End of the Decade: Is This It?

I really have a tough time believing that we're at the end of the decade already. It's been ten years since the Y2k scare, which, blows my mind. So, I feel as though I need to do something to celebrate the end of my first full decade as an adult.
I started thinking about the soundtrack to my life over the last ten years and decided I needed to get some thoughts on paper (well, words on a computer screen, I suppose). Anyhow, over the next month, and potentially into 2010, although that might defeat the purpous, I am going to pick indivdual albums, ideas, movies, TV shows, and whatever the hell else strikes me that (for me) defined this decade.
The Strokes "Is This It?":


I bought this album on July 4th, 2002 after spending the previous night scouring websites for videos from the album (ah, the days before You Tube) and reading a post on RollingStone.com that lumped The Strokes with Guns n' Roses and Aerosmith as the greatest American rock and roll bands of all time, a claim that at the time (and even today) I find to be quite a stretch.
Regardless, after getting off of work (waiter at Chili's) without getting a single table during my shift (remember, this is the 4th of July there wasn’t a market for fajitas), I proceeded to get into my 1991 baby blue Plymouth Voyager and drive to Best Buy where I to purchase the album. With a few hours to kill before heading to a barbeque with my roommates, I proceeded to spend the next three hours driving around the Twin Cities with the album on repeat.
What struck me about the album then, and this still holds true today, was the simplicity of the record. I've heard a story from my fiancé (it's a "friend of a friend" story), where someone saw The Strokes playing in New York back around 1998-1999 and said they were awful and barely able to play their instruments. Now, I can't verify that this story is true, but it seems very probable when you listen to "Is This It?". The record sounds like musicians who just figured out how to play their instruments. There is nothing complex about the album (with the possible exception of the Casio drum loop on "Hard to Believe" because I would imaging it's tough to program that stuff when you're on coke, which I assume The Strokes were on when they made "Is This It?"--and pretty much every other album during their careers).
Although "Hard to Explain" was the first single released from the album, it was "Last Nite" that vaulted The Strokes into the mainstream. Originally, the band wanted to avoid making music videos, but the promise of a live, low budget video for "Last Nite" changed their minds. The end result was a music video that summed up the band better than any other music video I can remember (although I’m very much open to debate on this topic). The video was a simple, no frills, bells, or whistles display of rock and roll (if you don’t count the “Press Your Luck” influenced background), very much like the band itself—their only “rock star” moment of the video is Julian Casablancas doing a javelin toss with the microphone stand.
My personal favorite song on the album is “Someday”. I suppose there are a few reasons for this. The first being that I could listen to the entire song in the amount of time it took me to drive to Chili’s from home back in 2002 (assuming I didn’t hit every red light along the way). I don’t think it would be a stretch to say that from July of 2002 until sometime during the Spring of 2003, I listened to “Someday” on my way to work 90-95% of the time, easy.
The video for “Someday” was quite a bit different from “Last Nite”. Upping the budget quite a bit, the “Someday” clip featured the band hanging out at an empty Los Angeles bar where they sit around and drink with Slash, Matt Sorem, and Duff McKagan (and from what I can tell, Julian teaches Slash the merits of pinball), play Family Feud against Guided by Voices. This video seemed like a tactical move by the record company to me. It gave the casual MTV viewer the perception that The Strokes were “metal” enough to get the stamp of approval from Guns n’ Roses (sans Axl) and “indie” enough to kick it with Guided by Voices. Did RCA’s gamble work? Well, “Is This It?” went Platinum.

The Strokes - Last nite
by billybright

The Strokes - Someday (Official Music Video) - Funny video clips are a click away

NFL Preview (Even "Pardon My Reach" has one)

For those of you who followed any of my writing over the previous years, you might remember my NFL preview from last year. All in all, I didn't do so well. I DID pick the correct champion (in a revised post-Tom Brady injury pick). Other than that, I don't believe I correctly picked anything else correct (correction, I believe the only teams whose records I correctly picked were the Chicago Bears at 9-7 and Pittsburgh at 12-4). So, with less than nine hours until Tennessee and Pittsburgh kick off the regular season*, I figure it's time to grace you with my picks for 2009.


