what else could I say? Everyone is gay. What else could I write? I don't have the right. What else should I be? All apologies. In the sun, in the sun I feel as one. In the sun, in the sun. Married, buried.

Okay, that's all I have to say...for now. Until next time, you stay classy, San Diego.

Three Wise Men

As you may or may not know, I recently celebrated my 26th birthday on May 27th. The day after, a few of my friends took me out to the bar to celebrate my birthday. It was probably the most eventful birthday I've had in a long time, but it made me realize something. It made me realize that I'm not like most other people, especially people my own age. I'm seeing this more and more the older I get. You probably have no idea what I'm talking about though, so here is the story.

My friends Frank, Joe, Allen and Mike took me out to a bar for my 26th birthday. Now, I can count on one hand the number of times I've been in a bar, and the same can be said for the number of times I've ever drank alcohol, so I didn't plan on drinking at all that night. My friends, however, had other ideas. I told them though, over and over again, that I didn't want to drink for various reasons (chief among them being I didn't have the money). These protests fell on deaf ears though. "It's your birthday," Joe said, "you have to drink," so I finally relented to the peer pressure and let him buy me a shot. Well, that was a mistake I'll never make again. Since Joe bought me a shot, I could hardly refuse when another friend offered to buy me a "birthday" shot. It would be rude of me to refuse. So, I ended up having to drink four or so shots of unknown potencies (no one would tell me what was in them).

After that, Joe pulled another fast one and told a guy we both knew, named Chad, that it was my birthday. Chad then offered to buy me a shot called "Three Wise Men." I had no idea what was in it, but I couldn't refuse a shot from Chad. You see, Chad is one bad ass mother fucker (and if you somehow come across this Chad, I mean that in the best way possible). I used to play Little League baseball with Chad, and he got kicked off our team because he nearly got into a fight with an umpire. We were like 11 or 12, and he almost came to blows with a grown man. And if our coach didn't hold him back, there is no doubt in my mind who would have won that fight. Chad would have beaten that man to a pulp. So, as you can see, Chad made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Luckily for me though, someone decided to sing "Street Fighting Man" on karaoke, so a bar fight broke out shortly thereafter. I didn't see who was involved in it, but it wouldn't surprise me at all if it was Chad. Anyway, that fight saved me from drinking a "Three Wise Men" which, looking up the ingredients right now, was probably a good thing. I thank the karaoke gods for that!

Okay, so what's the point? I know it took me a really long time to get to it, but here it is. I realized that night, more than ever before, that I don't like to drink alcohol. I don't like the feeling it gives me. I never have and probably never will. Now, don't get me wrong, this isn't some moral crusade against drinking. I have no problem with other people who drink, as long as they do so responsibly. I just don't want to be a part of it. And I know that makes me super lame, and I know that it isolates me from the vast majority of people my own age, but I can't help how I feel. Drinking just isn't for me.

Anyway, if you made it this far, thank you for taking the time out of your busy day to read this. I'll try next time to have a better blog entry than this. This was just something that has been bothering me a lot lately, so I felt the need to write it down.

Happy Birthday To Me!

I have a tradition every year on this date. I stay up until 1:05 AM. Why 1:05 AM, you ask? It seems like a pretty random time to stay up until. Well, at 1:05 AM on May 27, 1984, I was born. I'm not sure how many people know the exact time of their birth, and I'm not even sure how accurate the time of birth is on your birth certificate, but I stay up until 1:05 AM just the same. I've been doing it for as long as I can remember, and this year was no different. I guess I'm lucky I wasn't born at some ungodly hour, like 4:30 AM. That would be a bitch to stay up for that.

Anyway, I have nothing else to say really. I'm going to my favorite restaurant, Outback Steakhouse, for my birthday. I've been there twice already this past week. I wish people would space out my birthday dinners a little more. I would prefer to go once every four months or so, instead of going three times in the span of seven days. I guess you can't look a gift cow in the mouth, or something. And it's also important to remember that people in glass houses sink ships. And a penny saved is worth two in the bush. And don't cross the road if you can't get out of the kitchen.

Okay, I would just like to leave you with a fun fact. Well, it's probably not that fun, but it is a fact! I was born on May 27, 1984. My sister was born on October 9, 1985. My brother was born on April 18, 1992. What do those three dates have in common? If you know your times tables, you will soon see the connection. The numbers 9, 18 and 27 are the first three multiples of nine. I wish I was better at math myself. If I was, I could figure out the odds of that happening to three siblings. Probably one out of a million (so you're telling me there's a chance). Ten internets goes to the first person who can tell me what movie that last line is from.

Well, that's all I have to say for now. You stay classy, San Diego!

Phrases I Can't Stand: I Could Care Less

Yo Beyonce, I'm really happy for you, I'mma let you finish, but Freddie Mercury had one of the best usages of the phrase "I couldn't care less" of all-time.

Well, I'm pretty sure you have no idea what I'm talking about (do you ever?). Let me direct your attention to the following lyrics:

Single Ladies by Beyonce

I got gloss on my lips, a man on my hips
Got me tighter in my Dereon jeans
Acting up, drink in my cup
I can care less what you think

Before I go on, I have just one question. What the hell is up with that glove Beyonce is wearing in the above video? Did Darth Vader cut off her hand or something? Okay, moving right along....

Killer Queen by Queen

Perfume came naturally from Paris
For cars she couldn't care less
Fastidious and precise
She's a killer...

If you still don't know what I'm talking about, notice the italicized words above. The phrase I can't stand here is "I could care less." The correct usage is "I couldn't care less," which is present in the lyrics sung by Freddie Mercury.

Okay, so why is saying "I could care less" incorrect? If Beyonce sung it, why isn't it good enough for me? Well, since a picture is worth a thousand words, I made one to help illustrate why it's so very very wrong (click the picture to make it larger):



I'll give you a moment to pick up your jaw off the ground as you marvel over my mad Paint skillz. Okay, so you're done marveling? Good! Make sure your jaw is in place before reading on. I wouldn't want a lawsuit or anything....

The line above represents your amount of caring. The two extremes denote the points at which you couldn't care less or more. At any point on the line, with expectations at the extremes, you could care less or more.

When you say "I could care less," you're leaving yourself open to interpretation. By saying "I could care less," you aren't exactly indicating how much you really care. After all, you could be near the couldn't care more extreme and still rightly say "I could care less." Likewise, you could be near the couldn't care less extreme and still rightly say "I could care less." The amount that you really care is dependent on which extreme you're closer to when saying "I could care less."

