Tuesdays Still Suck

I hate this day so much. Here's a link to waste your time while I contemplate why the hell i decided to schedule classes the way I did.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AnsTjXNUliE

Hi! Mike Mendel here speaking for the public

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...(breath)...no, no, no, no. I'm not accepting this one. I've lowered myself before, but this is way to far. Someone has to stop this. I'll start the protest with this public service announcement. Billy Mays has his own show. I repeat, Billy Mays has his own show.

Now for those of you that do not know Mr. Billy Mays, you obviously have a life and I congratulate you for such an accomplishment. However, if you're like most of America, Billy Mays has become a regular figure in your daily lives. He is God of the infomercial world. No man has ever had such mind controlling powers over the United States at three in the morning quite like Billy. Since his first infomercial in 1999, he has advertised over 60 products. These fine purchasable products for just three payments of $9.99 include: Hercules Hook Wall Hangers, Buddy Putty, Samurai Shark Knife Sharpeners, Kaboom Cleaning Powder, and who could forget the Ding King Automotive Dent Remover (And rumor says if you call in the next 10 minutes, Billy Mays will give you nineteen more of the exact thing you purchased for no added price. That's right folks, a $689 value for just thirty dollars! Thanks Billy!).

Now despite taking control of my thoughts into making me think purchasing one of these amazing products isn't such a bad idea, I do not hate Billy Mays. In fact, I'm a big proponent in making Billy Mays a cult hero. I mean come on. The man could sell you a one dollar bill for a five dollar bill and get you to walk away happy. I also love how shameless he is in his self advertising. According to my buddy Alex, while attending the Outback Bowl this last football season, Billy Mays was giving away free products and asking who wants an autograph to anyone nearby. And according to young Alex, there is a treasure like figure in the world that is equal to the holy grail. Apparently it comes in the form of a Billy Mays action figure that is autographed by Billy Mays!!! (I've also come to learn that some girl that is a fan of the Hawkeyes is the keeper of this grail. I aim to find her, marry her, and get the action figure in the divorce settlement. I can dream...) And the most important reason to love Billy Mays is that he is far superior to the ShamWow guy. At least in Billy's infomercials there's no controversial moments involving the amount of soda beneath the square piece of carpet in back to back shots (That's right ShamWow guy, I saw that. Now take your ear piece microphone and go away forever, because you know I can't listen to your lies all day).

So with so many reasons why I love Billy Mays, some of you may be confused as to why I am appalled that Discovery channel has announced they will be premiering a thirteen part series about infomercials, with Billy Mays as the center figure of the show. My retort to your confusion is how are you not enraged like me? (Unless of course you don't worry yourself with such matters because your above such petty things. In which case I ask, is it lonely on top of that hill?) I mean, the reason Billy Mays is loved by so many is because we only know him through his infomercials. I can't think of any reason why I would want to know what Billy Mays is like behind the scenes dealing with the producers before he sells another amazing product. I want to envision him talking to his daughter before her first date saying, "HEY JULIA (her name is Julia in my made up thoughts apparently), I SEE YOU GOT A STAIN ON YOUR DRESS. USE OXYCLEAN!!!!!"

I don't want to be shown that he is just like the rest of us, because this world has enough dull and ordinary already. And although I know I will not be able to stop this show from happening, even though replacing it with a second shark week sounds like a way better option, I simply ask to make this show happen as quickly and as painlessly as possible. Please don't go VH1 on me and show the week's episode 13 times a day Monday through Sunday, and we as a society can go on like this never happened. I have to get going though, I just heard Billy Mays say "If I act now" on the television. I'm missing a great deal.

Insomniac Diaries Chapter 2

It's is 3 am. I'm about four hours away from sunlight. What better way to fill those hours than with a second installment of the Insomniac Diaries. As usual, I present to my thoughts that keep me up late at night.

Dear Diary,

No way that just happened. I'm a bit ashamed of myself. I might have to go to confession after that one. Did I really just see Kelly Osbourne on television and think she was hot? When did British accents gain this super natural power over me. I'm going to owe at least 17 hail marys for this one. And the kicker is I'm not even catholic.

I just watched Caddyshack for the 115th time and just now made a startling revelation that I demand answers to. Why the hell did the Judge accept the offer to make the bet worth $80,000 dollars that Andy Noonan will sink the 10 foot putt when the shot was initially for the tie? Seriously, If someone had to make a 10 foot putt or they pay you $40,000 or they make it and the bet is a push, would you surrender such a risk free moment cause Rodney Dangerfield said, "Hey, lets go $80,000 right now, even though if we don't change the bet you have absolutely zero chance of losing." Perplexing. You think Harold Ramis would go back for film edits if I wrote him a letter about 29 years late?