*we need to do away with this Thursday night game. It doesn't feel like the start of the season. Can't we just have the season begin on Sunday? Too much to ask for? Really?

AFC EAST ---------------------NFC EAST
1. New England 12-4 ------------1. Dallas 12-4
2. Miami 9-7 --------------------2. New York 11-5
3. New York 7-9 ----------------3. Philadelphia 9-7
4. Buffalo 5-11 ------------------4. Washington 8-8

AFC SOUTH------------------- NFC SOUTH
1. Indinapolis 12-4 --------------1. Atlanta 11-5
2. Houston 10-6 ----------------2. New Orleans 9-7
3. Tennessee 7-9 ---------------3. Carolina 7-9
4. Jacksonville 6-10 ------------4. Tampa Bay 3-13

AFC NORTH------------------ NFC NORTH
1. Pittsburgh 13-3 --------------1. Chicago 11-5
2. Baltimore 11-5--------------- 2. Minnesota 11-5
3. Cincinnati 4-12 -------------- 3. Green Bay 8-8
4. Cleveland 3-13 ---------------4. Detroit 3-13

AFC WEST --------------------NFC WEST
1. San Diego 11-5--------------- 1. Arizona 11-5
2. Oakland 7-9 -----------------2. Seattle 9-7
3. Kansas City 5-11------------- 3. San Francisco 6-10
4. Denver 2-14 -----------------4. St. Louis 5-11

MVP- Philip Rivers, Chargers
NFL Offensive Player- Adrien Petersen, Vikings
NFL Defensive Player- Mario Williams, Texans
Offensive ROY- Chris Wells, Cardinals
Defensive ROY- Aaron Curry, Seahawks
Coach of the year- Mike Tomlin, Steelers

NFC Championship- Steelers over Patriots
AFC Championship- Giants over Bears

Super Bowl- Steelers over Giants

The Wrigleyville Chronicles, Chapter 1

I'm sitting in my car at a Wendy's just outside of the Wisconsin Dells. My chicken nuggets are quite delicious but I appear to be forced into eating them on the road while driving. You see, I'm racing the sunset. As I mentioned before, I'm in Wisconsin. Since I don't follow every traffic rule to a T, the prospect of driving while it's dark in the Dairy State is less than appealing since their traffic tickets cost somewhere in the range of $126, 234. So I forge on. I-94 is my reality.
The destination? Chicago. Specifically, Wrigley Field for three days of baseball. I'm joined in my car with two other guys. The first oneis Damon, someone that I've been very good friends with for several years. This isn't the first time I've gone on a sports related vacation with this man. We've been to Las Vegas together and traveled to Milwaukee for a Cubs-Brewers series. In fact, just four years ago we sat courtside for a Chicago Bulls-Washington Wizards playoff game (in fact, if you ask Damon, he'll insist that he's the reason Kwame Brown fell apart as a basketball player--but, I'll touch on that later).
The second passenger in my car is pretty much a stranger to me. We were introduced to each other only a few hours ago and although I was a little put off that he asked me to call him by his softball number.
"Call me one-eight," the guy says to me, "everyone who knows me, knows me by that name." Now, as I type this, I am having a problem thinking of any athletes who are known simply by their number. Let alone softball players. Still, I oblige.
Like I said, up until a few hours ago, I had not met One-Eight. He is an old friend of my friend, the other passenger. He is, without question, the wild card of the trip. Unless our plans change, I'll be sharing a queen size bed with One-Eight...which I don't know how to react to since he seems to talk quite extensively about his sexual escapades. I suppose I'll consider it a victory if I am not deterred from my hotel room at night because one of my roommates decides to bring a girl back to the room (something that we've all discussed and agreed on as being "against the rules").
As we pull back onto the highway, I start to make my way through a Junior Bacon Cheeseburger. I begin to contemplate the next few days in my head. Little do I know that in the next three days, someone in our group will nearly be arrested--twice, three of us will find a home away from home at a gay bar, we will panhandle for hot dogs, and I will race through the street of Wrigleyville trying to varify the idenitity of a potential stalker. Then, of course, there are the three baseball games we plan on attending. But we'll get to that later...

