November 2005 Archives

Frequently, my mom likes to buy new things and to make room for them (or to have an excuse to buy new stuff), she'll give her slightly-used stuff to either my brother or I. I always take her up on it, because this stuff is usually barely two years old, good as new -- she's just tired of it. On this trip, it was two barely used rocking chairs that are upholstered in a blue color quite complimentary to my couch. Matching chairs! Imagine that. So I threw them in the back of The Colorado, covered in plastic of course, since it was supposed to rain all the way home.

She also gave my brother and his wife an old Queen size bed, boxspring and frame. This would not fit in his Kia Sportage, but the chairs would. So we swapped cargo.

We figured the beds, wrapped in giant zipper-locked plastic bags, would get there just fine. They were too big to fit in and shut the tailgate, so we tied them in good and tight, and took off for Omaha, 170 miles away. I've never been so content to drive the speed limit for that long a stretch in my entire life.

Almost halfway, between Carroll and Denison on highway 30, I get a call from The Kia, who's following my truck to keep an eye on the cargo. Apparently, the bag has ripped, and pieces of it are shearing off, leaving the mattress exposed to the elements. Nice. When Janell calls, however, she neglects to tell me exactly how much of the mattress is exposed...

As I was driving into the office today, rocking along to Nazareth's "Hair of the Dog", I realized since I left town last Wednesday, a lot has happened. Lets get all up-ons and gets up to speed shall we?

Incidentally, is there a better way to start a Monday than singing along to Nazareth and getting to the chorus just as the car next to you looks over to see you screaming "Now you're messin' with a...Son Of a Bitch!"? If there is, I have yet to see it.

Funny story. I'm in the breakroom, and this guy walks in humming to himself. Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo, shush, do-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo...

and I took the cue and sang "Under Pressure!" Only problem was, he was actually trying to be Vanilla Ice, and launched into his rap simultaneously. "Alright, stop, collaborate and listen!"

Completely bizarre.

***

Last night, I went out to wash up The Colorado after getting home from volleyball. I took a bag of trash out and put it in the truck bed, intending to throw it one of the giant construction dumpsters that line my neighborhood on every lot still under construction. See, I didn't do this the last time I left town and missed garbage day, and came back from Pittsburgh to find the grossest smelling garage EVER. Smart, I was.

Problem is, I got to singing with the radio (What, it was Heart's "Crazy On You", and I was trying to play air acoustic guitar AND sing AND drive all at once!) and spaced off dropping off that trash bag. I get to the car wash, and run the truck through. No thought of the bag at all. I get to the dryers, and something catches my eye, something moving violently in the rear view mirror. I look back and my first thought is, holy crap, how did the touchless car wash destroy the sand bags in the truck bed? Cos all I saw was a bag flapping around. Then I remembered.

It consternates me to no end that even now, today, if I'm in the right frame of mind (or maybe the wrong frame of mind? I don't know frames.) all it takes to get me to buy something I don't need is for one of the following two things to happen.

Fortunately these wrong, or right moods (I'm confused, you pick one.) don't come along very often, but when they do, oh boy. Those two things that can bring The King Of All That Is Good and Awesome and stuff to bust out the Almighty and Powerful Wallet are:

1. Pitch it in such a ridiculously hilarious manner that I almost have to buy it, because damn, that was funny;

2. The salesperson is a ridiculously hot chick.

Today over my lunch hour, both happened at once. Aside from my brain nearly 'splode-ing from overload, which from the spelling of that word you can see I have yet to completely recover from, I walked away with a $6 bottle of ball cap waterproof spray that I got a deal on and paid just $3 for.

Game One: Jays 87, Arkansas Pine-Bluff 55

Saturday, Creighton put the smack down on Arkansas Pine-Bluff, one of the worst teams in the SWAC -- the worst league in Division I. The Jays won 87-55, and it really wasn't that close.

Seriously, when your coach is on the radio in the days leading up to the game saying you need a "miracle" to upset Creighton? That does not bode well for your chances. This actually happened. They replayed that sound byte a couple three times during the 90 minute pregame show on the radio.

And let me comment on that real quick: its about damn time Creighton had a big time radio production. When their games were on an oldies channel, bookended by Sinatra and Bob Goulet tunes, they got 20 minutes before and after the game to talk. Now that they're on Big Sports 590 -- a 5000 watt superstation that, reportedly, can be heard in five states -- they get 90 minutes before and 90 minutes after the game. This kicks ass.

Last night, I was sitting having a beer with a couple of my neighbors while their wives were out, and one of them commented that he'd noticed this had been a particularly late night week for me. Even more so than usual. I mean, typically, once or twice during the week I'll be out at the bar until midnight or 1am. And then of course the weekend is more of the same. But this week, every night I was out somewhere. Our street is a pretty quiet one, full of married couples and old retired people, and from what I can gather, they all lead pretty tame suburban lives. Work, come home to their wife/husband, sleep, repeat. And then there's me, the wild young single guy, out partying and barrelling down the street in The Colorado going 45 MPH as he gets home at 1:30 am.