If you don't understand that, don't worry (I sometimes even question if I understand myself). What's coming next will be much easier to understand . When you say "I couldn't care less," there is no room for interpretation at all. You couldn't care less. By saying "I couldn't care less," you are leaving absolutely no doubt how much you really care. You couldn't care less. You're expressing yourself clearly and distinctly, which is very important to avoid confusion.

I'd like to now use another example to further illustrate my point. There is another phrase out there that is very similar to "I could care less." And just like the phrase "I could care less," people use it incorrectly all of the time. That phrase is "I could give two shits."

But why is it incorrect to use this phrase in that way? Well, let's just say, for the sake of argument, that you could give two shits. Maybe you had a lot of fiber in your diet today and could give three, four, five shits (am I the only one who thought of the Count from Sesame Street when I read that?). If you could give two shits, there's always the potential that you could give more shits. Or maybe you've been shitting while reading Dr. Seuss and you're seeing one shit, two shit, red shit, blue shit. I don't know, I'm not inside your bathroom, but you really should go see a doctor if you're experiencing red or blue shits.

Anyway, the point is, the more shits that you can give, the more that you care (I'm not going to torture you with another diagram here, you can thank me for that later). So, instead of saying "I could give two shits," you should say "I couldn't give two shits." By doing so, you are letting everyone know the actual amount that you care, not even two shits worth. You couldn't even be bothered to shit twice, that's how much you really care. And because you couldn't even shit twice, you're telling everybody that you couldn't care less. Isn't it great when everything comes full circle? Speaking of things coming full circle, excuse me while I go to the bathroom and take a...never mind.

Okay, I'm back. And since I don't want to come across as a snooty elitist semantical bastard, I'm going to end this post with the following caveat:

Disclaimer: When it comes to the English language, I am not always fastidious and precise (I'm also not dynamite with a laser beam, nor am I guaranteed to blow your mind). I am also not some Grammar Nazi, who looks down on people who don't use the proper grammar. I don't go around shouting "nein, nein, nein!" whenever I see or hear someone misusing the English language. I'm 100% certain that if a person with an English major ever read this blog or heard me talk, they would have a lot of correcting to do. I am by no means a cunning linguistic (in more ways than one), nor am I perfect in my usage of the English language, and I realize that I have a lot of room for improvement. I believe, however, that just about everyone has the potential to improve their linguistical skills (including me). But how else are you going to improve your skills if you don't even know that you're making an error? That was my main intention while writing this post (I also hope that it was somewhat entertaining to read). I just wanted to point out a common mistake among users of the English language, in hopes that at least one person reads this and realizes the error of their ways.

And even if you don't realize the error of your ways, well...that's fine too. Just don't be too terribly surprised if the Grammatical Gestapo pay you a visit tonight. What's that, you say? You thought that I said I wasn't a Grammar Nazi? Well, I did, but I never said that I wasn't a member of the Grammatical Gestapo. So, if you value your life, stop using the offending phrases above.

Oh, and in before the comment of "I could care less about this post." Hell, who am I kidding? Nobody will read or comment on this! Good day, sir!

Spacebook

I wrote a post, about five months ago, describing a few of the funny things that my grandma has said and done over the past few years (if you care to read it, click here). In that post, I also said that I would type more when I had the time because that was just the tip of the iceberg. I'm here today to present more of those Gram-isms, as I call them, for your viewing pleasure. Well, you might not find them as funny as I do, but that's pretty much par for the course when it comes to my blog entries. Anyway, today's episode of "Seniors Say the Darndest Things" centers around the bane of senior existence, the arch nemesis of the modern day senior citizen, the most difficult topic for the elderly to understand: Technology!

Okay, the first one I'm going to talk about didn't happen recently to my grandma, so it didn't technically involve a senior. It's not really that funny either, but it does set the stage for all of my grandma's future dealings with technology. It's the Rosetta stone, if you will, that shows you the first known clash of my grandma and technology. It's your classic example of a misinterpretation of technology by an older individual. After this happened to my grandma, I wouldn't have been surprised if she gave up on technology altogether. She didn't though, which just goes to show you her determination and perseverance. On with the story!

When my grandma got her first ever computer, about 15 years ago, she performed an illegal operation on it and freaked out. If you don't already know, a box pops up whenever you perform an illegal operation on a computer, which can be easily closed out of (just click close or the X). So, an illegal operation is nothing to worry about, it's just the computer's way of telling you that you performed an error. To use the technical term, it's just something that you did that doesn't feng with the shui of the computer. To my grandma, however, it meant something much much worse. To her, it was as if she robbed a bank or something else against the law. She called up my dad immediately, and told him to take the computer, because she thought that they were going to take away her nursing license. Luckily for her, and for us, my dad calmed her down and talked her into keeping the computer. Otherwise, the rest of this post probably would never have happened.

Which brings me to my next story. About a year ago, my grandma got her first ever cellphone with texting capabilities. Soon after that, my grandma texted my teenage cousin, Sara, the following message: "be sure to have Jim show you how to shit." For those of you wondering, Jim is Sara's brother (they are twins). And even though they're twins, they don't shit together, so why would my grandma text that to Sara? Well, my grandma loaned Sara her laptop, and she was trying to make sure Jim showed Sara how to shut it off. She meant to text this: "be sure to have Jim show you how to shut off the laptop." If you look at your keyboard right now, or if you know the keyboard really well, you can see how she made that mistake. She hit the i key, when she really meant to hit the u key. Now, a typo normally isn't a problem for those of us with younger eyes. When you're a senior, however, you sometimes hit the send key, when you actually mean to hit the backspace key and correct your error. That's what happened to my grandma. Little did she know, the texting world is fraught with typos, but none as hilarious as that one.

The next story also involves cellphones. My grandma once left the following message on my sister's voice mail: "be sure to come over tomorrow and pick up some hobo stool" (I'm paraphrasing here, I don't remember the exact wording of the message). If you're unsure of what hobo stool could possibly mean, let me clarify it for you. My grandma actually meant to say hobo stew. It's something that my grandma makes after she cooks a roast. I'm not exactly sure what's in it, other than beef/pork, potatoes and carrots, but both my sister and grandma love it. Personally, I don't like it because I like to eat my foods separately, not all mixed together (I'm weird like that, sue me). Oh, and before you say, "maybe she really did say hobo stew, it just got cut off in the voice message and sounded like hobo stool." Well, I'm here to tell you that that wasn't the case. I was in listening distance when she left that message, so I heard her say hobo stool as clear as a bell. And I know that those kind of things happen to everyone, but not as frequently as they happen to my grandma.