Dear girls everywhere, being sick and/or having a headache for five straight months deserves medical attention.

I loved cross country running, but it did a horrible thing to me. No matter how heterosexual I am, after being forced to do yoga in place of practice, I can never say I'm 100% straight again. I can get to 99.9% but that one moment tainted my perfect score. Damn you yoga for taking away my innocence. And for all of you that have done yoga before, I'm sure you're right noticing that you are shaking your head in agreement.

I hope to be Boomhower, I don't want to be Bill, but I'm only glasses and a bald head away from being Dale. At least I'll have a hot wife...

When looking back at the American Pie movies, did anyone in the world expect Alyson Hannigan (the band geek) to one day be a more famous actor than Jason Biggs? I mean Jason Biggs should feel legitimately screwed by the karma gods. Despite having sex with a pie, he didn't even come out as the even the fourth most famous actor from the movies. Sean William Scott, Tara Reid, and even Harold from the White Castle movie all are bigger stars than Jason Biggs now. Well I still remember Jasong Biggs damnit. Your role in Saving Silverman and Jay and Silent Bob will not be forgotten.

Nothing Left in the Tank

I apologize to my readers, but after a four hour fantasy baseball auction, I'm too drained to write something that I feel is good enough to waste your time. I'll likely have something up tomorrow and for sure Monday. Besides, its the weekend. You should find something better to do with your lives anyways

It Better Not Have Been Some Kid's Christmas Present

I think I take sick pleasure in misery. It's the only reasonable explanation of why I won't leave the midwest. At the moment, it's nearing the end of March and it's sunny and 45 degrees outside my window. Obviously the weather is turning and it's clear sailing from here right? Tomorrow's forecast: Snow. This only furthers my belief that God has a bad sense of humor. But that doesn't stop me. I know summer is almost here. It's so close. The early signs are out. Grass is starting to grow. Birds are starting to chirp. Girls are wearing clothes that cover less than 25% of their body on random great days (As a single bitter guy, I'll speak on behalf of all of us that we approve). But summer used to reunite me one good friend. But that friend is now MIA. And if karma is real, he likely ended up underneath a Christmas tree.

Reflect back to the time you learned to ride a bike. If you never had such an experience and you're over the age of six, then congratulations, you're a failure at life. However, most of look back and generally have a fun wipe out to tell about. I went over the curb and slightly down a hill. I likely cried like a bitch. I was six, give me a break. Okay maybe that is kind of girly, but still. Anyways, as soon as the art of riding on two wheels became second nature, biking was an everyday event for me.

But as I got older, all the way up to my massive nine year old physique of like 4 feet 70 lbs, I had my eyes set on a real mountain bike. I saved and saved my money. Christmas, birthday, change off the money Rick gave me to go to the concession stand, anything I could get my hands on went straight into my badass coca cola shaped piggy bank. Finally the magic day happened. I tallied up three hundred dollars. Now three hundred dollars today means about five trips to the casino, but back then, I felt like Bill Gates and the world was mine to buy.

I walked out of Penn Cycle later that day with a beautiful 21 speed Trek bike. And I could not have had better timing. That very summer, I began making my daily voyage over to backyard of the Voldness house for countless games of backyard baseball. And when I say daily, I literally mean every day. Two miles there, and two miles back. By age 13, I was like a mini Lance Armstrong with both testicles. I have the calves to prove it too. Looking back, I feel its safe to say I put close to a thousand miles in that bike from age 10-15. I remember every route I took through the streets, sidewalks, and trails vividly. I loved that bike as much as I could. I wouldn't have given it up for anything.

Well until the Caddy showed up. Obviously at age 16 I became to cool for my bike. Granted it still had its cameos in my life. In fact, the bike was a two time team triathalon winner. I feel its last moments were some of its finest. However, as 2008 rolled around, there was never a real reason to take the bike out. But then redemption came. The Caddy was to be shelved in the drive way as I went to the University of Iowa, but I still wanted wheels. The bike was coming with me.

