I normally don't ever inject any of my own life into this blog, mostly because I figure no one's interested. But a couple days ago, I had a trip to the dentist that is at least worth mentioning.
One of my fillings needed to be replaced, it was discovered during a recent cleaning appointment, and so the dentist said there might be some decay behind the filling that "needed to be cleaned out".
A new appointment was made for several weeks down the road, and that's where I found myself on Thursday of this week.
It was at that point that I heard the two things you never (and I mean EVER) want to hear come out of your dentist's mouth:
1) "I don't think we're going to need to use any anesthetic for this!" (For the record, shouldn't this be the patient's call? My dentist said there was a new tool called the Air Abrasion - which is like a mini-sandblaster, except it's directed into your mouth - which typically isn't a great place to fill up with sand, I've found.) No drill bit, no burr.
At least according to my dentist, this technique could strip away tooth enamel and decay without the use of any type of pain-killer. What I have to say to that: well, you could do a root canal without pain-killers too, I just wouldn't want to.
That led us to the second thing that you never want to hear your dentist say:
2) "Nurse, could you please hand me that instruction book?"
--- ::: ON THIS DATE IN HISTORY ::: Apparently, March 24 is a rough day for bridges and tunnels, because a pair of disasters around those structures happened on this date (albeit 62 years apart, but still).
March 24, 1932: Twenty members of a touring party of Roller Derby skaters and support personnel are killed when their bus blows a tire, crashes into a bridge abutment and explodes in flames outside Salem, Illinois, The barnstorming troupe was en route from St. Louis to Cincinnati for another performance by the increasingly popular Derby, founded in 1935 by Leo Seltzer in Chicago. The horrific inferno nearly puts the enterprise out of business, but replacement skaters will be signed and Roller Derby will prove to be a durable sporting attraction.
March 24, 1999: The Mont Blanc Tunnel is a road tunnel in the Alps under the Mont Blanc mountain, linking Chamonix, France and Courmayeur, Italy. On March 24, 1999, a truck carrying a cargo of flour and margarine caught fire in the tunnel. The margarine load in the trailer was the equivalent of 6,000 gallons (23,000 liters) of oil and caused the fire to burn for 56 hours and reach temperatures of over 1,832°F (1,000°C). The blaze claimed 39 lives. There were 51 people trapped inside the tunnel after the blaze began, and the 12 people who survived all said the same thing: "That guy on the motorcycle saved my life". It was Pierlucio Tinazzi, a security guard employed by the Italian side. His job was to ride up and down the tunnel to see that everything was running smoothly. He was on the French side at the time emergency services had given up. He donned breathing equipment and rode into the tunnel on his BMW K75 motorcycle. He was in radio contact with the Italian side for over an hour before succumbing to the intense heat. He died inside the tunnel. His BMW melted into the pavement after he dragged an unconscious truck driver to behind a fire door. A commemorative plaque at the Italian entrance honors his heroism.
I thought these were some interesting statistics about life 100 years ago:
The average life expectancy in the United States was 46.
Only 14 percent of American homes had a bathtub. Eight percent had a telephone.
Sugar cost 4¢ a pound, coffee was 15¢ a pound, eggs were 14¢ per dozen.
The cost of a three-minute phone call from Denver to New York City was about $11.
Only 6 percent of American adults were high school graduates. Ten percent were illiterate.
Ninety percent of doctors in the United States hadn’t attended college.
I like that last statistic a lot - so what was the prerequisite for becoming an MD? Just hanging out a shingle and calling yourself 'Doc'?
Also, if eggs were 14 cents a dozen, but a three-minute long distance call was eleven bucks, who the hell would have been able to afford to make phone calls? John D. Rockefeller could make calls to Andrew Carnegie, and that was about it, right?
I guess having a phone around the turn of the last century was like the equivalent of private-jet travel in today's world?
Dwight Howard is a beast - every time I see that guy play, first of all I can't believe he's only 21. I seriously doubt the Magic would trade him for any player in the league.
Maybe LeBron - but perhaps not even him.
I think the guy is going to be ripping up the NBA for the next decade, and it will be a joy to watch.
