Salsa

Honestly, I don't have much to say about the NBA draft that hasn't already been said, but I did find the following comment made by Bill Simmons in his draft diary to be pretty clever:

The Mavs take Maurice Ager at No. 28. He puts his head in his hands and starts sobbing hysterically as his entourage congratulates him. It's about time we had some emotion tonight, dammit. Ager walks up to the stage in a triple-breasted, oversized beige suit, goes to shake hands with Stern and immediately gets whistled for a foul on Dwyane Wade.

Call me a whiny Mavs fan if you will, but I appreciate that comment...Mavs should have won, dammit! I am not bitter! I am not bitter! I can let this go! Oh, who am I kidding?....

So the real reason we all came here today is that I wanted to share with you what happened early yesterday evening. Me and my buddy, RT, were dry walling some holes that got made in the walls of his apartment. Not gonna say how they got there, but lets just say they got there. Regardless, after two trips to the Depot and one trip to the beer store, me and RT go at this thing to cut out a piece of the wall and replace it. We were semi-successful. Which goes to show that when you combine a full set of tools, a six pack of beer, and the ingenuity of two college grads, there is no ceiling to what you can achieve.

Anyways, one patched wall and 6 beers later, as we finished up putting the last bit of spackle in place, RT looks up at me from the sofa and delivers this little gem:

"Viddy, Screw it. Just slap it up there, and let's go Salsa Dancing."

That's not even the worst part. I was completely unfazed by what he said and I agreed. It wasn't until a few seconds later when I said,

"Dude, thats the gayest thing you've ever said. But yeah, call the girls. Let's go."

Honestly, I'm not sure what to make of this whole thing. I mean has there ever been a such a drastic swing from being manly to being unquestionably unmanly? Not that there is anything wrong with salsa dancing with girls. Its really fun, but going from SheetRock to a dance floor is a bit of a change. Well regardless, we had fun, but I couldn't help think about what Ryan said before we went to the girl's place,

"Viddy, there aren't too many guys who can go from dry walling to salsa dancing, yet we pull it off swimmingly."

Agreed. But personally, I'm just not really sure what to think about that.

The Sketchiest Phone Call Ever

So yesterday, I called my roommate to see if he wanted to go see Superman Returns that night. He agreed and we decided on a time to go. That should have been where the conversation ended. But it did not. Chad, then decides to tell me that before we sign the renewal lease to our apartment, which is up at the end of the month, that "we need to talk" and I would have to wait until he got home for the conversation. Adding to this, he told me that he had just finished talking to his mother about it on the phone. Honestly, I had no idea what to think about this, so I spent the rest of the day running around the office telling everyone that I may not have a place to live in the next two days. I spent the time in between that calling everyone I knew wondering when their leases were up, screaming into the phone "Listen to me. He's going back to Ohio! He's going back to Ohio!" I'm sure the whole over-blown ordeal looked much like Brain Fantana in Anchorman yelling into the phone at a crying Ron Burgundy saying, "They're gonna put Corningstone on! They're gonna put Corningstone on!!!!" Needless to say, it was not my crowning moment of cool and collectivity.

When I finally found out what he wanted to talk about, he said that it was only that he thought we should get a shorter lease than the previous two we've had. An idea that I, too, wanted to bring up. When Chad heard my story of unnecessary drama he meekly said, "I thought you might have been thinking that."

Jerk.

So what have I learned from this entire episode?

I really am more of a little girl than I think I am.

Number 1!

That's right! For those of you who don't know, this site is now the number one link when searched on Google. I would like to thank all of you out there who have made my dream of becoming an internet mogul possible. I think Pat said it best when I told him of my recent success and he asked:

"Internet mogul or lazy worker?"

Maybe a little of both. On with the show...

Let me give a shout out to all of you who have made this climb to greatness possible. Exploding-high-five to each of the following...

Drew Ramsauer: He is my first true reader. I think Jenny actually checked out the site first and read my first humble post, (which you can read right here ), but Drew became my first daily reader. Furthermore, whenever I have stretched my mind for things to write about and find myself empty handed, Drew always seems to come through in the clutch by doing or saying something absurd, as illustrated by almost fifty percent of my posts. In fact, he's the only person who has forced me to go back and re-write an entire column so that he was included in a more comedic light. More importantly, he was my biggest fan in regards to this. His dedication to being made fun of for the sake of this website is inspiring. The best part is that he becomes overly distraught with himself when he fails at this. I swear he's just like Phillip Seymour Hoffman's character in Boogie Nights, only he's never tried to kiss me.

Legendary High School Swimmer Paul Kirk: Paul is one of the few who have left comments on my site. But, more importantly, he offered me the hope to keep churning out columns and posts when I felt like giving up. He let me know that what I was doing was good and that my work was reaching as far as the Cuyahoga River area of Ohio. In return for his relentless support, I viciously made fun of him for working at an animal shelter cleaning up cat poo. Even trade. To be honest though, I did appreciate what he did at the animal shelter, it was a very noble thing to do for minimum wage. Paul's dedication and love for animals can only be described as touching and borderline creepy. In fact, lets forget I even brought it up.

Melissa Jordan: Melissa is the first person to...well, I don't know if I'd call it "criticize" me, but she went emo on me in a comment (which you can see here if you scroll down to the bottom). Don't get mad, Mel, I appreciate all comments and I'm not making fun of you. I swear. But, I wrote that piece as a joke, and she just ambushed me with words that, well, I'm sure are true to some extent. Regardless, that whole thing was like the final scene in Return of the Jedi where Luke Skywalker is telling Darth Vader that there is still good left in him while the Emperor is electrocuting him something vicious. I can only imagine me turning over a new leaf and saving her after hearing her words, and then telling her to leave me on the Death Star as I lay mortally wounded:

Melissa: "I have to save you!"
Me (hardly able to speak): "You already have."

By the way, what would be the real world equivalent of this? Like could we be mountain climbing and this scenario work? I'm just not sure. I think I can imagine a scenario from the river trip that might work; with me rescuing her raft or something, and then I get left behind with only the beer. Or worse, without the beer. Maybe this is just one of those things that only works in outer space. Maybe we should just move on...

Cassie Thiessen: For calling me ridiculously long-winded and pointless. Compliment taken.

Plant/Unicycle Man: Along with Drew, Unicycle Man is one of the patron saints of this site. He is the rock on which my foundation is built. His tomfoolery has been my crutch when there are no sports, and he always inspires me to write something when I see him. If you are not familiar with these adventures, just click here. He will never know what he has done for this site. I gave him a quiet salute as he, literally, just walked right in front of me. Shudder.

(Side Note: So, Unicycle Man is, indeed, here at the office today, and he has a sidekick! I thought that I had stopped this travesty when Jeffrey left, but apparently my deeds have not had the consequence I intended. This new minion, patrols the office with him like a watch dog. I'm not even kidding. She looks around very attentively looking for any plant to water that may go unnoticed otherwise. Her attention to details is frightening. If she is this diligent, who knows how crafty and guileful she could become under his tutelage. She looks like a female version of Milton from Office Space, only she is has no need for a stapler, only a plant humidistat and a watering bucket. Honestly, I would find this whole thing hilarious if I wasn't so creeped out. The battle between unicycles and the belief that they are most definitely uncool rages on.

Oh, and Unicycle Man, himself, has made a change to his outward appearance, and its not for the better. While he did actually comb (?) his hair today (ok, I can't say that. Its more of just fashioned, if you will), he has added a distinctive white skunk patch to the very front of his bangs. I guess he's become the Jay Leno of Plant Guys who ride unicycles. I don't know what to make of this, but I'm sure it can't be good. Honestly, I'm getting scared.)

Anonymous: This goes to that guy that keeps leaving comments, though appreciated, but doesn't put his or her name on them; and I have no frickin clue who you are! I will get you, buddy. Rest assured. I have just one thing to say to you, Anonymous: You, sir, are a coward.