After so much wear and tear over the years, Rick was kind enough to pay for a tune up and a new seat. The thing felt brand new. I was excited. The first two weeks of school, I found numerous minor reasons to ride it around. But then I got lazy. I chose to walk for about a week straight. However, on a faithful Monday night, I felt the bike was the best choice of transportation. I went down to the racks where I left it last and found nothing. I was confused at first. No possible way my bike could have been stolen? I had it chained up and everything. I figured I must have the wrong spot. I looked everywhere. I walked to every single spot I could have thought of. Till eventually the realization hit me. Some person actually took the time to clip my lock and take my bike. Touche to you sir. If you have ever seen The Big Lebowski, please think of the scene where The Dude's car got stolen. That was my expression exactly. All I needed was for my phone to start ringing and have Donny point it out to me in order to complete the scene.

I made calls in frustration to family and friends. I mostly got laughter back. My brother Al was kind enough to tell me about how he stole three bikes in college. I didn't see the humor in it as I was in mourning of my missing friend. Some suggested I call the police, but seriously, do you think the police really care about my bike? I sure as hell wouldn't as a cop. I'd be be much more consumed with hassling innocent people on the 15th of the month.

So a part of my childhood is gone forever, and a little joy in summer is gone as well. If you ever heard some of my jokes, you may understand why I think karma plays a part in this happening to me. However, since I came back to second semester, the Cadillac has come with. I'll keep my fingers crossed that my other set wheels doesn't get stolen too. I don't think I can stomach another missing friend.

The Best Band You're Not Listening Too

In the last week of writing this column based blog, I'm sure my loyal readers have noticed a small trend in that I do try to follow my Three R's. I rant about the little things, and rave about the important ones. However, I have yet to live up to my blog's title and review anything that matters yet. Although my love is primarily directed at sports, my love practices polygamy. I also have a strong passion for listening to music and finding new artists that bring a new sound to the table. Therefore, today I will test out my abilities as a music critic. Enjoy.

"Glasvegas" by Glasvegas

For those that want to try a new sound that is far far away from contemporary American music, look no further than Glasvegas's self entitled debut album. Although it was released in September last year, I know most of you have yet to give them a chance. Lead singer and song writer James Allan delivers an amazing sound and lyrics throughout this entire CD. This indie-classic rock sound is appealing for anyone who can stand to listen to music sung in a British accent. From the first song to the last, it's evident that Glasvegas does not write tracks purely to put out music. In almost each and every song, it's clear that passion and emotion is placed within the lyrics.

Many people are quick to compare Glasvegas to another major U.K. band, Oasis. However, Oasis tends to stay away from social issues and prefers to jam out, while Glasvegas has plenty of social commentary throughout their songs. Tracks like "Geraldine" and "Daddy's Gone" both grab you as the listener the first time through the CD. These two have so much passion behind them, they make you want to listen over and over again. Other songs like "Flowers and Football Tops" and "It's My Own Cheating Heart That Makes Me Cry" are both tracks that make you crave more. Towards the end of the album, "I'm Gonna Get Stabbed" and "Go Square Go" make sure that from beginning to end the CD is worth listening too. Each song has its own uniqueness that makes this entire album a genuine classic.

It's not to late to jump on the Glasvegas bandwagon folks. Although only ten tracks produced thus far, I'm bold enough to predict that this just the beginning to a long career for the band. Their popularity has been soaring in the U.K. for months and they are in fact making an appearance in Minnesota in the next coming weeks. I'm slightly depressed everyday when I remember I can't make this show because of school. Sometimes I doubt college is worth it. But fortunately, if their sophomore album is anything close to the first one, the next time their in town will only be that more amazing. Hopefully one of you will follow my advice and want to come with me.

CD Rating: 9 out of 10

Below are links to Daddy's Gone and Geraldine

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3uSdQxKaBfU

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CMT418TyRiA

Sidenote: Go Jaguars, Destroy Osseo! Also I added a few new things to the blog including a link to Erik Voldness's blog. If you get bored of reading my thoughts, please check out his writing. Very entertaining for any sports fan.

The Art of Not Believing

*Warning: The following column is meant for fans of my old high school. To my followers that could care less about Jefferson, I promise tomorrow I'll write something that you can actually relate too.

The Jaguars beat Henry Sibley. Those words just don't feel right to say, but damn they feel good. I'm enjoying this improbable run as much as I can as a former student that now lives four and a half hours away. I hope the best for everyone on the team and the school of Jefferson. But I have one favor to ask of any fan that truly cares. Do not start believing. I repeat, do not start believing. I'll explain.