A Very Green Day

NOTE: I had to rush this post because...well, I fell asleep at the computer after work today and only left myself with 20 minutes to write. Damnit.
As I type this, I have a copy of Green Day's newest album "21st Century Breakdown" sitting in front of me. It remains unopen and will probaby stay that way for another five or six hours...maybe longer.
You see, I write this as a recently engaged 26 year old. My musical love affair with Green Day goes back to the summer of 1994 when I saw the music video for Green Day's first single "Longview". At the time, my musical tastes were strictly top 40 pop (Ace of Base, Janet Jackson, DJ Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince...you get the idea, hell, the first CD I ever bought was "Shaq Desiel").
Needless to say, my original taste in self discovered music was pretty awful. So when I saw the "Longview" clip on MTV, I can honestly say without being overdramatic, that my lifelong (hopefully) passion with music would be changed (as well as ignigted) forever.
My parents allowed me to order the pay per view package of "Woodstock '94" a few months later. The only set I cared to see was the Berkley trio's. What ensued took my interest in Green Day further. I saw three guys running around with dyed hair chucking mud back and forth with fans. I cannot stress how strange of a sight this was to an 11 year old.
During the ensuing years, Green Day released a few more albums before 2000's "Warning", which became the soundtrack of my freshman year of college. During the summer before I left for the University of Minnesota, I was given a free ticket to the Warped Tour a the Metrodome parking lot where I was able to see Green Day in the flesh for the first time (since then I have seen them 8 more times in person).
The highwater mark of Green Day's career was without question 2004's "American Idiot". An album that to this day probably holds the title of "Mike's Favorite Album".
Looking back on the summer of 2004 and the couple of years that followed, "American Idiot" seemed to make sense to me...as it did to many people between the ages of 15-25 (quite a range, I know). I felt that as a 22 year old with no real plan in life, I could relate to the characters in the story within the album.
Alas, to be compleatly honest, I haven't listened to "American Idiot" from start to finish in nearly two years. For the most part, Green Day has stayed out of the CD player during the last three. I moved on from one part of my life to another and the soundtrack changed. Perhaps I was irritated by the massive fame that Green Day achieved thanks to "American Idiot". It might have been the nine year olds with jet black spiked hair that I saw sporting Green Day shirts at the mall that disenchanted me. But hey, at least they're not listening to Ace of Base, right?
So, I sit here with an unopened copy of "21st Century Breakdown". A new Green Day album at my fingertips. Like a visit from a friend I haven't seen in years, I'm worried that I've outgrown my relationship with said friend. I'm a tad scared that I won't be able to relate to them after three years. I know it sounds hokey but it's true. Worst case scenario? I listen to the new music and can't understand why I connected with the band for so long. Honestly, it's unlikely. As my friend put it, "Sure, sometimes you see a friend you haven't seen in years and it's awkward at first...but then you see them again the next day and it's like old times."
Well, here's to new times with old friends.

While You Were Getting Up For Work...

I have to note to you that this entire post was written exactly as you read it. I wrote it over the course of a few hours last night--er, this morning. I decided not to edit it because for whatever reason, I keep cracking up when I read it. Probably because it makes more sense than I thought it would when I went back to read it. Anyhow, here it is.

I don't think there's anything wrong with me. Some people would beg to differ. We all have our oddities. For instance, last night I watched “Lost” with Andrea. All episode hints aside, it was a non-descript night.11:00 rolled around and Andrea went to bed and I said I'd be in shortly (and, again not to spoil any plots), it's 6:35 am. In an hour, she'll be awake...ready to take on the world of category management. But I can't help but feel guilty...and, honestly, I know I shouldn't.You see, I have been unemployed for nearly three months. Before that I worked at a printing company for three and a half months...and again, I was unemployed for three months before that.

Given the state of the country/world during the last ten months, I can't help but find solace in the nighttime (more specifically, the overnights). It's my free time. It's nine hours where I feel truly creative and unique...and with a few drunken exceptions aside, nobody can touch me at 2am.

Nevermind the nights where Andrea will go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and catch me dancing to my ipod at 3am. It's more than that. To me, I am the most efficient after midnight, which is a shame because the job I start next week begins at 6:30am (14 minutes later than the sentence I just typed).