My Mother: In retrospect, I have no idea why I even told my mother about this site because, in good conscience, it has limited what I could write up here without feeling like a failure of a son. But that's neither here nor there. The reason I have to thank my mother is that once she started reading my site she would call me with her opinion about my writing. Not even the subject matter, she would correct me on my writing style and point out when I got too ranty; never once mentioning any of the drunken stories that I had written. It was kinda like when you have a really old relative visiting and they do or say something completely out of line and not a soul reacts. This is usually something racist or a bodily noise at the dinner table. Regardless, everyone just acts like it didn't happen and hides his or her horrified looks from each other. And it just sits there in the room like a big white elephant while everyone tries to just move past it and eat their meatloaf. That's a little like how it feels to have my mom lecture me about my writing style without touching on any of the glaring stories. Ok, maybe not that bad, but you get the idea.

(Side Note: What is with this office I work at? Some guy from the eighth floor just came up looking for batteries and was asking me for them in voice that I can only describe as ....as....I can't even describe it. It was cartoony or...well; it was terrible, lets leave it at that. That's not even the worst part. HIS desk is littered with little stuffed animal frogs. Frogs! Am I as weird as everybody else here or am I the only sane one? Don't answer that. I swear, even Mugatu from Zoolander didn't deal with characters like these. I feel like I'm taking crazy pills!)

Well, there are more of you out there that are critical to writing this, but I can't mention all of you. But I did want to do a throw away column by thanking all of you rather than having to come up with something on my own. I also wanted to add that the Mavericks had a huge part of this so far, so hands up for them. Along those lines, with the Mavs out of the playoffs, I am running out of steam on things to write. I will do my best to keep at least a post every weekday, but no guarantees. I would rather swallow my tongue for two or three days than throw some crap up here that isn't funny or important to me in some way.

Ok, I better get back to work now. Just remember: Together, we achieved.

Frogger

Today is my co-worker, Jeffrey's, last day with us. So we decided to go out to lunch with some people as kind of a last hurrah with him. Now, Jeffrey is buddies with our CEO (the one who called me 'chief' which I wrote about here), and he paid for our lunch, thus making my lunch hour a company expense--which means everything is paid for and I get worker's comp if I were to slip on a banana peel or something strange like that. Where am I going with this?

Well, lets just say that I ordered an absurd amount of food, and that on the walk back I kept wanting to dart across the street in the middle of traffic like I was in a life-sized game of Frogger. I swear to you I'm not crazy.

Have a good weekend.

Kick in the sports balls

So Team USA soccer and their "Don't Tread On Me" campaign seemed to have failed just a bit. In fact, they should have just run out there with a white flag. Needless to say, their loss--after Italy won their needed match with the Czechs--provided the proverbial sports kick to my proverbial sports groin. Which was already sore from the Heat swiftly rapping their feet into the same tender area. Lets just say I'm done spitting venom about the Mavs and Team USA and we're only looking forward now while the tender groin and wounds heal. With that said, I will impose one last bit of Mavs Wrath out there for those Mavs fans who still feel cheated. Here is a site illustrating all the phantom calls for Wade, he counts five of them in game 6.

Ok, I'm done talking Mavs, I don't want to revisit that place of bitterness that engulfed me for the last two days. Let's just pretend it never happened. Luckily, the Rangers won yesterday providing me with some much needed proverbial IcyHot for my still throbbing sports balls. Thank you, Rangers. It already feels better.

Don't Tread On Me

Admittedly, I know next to nothing about soccer, but the World Cup is on with the US playing Ghana, and I can't help but feel that my hours here at work might be forcing me to miss something good. Who am I kidding? If I didn't have work, I'd be passed out asleep right now. Regardless, I will be following this game until it ends. But from what I hear we're down by 1 goal already. Crap. I guess the point is that on the day we should be having game 7 in the NBA I have to watch this. That said, Go USA!

I will get my Mavs post up today. I meant to finish it yesterday, but I fell asleep. It happens.
**Mavs column below this.

6 Minutes

Four in a row. The Mavs lost four in a row. And it can all be traced back to game 3, when there was six minutes left and the Mavs held a 10 point lead. Three games and six minutes later, the Heat are champions. I have been sports crying ever since. On the flip side of that I kinda feel relieved, now that they have lost. It's a strange feeling. I think it must be how the players feel. I mean, they would trade anything to have that game 7, but the loss means this emotional and physical roller coaster is over. Think about it. The Mavs and the Heat have played almost an additional 1/4th of a season since the regular season ended. That's amazing. What if we did this in all sports? What if after a marathon runner won a 10k, he and the other top eight guys had to run another 2.5k? That would be absurd. You really have to appreciate the grind these guys go through.

The emotional aspect is tough on both the players and the fans. Going from being up on the Spurs, to having to win Game 7 on a last second foul. Then going up on PHX and then having to win on the road. This whole playoff experience is full of highs and lows and it takes its toll on you, and at least one part of me is glad its over--even though we lost.

That said, I have a few issues to take up. The Mavs blew this finals. No question. But they were also screwed over by the refs. Before you label me as making excuses, hear me out. We all know that Wade got an absurd amount of calls, but stars will get those calls and the Mavs still could have won despite the fact that there were a bunch of phantom calls. Let's just focus on the final seconds of games 5 and 6. Wade was given fouls that put him on the line after Dallas had either tied it or pulled with in one point. Neither of these fouls was worthy of calling. That's not my opinion, that’s the truth. In game 5 Wade wasn't touched. In game 6, Wade actually elbowed Dirk in the face. But again, that's Dirk's fault, if you hit someone in the elbow with your face its a foul; much like how if your name is Keith Van Horn and you stand with in five feet of Tim Duncan its also a foul. I'm pretty sure those are in the rule book. The point that I am trying to make is that in the most important part of the most important games, the refs made calls that were not only borderline, but they were flat wrong. Being a ref myself, sometimes at the end of a game you have to swallow your whistle, or you better be damn sure that it’s a foul. This kinda put the Mavs in a position where it is very hard to bounce back from two games in a row. Add to this their soft playing, cold shooting, and unforced errors (i.e. the timeout debacle in game 5) and you are not only playing against the Heat, but yourselves too.

My buddy, Adam, called me after the game to say that he felt the Heat had the better team and made better moves in the off-season. Despite being beaten like they did, the Mavs had a far superior team. The Heat just had the best player. When you have a player of Wade's quality, and you play tough and go to the hole, you will win. Period.

I have to wonder what the Mavs are thinking about right now. I don't think they would ever say anything to take this win away from the Heat, but you have to wonder if they know what they've just done. Like Herb Brooks said to Team USA after beating the Soviets, "If you lose this game you will take this to your fucking grave." That must be resonating in their heads. You have to wonder what kind of mental damage this might have on the team because, you know, deep down, they are asking themselves, "How in the world, did we lose this series?"

Random Quick Hits:
--While watching the game on Tuesday night, my buddy RT and I were discussing whether Mark Cuban was detrimental to the team with his outbursts and what not. I said that the team would not be where it is without him, but I'm sure he's not helping by running his mouth so much. We then got to the subject of his mansion where he lived with Dennis Rodman for a while and how there was nothing in it but a TV, a couch, a bed, and a place for his beer. RT summed this up by saying:

Dude, love him or hate him, Cuban is straight up "dude."

You can't argue with that. The guy is the man of all men. He went to a Mavs game and bought the team because he thought the atmosphere was boring. Just like that! He turned the team into his personal amusement park and hasn't changed one bit. He's still just a dude, but with billions. For example, all guys want to look their best in an interview, and most would agree that they look best while working out. Cuban just had the balls to go ahead and jump on a treadmill before a game interview. Twice! He may be a bit crazy, and have bad hair, but Mark Cuban, as RT said, is straight up "dude."