Okay, the next one has to do with the Comcast cable company. Recently, my grandma has been having a lot of problems with her cable service, especially her television. So, she called up the phone number, 1-800-Comcast, expecting to talk to a customer service representative. Well, her expectations were not met. Ben Stein answered her call by saying, "Hello, this is Ben Stein..." (or something to that effect). She then hung up the phone, thinking that she dialed the wrong number (and she did this multiple times). For those of you who don't know, Comcast currently promotes their service with Shaq and Ben in their commercials, so I guess they used to play a recording of Ben Stein whenever you called their number. I called the above number, just now, and they no longer have that recording (probably because it confused the hell out of people). So, while I do agree that this is something that could happen to anyone, those kind of things seem to happen to my grandma all of the time.

Okay, this last one is how I got the title of this post. When talking to my friend Joe and me last week, my grandma referred to Facebook as Spacebook. She must have overheard us talking about it and thought that we said Spacebook instead of Facebook. Well, I told my brother this today, and he pointed out to me that it is a combination of MySpace and Facebook, which is something I didn't think of. I just figured that since space and face rhyme, that's probably how she got it. Now that my brother pointed that out to me though, I think that my grandma might be on to something. This could be the next billion dollar idea for a social networking site. Just think of the possibilities. Spacebook: Step into the future of social networking! It sounds so hip and futuristic, which is what the kids go for these days. I hope nobody reads this and steals my idea....

I'm going to end this post the same way that I ended my previous post about my grandma. I know that it sort of sounds like I'm making fun of my grandma, but I'm not. I love her to death. She is one of the few people that can make me laugh on a consistent basis. She even says to me that she's glad she can bring so much joy into my life by saying and doing these things. She won't be around forever, but the memories she has given me will last for as long as I live.

The man, the myth, the legend...

Ernie Harwell.

Some people wear Superman pajamas. Superman wears Ernie Harwell pajamas.

Ernie Harwell, the legendary Detroit Tigers broadcaster, died on Tuesday. He will be deeply missed by many many people from the sate of Michigan. Personally, I'm not sad that he died (although I will miss him). He died at the age of 92, so he lived a long and fulfilling life. And I'm sure he was in a lot of pain because of the cancer. I'm glad that his suffering is at an end and he is finally at peace.

I'm sorry to say that I don't have any vivid memories of listening to Ernie Harwell as a kid. I am only 25 years old, so my window with Ernie as the Detroit Tigers' radio broadcaster was very short. In addition to that, I never really listened to the baseball games on the radio. I usually watched them on television, so my first introduction to Ernie Harwell was in 1994. I don't exactly remember when I started getting into baseball, but it was in 1994 that I started paying attention to it somewhat. What a year to start liking baseball, the year in which there was a strike! I remembered being really disappointed about that, and I also remember my excitement when play finally resumed the following year. And I like to think that Ernie Harwell was a big part of fostering that excitement for baseball.

Anyway, this post isn't about me, it's about Ernie Harwell. Mr. Harwell was truly a great man. I never had the privilege to meet him, but I've heard many great stories on the radio these past few days from those who did. From what I gathered from these stories, Ernie Harwell was the kind of guy that never had a bad day and never had a bad thing to say about anyone. He was the kind of guy that could and would talk to anyone. He invited numerous strangers into his house, just to chat about baseball and the many interesting stories of his life. Not only that, and I don't know this for a fact or anything, but he probably answered all the fan mail he ever received. There was this one story in which a lady wrote to Ernie and asked him to autograph some pictures. The problem was, she forgot to send the pictures along with the note! Ernie, being the stand-up guy that he was, personally called this woman and told her of her mistake. He could have just said, "screw it, this woman didn't enclose any pictures, I'm just going to forget about it." He didn't though, he actually called her and told her to send another letter with the pictures enclosed and that he would be happy to send them back autographed. What kind of guy does that? I'll tell you what kind of guy does that, a man of the people.

Ernie Harwell was a man of the people and he will be missed by more people than most of us can comprehend. That is why it saddened me to hear about what some of those people, people who claim to have loved him, did to him and his family yesterday at his public viewing in Comerica Park. Some people were actually taking pictures of him in his open casket. Some people even stood next to his open casket and had their picture taken by someone else. To me, that is one of the most disrespectful things you could ever do to the man and his family. Why would someone do such a thing? Just to say that you were there? Well, I'm sorry to tell you this, but it isn't about you. You being there has no significance whatsoever. The viewing was about Ernie Harwell, not you, and you people desecrated it by acting like a bunch of fool asses.

And I know that if the family didn't want pictures taken, they would have had the cameras confiscated or banned from the viewing. It isn't about that though, it's about respect for the deceased. I don't care how famous the person was, you don't take a picture of a dead person in a casket. Unless that dead person is a close relative of yours, you have no right to take a picture of the person. Even then, I would never do it, but I don't begrudge the people who have done it. Ernie Harwell was not a close relative of any of you. And don't hand me the bullshit excuse that you took the picture to remember him by. There are plenty of pictures, especially on the Internet, to remember him by. Go to fucking Google images and search Ernie Harwell. See all those pictures that popped up? Those are great pictures to remember him by, not some lame ass picture of you standing next to his casket. And I pray to Zeus that you weren't smiling in those pictures. Valhalla help you, if you were. That's not what I call living the high life, not at all. You people need to be served a big old platter of common sense. You should all be ashamed of yourselves.

In closing, I would just like to say a final goodbye to Mr. Harwell (even though he would much rather say hello). I hope to become half the man you were and I hope to live a life a tenth as fulfilling as the life you lead. And even though you're long gone, you'll never be far from my heart.

I started this post with his name. I'm going to end it with his words. This is a quote from the man himself, closing his final broadcast in 2002:

"It's time to say goodbye, but I think goodbyes are sad and I'd much rather say hello. Hello to a new adventure. I'm not leaving, folks. I'll still be with you, living my life in Michigan, my home state, surrounded by family and friends. And rather than goodbye, please allow me to say thank you. Thank you for letting me be part of your family. Thank you for taking me with you to that cottage up north, to the beach, the picnic, your work place and your backyard. Thank you for sneaking your transistor under the pillow as you grew up loving the Tigers. Now, I might have been a small part of your life, but you've been a very large part of mine. And it's my privilege and honor to share with you the greatest game of all."

The Smoking Ban

On May 1st, at 6 AM, Michigan became the 38th state to ban smoking in public places, such as bars and restaurants. The following is a reenactment of how it went down. This is from the perspective of an army of smokers outside of the bar, Buzzkillington's, in Michigan (a bar in which Governor Granholm overlooks, unseen, from a turret):

Sons of Michigan! I am William Wallace.

William Wallace is seven feet tall!

Yes, I've heard. Smokes cigarettes by the hundreds. And if he were here, he'd consume Governor Granholm with fireballs from his eyes, and bolts of lightning from his arse.