This, is ok with me. Sure, I'm happy to be getting a steady paycheck (especially in this economy). And of course, I'm happy to be putting money away for my wedding (which at this point in time is still without a date—so let's just assume it'll be Spring of 2011, because why the hell not?).

Anyhow, I've been up all night. I've been on a steady diet all night of random thoughts, Microsoft Office, Jimmy Kimmel, Led Zeppelin, and Miller High Life. The night began nondescriptly enough with a few Jack and Cokes (and by “the night” I mean “post 11pm in Bloomington, MN”). To be honest, unless I end up writing a book and use these blog entries as excerpts, the details are without much merit—but let it be known, it's nearly seven in the morning and I'm rolling with “Death To The Pixies (the live album). Just had to mention that for historic purposes.

So anyhow, I cannot make myself go to bed before sunrise when I have a night to myself. I mentioned before how I am at my most efficient after midnight. This is true, however, this only applies to creative processes. I couldn't go over the rules and conditions regarding a credit card I've recently been approved for. Nope. But I could write a bunch of b.s. without much trouble.

And to be fair, I'm at my best when writing about a bunch of b.s.

This leads me to believe that if I could've been a rock star, I probably would've written or composed my “Let It Be” during the overnight hours. What bothers me about this “ability” is that nobody I really know is wired the same way as me. I have some friends that can stay up late...as well as some friends (mainly my buddy Green) who get up uber early and can still be affective. So I share my “skill” with nobody more than likely.

But even since I was a pre-teen, I've seen some sense of honor for staying up from dusk till dawn. In some respects, it has (in some weird kind of way) shown that I can entertain myself while so many other have been bored to sleep (yeah, it's a huge stretch—but give me a break, it's almost 7:15 in the morning).

I doubt I can find the right words to make my late night excursions justifiable. For me, they make me happy. I enjoy the peace that comes with the middle of the night.

Sure, Andrea will be up in a few minutes and I can try and make her understand what the night means to me. Ironically, I probably won't be able to find the right words...but I don't mind. It's not about the words—per se. It's about the right ideas.

I'll spend nights standing on my patio listening to music. Music that I love. Music that I am passionate about. Music that challenges me as a person (songs that even after listening to nearly 32,505 times I have theories and ideas about). So what better time? Why not 3am? You know that nobody will bother you...with that said, it's 7:22 am...”Wave of Mutilation” is playing on I-Tunes, and Andrea just opened the door of the den to say good morning. Well, it wasn't good morning as much as it was, “good god, why are you still up?”. Yes, we might be in the business of judging....but wait and see.

Containing My Excitement

Good God I love opening day. I love baseball. In a few short hours I'll be getting in my seat for a roller coaster ride I swore I'd never ride again after last year.
There I sat in my parents kitchen in Plymouth, MN last October minutes after the Los Angeles Dodgers swept the Cubs out of the playoffs. I had tears in my eyes. This was just another in a long line of red flags my girlfriend at the time, Andrea should've recogninzed. She should've said to herself, "this guy is crying because his team lost in the playoffs, maybe I should look for someone more stable". Well, as mentioned before, she agreed to marry me so she obviously didn't learn her lesson. Then again, what are the chances of this year's Cubs team making me cry again? Slim I'd say. There is no way this season can be a bigger gut punch than last year...right? Right?
Uh...
The answer to that question is no. There is no way last season's finish can be topped. No way. Ask any Cubs fan who lived and died with the team last season. Ask them if it was worse than 2003 (where an overachieving Cubs team came within 5 outs of the pennent). There is no comparison. The 2008 Cubs were expected to win the pennent. They had the best team in the National League (record wise). Home field advantage throughout the NL playoffs. This was the team expected to finally break though.
I suppose the 1984 Cubs finish was gut wrenching enough. There are factors that can be pointed to for fans to use as excuses. The fact that the Cubs lost home field advantage because they didn't have lights at Wrigley Field (thus giving the Padres three straight home games to close the series out). There's also the fact that the first four games of that series used collegiate umpires due to an umpire strike with Major League Baseball.
I have a copy of the 1984 Cubs division clinching game in Pittsburgh and Game 1 of the NLCS along with an end of season "wrapup show". The consensus that I've come to with that team was that Cubs fans were just happy to be in the playoffs. Something that wasn't the case in 2008.
When the Cubs went out with a whimper last season, I put all of my Cubs gear into a closet (wearing only my hat in the last month or so). I went through "Cubs-Detox". I promised myself and Andrea I wouldn't think or talk about them until spring training. For the most part, I succeeded in this department. The plan was a success. I didn't get too worked up over the offseason. I put the Cubs out of sight out of mind (even playing with the Red Sox, Twins, and even the Giants when I fired up the PS2). I just needed a break.