--Isaiah is now the COACH of the Knicks! Look here! It goes from bad to worse. Sometimes you need news like this to remember that your team was just in the Finals, while the Knicks are doomed for years. My day is already better.

--I am number 2 on google when you search the title of this site! I am now gunning for number one. Next stop the world!

Collapse Complete

I've just ranted to three friends about the Mavs and this whole series. I'm not delusional. The Mavs could have won it despite the refs, but they did make it harder. By the way, has anyone has seen Dirk? He seems to have disappeared. Maybe he's a phenominal number 2 guy at best? Regardless, congrats to David Stern. I wonder if he'll hand the trophy to Riley or if he'll just place it on his own mantle for that win. Understandably, I may or may not write about this tomorrow. If not, there is always the World Cup and the Rangers. On second thought, I think I should be on 24 hour suicide watch.

We're Format Changing!

I decided that I don't like this all black background, so.........

Magic!

Its gone.

On to other things...

I was really feeling embarrassed by all of the horrible predictions that I made about the Mavs in 5, and then how Miami had nothing to throw at Dallas. Well, I was wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. That said, I did get one thing right. I wrote this before the series started:

Before I get too far, I think that I need to mention that I think the refs will have an insurmountable affect on this series, Simmons touches on this in his article. Most people that I talk to think it will come down to Shaq and his ability to cold-cock people and somehow get the foul called on the D. I think, on the other hand, that Shaq won't get the leniency that he wants. Instead, I think it will come down to DWayde and his ridiculous drives to the hole. I mean give me a break. The guy drives to the rim, leaps into the crowd and heaves the ball over his head and expects to get the foul. And 90% of the time he does. I mean have you ever watched him? He looks like he's a kid at a pool doing a cannonball into the deep end. How is that not an offensive foul? I am insane? Watch a Heat game and see what I'm talking about. It’s the most ridiculous thing in sports. I will now go chew on tin foil.

I kinda wish I had been wrong on that one too. To read more about this, Simmons has a great article on it today. Its long, but it puts a lot of things in focus. You can read it here.

I will not jinx the Mavs anymore by writing my predictions. City of Dallas, I apologize. My bad.

Meltdown

How do you ruin the weekend of my sister's wedding? Have the Mavs lose to the Heat for the third game in a row, putting them in the position of being eliminated. Lets recap how this happened...

Well, before I get to that, Let me say that the intro for the Heat games is by far the gayest thing I have seen at a basketball game since I saw two shirtless, bulked-up Eastern Europeans lifting each other and balancing eachother with their bodies at halftime of a Mavs game. I don't know exatly what I am supposed to think when I see this guy wearing glasses like he's Cyclops from X-Men in a white Heat jersey, spinning around with two flags like he's just been sprinkled with fairy dust. Honestly, my best guess is that this is Miami Heat basketball thorough interpretive dance. No excuses, Miami. That's lame.

Also, how come the Heat announcer demands that they put his face on T when he's doing the starting line up? How vain is this guy? You're paid for you voice, not your mug. And if you're gonna put your face up there at least look at the camera instead of acting like you don't know its on you. I guess the point that I'm trying to make is that public address announcers are lame, some more than others.

--Everyone here in Dallas is ready to string up the refs for this game like its Salem, Mass. But I think we have to face the facts that Dallas blew the game, not the refs. Just think about how the San Antonio fans blamed the refs, lets not be those guys. Dallas lost because of dumb mistakes. Missed freethrows by Dirk and Howard seemed to be the glaring mistakes. Also, turnovers by Damp when he passed the ball right to Wade. And lets not forget Harris missing three layups.

--Also, laziness came into this. What about when Dirk and Damp let posey grab a rebound that was right in front of them down the stretch because both thought the other would get it.

--OK, now that that is out, lets touch on DWade. We have to face it, he's gonna get boarderline calls. Dirk gets them too; this is shown by how he has set a playoff record for free throws (By the way, next time your drunk try to say the words "free throws" its nearly impossible and extremely entertaining if you involve your friends. Trust me). Both guys will get their calls, but Dallas needs to stop making excuses. You're not fouling him? Great, but how is he blowing past three of you? Someone make a stop on this guy. There are five of you out there, use everyone if you must. Just stop crying about it, and stop him.

--I'm nervous that this team is unraveling from top to bottom. Just look at the press conference with Cuban and Avery. I have never seen either of them just lose it like that. I mean, they were mean to the reporters. Granted I would be too. But I think they could have found a better way to show their anger. Couldn't they have sent Stackhouse into the media room where he could have thrown eggs at Shaq and Wade during their interviews only to disappear in the confusion under his disguise of a tranch coat, fadora, and Grouch Marx glasses? Maybe he could even save one egg for the wierd-cyclops-flag-waving-intro guy. Is this really too much to ask?

--DWade WAS NOT fouled by Dirk on the final shot. Not even close. I'm not surprised he got the call, but the upsetting part is that for the entire playoffs the refs have displayed that they are going to make you shoot to win on a buzzer shot. That is, they aren't gonna call a ticky-tack fouls and put the game on the foul line. But that's exactly what they did. On a terrible call no less. I have to stop thinking about this or I'm gonna stangle myself with my tie.

Ok, I'm better now. Just needed that off my chest. I'll do something funny later.

Company Outings

I didn't get any posts up in a while because I decided that yesterday, in an effort to throw off my co-workers, I would actually do a little work.

No, I'm kidding. I would never do that. Yesterday, we had a company outing at the Frisco Rough Riders game. Just think, I got paid to get hammered with my bosses. Never do you learn so much about someone you work with until you tie a few off with them. Suddenly, they are whispering how they feel about some scrub that works in accounting, or they tell you how much of a jerk-off they thought you were when you first got the job. Either way, its always fun. Especially when the CFO pays for all of your beer. I'll keep agreeing with you, if you keep 'em coming. Thanks, dude. I am starting to learn the loop holes of the corporate world.

After a nice sunburn, I had to go get my car fixed because the engine is about to fallout. Not good times. Anyways, I finalized my one and a half day sports purge (watching mavs on tues, attending frisco in the am) by going to the Rangers game last night. Shut out the Sox 8-0. I slept well.

Mavs stuff up in yo face...
Although I was disappointed in the outcome of that game. And although the Mavs played like crap. And although we should be 3-0, I still think this thing is in good hands. I think they'll win tonight. After all, there is no way we can lose as long as we have this guy on our team.

A few more thoughts on Tuesday's game:
--Since the playoffs began this season, Dallas has had trouble with either the first game of the series or the first game on the road. None the less, they have finished all three series on the road so I am not that worried.

--After Stack made such an impact in game two, he does nothing in game 3, except missed a dunk. That was just funny though.

--Ok, I agree. DWade is unstoppable when he wants to be, much like Dirk. Although it did help that Devin Harris was the only Maverick to score a FG in the final six minutes. I'm sure a point or two here and there might have made difference in a two point game. Just a hunch.

--Shaq made BOTH of his FT's in crunch time. That's the equivalent of Miami Vice not sucking because Collin Farrell has an Oscar worthy performance. Literally, what are the odds?

--The Crafty Veteran said it best: "Dirk won't miss another free throw like that for years. That was a freebie to the Heat."

Agreed.

The Return of the Links
But I Kinda Half-Assed It This Time...along with everything else I wrote today.

--http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DOVFTgCVgnU&search=mark%20cuban-- I don't know how many of you saw this interview with Mark Cuban before game 1 of the finals while he was on a stair climber for no particular reason. All I can say is I can see him hearing that Stu Scott was there, then proceeding to jump on the machine while spraying a light mist on his face and arms with a spritzer bottle, and then issuing the order to send him in. I swear I love the guy, but the man is ridiculous. Also, I had no clue a man could flex his triceps for such a long time while the camera rolls. I say he practiced that almost ten times before he let the cameras in.