*The group of smokers laugh...and cough, while continuing to chuckle*

No, that's Ben Wallace you're thinking of. I am William Wallace! And I see a whole army of my statesmen, here in defiance of tyranny. You've come to smoke as free men...and free men you are. What will you do with that freedom? Will you fight?

*A chorus of no's erupt from the crowd of smokers, clearly fearful for their lives*

Fight? Against that? No! We will run home. And we will smoke there.

Aye, fight and you may die. Run home, and you'll smoke...at least a while. And dying from cancer, many months from now, would you be willing to trade all the days, from this day to that, for one chance, just one chance, to come back here and tell Governor Granholm that she may take our smokes, but she'll never take our freedom!

Smokers Forever!

That's pretty much how it happened on May 1st. True story. You...you don't believe me? Well, why don't you check out this footage and then tell me I'm lying. Oh, that's from a movie, you say? I guess there's no denying that, you've got me there. It is a scene, featuring William Wallace, from the movie Braveheart.

And like William Wallace, smokers in present day Michigan feel like they are being oppressed. They feel like they are being unjustly treated and they are mad about it. Well, if you're mad about the smoking ban, I can understand your anger. You had something and somebody took it away from you. It's like that time, when you were a little kid, and a friend got really mad at you and took his ball and went home. I can see how that would be frustrating. I really can.

I'm here to tell you, however, that you don't have the right to smoke wherever you want to. Think of your right to smoke like your right to freedom of speech. You have the right to say whatever you want to whomever you want, unless you infringe upon other people's rights. For example, you can't yell fire in a movie theater (unless there's a fire, of course). If you do that, you are posing a risk to all those other people in the movie theater. You are endangering not only your own life, but the life's of those other people. Your right to smoke is analogous to that. You can smoke wherever you want, whenever you want to, unless you infringe upon other people's rights. When you smoke around other people, you are posing a health risk to them. You are endangering not only your own life, but the lives of those around you. So, you see, you're infringing on other people's rights when you smoke around them.

I know it's hard sometimes to realize that other people have rights too, especially when you feel like you're being wronged. Just remember, non-smokers have rights too and smokers' rights are not more important than non-smokers' rights. Now, you may be asking why non-smokers' rights trump smokers' rights in the case of the smoking ban. That is a fair question to ask. What we have here is a conflict of rights, so whose rights are more important then? The side that is willingly pumping toxic fumes into their body, or the side that is unwillingly breathing in those fumes? Well, when you are dealing with a severe health risk like we are here, I think most rational people would agree that the side that is subjected to those fumes is being treated unfairly. Their rights are being infringed upon the most. It's not fair for non-smokers to be subjected to smoke, which is why Michigan has the smoking ban in bars and restaurants now. And remember, Michigan is the 38th state to do this. We're way behind the curve here. Other states have had the smoking ban for years, and most of those states have found that it doesn't have an adverse effect on the businesses of bars and restaurants (in fact, business improves in some cases).

And even if business stays the same or slightly decreases, the health of the bar and restaurant employees is just as important a reason for the smoking ban. Think of the employees of those establishments like you would the technician who X-rays your teeth when you go to the dentist. Don't you sometimes wonder why the technician goes behind a wall, and leaves you with just a lead vest for protection? It's like, gee thanks, you're behind a wall of solid concrete, and you're leaving me with what amounts to a sweater vest? If the god damn sweater vest is good enough to protect me, why isn't it good enough to protect you? When you come back in the room to put another X-ray strip in my mouth, I hope you bring protection for your fingers because I'm going to bite those fuckers off! I'm kidding, of course. The reason the technician does what they do is a simple matter of numbers. The technician doing your X-rays doesn't just do your X-rays, they probably do hundreds of X-rays a week (and thousands a year). If they stayed in the same room with you, wearing the same lead vest you do, they would be exposed to that radiation 100+ times a week. You're only exposed to it one day out of the year, so that amount of radiation isn't dangerous to you. That amount of radiation could be lethal if you were exposed to it as often as the X-ray technician would be if they didn't have that wall though. By the same token, the employees of bars and restaurants aren't just exposed to your smoke. They are exposed to your smoke, and everyone else who smokes, for all of the hours that they work. The amount of smoke that they breath in from you probably isn't dangerous, but it becomes dangerous when you consider the amount of smoke from each person who smokes throughout the day. So, the smoking ban is like the wall that protects the X-ray technician. It's there to protect the employees of bars and restaurants from the dangers of continuous second hand smoke exposure.

If I haven't convinced you of the merits of the smoking ban by now, I'll never convince you. And I know that most of you smokers out there are still mad, even after reading the above. Some of you are even pissed off to the point where you think that one of your fundamental freedoms is being taken away from you. You probably see the smoking ban as a "slippery slope" towards more freedoms being taken away by the government. I'm not here to change your mind if you think that, but I have a suggestion for you. Take a deep breathe and relax. I know it's hard to relax, especially when you haven't had a cigarette within the last five minutes because of the smoking ban, but just take a deep breathe and relax for me. Are you relaxed yet? Okay, good. Now take off that silly ass tin foil hat. Oh, and just to be safe, better remove all of your fillings too. We wouldn't want the CIA picking up anything I'm about to say, after all. Alright, are you ready to level with me now? Great, grand, wonderful! The government isn't out to get you. Your sky isn't falling. The world isn't ending. You won't wake up tomorrow, living in Soviet Russia, where cigarettes smoke you! It will all be okay. And if it makes you feel any better, go write a strongly worded letter to your congressperson. Or failing that, go have another cigarette, just make sure it isn't in a bar or restaurant in Michigan!

Thank you, Detroit, and good night!

You bastard...who is fat

I experienced something this weekend that I never want to go through again. Before I talk about that though, I need to provide a backstory. Here it is, for your reading pleasure (or displeasure, I'm not here to tell you how to feel as you read).

Just about all my life, I've been the proper weight. Not skinny or anything, but the right weight for my height (I'm about 5' 6"). However, within the last three years, a certain life circumstance has caused me to gain quite a bit of weight. I don't want to get too personal here, mostly because I don't think other people care about my problems (they have their own to worry about after all) and partly because it would take a little while to explain, but I had (and still have, to a certain degree) a severe case of depression, along with a few other problems. I've always had these problems, off and on, for as far back as I can remember. A work related stress escalated these problems into full gear though, about three years ago, and that's when the weight gain began.

When I was skinnier, I weighed about 150 pounds. I never really paid much attention to my weight back then, so I don't know for sure, but it was around 150 pounds or so. About six months ago, I weighted as much as 195 pounds. In less than a three year period, I gained 45 pounds (that's roughly 15 pounds a year, for those of you who are mathematically challenged). Part of the reason I gained so much weight was a certain depression medication I was on (it caused me to feel hungry all of the time). I don't blame the medication solely, it was mostly my fault. I didn't show any self restraint and I didn't exercise at all, so I was more to blame than the medication.