Well so much for that.

I woke up this morning with my stomach in knots again. I'm back in the roller coaster car and without even realizing it, the car is making it's way up the first hill and there is nothing I can do about it. I'm just going to enjoy the ride and hope it doesn't make me cry again.
On paper though, this team shouldn't make me cry. They have one of the most lethal lineups in the NL and along with a deep pitching staff, shouldn't have a problem winning their third straight division championship (something this franchise has never done). Never forget though, this is the Cubs we're talking about...in my gut I'm terrified of a sub .500/4th place finish. There is no rhyme or reason for this fear but you gotta embrace these things as a Cubs fan. Last season I was positive they were going to win the World Series. For the 100th conseceutive season, they did not. Oh well. Like the old saying, hope springs eternal.
Baseball is back and I'm ready to do it all over again.

Remember Where You Were

I'll briefly set the scene. I'm sitting on the couch in my den playing NCAA March Madness 07 on PS2. The contest was a heated conference tournament game between Loyola-Chicago and Butler. My phone beeps. I let the phone sit for a moment as I finished up my possession in the game. Pause game. Look at text message. It's from my buddy Husby.
Husby (4:30:45)- Bears got Cutler.

I stop everything I'm doing and stare at the text message. I read it again. Bears got Cutler. My first reaction after the message sinks in is simple and straight to the point...no they didn't. So I responded to Husby with a one word text: WHAT?
I check the date on my phone thinking I got the dates mixed up and it was April Fool's Day. Nope, that was the day before.
I spend the next thirty seconds or so pacing around my living room looking out the porch window and back at my phone. Then...My phone beeps again. This time, the message comes from my unusually NFL-neutral friend Dan Craigie. His message is straight and to the point:

Dan Craigie (4:31:56)- Shit.