--http://sports.espn.go.com-- First, Pedilla plunks Pierzynski twice last night, then Ozzie calls in some minor league clown to hit Blalock. Minor leaguer chickens out, but gets an out anyway; Ozzie looses it and demotes him back to minors. I don't know what else to say about this other than that this Rangers-White Sox rivalry is really starting to heat up. Someone's gonna get fastball in the temple or Ozzie's head is gonna explode.

--http://itkamb.ytmnd.com/-- "Oh man, its hot. I could really use a drink, but there's nothing in the fridge." Then the sound of the walls cracking, suddenly he strikes......."Oh, yeah!" Everything goes red.....

--CNN.COM--This.....is......awesome.

--http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Woodland_Critter_Christmas_(South_Park)-- Reason # 35 why Wikipedia is the coolest site on the internet, bar none.

Is it too early to call it a dynasty?

Ok, I'm kidding. I really don't think a 2-0 lead constitutes how good the Mavs are. I don't even think it correlates into Dallas having this thing locked up, but I have to tell you, Miami has thrown everything it has at Dallas and the Mavs have been able to overcome it. Even when Dallas is shooting cold, like in game 1, they can tighten the screws on D and Miami has no answer. The problem is that Shaq is out of his prime and DWade hasn't reached his yet. When you combine that with the gaggle of spares they have surrounding them you have two guys with the wherewithal to get it done, but not the ability. With the way that they are just looking around helplessly, they are starting to look like the cast of one of those MTV Real World/Road Rules Challenges (minus for Alton. That guy was a stud! I think I'm gonna try to draft him in fantasy football this year as a running back.). Add the fact that Antoine Walker is on the Heat and Dallas is in cruise control. I honestly don't see any way that Miami can win this. I'm gonna stick with my original pick of Mavs in 5. Mark it down.

This town is going nuts, and I am still having trouble grasping the fact that I am watching the NBA Finals while it is happening 6 miles away from me. Just mind-blowing considering where this team was when I arrived in Dallas. Also, I never thought Erick Dampier, who Shaq called "the best center in the WNBA" (Slam!) would ever out-play Shaq in a Finals game (Double Slam!). In fact, thinking about that is making my head hurt. I think this can be best summed up in a text I got from Kurt:

Shaq was better in Kazzaam than he's been in the finals

Wow, thats low, but the thought of Shaq breaking out the faux-genie costume from the movie before game 3 has me giddy. Honestly, I can see him in the locker room real early putting it on trying to conjure up some luck, when Charles Barkley walks in. The stare at each other for a second before Chuck asks, "What are you doing?" Shaq snatches the genie hat off his head and places it behind his back, prompting Chuck to walk off shaking his head. Am I the only one who thinks about these things?

In case you were curious about it, I will now give you the "Frat Names" we dubbed ourselves here at SMU so we could fit in with the pop-collard crowd. Well, I guess its more mocking it, but you get the picture. Ok, let's get Fratastic!

--Flip Wilson: This is Reed's alter ego. Not to be confused with "Dork Nowitzki" and "Robert DeReedo." The later being when his hair is slicked back making us all compare him to DeNiro in the movie Jackie Brown, only more harmless. The best part of Flip is that he is a very good dresser and likes to look as preppy as possible. It is not odd to see Flip in a blazer or even a sweater with a dress-shirt popping out. He likes leather shoes and is always confident, he is nevertheless ignorant, egotistical, and not very intelligent but also remains the rock for the entire group. Flip says his father is very wealthy.

--J.T. Adams: When Daniel met me and Reed he was shadow of what he is now. Now, a woman-hunting monster lurks in his loins. We call this beast J.T. Adams. Jerrod Thomas, as his parents call him, likes to think of himself as the token funny guy of the group, but often he finds that telling a lady how it is works better. J.T. has been known to sport the blazer from time to time, but his laziness usually dictates the wearing of an old t-shirt instead. He has also been known to go by "Penguin" around campus, and "the Frosty Fowl" among the brothers. He is treated as something of a mascot by the rest of the people in the brotherhood, and in many ways, his personality is dog-like: not bright, but good hearted and loyal. J.T. says his father is very wealthy.

--Everett "Bo" Bostwick Eaton, III: This is B. Viddy's preppie alter ego. He developed this person from his first roommate, who happened to share the same name. Soon, this persona became his wild party side. Not only will Bo pop his collar, but he will pop yours too. Whether you like it or not. Considered quite the ladies man and quite the drinker. He likes collard shirts and smoked aviator sunglasses accompanied by Rainbow sandals and a moppy hair-do. He is the cocky one in the group, a support group rolled into one, and perhaps the real ringleader. He is also the voice and the funny guy of the group, but he absurdly overestimates his personal qualities. Bo says his father is very wealthy.

Roosevelt "Brock" Brockington, Jr: This is the name Beau (not same as above) was given to describe the wild animal that comes out when he pops his collar. Brock is captain of the lacrosse team and is very fond of sweater vests. He also is quite a hit with the ladies. Brock is always the guy who hands you one of his beers as you walk into one of his terrific frat parties, although you're never sure why he had two beers to begin with. He is also well known for breaking into the SMU pool and consequently getting arrested, where he is usually naked. Brock says his father is very wealthy.

Chet Jetterson: Chet is the name of Casey when he transforms himself from "Metro-Casey" into the plaid shorts-wearing, mop haired Jetterson. A very mischievous brother, he always seems to already be at the parties when you get there, but disappears for extended periods of time to experiment in recreational substances. He fashions himself after no man's style and often invites the ladies to take a ride on the ChetJet, which is rarely refused--and ever less rarely as good as it sounds. Thinks he is craftier than he really is, but is devilishly ruthless when he feels he is right, or even just offended. Some might call him the Erick Cartman of the group. He embraces the image of the sleaziness that has been bestowed upon him and revels in going lower than others won't. He has been known to say that "the south is pretty much the same as the north, only in the south we really like mint juleps and slaves." Chet says his father is very wealthy.

Joe "J Trip" Johnson, Jr: This is the alter ego of Jimmy when he's feeling ready to mingle with sorority girls. "In high school, they called me J Trip," he'll say to you after a handshake and timid smile. J-Trip seems very shy, but is more modest than anything. Some might call him the conscious of the group, but he never shies away from getting into trouble with the rest of the brothers. Not as big of a drinker as some of the others, none the less, he has been known to get hammered and argue with inadament things like walls, cameras, and even his own beer. J-Trip is on the Greek Board and is the groups "academic representative" Unfortunately, no one listens to what he says, and he doesn't have much of a job there. J Trip says his father is very wealthy.

Drew "Man Tan" Edward Ramsauer: Avon, Connecticut's most dangerous. Drew is, in fact, in a frat and you already know all about him so he doesn't get a frat name--he's already got one. Drew says his father is very wealthy.

(Side Note: Drew saw this and was upset that he didn't get a frat nickname. I explained that he WAS a frat guy and so he doesn't get one. Well, this displeased him very much as shown in his text to me:

Where's my nickname asshole? How about 'Maverick Danger Man Power'?

I swear I have no idea where he came up with that nickname, but I don't think I could not do what he asked after that. And his real name sounds too German, soooooooooo.........

Andrew "Maverick Danger Man Power" Edward Worthington-Pennypacker: MDMP grew up on the mean streets of Greenwich, Conn. He, almost proudly, serves as the group's emotional punching bag. Has been known to get in far too deep over his head. It is rare that one sees MDMP out and about without sporting his man tan, which he works on for countless hours. He can be found chilling to Dave Matthews and is always ready for some fierce vollyball amongst the brothers. He is the sweetest, most innocent, and most gullible character in the group. He is generally much nicer and much more naïve than the others; unlike nearly all the brothers, he rarely curses and instead uses euphimisms that sound like curse words (i.e. "Oh, hamburgers!"). Andrew is the impressionable one of the group. Consequently, he has unfounded and almost blind respect and trust towards "Bo" Eaton (B.Viddy), and is considered by most to be his protégé. He secretly hopes to one day be the same person as Bo, and even thought up his own absurd nickname, hoping that it would catapult him into masculinity. This has not happened as of yet. Andrew says his father is very wealthy.