It doesn't really matter how I got fat though. What matters is, I was a fat bastard, and there was someone I had to get in touch with and forgive...myself. I had to stop feeling sorry for myself and start doing something about it. So, last December, I decided to run on the treadmill once a day. I started off slow and worked my way up. I missed four of five days of the treadmill around Christmas, but I didn't let that discourage me (like I normally would). In January, I gave up drinking pop and kept running on the treadmill, even though I missed a week of it because I was sick. In February, I started to run on the treadmill twice a day. In March, I started weightlifting with my dad, along with running on the treadmill twice a day on most of the days I didn't lift weights. In April, I got one of those exercise balls and I do that on occasion. May just started and I plan on swimming in the pool once it gets nicer. On most days, I feel like nothing will stop me from getting back to a more proper weight (I still have plenty of self doubting days though).

As of right now, I am down to 172 pounds. Somehow, I fit into most of my old pants, even though I'm probably 20 pounds heavier than when I last wore them. Everyone tells me that muscle weighs more than fat, but that sounds like one of those cliches to me. It's like that trick question, what weighs more, a pound of feathers or a pound of steel? The answer is, of course, they both weigh the same. In any event, I still have a bit of a gut, so I still want to lose more weight. My goal is to get down to 155 by the end of the summer. I don't know if it's realistic or not, but I'll be happy if I can get close.

Anyway, enough of the backstory. What I really wanted to talk about is this. On Saturday (yesterday), my mom and dad celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary. We threw a party for them, at a hall, and about 70 people showed up. I knew most of the people who came and they knew me. Not all of them knew me in both weight classes of my life, but some of them did. Most of the ones who did commented on how much weight I've lost. The first few who made these comments didn't bother me that much, but as the night went on, I got more and more annoyed. It became awkward for me. It was kind of like that Big Boy commercial, where the fat guy tickles Big Boy, and then Big Boy tells him he's not ticklish, but the guy keeps tickling him anyway. That's what it was like for me, I was tired of people pointing out my weight loss, even though most of them weren't rude about it (although some were). And I'm sure most of the people were just trying to make conversation, not trying to annoy me. By the end of the night though, I was tired of being tickled.

After last night, I've come to the realization that I never want to go through that again. I'm going to turn that negative experience into a positive and use it to motivate me to lose more weight. When I was younger, I never had to work at staying the proper weight. I ate whatever I wanted and rarely exercised. Now, I have to work at it, so I need all the motivation I can get. I'm going to think back to that night every day and use it to keep me going. When I wake up in the morning, and don't feel like exercising, I'm going to think back to that night. When I get a craving for something I shouldn't eat, I'm going to remember that night. Any time that I feel like I can't do it anymore, I'm going to recall that night. That night will be my rallying cry, from now until forevermore (I always wanted to use forevermore in a sentence).

Well, that's all I've got to say about that. If you made it this far, thanks for reading. And until next time, you stay classy, San Diego.

Lady Gaga broke my heart...

'cause I couldn't dance. She didn't even want me around. And now I'm back, to let her know, I can really shake 'em down. Oh, and I would also like to let her know that she broke my computer and I'm sending her the repair bill. How did she break my computer, you ask? Please read on to find out.

Without getting too technical here, my computer is currently out of commission. I'm not 100% sure what's wrong with it at this point, but I think I've narrowed it down to two things. Either a) the video card is fried, or b) Lady Gaga broke my computer. The more logical answer is, of course, the video card is toast. However, when the only thing you've been doing differently on the computer is listening to Lady Gaga ad nauseam the past few days, you start to question your judgment (and possibly your sanity).

So, to Lady Gaga, I would just like to say this. I don't know what I did to deserve your wrath. I figured that the restraining order you issued was punishment enough for me. I wanted your love, but I didn't realize your revenge would be breaking my computer. And I know we've had our differences in the past. You like to play poker, I like to play euchre. You want one's ugly and disease, whereas I prefer a beautiful disease-free experience. I enjoy it when you're bluffin' with your muffin, but not so much when you're stunnin' with your love-glue-gunning. I'm still your biggest fan, despite of all that, and I'll follow you until you love me. Pa-pa...well, you know how the rest goes.

I guess...what I'm trying to say is...I'm sorry. I don't know how I'm going to make it up to you, but I think I have an idea. I'm going to dedicate a song to you, Lady Gaga. So, without further ado, here is my version of Lola by the Kinks:

I met her in a club down in old Soho
Where you drink champagne and it tastes just like cherry cola
C-O-L-A cola

She walked up to me and she asked me to dance
I asked her her name and in a dark brown voice she said, "Gaga"
G-A-G-A Gaga
Ga ga ga ga Gaga

Well, I'm not the world's most physical guy
But when she squeezed me tight, she nearly broke my spine
Oh my Gaga
Ga ga ga ga Gaga

Well, I'm not dumb, but I can't understand
Why she walked like a woman, but talked like a man
Oh my Gaga
Ga ga ga ga Gaga
Ga ga ga ga Gaga

Well, we drank champagne and danced all night
Under electric candle light
She picked me up and sat me on her knee
And said "Dear boy, won't you come home with me?"

Well, I'm not the world's most passionate guy
But when I looked in her eyes
Well, I almost fell for my Gaga
Ga ga ga ga Gaga
Ga ga ga ga Gaga
Gaga ga ga ga ga Gaga
Ga ga ga ga Gaga

I pushed her away
I walked to the door
I fell to the floor
I got down on my knees
Then I looked at her and she at me

Well, that's the way that I want it to stay
And I always want it to be that way for my Gaga
Ga ga ga ga Gaga

Girls will be boys and boys will be girls
It's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world
Except for Gaga
Ga ga ga ga Gaga

Well, I left home just a week before
And I never ever kissed a woman before
But Gaga smiled and took me by the hand
And said "Dear boy, I'm gonna make you a man"

Well I'm not the world's most masculine man
But I know what I am and I'm glad I'm a man
And so is Gaga
Ga ga ga ga Gaga
Ga ga ga ga Gaga
Gaga ga ga ga ga Gaga
Ga ga ga ga Gaga...

If I was a lyrical genius of parody, like Weird Al, I could do more than just change the "lo" to "ga" and Lola to Gaga. Sadly, I'm not. Maybe I'll try another day, but that's all I have time for right now. Thank you and good night!