Ever notice how all the good sport movies end with come from behind wins by the team that no one believed in? As viewers, we love to see our lovable rag tag team do the impossible and topple the favorite in the final moments. Admit it, its why you love Mighty Ducks, and now hate Iceland (even if all Iceland girls are hot). Well this is the attitude that us Jefferson fans need if were going to take home the state title, because believing we got this game has never been good to us in the past.

As a kid who spent hundreds and hundreds of dollars going to Jaguar sporting events in my time in high school, I was able to witness one state champion. This was the 2004 soccer team. Unfortunately, I was to lazy to even go down to the Metro Dome to see it. I was naive enough to believe there would be another. But when it came to the sports that mattered in my life, gaining the belief that we will win became the kiss of death for me. In 2005, I saw maybe the best assemblence of a high school hockey team I ever witnessed lose to Holy Angels in the first round of the state tournament. The entire school believed it was ours to win, and it was shattering when it didn't happen. Fast forward one year, and the same feeling happened in Marriuchi Arena from the hands of Minnetonka. Two years I believed, and two years I lost it all.

Hockey wasn't the only example I brought with me. Basketball has a history too. In 2007, I was fortunate enough to witness Cole Aldrich play 10 feet in front of me on the court of Jefferson. Cole had a high school career that likely earned him the right to have his face painted over court 1 of the activity center someday as he has surpassed the success of any other alumni beyond maybe Mark Parish. However, even having the best player in the state wasn't enough to get us by the first round against Apple Valley. Once again, believing we would win was a curse.

Finally, I must mention my own faults in this trend of Jefferson. Last year, I was lucky enough to become the greatest "never leave the bench" player in the history of Jefferson baseball. My presence obviously propelled us to the state championship game (I suppose Matty V, Nolan, Kruger, and the kids that actually played had a little something to do with it, but I was obviously the biggest reason). To make it to this game we had to win numerous games that no one thought we could, including a tight one to Rosemount. However, during this run, no fan truly thought we were going to win it all. Until the championship game. Coon Rapids, the one team with a resume that made us feel like the favorites, stood between us and the state title. For the first time, my month long rambling of "we're just going to win state," began to feel like a reality. Believing crushed my dreams again. I now am the proud owner of the a second place medal.

Now please don't get the notion that I feel only west side Bloomington kids can't handle the feeling of being the favorite, other cities do it too. Just a few weeks ago, the entire state saw Edina fall in the state hockey tournament for the third straight year despite having a team that was good enough to gain national recognition. And another prime example was Sibley falling today to our beloved Jaguars. It happens everywhere, and that is why I am asking this favor kids of Jefferson. Although the team is hot, and everything is falling into place, do not begin to think we are going to win this semi final game. Please go and cheer harder than you ever have, but in the back of your mind, do not feel like we have this game until the final buzzer goes off. The kids on the court need the feeling that no one in the crowd thinks they can do it, the same way they likely felt today. And if we get past the semi and get to meet Hopkins, aka Team Minnesota, in the final, well, maybe one of our guys can pull off a play that is equivalent to saving the triple deke. This can happen boys and girls. Just please don't believe it can.

The Insomnia Diaries Chapter 1

Is there such thing as a normal sleep pattern? If so, I sure as hell don't have it. And if there isn't one, then I definitely do not follow society's idea of a normal sleep. I believe I began renouncing a good night of sleep right around the time I found Craig Kilborn. At the age of 12, I was already keeping myself up until 12 30 in order to hopefully catch a game of yambo. As the years have gone on, I learned to know the late night TV schedule by heart. Adult Swim and TNT should likely become sponsors of this blog, as they are both major proponents of me achieving the ability to stay up till 3 with no problem. I used to never be able to reach the hour of 4 am, but with the help of a special little lady and my mind getting more screwed up by the day, Me and 4 am have become like peas and carrots (to quote Forrest Gump) over the course of my first year in college. I've been close to getting sleeping pills, but I never again would experience all the stupid thoughts that keep me wide awake at night. So instead of letting the night time remain my enemy, I have decided to take action against it. So ladies and gentleman, I bring to you my first installment of the Insomnia Diaries...

Does the Pope have a monopoly on the automobiles like the Popemobile? If not, how is Obama not jumping on this bandwagon? People love the man so much, that he could totally play this up. And if its not copyrighted by the Pope, could I theoretically become so awesome someday, that I could possibly hire a driver and sit in a glass box, and like a pompous prick, ride around all day waving to people? I aim to have this much money someday now.


If I could meet the voice over guy from Forensic Files, I'd have to pass. That voice deserves to never have a face.