I only have one complaint, and that is this: I don't like his jersey number.
You don't need to tell me that I'm a loser for thinking about things like this - but every time I see #12 on his jersey, it looks out of place to me.
A guy that size shouldn't have a small number like that. He should have a number in the 30s, 40s or 50s, right?
Additionally, a jersey with #12 on it makes me think of quarterbacks, and that translates to a point guard on the basketball court. Big guys shouldn't have small numbers.
Don't even get me started on Kevin Garnett wearing #5 as a Celtic. Speaking of wearing low numbers, in case you ever wondered why baseball pitchers never wear single-digit numbers, check out this strong article on that topic.
I said that I only had ONE complaint about Dwight Howard, but actually that's not true - I thought of another. Not a big fan of the fact that D-Ho has started hanging out with porn stars. Wasn't he supposed to be all wholesome and stuff? What's he doing leaving tickets at Will Call for a walking venereal disease?
That makes less sense than watching 'Pulp Fiction' edited for network TV, and makes even less sense than eating unsalted trail mix.
It's too bad that there is a two-week gap between the championship games and the Super Bowl, because that's a lot of time to fill with useless stories.
Unfortunately, the rumor mill is so rapacious that the media will search for anything they possibly can and use it as grist.
Perhaps you saw the story about Giants' DE Osi Umenyiora, who is a little hacked off at Pats' offensive lineman Matt Light. Osi is claiming Light played a little dirty a few weeks ago, when the two teams met during Week 17.
“It was a war out there, and to be honest with you, I’m not quite sure that he thought he was going to see me again because of some of the things he did and said during that game. But, you know, unfortunately he does have to see me again.”
Even though there are dozens of these little subplots and mini-dramas that surround every Super Bowl, this one caught my attention because it immediately reminded me of Ben Dreith, the referee who flagged a guy for a personal foul in a Bills-Jets game back in the 1980s, and said that the offending player was "giving him the business".
Awesome, and if you've never seen the clip you must check it out.
This led to an homage from another ref years later, who was officiating an NCAA game.
I like how the crowd responds with an uproar of laughter after the announcement is made.
This, of course, made me think of the infamous NBA moment when Reggie Evans yanked on Chris Kaman's junk in the middle of a game. He was *definitely* giving him the business.
And then, finally, I was forced to recall the photo of English soccer villain Vinnie Jones (who has now gone to act in films like 'Snatch', 'Gone in Sixty Seconds' and 'Euro Trip'), assaulting an opponent. He clearly has malice in his heart, as you can see by the look on his face, and the expression of his hapless is victim is priceless.
Why does my mind work like this? How did we end up here?
I'm a little ashamed of myself, so I better stop right there, because I don't like the direction this is heading.
I know that there have been countless people in the media tripping over themselves to slobber all over the 2007 Patriots, and far be it from me to continue that trend (yes, you are right by the way - by counting myself as a member of the media, I'm probably playing pretty fast-n-loose with the word 'media'. So I might not be an actual media member, but I am a member of the blogosphere).
Anyway, I wasn't ready to anoint the Pats as members of that mythical pantheon of the best offensive teams of all time - units like the 1999-2000 Rams, the 1994 Niners, the 2004 Colts and the 1998 Vikings that exist in some rolled-up, shadowy transom of my mind - tucked away and forgotten about like that phone number you got off that marginally-attractive-but-trampy coed that you hooked up in Cabo during Spring Break some years back, and then promised to call her, even though you knew that would turn into a lie as soon as the Coronas wore off.
"Tom, do you mind if we just get you out of this sweaty jersey? It looks too small for youanyway. What do you wear? A Youth Medium?"
In that same way, I may not have thought much about those old teams in a while, but I certainly was not ready to count the Pats as their equals.
Good thing, too, because now that I see this, the Pats seem to be better than ALL of those teams. Think I'm hitting the Coronas too hard right now? Here's some proof:
Did you know that the 2007 Patriots scored a TD on 43% of their offensive possessions this season? That's more ridiculous than the new "American Gladiators". To put that into perspective, that insane 2000 Rams team scored a TD on only 35% of its possessions. The 2004 Colts (the team on which Peyton Manning tossed a then-record 49 TD passes) got in the end zone less than 37% of the time.