Cuckoo for Gaga Puffs

Is it weird that I think the song Bad Romance, by Lady Gaga, is about me? I mean, it's not even really me who thinks that. It's a friend of mine, actually. Yes, a friend of mine...he thinks that the song Bad Romance is about him. He has had it playing, on a permanent loop no less, for the past week. So, is it odd that my friend is currently infatuated with Lady Gaga? Why does this matter, you ask? Well, if you aren't hip to what the kids are saying these days, you might not know why. Please read on to find out.

The word on the street is that Lady Gaga is a hermaphrodite. I have no idea if this is true or not, it is just a rumor after all. If it is true though, my friend has a perplexing conundrum on his hands. What should he do about his desires? Should he confess his undying love for Lady Gaga, or should he just keep it to himself? He doesn't even really know what a bad romance with Lady Gaga entails anyway. I mean, how would it work? She's a hermaphrodite...would she like, have to tuck it, or something? And being a hermaphrodite and all, what does she prefer? Without getting too graphic here, does she prefer muffins or sausage for breakfast, if you know what I'm saying? How about for lunch, a tuna or salami sandwich, if you catch my drift? Or for dinner, does she like a particular variety of cock or maybe some clams, if you see my meaning? How about dessert...okay, I'll stop there. The crème brûlée would probably leave a bad taste in her mouth anyway.

My friend is looking for any and all advice you may have for him. This is a question of a 21st century man living in gender confused times. It is a question that is very near and dear to my friend's heart and mind (and maybe some other body part that I'm not at liberty to mention). It is a question you might be asking yourself right now, if you're a fan of Lady Gaga (and maybe even if you're not). It is not only a question one must ask oneself, it is also a question that your kids, and your kids' kids, will face someday. What should you do when you have a mild attraction to a hermaphrodite? God, please give me the strength to know the answer. I mean, please give my friend the strength to know the answer. Yes, that's right....

On a semi-related note, the YouTube video of the aforementioned Lady Gaga song has recently passed the Charlie bit my finger video. As of this writing, both videos have nearly 180 million views on YouTube. I'm ashamed to admit that I have contributed, many many times, to the number of views on both videos. Hell, who am I kidding? I'm not ashamed to admit it, not in the slightest. And when Charlie's balls finally drop, he shouldn't be ashamed to admit the things he enjoys either. Because, damn it, the things you enjoy are part of who you are. And even if those things involve a suspected hermaphrodite, or even biting fingers for that matter, you can't help what you enjoy. So let that be a lesson to all you kids out there. Follow your dreams. You can reach your goals. I'm living proof. Beefcake. BEEFCAKE!!!

Update: It has recently come to my attention that Lady Gaga is currently celibate. No word yet on my friend's reaction, but I'm sure he's probably crestfallen. In before the, "it's easy to be celibate when you're a hermaphrodite," jokes.

How Gaming Can Make a Better World

I'll be the first one to admit that I play online games, specifically World of Warcraft (WoW), too much. However, I am far from alone. So far, gamers have spent 5.93 million years, collectively, playing WoW (remember, WoW has about 12 million players). And this isn't something unique to WoW players either. Currently, about 500 million people spend 3 billion hours a week playing online games. Sounds like a lot of wasted time on games, right? I would tend to agree, but what if we could somehow tap into this for the greater good of the world?

Enter Jane McGonigal, a game designer from the Institute for the Future. Jane has, what some would consider, a crazy idea. Her goal is to make it as easy to save the world in real life as it is to save the world in online games. And to fulfill that goal, her plan is to make the real world more like an online game (this isn't like the movie Tron or anything like that, so don't get the wrong idea). In order to do this though, gamers have to overcome their lack of self confidence in the real world. According to Jane, gamers feel that they are not as good in reality as they are in games (which is something I can totally relate to).

Here is a small excerpt from this video:

And when we're in game worlds I believe that many of us become the best version of ourselves, the most likely to help at a moment's notice, the most likely to stick with a problem as long at it takes, to get up after failure and try again. And in real life, when we face failure, when we confront obstacles, we often don't feel that way. We feel overcome. We feel overwhelmed. We feel anxious, maybe depressed, frustrated or cynical. We never have those feelings when we're playing games, they just don't exist in games.

So, you see, Jane wants gamers to feel like they can do anything in the real world, just like how they feel like they can do anything in virtual worlds. The reason we gamers spend so much time in virtual worlds, though, is because of all the constant positive feedback we receive. We are always on the verge of an "Epic Win." If you're not familiar with the term, it's that feeling you get when you've solved a difficult problem or task and accomplished your goals. Different gamers have different definitions of what they consider an "Epic Win," but in an online game like World of Warcraft, it usually involves other people. So, in an online environment like WoW, you can go online anytime and be given a task or problem to solve. Then, you find like-minded people to work with until that problem is solved. It might take you a while to solve that problem, but when you finally do, you get the positive feeling of an "Epic Win." And then, the very next day, you can go online and do the same thing! The real world doesn't have a system like that, where you can go anytime to work with people on a problem, and that is something Jane McGonigal hopes to remedy.

I could go on, but Jane is a lot better at explaining this than I ever could be. These are her ideas, after all. My understanding is very limited, but I am inspired by it all the same. I hope to one day make the world a better place, I just need to develop the self confidence and gain a direction. And it's reassuring to know that people, like Jane McGonigal, are working on ways that appeal to my generation to make the world a better place.

Jane McGonigal has many other fascinating points and observations, so please watch this video if you haven't already.

F-F-F-Foolin'

I'm one of those people who can't stand April Fools' Day. I don't know, maybe I'm just the Grinch who stole April Fools'-mas or something. I just cannot stand it. I have no idea if I'm in the majority or minority on this, I really don't care. I hate this day with a passion.

Does anyone really, past a certain age, fall for anything? I mean, sure, when I was younger, I probably fell for things. I can't remember anything offhand, but I'm sure there was something. As you get older though, and you've been through a few April Fools' Days, don't you just become wary of any statement made on April the 1st? Don't you just become immune to it all? I know I am now, and I'm sure I'm not alone in that regard. Some people obviously fall for things on April Fools' Day, or else people wouldn't even attempt to fool them.

So, why do people do it? Why do people try to fool other people? I just have never understood it. What satisfaction do you get out of it? Is it just a fun game that you play to see if you can pull the wool over people's eyes and trick them? I don't know, I just don't see the fun in it because I figure people should know better. It seems like shooting fish in a barrel. I don't consider it an impressive feat to fool people on a day that they should expect it. Maybe I'm giving people too much credit? Are there really people out there that fall for things, on a consistent basis, year after year? Is anybody out there? Anybody there? Does anybody wonder? Anybody care?