One of the guys had the gall -- or guts -- to say he was jealous of me. This guy is married to the most adorable girl, drives an old busted Ford pickup, has a beautiful golden retriever, and best of all, he lives across the street from me. What more do you need? Apparently, I'm a rock star to these guys. Its so pathetic. And sad. And yet awesome all at the same time.

To be fair, this was my week, or my nights, more specifically:

A winter of snow had just melted away, the weather was getting warmer every day, the Jays were putting the finishing touches on another great basketball season, and the Twins were still the three-time defending Central Division Champions when I closed on my house at the bank in March. I tell you this to set the timeline for this next story from my life.

A month later, for my birthday, I went and did what any good bachelor does: purchased a ready-made meal and brought it home. A big pre-cooked turkey, a big container of mashed potatoes, and a smaller container of gravy. Oh man, I can still taste how good that was. Good times.

Anyway, as I was heating -- it was already cooked -- the turkey, I placed the plastic gravy container on my "warming" spot on my stovetop, which conceivably heats to a lesser temperature to keep already hot stuff warm without burning it. Problem was, as I soon discovered, the plastic containers had a lower melting point than the already low temperature warming spot. You can guess what happened.

Yep, the container disintegrated, and gravy went everywhere. Good times!

Ten Things I Think I Think:

1. Celebrity Townhomes gets a C+ for their snow removal after the first storm of the year. They cleared the sidewalk and driveway just fine, but because my driveway faces north and gets little to no sunshine, the wind drifted just enough snow back over the driveway to make it one giant hockey rink. Just a sheet of ice. I got The Colorado into the garage last night, and because its so badass and because it was dark, I didn't notice the ice. I get out to make the walk to the mailbox, and I fall on my ass and slide all the way to the street. The force of the fall was such that my shoe flew off, and my hat as well. Needless to say I walked through the yard on way back up.

2. If there's a better hamburger to be had in this town that the one served at Charleston's out on 132nd and Dodge, I've yet to enjoy it. The way they freshly grate the cheddar onto your bun is the most phenomenal thing I've ever had on a burger. And I've had a lot of 'em.

3. Having a bye week on your first night of the new Volleyball season sucks. Especially if you change, go to the complex in a storm, and only then find this fact out. Good news is they felt bad and gave us a $25 gift card. That's 5 pitchers of beer, folks. So let me revise that statement. Having a bye week on the first night of the new Volleyball season sucks, but sometimes, it does not suck so much.

Listening to my buddy Cliff's sad tale of lost iPods, attempts to buy a new one, constant thwarting of said attempts by various parties, and sad days at the office spent straining to hear the faint sounds of faraway tunes from down the hall, I got to thinking. What in the hell did I listen to at my desk before iPods?

Heavens to Betsy, what did I do? Good lordy.

Last year, <a href="http://www.polyfro.com/2005/02/100-points.html">I opined on the strange phenomenon of fans' fascination with a team scoring 100 points in a college basketball game</a>. It happens pretty rarely, and when it does, generally there's some drama and tension surrounding the getting to it. More often than not, its a blowout, so the team's reserves are the ones attempting to get to 100 in the waning moments.

And then there's last night's game between Creighton and Nebraska-Kearney. The Jays blew past the 100 barrier with almost 6 minutes remaining, and wound up with 116 in their blowout win. I had to go back and consult my trusty Jays record book to find out if they'd ever scored that many before. Since last night was an exhibition game, it doesn't technically count, but apparently the most points they've ever scored in a "real" game was 124 against Miami Florida in February 1964.

I've been battling either a cold, or fall allergies, or some combination of the two all week. Its hell, going to bed at 10pm, not being able to taste things properly because of post-nasal drip, and just generally feeling odd.

I thought it was allergies. And then at volleyball Tuesday night, I bumped a ball that should have been a simple hit. Instead, it stung like a mutha. In my personal experience from living with my body for 27 years, when my skin gets overly sensitive and tingly to the touch, this means one thing: a sickness has invaded my body, and my super-strong antibodies are at work.

So every damn night this week I've had to go to bed early, like say, 10 pm. On the plus side, I've watched late NBA games in bed all week. On the negative side, I couldn't go on my planned massive thrift store search for a suitably busted-up blazer to wear to the AIGA "The Show" Friday night. See, I'm in this rebellious sort of "I refuse to dress up anymore" period right now -- and I knew the only way I could get away with wearing a t-shirt to a gallery opening is if I pair it with a vintage blazer. Then its not just "lazy guy in a t-shirt", its "fashionable guy in vintage wares" and the t-shirt becomes an accessory item, not the focal point.