Why is whenever I show someone my cadillac, the first thing they always say is I need to trick it out? First off, I'm a poor college student that hopes he has enough money to get the number 2 off the McDonalds menu, let alone putting some sweet rims on the car. Secondly, I don't belong driving that car in the first place. I'm not a super hero, but if I did have one super power, it would definitely be the power to change forms from an eighty year old man during daylight into a twenty year old black man at night. If I were to put some sweet ass rims on that car, the government of Minnesota would likely pass legislation that I would have to surrender over the car to someone that cops won't be disappointed to pull over late night for no reason. Finally, the combination of a cool looking caddy mixed with little ole white boy me, blasting techno music out the windows, while sitting next to my ginger friend max, would likely cause so many conflicting emotions from drivers next to me that one of them would perform a suicide type mission with their car and crash into me in order to stop such an atrocity. Simply put, I will not be tricking out my car.

When did Pizza Hut develop an identity crisis problem? Can we give them some Zoloft so they can go back to making sub par greasy pizza. Don't we already have pasta places to sell me that stuff? They should just bring back bad Andy. Or was that Dominoes.

Does anyone else find it remarkable that Harold and Kumar go to White Castle revived Neil Patrick Harris's career? Has any other actor ever gone from nearly completely irrelevant to cult hero through a stoner movie? Just more reason he's awesome. I support the Doogie Howser revival.

I'd write more, but some late night thoughts should be kept to myself

Tuesdays

So as usual, I woke up way later than I should and I now have to endure a solid 8 hours or so of straight classes. Therefore I wont post a lengthy message till maybe late tonight. But to entertain you until I decide to write, heres a few videos to fill your time.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EWVyJ-YG3ew
(Sent to me by reader Mike Kinney)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XlaLk9rMhhg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ksuRs5mE8I

Feel free to email me other videos for me to post in later tuesday blogs

Battered Wives Shelter

Ever watch a TV show or a movie where there’s an asshole of a husband that beats the hell out of his wife, and then right as you think the wife has finally managed the courage to leave, you end up wanting to throw the remote through the TV as she stays? Her argument is always the same. It’s either, “I know he means well, and I know he still loves me and he can’t show it properly,” or “I have to stay for the children.” Well I am officially a hypocrite if I ever get frustrated with the wife’s decision ever again. After this weekend, my head hurts, my stomach doesn’t function right, and I have random wounds all over my body. No my roommate is not beating with me soap in a sock full metal jacket style at night (at least I hope not), I’m simply the battered wife of my favorite sports teams. It’s uncanny how I am truly an Alzheimer’s victim when it comes to the pain that these teams I spend all my time following bring me at the end of every season. And this weekend was a prime example. So beginning with Thursday, let’s review my weekend of broken dreams…

Minnesota Gopher Basketball

I’d be surprised if anyone that is reading this doesn’t know my self-admitted man crush on Tubby Smith. I am in debt to him for bringing any kind of respectability back to my beloved gophers. But we might as well not have shown up in the second half. I felt Caesar taking 22 daggers to the back every time Abrams grabbed the ball and inevitably swished a three. I had myself so disillusioned as to us winning this game, but it retrospect, I think I saw it coming. Besides, we were the underdog. Next year, Rodney and Royce will bring redemption into my life. My weekend happiness is still intact. It’s not like all of gopher sports can let me down…

Minnesota Gopher Hockey

USC made a bowl game. Duke made the NCAA basketball tournament. Minnesota made the NCAA Hockey Tournament. Three things I simply expect in life. But which one made me sit in my chair in anger as I watched the selection show? It’s words that are too hard for me to even type. Seriously, what the hell? We have first pick at every Minnesota born player, and we can’t even field a team that can make the same tournament that Bemidji State makes. Thank god I didn’t have my season tickets this year. I never thought I’d say those words. However, since it was the first year I didn’t have tickets since around the year 2000, I’ll call it a draw gophers. Obviously the lack of my presence is the direct cause for your lack of motivation. I’ll continue to believe that we’re the USC of hockey if we pick it back up next year. Besides, the weather is turning. Baseball season is about to start, and thank god America is still the best baseball country in the world…