I tend to be skeptical by nature, and I'm even more skeptical than normal on April 1st. I don't trust anything I hear from anyone on this day. From the moment the clock strikes midnight on April the 1st, to the moment it strikes midnight on April the 2nd, anything that anyone says is suspect. Any announcement that is made, no matter how major it seems, is questioned. No person, no matter how close they are to me, is to be trusted. I wouldn't even believe my own mother if she called me up and told me she had cancer. No one, under any circumstances, is to be trusted on this day. Absolutely nobody.

Thankfully, as I'm putting the finishing touches on this post, it's no longer April 1st. I won't have to deal with this god awful day for another year. And that's the best part of April Fools' Day, when it's finally over. So until next time...fuck you, San Diego and April Fools' Day.

It's Great to Be A Michigan Wolverine

As if missing two straight bowl games, after going to a bowl game for 33 straight years, wasn't enough (the last year Michigan missed a bowl game was in 1975). As if two straight losing seasons, with a combined record of 5-16, wasn't enough (after 40 straight winning seasons, if you ignore the 6-6 record of 1984). As if finishing tied for 9th and 10th in the conference the past two years, with a combined conference record of 3-13, wasn't enough (the last time Michigan finished lower than 3rd in the Big Ten was 1996, when they placed tied for 5th). As if going 1-5 against your three biggest rivals, Notre Dame, Michigan State and Ohio State, the past two seasons wasn't enough. And as if an embarrassing loss to a MAC team, and not even a decent MAC team, wasn't enough. As if all these things weren't enough for a Michigan fan to endure.

Well, prepare yourself for what I'm about to say because I'm about to drop a bombshell on you. I must warn you though, before I continue. If you have a heart condition, you might not want to read on. If there are any small children of reading age, please ask them to leave the room. If you have an erection lasting for more than 4 hours, call your doc--wait, disregard that one. If you scare easily, or suffer from motion sickness, you might not have the strength to read what I'm about to tell you. If you're clinically depressed, or have ever had thoughts of suicide, you may not be able to continue on after you read this information. What I'm about to tell you will turn your world upside down and blow your mind on so many levels. You have been warned.

It is with a heavy heart that I must report that the last known wild wolverine in Michigan has died recently. I know that this is tough to take, especially considering what the state of Michigan has been through these past few years, but let me put your mind at ease, my dear weasel lovers. Apparently, wolverines actually left the state of Michigan a long time ago (but not in a galaxy far far away) . In fact, the last confirmed sighting of a wolverine in Michigan was in the late 1700s and early 1800s, about 200 years ago. If you're wondering how Michigan became "The Wolverine State," and why the University of Michigan picked the animal as their mascot, the above Detroit Free Press article has a theory.

Here's one theory with some historical heft: When George Armstrong Custer led the Michigan Brigade into battle during the Civil War, he called his troops wolverines.

I have no idea whether or not this is true. If you would have asked me yesterday if there were any wild wolverines in the state of Michigan, I would have told you, "Of course, why else would we be known as 'The Wolverine State'?" What the hell do I know though, am I right? What this makes me realize, however, is how I can never assume something as being true. I assumed that there were wild wolverines in the state of Michigan. I never questioned it, not even for a minute. I just took it as a fact and never thought about looking into it further. I am glad to have this reminder, because it makes me realize how little I really know, and how I can continue to learn everyday.

Well, I hope you liked my post about the current status of the majestic Michigan wolverine. If you made it this far, you receive 10 internets and a copy of our home game. Enjoy!

Lindsay Lohan sues E-Trade

I know I'm a little late on this, but here's my two cents anyway.

Apparently, Lindsay Lohan is suing E-Trade over the use of her first name in one of the E-Trade Super Bowl commercials. The amount she's suing for, you ask? 100 million dollars *makes a fist, extends his pinkie and puts it to his lips*. Her lawyer claims that her first name is a recognizable reference to her, just like Oprah or Madonna. Her lawyer also claims that "Everybody's talking about it and saying it's Lindsay Lohan."

I know that when people say everybody, or nobody, they don't really mean everybody (or nobody), but I never associated "that milkaholic Lindsay" in the commercial with Lindsay Lohan. Not even for a second. I didn't even make the association until this traveshamockery of a lawsuit was announced last week. And I highly doubt I'm alone on this. For Lindsay Lohan to even have a case, she would have to prove that the majority of people who have seen the ad associate "that milkaholic Lindsay" with her. How she'll do that, I have no idea. It sounds like a frivolous lawsuit to me.

What's next? Paris Hilton suing Hall and Oates over the song "Rich Girl." I think she might have a case. Let's examine the lyrics, shall we?

You're a rich girl, and you've gone too far
'Cause you know it don't matter anyway
You can rely on the old man's money
You can rely on the old man's money
It's a bitch girl but it's gone too far
'Cause you know it don't matter anyway
Say money but it won't get you too far
Get you too far

Paris Hilton is a rich girl, and she's gone too far, because she knows it doesn't matter anyway. She can rely on her old man's money, she can rely on her old man's money. It's a bitch girl, but it's gone too far, because she knows it doesn't matter anyway. Say money, but it won't get her too far, get her too far.

And don't you know, don't you know
That it's wrong to take what is given you
So far gone, on your own
You can get along if you try to be strong
But you'll never be strong

She doesn't know, doesn't know, that it's wrong to take what is given to her. She's so far gone, on her own. She can get along, if she tries to be strong, but she'll never be strong.

High and dry, out of the rain
It's so easy to hurt others when you can't feel pain
And don't you know that a love can't grow
'Cause there's too much to give, 'cause you'd rather live
For the thrill of it all, oh

She's high and dry, out of the rain. And it's so easy for her to hurt others when she can't feel pain. She doesn't know that a love can't grow, because there's too much to give and she would rather live for the thrill of it all. Ohhhh....

Nevermind that this song was released in 1977. And nevermind that Paris Hilton was born in 1981, four years after the song's release. I think Miss Hilton has a case here, am I right?

My advice to Lindsay Lohan? It's a bitch girl, but it's gone too far, because you know it doesn't matter anyway. Say money, but it won't get you too far, get you too far. Translation: Drop the damn lawsuit, it's gone too far, and you know it won't matter anyway. You can ask for 100 million dollars, but it won't get you too far because you will lose and be a bigger laughingstock than you already are.

Well, that's all I've got to say about that. You stay classy, San Diego.

Daylight Saving Time

When I was younger, someone told me that the reason we do Daylight Saving Time is for the farmers. As I've gotten older though, I've come to realize that that makes no sense at all. Why the hell would it matter to the farmers? It's not like it magically adds an hour of daylight everyday. It just moves the time daylight happens during the duration of Daylight Saving Time. Instead of the sun rising at 6 AM and setting at 6 PM, it just moves it to 7 AM and 7 PM. The farmers are probably pissed, if anything. It's an unnecessary shift to them (as well as to me).