Less than 20 seconds later, my phone beeps again...and again....and again...and for good measure, it beeps again. I look down and see 4 new messages (mind you, these all arrived within ten seconds of each other).
Text messages begin pouring in from all over...the first one, the text I've been anticipating for a long two minutes or so...from ESPN. It's now official. Bears finally have a quarterback.
Now, I will associate Loyola-Chicago vs. Butler in college basketball with one of the most exciting moments of my sports life (and it's not even a basketball moment).
I don't doubt that I will remember where I was when I got the Cutler news twenty years from now. Even if the trade is a bust for the Bears, it is one of those moves that can get an entire fanbase geeked at the same time.
This is something that doesn't come with being a Bears fan. The Bears don't make offseason deals for top 5-7 NFL QBs. This doesn't happen.
There have been other moments that I can remember where I was for. The first one I will mention was back on October 9, 1993.
I was getting dressed in the second locker bay from the teachers office in the Plymouth Middle School boys locker room. It was the second or third period of the day. As I got ready for gym class, my friend (and the only other person I knew who loved the NBA as much as I did) Johann came running into the locker room.
"Michael Jordan is retiring!"
Apparently, Johann overheard someone in the halls talking about it--quite honestly, I don't know how he found out--we were in sixth grade. For me, an 12 year old sprinting into the boys locker room was as solid of a source as I needed at the time. We got dressed and went into gym class and we had to walk laps around the gym for warm up. I remember feeling an impending sense of doom. Michael Jordan, the best basketball player in the world on the best team in the world (incidently, my favorite team as well), was walking away...and he was only 32 (at the time 32 was old to me...just not too old to play professional basketball).
Now, at age 26, I realize this is an overreaction. But look at it from the perspecitve of an 11 year old. Sports at the time were larger than life itself. My bedroom was covered with Michael Jordan posters and Chicago Bulls pennents. My closet consisted of no less than 5 Jordan/Bulls shirts or jerseys (probably a incorrect estimate...there were probably more). Every day after school, I would go into the basement and act out NBA situations on my Hutch door basketball hoop. Some of the situations involved Mike Ricci winning the NBA Finals on a last second shot, however, at the time, most involved me as Michael Jordan winning the title (not sure what this said about my self esteem at the time, given that I was dreaming about OTHER people getting the glory, but I digress).
The point I'm getting at is this: as a kid, I had very little worries in my life. The fact that my favorite athlete in the world was leaving the game and team I worshiped was unfathomable. My life, for all intents and purposes, was over. That is why I remember everything about the moment. Sure, if the same thing happend today (say I was a lifelong Cleveland Cavaliers fan and Lebron James decided to up and retire one day), I would remember where I was when I heard the news and I would be crushed. Just not crushed in the same way that I would've been at age 11. My thought process would go from "Lebron retired!? The world is over!" to "Lebron retired...oh shit! I forgot to pay the rent. Is the post office still open?!".
Obviously, 9-11 is one moment where everyone remembers where they were (just as the assassination of JFK left a definitive "Where Were You Moment" for the Baby Boomers). So was the announcement of America's involvement in major wars. To this day I remember my elementary school principal going over the intercom system in second grade and telling us that we were at war in the middle east, thus kicking off the Gulf War...but it isn't as vivid as when I found out Jordan was going to retire a few years later. I also remember playing basketball on the backyard court of my neighbors when someone mentioned that the "guy from Nirvana" shot himself...however, I was still in my top-40 phase and this had no serious impact on me.
Sports-wise, this Jay Cutler trade is right up there with getting the news about Jordan. I'll always remember where I was when I got the text from Husby. Obviously sports don't hold the same "life and death" weight as they did when I was in sixth grade (except with the Cubs and the playoffs but that's a whole different posting for another day).
I would have a tough time explaining to non-sports fans the impact of the Bears trading for Jay Cutler. Since I just got another refill of coffee at Caribou, I have the time and I'll try.
Let's say you live in an apartment building that has been notorious for not having air conditioning (a good quarterback). You're building managers have been especially conservative in years past (perhaps keeping the same ceiling fans from when Carter was President). Every year, you hope that they upgrade and equip all of the units with a window fan at the very least. Finally, after years of ceiling fans that only throw interceptions (Rex Grossman---sorry, I can't find a non sports analogy to what Grossman did)...your building, out of nowhere mind you, decides to shell out the extra cash and get central air conditioning!
Yeah, it's weak, I know. But if you didn't expect central air, you'd probably be floored on a hot sunny day when you feel icy cold air blowing through vents...ok, ok YOU come up with a better comparison. I can't...trust me, it's freakin' exciting!
By the way, Butler held on to beat Loyola-Chicago.

Fixin' in Arkansas

I suppose the title of this post is a bit misleading. After spending the last four or five days in Arkansas (specifically Hot Springs Village), I am gaining a new found respect for the South.
Truth be told, unless you've spent time in a given area of the country, you will have misconceptions of the unknown. Allow me to debunk some of these myths...but before doing so, let's remember, just about every state in America has some "backwoodsesque (sp?) areas" (aka hicktowns). You will come across these areas in Minnesota, California, and (seemingly more authentic versions) in Arkansas.
First, let me start with the people. In one word: welcoming. As a Minnesotan for the last 22 years, I have come to hear the saying "Minnesota Nice" for as long as I can remember. Forget about that. I find that to be one of the gross misrepresentations about Minnesota. This has become more true to me after experiencing the "Southern Hospitality" that the people of Hot Springs, AR have shown us. Even the people at the Chick-fil-a would start conversations with you that didn't take creepy turns (don't act like that doesn't happen at Burger King). My theory behind the overwhelming niceness of people is that the people in Arkansas are selfaware. They know how they are viewed by the rest of America (or the North--er, shall we say Yankees). Why not try and change any and all misconceptions, or, at the very least do their best to be "sneaky-nice" the first time they meet us? With that said (and with the exception of the asshat from Texas that I flipped off), the people of Hot Springs are the nicest I've encountered to date.
The second belief I would like to try and disprove is--well, perhaps it's best if I just give you a converstaion between myself and the bartender that served Andrea and I on Sunday night:

ME: I've been very pleasently surprised by Arkansas since we got here. It's nothing like I though it would be.
Shelly the Bartender: How so?
M: Well, when I was in Boston, and I told people I came from Minnesota, they assumed that I lived on a farm...even though...well, I did not. So when I tell people that I'm going to Arkansas, they assume...
STB: I know where you're going with that. People got Arkansas all wrong! I'm educated. I DO wear shoes. I have never fu***d my brother AND I have all of my teeth. As for toothless people around here, it's not because we have too much lead in the water. People just need to put the pipe down!

I can't argue with the lady that was throwing free drinks our way all night. It wouldn't be fair. It should be noted that the above exchange could not be made with an inhabitant of Jessieville, Arkansas...but the pictures are not online yet and that story deserves a picture montage to boot. We'll just tease that story with Andrea's favorite word this week: Delapitated.
This is where, sadly, I must sign off. We were just getting to the good stuff too: excessive nudity, chicken sandwiches, the rural superpower that is Wal-Mart, and Central Arkansas' version of the Dharma Initiative. It will all be touched on in the next posting (when I'm back in Minneapolis) later this week. Stay tuned.

The First Post

When I decided to get back to my writing for sanity purposes I tried to think how I'd go about it. Was I going to continue using The Reach Blog? I decided against it. Decided to go for a new start.
Some of my favorite features from the previously mentioned site will still be here, including the periodic music video clip.

The title comes from a conversation my buddy Thompson and I had while we were working together a few months back. Since my nickname for about as long as I can remember has been Reach, he thought it would be great if he and I wrote a sitcom titled "Pardon My Reach". A slight rip off from the short lived (and yet highly amusing) Comedy Central show "That's My Bush". All the episodes would revolve around my character doing something offensive or stupid and would end with Thompson's character telling the offended party, "Please...pardon my Reach". Freeze frame. Audience applauses. Roll credits. Emmys hand over fist.

Well, said TV show never came to be because we live in Minnesota and don't have the motivation to go to LA, pitch the idea and get rejected. So here we are.

So we kick things off on St. Patrick's Day. Sadly, I do not come to you with crazy stories of my misadventures in St. Paul today...no, unfortunately. That would probably provide each of you with more interesting fodder than the actual goingson in my life today.

This may also be a good thing as I will be giving my brain, liver, and stomach a run for it's money this weekend as we are about to start the greatest time of the year...March Madness. Look, you don't have to love basketball to get into this weekend (although it DOES help). Think of it, if you're a non sports fan, as an excuse to get together with your friends at 11am on a Thursday and drink beer, grill meat, mow down Utz Cheez-Balls and get belligerant until your heart's content (or until you keil over during the west coast night games)...sleep, repeat on Friday.

What makes this year more anticipated than years past? The possibility of seeing my Golden Gophers play two highly touted programs in Texas and Duke during the same weekend? Maybe. The plan to get in the Metrodome for the opening round games on Friday without having to purchace a ticket? Possibly. What makes this so highly anticipated is the project that is going to be undertaken by one Jon "Pete" Petersen and I. 32 hours of televised basketball between Thursday and Sunday--and (unless we end up at the Dome on Friday) we plan on watching every hour of it.

Now, I should mention that this past weekend I proposed to my girlfriend of three years, Andrea. She said yes...this was (in my mind) the only acceptable step to take before taking on 32 hours of college basketball on week later. We're talking committment here. A diamond ring. A diamond ring that says, "I love you, I'll spend the rest of my life with you...just give me these 32 hours".

Anyhow, back to the engagment. For those of you who have gone through the process, you'll know what I'm talking about...you'll understand. For the rest of you? I could try and explain that it is the most surreal out-of-body experience. Truth be told, I don't remember much of what was said...I should have a vague idea, because...well, I WAS there. Well, she did say yes (I remember that much). So that's good.