USA Baseball

You know how you hit a splitter in the dirt? You don’t. You take the pitch and wait for the next one. So someone please explain to me how every one of the multi-million dollar players kept flailing at a pitch that would have got me benched for swinging at as a high schooler? I also want to point out an interesting parallel between Tiger Woods and Derek Jeter. Both are obviously great players, and I despise when either one ever performs well during the season. Jeter always comes up in the clutch when the Yankees need that hit to break the game open, and Tiger always sinks that impossible putt to win the tournament, and every time I sit at home praying they’ll screw up. So why is it any time I get myself to cheer for them, they let me down? They can’t actually know I’m cheering for them and purposely screw up, can they? Tiger is as mediocre of a player as it gets when it comes to Ryder cup time and Jeter had just a fantastic tournament I must say. Last night, he went 1 for 5 with four pulled ground balls to the short stop. Would not be a big deal if you weren’t notorious for pushing the ball to the right side. And the error that cost us three runs in the eighth? That was good for at least 6 yelled swear words from my dorm room. Oh well, I guess. Let the Asian teams win preseason. Maybe the team will have a USA basketball like mentality in 2012 and we’ll dominate. My weekend can’t be brought down by these three teams to much. It’s not like I could have affected them in any way to play better and win. At least I didn’t let myself down…

My Bracket

What the hell was I thinking with this year’s bracket? Granted I was in Michigan when I made the thing, but does the air in that state make me go temporarily retarded. Thank you Wake Forrest for losing to Cleveland St. and not going to the elite eight with an upset over Louisville. Florida St. is so hot going into the tournament, how can they possibly lose to Wisconsin first round. In fact, they should make the sweet sixteen, right? Next year, I’m giving my bracket to a random nine year old to fill out, as I think that was the last age I was when I won one of these pools.

But am I giving up on any of these teams? Of course not. Because deep down, I know they still love me on the inside. They just don’t know how to love me back in the right way. And until their seasons start up again, I’ll let my Minnesota Twins treat me just right. Yep, the 2009 season is when it’s all going to finally be worth it. Or maybe 2010…

Side note: Good luck Jaguar basketball at state, Kick Sibley's ass and avenge that 2007 season!

When You're Simply Not Cool Enough...

What the hell happened? That is the question I had to ask myself in the parking lot yesterday. Only few times in my life have I felt so out of place. No, I was not at a feminism rally, I was simply at Coralville Ridge mall. I grew up in a city where we had three malls at our leisure, including the biggest mall in America, and the first mall ever created. Granted I did not have a phase as a seventh grader where I went to the mall to hit on the other middle schoolers, but I do feel like I am at least an experienced mall goer. However, yesterday was different. Maybe it was because I was by myself and not able to be distracted. Maybe it was because I had no goal to buy anything. Maybe it was because I cut my hair shortly before entering the mall, and I could see clearly around me. But as I sat in the food court eating my Panda Express, I realized I did not belong. When the hell did 98% of the mall shopper world become Aeropostle awesome or Hot Topic fashionable? Where was the normal people that wear shirts from tournaments they were in during high school, the wholesome kids that came to the mall cause they figure they can get a laugh by walking into some of the stores and window shopping, or hell, even the stoners that got high and convinced themselves walking around the mall would be a great idea? It's not that I have such a problem with people that have this style that I get angry and flustered and I run away, in fact I spend time with many people that wear these clothes, its just if I tried to enter either one of these stores, I have the sinking feeling an alarm would turn on and a worker form the back would come out and shoe me out with a broom. As I sat there in my ratty ass tshirt and gym shorts, I witnessed a ten year old who was dressed in a flat white brimmed hat, silver chain, american eagle shirt, plaid shorts, and I missed the shoes. The kicker was, his mom was walking right next to him. My dad, The Rick, would have hit me across the eye before letting me go out in public like that when I was that age. And I would have completely agreed with him. The MTV world has lied to me. I was led to believe that as a college kid, I would be in the fashionable world. However, I learned I am now being outclassed by ten year olds. Therefore, I must renounce the mall, except for the emergency situation when I need to know where the high school girls hang out (I challenge any reader to get that reference). So long malls. Hello Kohls. At least they understand me.

A First Blog

Here it is. My first blog. I'm officially breaking my code of real journalism to join the world of fast media where every slack jaw opinion matters. Although I'm paying thousands more than I should for an education, I now can accomplish what I hope to do in the future for free and with probably about the same amount of integrity. If you are kind enough to be one of the hopefully maybe ten readers that follow my thoughts, I thank you kindly up front. In this blog, you'll be subjected to read my feelings regarding mostly sports, music, movies, television, and politics. As the first four are more fun to write about, I'll likely stick to them more often than not. But as of today, I aim to update often and frequently. Lets see how long I last till I give up...