A few of the guys couldn't remember their frat names so I left them off. It's sad that some of us took this more seriously than the others. Consequently, all of us who remembered our names do not have girlfriends. I see no correlation in this. Ok, I admit it. I do.

Sometimes, we play a different game where when we meet someone we tell them either our own name or a fake one and then tell them one of your relatives invented something absolutley absurd, we use the following formula:

"My (fill in with a relative ) is the guy who invented the (fill in with the strangest thing you can think of)."

I like to use shoe laces or Nestle Quick. Regardless, its fun for all.

Some Drew Quick Hits!

As some of you know, I received an opportunity to become a private investigator. One cannot understand the coolness and potential badass I could become with this. Regardless, I told Drew of this and he offered up the best summation of the entire situation:

"P.I.? That's awesome! Dude, that's like the absolute creepiest position you could ever occupy. you should totally do it."

Agreed.

Sexual Harasment Drew:
According to Drew, he was suspended from work for sexual harassment. I don't even want to know what he did. I'm sure the real story wouldn't come close to the things I am hoping happened. All I have to say is that you keep making us proud up there in Avon, Drew.

Also, I thought it would be out line of me not to mention this text from Drew that I got on Sunday morning:

You are my hero

I swear there has been no other time in my life where I have felt so much like Ron Burgandy. I think that was the text message equivilent to the scene where Champ Kind bears his emotions in the "Hell, I'm a mess without you" speech. Can't you just see him getting all sniffly and his eyes getting all teary: "I miss your musk. Viddy, I think when this is all over we should adopt a child in Vermont!"

Easy, Drew. Why don't you take it easy. Maybe sit the next few plays out.

Copa del Mundo Madness!

Today has been a long day. And by long I mean: man, was hung over this morning. Mavs win because Jet is the man. I'm not gonna analyze the game other than to say that Jet's missed dunk/finger roll became hilarious as soon as the Mavs won. Before that I was ready to start gnawing on the wall in anger. Moving on...

Today I came across a terrific article by DJ Gallo about the World Cup which starts today. I don't really care for soccer, but I am pumped about the World Cup, and this article made me laugh out loud. You can check it out here. Trust me it's worth it, even if soccer is not your cup of tea. If nothing more, just read the part about the World Cup logo. Genius!

One thing I actually thought of while getting paid to poop at work: I was reading the comics in the newspaper while sitting there at the john and I came across Dennis the Menace. I started to think about the fact that every panel he is ever in involves him over at Mr. Wilson's house. Now, this kids like, what?, eight years old? Ten at best? And here he is everyday over at this old man's house? Doesn't anyone see anything wrong with this? Are you trying to tell me this kid would rather stay with Grump-O Wilson than play with his friends? Really? And for that matter where are his friends? Are you saying he doesn't have even one friend? Shouldn't his parents be a little bit concerend over this? This whole thing is a bit fishy if you ask me. I don't know why I noticed that, but I just think these are things you should know.

(Side Note: The great thing about the eleventh floor men's bathroom is that when I stroll in there at 3:30 everyday, there is a copy of the funny pages and my daily horoscope (It says I'm focused today!) along with a crossword and other things of that nature sitting there from the person before me. Everyday. Obviously, this puts a tremendous upside on going to the commode. The best part is that there is a new one delivered there to the big, handicapped stall like clockwork. Which is good because let’s say I don't like to leave the handicapped stall to grab a paper, and there's no way I'm resting these cheeks on the regular-person seats. In fact, if there’s someone in there when I get the call, I just wait it out. I don't know who this man is who leaves me my bathroom amusement, but I would like to shake his hand...Well, maybe not.)

With that said, I'm starting to fear the direction I am taking this entire web site...Oh well.

Another interesting event took place while I was in the elevator today. Now, I have many "Elevator Etiquette Rules" but the one I am going to mention is the "No Talking Rule." You know what I'm talking about. I don't know you and you don't know me, and there's only a window of eleven floors for us to learn each other's life stories. Save it. Lets just awkwardly stand there with dead silence and the humming in the elevator. In fact if you encounter this situation with the same person enough times, you can have imaginary friendships with them. The possibilities of your adventures are limitless. Just ask my non-speaking elevator friend, Angry Eyebrows Guy. (I wonder what wacky adventures we'll get into tonight?)

Anyways, there are exceptions to this rule. One is if your a hot chick. You ladies are always welcome, just no promises on me not saying something dumb and ruining any chance I had. Another is if you are a Hispanic lady and have this to say to me in a Latina accent:

"You should be in a soap opera."

Well guess what? A Mexican(?) lady did just that. Completely out of no where too. Strangely enough that wasn't the first time I heard something like that today. (The first was from one of my dad's buddies...wait. I don't think I'm comfortable with that anymore). All I could do was blush and laugh as I exited the elevator with a hop in my step. Well this whole story quickly snow-balled through the office, mainly because I told everyone--but that’sneither here not there. The important thing is that the girls in HR that I work with decided to come up with a soap opera name for me. The final verdict? Logan Landry. I think that name is worthy of permanent italics. Needless to say, I have been walking around the office the entire day with completely underserved sense of accomplishment.

Lead us to victory, Big German

So tonight is the tip off of the NBA Finals pitting the local heroes, the Dallas Mavericks, agianst the Miami Heat. Now I really don't have much to say in preparation for the game because I don't really know what to expect out of this series yet. There are so many big names and ways this thing could go, that I don't even want to attempt to analyze them. In fact, I didn't even feel like writing about any of this today. I know that kinda is a weak excuse. Especially since I have fancied my way through the last few weeks of this column on the crutch of writing about the Mavs. I do, although, feel like I would be cheating eveyone (however many of you there are) if I didn't at least mention a few things about the Mavs. I'm gonna start out with a few things Bill Simmons wrote because they made me a little less prone from jumping out of the window today at work. You can read the whole article here. But for the sake of time, and because Blogger is acting gay and just erased everything I wrote, here are some highlights:

Is there a sports gimmick that's more secretly lousy than the 2-3-2 gimmick in the NBA Finals?
No. It's inane. I hate it. You have one format for the first three rounds of the playoffs, followed by a new format for the Finals? Really? This is logical? This makes sense to everybody? Why not just add a 4-point shot and a multicolored ball?

Agreed. You couldn't be more illogical unless you instituted moving baskets just to make it more difficult. And...

The real problem here: Because so many of these guys shave their heads, it's 10 times harder to tell when they're slipping. After all, Shaq doesn't look any different than he did 10 years ago. Neither does GP. Hell, even Michael Jordan doesn't look much different then he did 15 years ago, save for the wispy mustache that makes him look like he should be playing the sax for Eddie and the Cruisers, and he's in his mid-40s. You just can't tell. Personally, I wish everyone grew their hair out -- wouldn't you rather see Sam Cassell battling these younger guys with one of those Gus Williams-esque balding afros, or Shaq carrying the Heat past the Pistons with Sherman Helmsley's old hairline? And why does this only work for black people? Why can't I just start shaving my head and immediately become ageless? I find the whole thing very unfair.

And finally...

On a scale of 1 to 10, how excited are you for the possibility of Stern handing the trophy to Cuban?
Somewhere between 29 and 35.

Before I get too far, I think that I need to mention that I think the refs will have an insurmountable affect on this series, Simmons touches on this in his article. Most people that I talk to think it will come down to Shaq and his ability to cold-cock people and somehow get the foul called on the D. I think, on the other hand, that Shaq won't get the leniency that he wants. Instead, I think it will come down to DWayde and his ridiculous drives to the hole. I mean give me a break. The guy drives to the rim, leaps into the crowd and heaves the ball over his head and expects to get the foul. And 90% of the time he does. I mean have you ever watched him? He looks like he's a kid at a pool doing a cannonball into the deep end. How is that not an offensive foul? I am insane? Watch a Heat game and see what I'm talking about. It’s the most ridiculous thing in sports. I will now go chew on tin foil.