Any time you can look back on a weekend and say these three things happened, there can be no argument over whether it was a good one or not:

-Shuttling between two parties and three bars on Friday night, and at the end of the night, having not one but two girls in your group turn the driveway outside the last party into a, um, restroom...

-Cramming 7 people into a Kia Sportage to conserve gas on the long drive downtown to the bars Saturday night

-Seeing your boys from Creighton win their exhibition opener over the EA Sports All-Stars down at the Qwest Center Omaha, while drinking your first $5 beer from the Cheap Beer Booth (on this night, Schlitz) of the season

***

Now, there's only so much of the partying on Friday that I can really in good conscience discuss here. I mean, I'm sure you were all at your own parties and bars Friday, and hearing me talk about your average run-of-the-mill night on the town is not exciting.

This of course means that I, uh, do not remember enough to write anything except that which I've already discussed. Nothing happened, I swear. So lets move on to Saturday!

Last Saturday, I'm sitting at the Chevy dealership waiting for my complimentary oil change on The Colorado (Customer Appreciation Days, you know) and some deuche has the TV turned to Sci-Fi Channel, watching an old episode of Not Quantum Leap, or something like that. (Because, lets face it, now that Max Headroom isn't on anymore, the only show on Sci-Fi worth watching is Quantum Leap, and everything else is called "Not Quantum Leap")

Only, he's sitting there, reciting the lines of the show along with the characters. I wish I could make this stuff up. If he'd been wearing tin foil on his head, I really think I would have just had to excuse myself from the situation. As the show goes to commercial, he turns to me, points to my 1-Liter Diet Pepsi, and says "Where'd you get the beverage, Captain?"

Called me Captain. Nice. I pointed him to the Pepsi machine in the garage area, and as soon as he left, grabbed the remote and turned it to ESPN College GameDay.

The dude returns with his Sierra Mist (you can't make this stuff up) and starts to say something. I'm sure its going to be "Why did you turn off Not Quantum Leap?". But instead, its "Wait, this is 20 oz'er. Did I miss the machine with those big colas?"

I told him that no, I had stopped at QT because I knew that I could get a Liter and a Breakfast Sandwich for the same price as one 20 oz at the dealership. Because I'm Awesome.

Then I turned to the TV, and saw this:

Last night, after volleyball, we had an "Anti Star Wars" party. Because the third movie was released on DVD yesterday, and so many nerds were probably glued to their TVs watching it over and over again, we decided to watch Batman instead. Of course.

Come on, you know in your heart that of the two, Batman is the better movie. Yes! So my brother's wife made a pot of chili, some potato casserole thing, and we all sat around drinking Bud Select, eating chili and watching Batman.

Good times.

***

My brother and his wife bought a new Kia Sportage last week. They kept both of their old vehicles, however, so now they have three -- the old ford ranger, the Grand Am, and the Kia. When our mom comes with dad on his December business trip here to Omaha, she's going to find the unused car sitting there in the driveway comes in handy for Christmas shopping.

If it runs long enough, that is. Her backup plan is to take The Colorado.

Gasp!

5 days until Creighton opens exhibition play against EA Sports Sunday night at 7. Can't wait. Of course, my dad, who went to Drake and goes to many of their games in Des Moines, only has 4 days to wait. The Doggies open up Saturday night against Simpson, and as he's told me several times, he and my mom will be there. God bless him, he honestly thinks the Doggies can compete in the MVC this year.

With Klayton Korver, I'd have given him 16-17 wins, a top-division finish, and an NIT bid. With Korver injured and out for the season, I'll give them 13-14 wins, a sixth place finish and a 20th consecutive season with no postseason bid.

I'll have a ginormous Creighton preview later this week.

--

Ever since I moved to Nebraska 8 years ago, a common gripe among Husker fans has been that so few of their games are on TV, while Iowa gets every game on TV.

For instance, this year Nebraska has had 4 of 8 games on TV. Iowa has had all 8, and they're even shown here in Omaha. Actually, Iowa has had 50 games IN A ROW on TV.

The common gripe is "Why does Iowa get all of their games on, and we only get half of ours? That sucks, man!" More cerebral fans ask "Why doesn't NU negotiate a better deal, or sell the rights to the games to a local station?"

Its a pretty simple answer, actually, made clear by this article in today's Des Moines Register after Iowa State fans have begun making the same gripe. Its not ISU, or NU's decision to make. The Big 12 just has a crummy TV deal, and that's not Iowa State or Nebraska's fault. What's happened, essentially, is the Big 12 takes a higher paycheck in exchange for granting exclusive TV windows to their partners, while the Big 10 takes a smaller paycheck in exchange for greater exposure and the ability to show every game.