I don't love the Patriots, and I really can't stand those sweatshirts that Bill Belichick cuts the sleeves off of, but one has to admire their efficiency.
"Coach, I don't know exactly which look you're trying to achieve with that sweatshirt, but whatever it is, it's not workin'."
In 2002, a woman named Barbara Hewson arrived in Los Angeles, after an 11-hour flight from Wales, with torn leg muscles, internal bleeding in her chest, and nerve damage.
Hewson sued Virgin Atlantic, claiming to have been crushed by the obese woman sitting next to her. The woman was so large, she said, that she couldn’t fit into her seat without removing the armrest, effectively sitting on top of Hewson. And when she complained, attendants told her to “ask if another passenger would exchange seats.” (Nobody would.) In response to Hewson's initial complaint, the airline sent her a $22 basket of canned goods.
A judge awarded her more than $20,000 in cash.
My plane travels in the last week have made me tremendously sympathetic to this poor woman's plight. Though I didn't suffer internal bleeding or nerve damage, there was a woman in the row behind me who seemed intent on inflicting her tuberculosis or whooping cough on the rest of her fellow passengers.
I also wanted to explain to the people around me that the universal rule is: The guy in the middle seat gets BOTH armrests. No exceptions, no negotiations.
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I was dismayed to learn that the highest-grossing sports movie of all time is [wait for it]... "The Waterboy"? An Adam Sandler movie is the top-grossing sports movie of all time? Though my sadness was mitigated somewhat by the knowledge that - when adjusted for inflation - "Rocky" has actually taken in more dollars.
I've been taking a little ski vacation this week, so I thought I would take a moment to point out a couple of immutable truths that I've observed the last few days while spending time on the slopes:
Any guy wearing a ski jacket in which White is the predominant color, is making a definite statement. And I don't think it's a statement any man wants to be making.
For some reason, any girl in full snowboard gear instantly becomes 22% hotter. A team of physicists at M.I.T. is currently studying this phenomenon.
Because I watched "Hot Dog... The Movie" (1984) about two hundred times during a misspent youth, every single time I get off the gondola the uber-cheesy '80s anthem "Nothin' Feels Quite Like the Top of the Hill" runs through my head, no matter how many times I've tried to do something to change this unfortunate eventuality.
I've never paid much attention to Andy Roddick. He's no Andre Agassi. He's no Pete Sampras. Hell, he's not even a Michael Chang.
Roddick has always struck me as the male version of Anna Kournikova - which is to say, someone who gets discussed more for their looks than for their tennis. (For any of you Texas Hold'em players out there, I like it when people refer to Ace-King as 'the Anna Kournikova' hand - not only are the initials the same, A.K., but also because it "looks good, never wins").
Although, since Roddick has actually WON a tennis tournament in his lifetime, unlike Anna, it's somewhat unfair to compare the two.
Nevertheless, I'm somewhat baffled by the hate that Roddick is receiving from certain circles of fans because he is dating Sports Illustrated swimsuit model Brooklyn Decker.
But according to The Big Lead, that's precisely what is happening.
Here's a sampling of some of the comments:
* “Is she legal?”
* “You complain that she want a serious gf, but you keep dating the same girl over again: 20 yo blonde swimsuit model. That’s stupidity: doing the same thing over and over again (literally) and expecting similar results. I don’t expect this to last. He should try to date a tennis player. It certainly wouldn’t be a bad idea. At least they understand the game and everything. Ana Ivanovic or Tati Golovin would be good matches I think.”
* “I just have one question what is it with tennis players and models just in general? It has been going on since tennis was practically invented. Is it err like doctors date nurses etc. etc???????”
Besides making the observation that those message-board fans clearly are borderline mentally-challenged, I will answer the first question: "Is she legal?"
Yes, she is - Brooklyn was born in 1987, and since she's already been exploited by a corporate publishing machine like Sports Illustrated, I would say she's most likely wise beyond her years.