(More Mavs: Tickets are selling on stubhub for somewhere near 7,000 dollars! Super Bowl tickets only cost like 500! This town is going insane and ticket prices show it. I mean seriously, fourteen thousand dollars for two seats? What will game seven be like? 18,000 dollars, your first born son, the naming rights to your second child, and three used spoons? Would that be enough for courtside? What would it take to get next to Cuban? I must stop my head is about to explode. I see no sense in any of this).

Random Quick Hit:
I figured that it would be uncouth of me not to mention the following story given the name of this website, so here we go. Last night I was laying in my bed watching a little pre-sleep Southpark. So there I was enjoying my show when I get a phone call from a buddy of mine. Now before I get too far let me say this: I have a few rules in regards to when I talk to other people and when I don't. Late at night I make exceptions for good friends. Also, it was only 11:38 pm which is early for me, so he probably thought I was still up and running about. For those of you who are a bit unfamiliar, let me spell out those rules for you:

1. I do not talk to people or answer my phone early in the morning or while I'm on my way to work. Just ask Drew, he almost got arrested because of this one. I am that unwavering.

2. I do not go to lunch with anyone during a work day. All I want to do is read the sports page and enjoy my tasty sub. I will answer phone calls as these tend to be the most entertaining calls of the day. I think its due to the fact that most people won't try to contact you that early in the day unless there is something that you absolutley can't miss going on. For example, Pat calling me to tell me about a ridiculous episode of Walker, Texas Ranger or Chuck Norris's Karate Kommandos. In fact, anything about Chuck Norris gets bumped to the front of the line. Don't hesitate with those.

3. I do not, under any circumstance, answer my phone before noon on a weekend or holiday. No exceptions. I wasn't even sure life existed at these ungodly hours until about two years ago. I pray you don't ever have to experience the terror that is 10 am on a Saturday.

4. I don't answer my phone late night. Ok, that's a lie. I only answer if I choose to.

And yet, I digress...

So, I get this phone call from my buddy, and the first words out of his mouth are:

Viddy, let me ask you a serious question. When's the last time you shit yourself?

I think I was 0.01 seconds into thinking about what my answer would be before I realized what I was about to be told. I think I burst out in laughter, knowing where the conversation was going while I tried to be supportive. He then tells me of the "Shart of all sharts." I won't go into details, but lets just say he was on the phone with his dad when it happened. I swear, you can't make stuff like this up. After thinking about this I came to a realization, my friends are endless material. What would I do without them?....probably drink by myself a lot more.

p.s. I wrote most of this yesterday, but lost it all due to blogger's gayness. So don't complain that I'm posting things after they've almost lost all relevance.

Jeffrey Strikes Back!
So Jeffrey decided that the Unicycle War was one battle that he would counter my preventative strike with an assault of his own. His attempt didn't come in the form of him wielding a one-wheeled weapon as I thought, but instead it came as him showing me a video to prove the street-cred of unicycles. Check the video out here, of unicyclers doing crazy stunts and basically acting extreme. Too bad his counter attack is my ammo. I say it is this exact reason that I am creeped out and terrified of these guys. They must be stopped before this gets out of hand. Its the calm before the storm. Hold on to something.

Unicycle Man Strikes Back!

With out any Mavericks on TV I am starting to get the shakes, and have even gone as far as going back to the gym after my 3 week sabbatical to watch basketball every night. My body is sore and weary and I am grumpy. The only thing keeping me sane is the Rangers playing well and staying in first place. I'll write something about this later.

The real reason I am here today is to tell you of some regretful news. Unicycle Man/Plant Man, (who I wrote about earlier in my archives here ) is back. Not only is he back, but he is recruiting minions. Why? I'm not sure, but it can't be good. I am theorizing that he is planning on forming an army of dorky unicyclers that he will lead into battle against all conventional thought on the un-coolness unicycles. Not sure what it will accomplish, but I think it’s better if we prevent this all together.

The reason I say he is forming this dark and dorky army of these "one-wheeled warriors" is that one of my close co-workers, Jeffrey (shout out!), has fallen under Unicycle Man's tempest spell and plans on purchasing his very own unicycle. In fact, he intends to buy a mountain unicycle. I know, I know...I'll say it. How does THAT work? I can't imagine staying on a single wheel on flat ground, let alone a freaking mountain! Now you see where I'm coming from. Its questions like this that make me worried about this whole unicycle thing in the first place.

Anyways, I have also found that one of my co-workers down in the IT department is an avid unicycle rider. Luckily for all, he has not met Unicycle Man, nor been exposed to his dark prophesies. Unfortunately, Jeffery is spreading Unicycle Man's evil wisdom to him. The most disturbing part? This guy is the head of IT. That means he could recruit all seven members of the tech squad, turning the eight floor of the building into a fortress of impending doom and dorkiness.

I'm not sure of the repercussions of not acting quickly on this, but I fear they will be similar to the non-actions of the Catholics in Germany in World War II; too little too late. The next thing we will know, these unicyclers will be every where, and I refuse to live in a world on "one-wheelers." It is for that reason, Jeffrey, that I simply cannot support your decision or lifestyle anymore. You've been warned.

Magic feet

So yesterday morning sometime around 6 am, I was awoken by a loud and repetitive sound outside the window of my apartment. I quickly realized that this was the sound of a car; to be specific it was a car alarm. Well, not so much an alarm, but more like the sound made when you hit the panic button on the keyless entry. Just horns and lights galore. Anyways, I lay there trying to ignore the sound, knowing that I would have to wake up for work in two short hours. Well, anyone who knows me knows that I value every minute, nay, every second of sleep. I mean I get mad if my roommate wakes me up in the morning as he is walking in the door from his girlfriend's place even if I do need to wake up two minutes later. In fact, it makes me very upset and has the potential to ruin my day. Let's just say that if i wake up before my alarm goes off, good times will not be on the menu for the day.

And yet, I digress...

So I am trying to fall back asleep hoping that I can overmatch the sounds of the car by placing a pillow over my head, or that someone will just turn the damn thing off. Then it hits me. What if that is my car? I think about it for a second. It sounds like my car. Its coming from the direction of my car. Dammit, now I have to get up and look. I peer out the blinds. Not my car. The culprit turns out to be a van, in the parking space next to mine, going ballistic with its horns and lights.

Well, I decide that I've had enough and throw on some shoes and walk down there. I walk directly over to the van and kick it in the back bumper, while blurting out something along the lines of "shut up!" Magically, the van immediately quiets. I stand there astonished. How is it that my foot was able to stop the madness that had gone on for the past ten minutes? I stood there for a second not believing what had just happened. To tell you the truth, I didn’t care how it happened, I just wanted to return to bed. So, I quickly turned around to head back to my building only to find an upset looking Hispanic man in a blue robe and slippers, holding his keys and keyless-entry pad in his hands. Now most of this part is a blur to me, but I think I humbly said something like, "oh" as I quickly scurried past him back to the safety of my apartment. He never even said a word to me, just stared with an astonished expression. What would he do if he knew that my car sat right next to his, inviting retaliation?

I don't know, but I think I'm gonna be paranoid for weeks.

Phoenix Phinished

OK, I have a million quick hits here that I have been thinking about since I got back from a crazy weekend in Austin/New Braunfels. First...... Yes ladies, the Suns are done! Eat it, Phoenix. With Dallas winning the series, I am safe from the pledge I made before the series; that is, I don't have to cut my tattoo of a phoenix off my shoulder blade because Dallas won. Close call, but I'm not sure I would have followed through with that one anyway, although, I've done some crazy stuff while drunk.