Daylight Saving Time needs to die in a fire. Seriously. I don't care how much energy it conserves (allegedly). I don't care if it makes my whites whiter and my brights brighter (I have OxiClean for that anyway). And I don't care if it services me orally everyday between now and when we fall back in November (don't ask me how this would work, use your imagination if you must). I even don't care if it cures cancer and feeds all the hungry children in Africa (Error: the hyperbolic quota for this post has been exceeded). I don't care about any of this, it just needs to go.

I might be being selfish here, but it screws me up for weeks. Instead of going to bed around half past midnight tonight, I'll be going to bed around 1:30 AM. And instead of waking up at 9 AM tomorrow, I'll be waking up at 10 AM. And instead of writing this post today at 9:30 PM, I'm writing it at 10:30 PM. All this time travel is causing me to see some serious shit, and I'm not even going the requisite 88 miles per hour. The name Daylight Saving Time should be changed to Daylight Screwup Ken's Internal Clock and Cause Him Weeks Worth of Anguish Time. Well, maybe not. DSKICCHWWAT is too long of an acronym to remember.

In closing, the power of love is a curious thing. It makes one man weep, and makes another man sing. It can change a hawk to a little white dove. It's more than a feeling, that's the power of love. It's tougher than diamonds, and rich like cream. It's stronger and harder than a bad girl's dream. It makes a bad one good, and makes a wrong one right. It's the power of love that keeps you home at night. And you don't need money, and it doesn't take fame. You don't need a credit card to ride this train. It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes, but it might just save your life. That's the power of love.

The Future of the Blog

Well, I'm going to try something new. Instead of writing long-winded posts a few times a month, I'm going to try to write shorter posts more frequently. I have no idea if this will make me post more, but I hope so. There are times that I want to post, and sometimes I even start to post, but then it becomes so overwhelming that I just stop and delete whatever I wrote. I'll probably still have a few longer posts here and there though. I'm just going to try to make my posts shorter and more frequent (that's what she said?). The plan is to do something similar to how I broke up my posts about how to improve the NHL. There will be multiple posts about the same topic, instead of one long diatribe that readers probably stop reading halfway through. I think that this will make it less overwhelming for me and less boring for you. That's the idea, anyway.

Another change that you won't notice, unless you check like every day, regards the dating of my posts. Most times, I don't have the motivation/time to post something around the day that it is still relevant. For example, let's say I want to write a post about Christmas. I don't have the time to do it on Christmas, but I really want to post something. So, I'll do it a week or two later, but I'll date the post December 25th, even though I really wrote and posted it on January 5th. My logic is that, instead of not posting anything at all, I'll be motivated to post something eventually if I can save it for a later date. To solve my OCD problem of writing posts around relevant dates, I'm just going to change the date of the post to match some sort of relevancy. I'm going to try to be within a couple weeks of the date on the post though, so it's not like I'm going to go back to April 1912 and predict the sinking of the Titanic. I promise to use my powers for good, and only as a way to allow me to post more.

Not that any of this matters much to the handful of people who read this blog, I just thought I'd let you know the plan and logic behind it.

Happy Birthdays!

And on the 69th day, God said, "Let there be Chuck." And there was Chuck, and he was good.

Happy Birthday to one of my many heroes, Chuck Norris. Oh, and also my good friend, Ryan Smith. No, not the hockey player with a similar name (Ryan Smyth). Chuck turned 70 today, and Ryan turned 26.

I know you two weren't technically born on the 69th day of the year, because your births occurred in leap years. Your birthday occurs on the 69th day of the year 75% of the time though, and that's good enough for me to overlook the above fact. So Happy 69th Day of the Year to everyone and Happy Birthday to Chuck and Ryan!

How to Improve the NHL (part 2)

When we last left the subject of improving NHL hockey, we were talking about marketing. But how can the NHL market itself when it's not on a proper television network? The next solution addresses this. If the NHL insists on being in markets it doesn't belong in, it needs to be back on ESPN. The coverage on the network formerly known as the Outdoor Life Network (OLN), now known as Versus, isn't bad (it isn't great, but it isn't bad). The problem is that not all homes have Versus. Last time I heard, a local cable provider here, called Wide Open West, didn't have Versus. Now, that may have changed by now, but the fact still remains that not all homes have Versus. I know for a fact that people who have Direct TV do not have Versus. And don't even get me started on NBC. I don't have a major problem with their coverage of the NHL either, but the fact that they showed so few Olympic hockey games bothered me. I mean, I understand that figure skating is probably more popular to the average person (read: women) than hockey, but to not show a game that you have broadcasting rights to is despicable. The NHL needs to be back on ABC and ESPN. And I don't care if the games are on ESPN2, at least then you would see more than just a brief series of hockey highlights on SportsCenter before they moved on to a highlight of a basketball dunk you've seen a million times before.

And finally, the last solution also concerns how the game is broadcast. More specifically, the advertisements during the game. The same technology that brings you the first down line in football has brought digital advertising (also known as virtual advertising) during NHL games. If you're not in the Detroit market, and even if you are, you might not know what I'm talking about. As recently as a few weeks ago, during a Red Wings game, there were advertisements on the glass behind the goalie nets. I also vaguely remember hearing about this a couple of years ago too, but not for certain. I don't know how many other hockey markets have tried this, but I know this has been done in Major League Baseball. In any event, these ads need to remain and be league-wide. I know, I know, Ken said that he didn't like the fact that the NHL was becoming more corporate (and I don't). Some things though, you just can't fight. There was a time, I'm not old enough to remember it, that there were no advertisements along the boards. I'm sure people were up in arms over it then, just like some people are up in arms over the virtual advertising now. Nowadays, you don't even really notice the advertisements along the boards. In time, the same will be true for the virtual advertisements. And who knows, maybe there will be a little give back to the fans. Maybe there will be less commercial breaks, which will allow the hockey game to flow more smoothly. A man can dream, am I right?

Well, those are all the solutions I have for now. I know they are far from perfect, some of them aren't entirely realistic, and none of them are my ideas alone. I just want what I think is best for the game though because I truly think that it's one of the best games on Earth.

To recap (TL;DR version):

• Eliminate six teams from the league (less teams means more talent to go around)
• Get rid of commissioner Gary Bettman (he's bad for the game)
• Market more superstars (not just Sidney Crosby)
• Get the NHL back on ABC/ESPN (instead of one no one can find or one that doesn't seem to care)
• Keep digital/virtual advertisements (maybe this will lead to less commercials and more flow to the game)