Game 6 was a defining moment for the Mavs and Dirk. Not only did they come back from 18 points, but Dirk completed his coup d'état of the NBA; forming Germany's Fourth Reich, an empire that stretches from Memphis to Phoenix, with "New Berlin" centering somewhere around the AAC in Dallas. I am now a Nowitkness.

I think one of the important aspects of this series, and the SA series too, is that Dallas was able to pull a win out here and there that they had no business doing. And that’s the sign of a champion. Look at any major sport and you will see that champions find a way to win games that they probably should have lost. Just look at the Steelers. They should have lost to the Colts, but somehow, they found a way to win when it mattered. Consequently, former Mavs teams would have just rolled over and played for game 7. On the other hand, SMU, my alma matter, has the problem of snatching defeat out of the jaws of victory. But that’s another column for another time.

I think the Mavs new-found ability to win games comes directly from Avery. Even when the team was shooting cold, they were able to keep themselves in the game through defense. With 6 minutes left in the second quarter you could see that Nash and company were getting stopped by Dallas's D. They were not going to score one hundred points; that was clear. The gates were open for a Dallas comeback.

Now, I won't lie. We had just gotten back from the river, and checked into our hotel when I turned on the game. I sat on the bed only to find the Mavs having their lunch fed to them. I could only endure so much. I eventually turned the channel to a Braves games that was on TBS and began to pass out from a long day of beering and floating.

(Before I get too far along, I wanna mention a few things about the trip. There is nothing better than floating down a river with beer. I honestly don't know what’s better being able to pour beer all over yourself and others with no repercussions, or just the fact that you are floating along drinking and peeing everywhere while everyone around you is doing the same. That is life in its most perfect light.

I mentioned how we go to the dollar store in Austin and buy stuff to lose on the river. Well, I have good news! We didn’t lose anything! Chad wore blue sun glasses with an American flag bandana, while I wore pink sun glasses with a Mexican flag bandana. I don't know why. We also decided to have matching youth girl's flip flops. His were yellow with a purple poofy flower, while mine were purple with a yellow poofy flower. Needless to say, we looked delicious. And so with our opposite, yet matching, attire we patrolled the river, drinking beer as Captain America and Mexicano Capitano. For the life of me though, I don't know why the girls were embarrassed by us. Either way, good times all around.)

So, Chad is with Lauren and she is a little drunk and tired from the weekend, so we leave them at the hotel room and head out to enjoy the tasty foods and beverages in Austin. We sit down at a place where we can watch the game, and suddenly its only a six point game. Next thing you know they win. I don't think I yelled too much, but I think I let the other patrons know where I was from with every made shot. In fact, you know that guy at a bar who roots loudly and claps far too often for his favorite team, especially when he's in a city that doesn't particularly cater to the team he roots for? Yeah, that was me. Luckily, we were still in Texas and had a few locals (?) on our side.

The point is that I gave up because I still had the mentality that the Mavs would roll over like they used to do. This is no longer true and it’s because they play defense. Defense never goes cold. If you play solid D, you can outlast any assault of points. That's what happened Saturday night. They found a way to stop PHX even though they couldn’t' shoot. Once, they stopped them, PHX got frustrated and the Mavs shots started to fall. Magic! Which brings up my next issue....

I'm not sure what Avery said to Dirk and JET at halftime, but I'm sure it had something to do with not allowing themselves to get beaten by PHX after they beat San Antone. This scene would have been reminiscent of Herb Brooks speech to Team USA hockey after they beat the Soviet Union in Lake Placid, but still had to play Finland for the gold. He told them that after you beat Goliath, you cannot allow yourself to get beaten by a nobody. After all, someone was going to beat Goliath. Or, more contextually, it went like this:

After that "miracle game", they still had one more game to win before they could take home the gold. They had to beat Finland. Herb Brooks came into the locker room beforehand, and said, "If you lose this game, you will take it to your fucking grave." Then he turned and walked almost all the way out, before turning around and saying again, "To your fucking grave."

I doubt we'll ever know what exactly Avery said, but I kinda hope that it was like that only with them all clapping in the end; like in Hoosiers when Gene Hackman tells Hickory that if they go out there and give it their best they will all be winners in his book. I can just see Dirk looking around as Avery leaves. The locker room is silent. Jet starts clapping followed by Howard and Van Horn. The next thing you know Dirk is standing and clapping, and yells out in his thick German accent, "Come on, we gotta win this thing!" Then they all storm out on to the court. Damn, when I think about it, Phoenix never knew what was about to hit them after that. Ok, I admit it, my imagined scenarios are getting a bit ridiculous.

After the game Nash said that he was convinced that the Suns' style of play (no defense, just run and gun) could win a championship. Really? In 60 years of professional basketball it hasn't yet. In fact, that’s how you lost. A team with a better defense gave you the business. If all you can do is one thing great, then your opponent only has to focus on stopping one thing. End of story. After watching the Mavs, Kings, and now the Suns use this style of play I can see what’s wrong with it. Nash says they can win? Well look at the Mav's record in the playoffs: 12-4. Now look at the Suns: 10-10. Let me type that again: 10 and 10. That's only .500 ball!! That's not championship caliber. It only shows that wild-ass basketball can take you as far as breaking even then, you need luck.

Ok, my face is red and I’m out of breath from ranting.......

One other quick side note. Nash looked tired in game 6. I still stand by my edict that letting Nash go was the right move for the Mavs. That said, I still miss Steve Nash.

It’s tough to beat the Heat, even when you're from Dallas.
Before I go I also wanted to say that despite Vegas picking the Mavs to win, I see three ways this series could play out. 1). Mavs win in a blowout. 2). Heat win in a blow out. 3). Mavs win in 6 or 7. But I'm gonna throw all logic out the window and say Mavs in 5. Just a feeling.

River Trip!

Honestly, I can't tell you what I am more excited about; The Mavs beating PHX last night, or getting to go down to Austin/San Marcos to float the river tomorrow. Either way, today might as well be Christmas Eve to me. Only with more beer.

The best part about going to the river is that I get to use my employee discount for the first time. While many people we know are going down this weekend, we get to stay at the Embassy Suites Austin in a $150 dollar room for 39 bucks! Jackpot! I knew showing up and putting forth my most mediocre effort would payoff sooner or later.

Actually.....wait.....I must correct myself. The best part will not, in fact, be staying in Austin for cheap. The best part will be me floating down a river covered in beer and BBQ chips. Some may call this crude, but when I picture heaven, the beer and chips are both a plenty and a messy. A boy can dream, can't he?

I must also mention another staple of our trips to the river. We always, and I mean always, go to the dollar store in Austin to buy goofy shit to wear down the river. Reason being that after a few very crucial moments along the river you are very likely to lose every article of clothing you are wearing due to the rapids and the undertow. We counter act this navigational hurdle by stocking up on orange sun glasses, bandanas, straw hats, and youth girl's flip flops. The river demands a sacrifice, and we fill its belly with the crap of the world. Kinda like eating at Jack in the Box. The river knows better, but sometimes you just can't argue with a couple of dollar menu chicken sandwiches. Anyway, this sacrifice seems to keep the river off our case about taking our beer, and lets just say that’s for the good of everyone. There would be hell to pay if our cooler ever went over. Luckily, me and Chad have always been willing to sacrifice ourselves to preserve the life of the beer. The girls, unfortunately, aren't as devoted. We're working on that.

I was going to say just a few things about the Mavs. The first is that not one person, including myself, thought that DeSagana Diop would be a factor in this series. I mean, most didn't think he would get any playing time, let alone force Dampier to the bench.

The second thing, is that every time the Mavs lose a lead it seems like you can trace the exact moment to when Keith Van Horn sets foot on the floor. I call this a coincidence-non. The thing with Van Horn is that he has two main problems. The first is that he's slow. The second is that he sucks. Put those together and you have a formidable combination of non-finesse (couldn't find an antonym for finesse) and dead weight. Add his atrocious contract to that and you have the makings of a smaller Shawn Bradley. All that aside, he must be a hell of a practice player for Avery to keep putting him with the starting 5. I have a feeling that the Keith Van Horn Era will end just like it started, with me not really caring.

The final Mav's thing that I wanted to shed some light on was the fact that Dirk put fifty on the board and showed us all that he is "all growns up". Especially because I didn't see it coming. It was like all of a sudden he had 41 and everyone at Pluckers was looking around at each other, quietly nodding to themselves, knowing that we might be seeing something special happening. Especially after the Tim Thomas ordeal. I just don't see how a player like Thomas, who has robbed every team he has played on by half-assing it every night, finds the balls to call Dirk a "Pussy." I could go on about this, but I think The Crafty Veteran summed it up best:

Tim Thomas, you probably don't want to go back to your hometown anyway. Maybe I don't know the exact meaning of punked, but I think having 50 dropped on you in a playoff game will do the trick. Can a guy who constantly got smoked by Dirk blow a kiss as a taunt? I was getting all excited about Tim Thomas finally becoming a real player, and then he acts like a goof. If someone like Barkley or even Brent Barry blew a kiss then I would just laugh. However, watching Tim Thomas do it to Dirk just gave me the creeps.

Agreed. Spare.

The good old days?

All I can do is shutter when I look at this picture. Bad Team. Bad Coach. Horrible Hair.

Drunk Nowitzki

I took this from KCotts's site, but it was too funny not to pass on:

What would the caption for that picture be?
Dirk : "I fucking love you" (drunk German voice)
Nash : "No I fucking love you, eh" (Rick Moranis, Canadian voice)

followed by an engaging tongue kiss between the two...

Greg

So I was just called "Greg" at work today. Greg. I was okay when they called me Bruce, Big B, and Briana. Those are either close or have "B" in them, but Greg? I don't even know what a Greg would look like. Every time I experience something like this I die a little inside.

Also of note, I realized today that I may have broken my hand two weeks ago while watching the Mavs play the Spurs. I was at Sherlock's with Teresa when the Mavs lost. I then, in a fit of anger, punched a pool table. Well two weeks later and it still really hurts. The whole incident taught me one valuable lesson: sometimes I forget how stupid and un-tough I can be.

Pluckers + Mavs = Crazy Delicious

OK, so I was out sick yesterday and spent the entire day in bed or at Best Buy. I think it was bad karma from calling out Paul for being sick the day before. Regardless, its now June and we have some monthly paper work to do before we get to the links.

First, I am welcoming new writers to The Shitter. That is, if anyone wants to contribute. You can do this in a number of fashions such as writing your own columns, where I will add you as a contributor, or you can just send stuff to me at any one of my email addresses. You know them....and if you don’t, just post a comment on this site and i will give it to you. And, while we are on the subject, post comments if you want they are welcome. How about this? The first one to post a comment gets an exploding high five. The whole point of adding people is to spark interest and maybe get some weekly stuff we can count on such as maybe movie reviews or just random stuff. Honestly, anything is welcome...unless it sucks, then it gets thrown in the trash. Tell you the truth, this could be a bad idea.....ok, I'm rambling.

June maybe a tough month for posts and links. I may have trouble showing you where da gold at this month. If you need to find the gold, then here is where you will find others searching for the same Irish treasure as you. My reasons for being busy will number. For instance this month will show an increase in work as one of my co-workers is leaving. Also this month, is my sister's wedding, a river trip this weekend, many, many baseball games, and least importantly work.

Ok, now that we have that out of the way lets get to the point here. As many of you know, on any mavs game day you can find be beering it up at Pluckers with the crew. Consequently, this Mavs playoff run has depleted my wallet and made me feel fat. Ok, that completely made me sound like a girl, but I think you get the idea. Regardless, fatty foods and 34 ounce beers while watching the Mavs is on par with some of the greatest things in life, such as finding money in your pocket, not having to wipe after a dump (you know what I'm talking about), and making a girl leave your apartment at 3 or 4 am. You can count on this, I will be at Pluckers tonight and Friday night.

Along those lines, my buddy Louie was with me on Tuesday night at Pluckers. Tuesday happens to be 40 cent wing night. Well Louie decided that he was gonna challenge popular belief and eat some "fire in the hole" hot wings. Now let me give you a background on these wings. Chad put himself up on the Wing Board by eating 33 of these bad boys. That night I ate one. One. And I almost died. While they aren't as hot as the ones at Quaker State (where you have to sign a waiver to eat them), they are mighty hot. Well, Louie was talking some trash about how the wings weren't as hot as Wing Stop. He eats one, then another. "They're not that hot. This is nothing." I swear to you 90 seconds later his lips were swollen and sweat was running down his face. "Ok, they're pretty hot" then "Phew, this kinda sucks" then "I can't finish these." The best part is that he only ordered five of them! This was almost as bad as when my buddy Adam said he could throw a baseball at least 70 mph at a Rangers game, then threw an embarrassing 59 mph! An epic disgrace that we all saw coming. These are my friends.

--http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=2463035-- Article about how former NFL and CFL quarterback Joe Theismann thinks former Dolphin Ricky Williams is a "disgrace to the game." His rant includes not wanting to be associated with the Argonauts now that they signed him and saying he doesn't deserve to play football. All the while, saying that Ricky is a "good kid." Theismann pulled a Mugatu from Zoolander and started pulling at his hair and screaming "Who cares about Ricky Williams anyway? The man does drugs for Christ's sake! Weed? Pot? Marijuana? They're the same thing! Doesn't anybody notice this? I feel like I'm taking crazy pills!"

--http://sports.espn.go.com/nba/news/story?id=2463377-- I think Stephon Marbury has lost his mind. In this article he explains how he wants to "Die a Knick." The best part is when he says that if he were cremated he wants his ashes sprinkled on Madison Square Garden. I can just see it Steve Francis holding Marbury's urn on top of MSG, saying "We commit your final mortal remains to the bosom of the Garden, which you loved so well. Good night, sweet prince," then proceeding to dump the ashes into the wind and all over Larry Brown, just like The Big Lebowski. Followed by Brown angrily replying, "Dammit, Steve. You make everything a f****ing travesty!"

--http://www.teamtigerawesome.com/slater_ep1.html-- 28 Day Slater. This is a short movie under the premise that Mario Lopez becomes Albert Clifford (AC) Slater from Saved By The Bell every February. There is nothing unfunny about this. I think that Mario should just go ahead and do this every February. I mean, come one, what else is he doing anyways? The major upside to this movie is that you'll call everyone at work "Mama" or "Preppie" for at least a week. The bad side, you'll have the theme song stuck in your head for twice as long.

(Here is Episode2, and here is Episode3. Everyone of these is terrific. I swear I'm gonna get fired if I keep watching these all day).

--http://www.cnn.com/video/player/player.html?url=/video/offbeat/2006/05/27/azuz.off.beaten.path.sat.affl-- What's better than tossing one back with your dog? Having him get you a beer first! Can you imagine explaing to your boss how you are late for work because you stayed up all night getting hammered with your terrier? This is the greatest agrument ever put foward towards the domestication of both cats and dogs. End of story.

--http://tv.yahoo.com/news/ap/20060601/114915090000.html-- Lark Voorheies from Saved By the Bell is suing under the premise of libel for the media saying she had a drug problem. Somehow she is delusional enough to describe herself as a "famous and popular actress." She then broke into tears and admitted she did, indeed, have a problem, but fought her way through it with the help of friend and former caffeine- addict Jessie Spano. She also thanked husband Screech Powers for all the moral support. No word from her other friends. It should be noted, though, that Mr. Bellding said he "always knew she would become a trashy slut."