Actually, there is one other comment that I have, which is: he DID try dating a tennis player, and that was Maria Sharapova - and that didn't work out any better than his relationship with Mandy Moore. And while both of those ladies are very fetching, Brooklyn Decker is ten pounds of hotness in a five-lb. bag. You decide for yourself.
(By the way, if you think that this blog post wasn't a thinly-veiled excuse to post pictures of attractive ladies, well, you'd be wrong.)
You would also be wrong if you assumed that realizing the young lady below is barely out of her teens and was born the same year 'Teen Wolf' was released, doesn't depress me like all git out. Because those facts do depress me. But I promise that I'll struggle to work through it. That's what Zoloft and therapists are for, no?
I've never been one of those people who would dream of participating in the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona, just not my cup of tea.
My mother often likes to remind me how many hours she was in labor with me, and it seems like an odd way of showing my gratitude for that sacrifice by voluntarily allowing myself to be gored by a pissed-off 2,200-lb. animal that has been whipped into a frenzy by a clutch of mentally-questionable adrenaline junkies high on Sambuca and greenies.
Why is this on my mind, apart from the fact that I'm the king of the non sequitur?
I actually have a good answer for that: I saw an amazing clip of some rally racing where some super-genius nearly buys it because he's trying to dodge a drifting race car. If this dude isn't a candidate to show up on the Darwin Awards within the next calendar year, then I don't know my business.
I suppose my point on this whole thing is: are the people who line the course during a rally race people who weren't SMART enough to run with the bulls in Pamplona? Because I would never want to get near an enraged bull that has been teased and tormented to the point it's looking for a piece of somebody... anybody - but I'd *much* rather line up and start sprinting away from Ferdinand than stand next to a village road where some French dude is going to come flying by in his out-of-control Renault that has about a 50-50 chance of turning you into road pizza.
Here's another guy who is insanely lucky (and irretrievably moronic):
And finally, this guy seems to be walking a little funny after this near-death experience, most likely because I'll bet he soiled his underpants and has to walk with a clench until he can get to a restroom.
Madre de dios. Watching those clips makes me queasier than a close-up photograph of Tori Spelling.
To quote Austin Powers, "That's a maaaannn, baby!"
And I'd like to know what the Before and After pictures signify? Before *what*?! Adam's-Apple removal surgery?
I don't think even Bill Clinton would be interested in getting with her. (Actually, I stand corrected - Bill would like to say something):
Can I pile on the overflowing bandwagon of people who think the BCS system is a bunch of hooey? Is there room for me in the Steerage Class section?
We're now in the dead season, where the top teams wait, like, seven months or something before they play again. What is wrong with doing a 4-team or 8-team playoff?
I'd like to know who exactly would be against this?
If it's a money thing, and the NCAA honks think that there is too much money at stake, imagine how much MORE money they would rake in with a couple more super-top-tier games.
Having the Dr. Scholl's Foot-Odor-That-Smells-Like-Corn-Chips Bowl for one semifinal, and the Loaded Chunky Soup In the Black Can Bowl for the other semifinal - there would be at least another $50 million for the NCAA fat cats to divide up between them.
And best of all?
The championship would actually be decided ON the field, instead of by a computer.
As I learned on www.bcs-sucks.com the final Jeff Sagarin computer poll of the season had Virginia Tech ranked *above* LSU, after LSU not only won the SEC, but LSU played the Hokies, and beat them by 41! What in the name of Keith Jackson's pouch is going on around here?For several Bible-length volumes of truth on the BCS shenanigans, you can go here, here or here.
I have just one message for all the folks in charge of the BCS:
What's wrong with these NFL coaches who bail on the multi-million dollar paychecks, private-jet-travel and the best athletes in the world in order to jump to college jobs?
Am I insane to think that an NFL job is several orders of magnitude more appealing than an NCAA job?
In the college game, you've got to deal with recruiting, annoying boosters who want to meddle, kids who are also supposed to be full-time students, plus a rules violation around every corner. It seems like a riskier mine-field than open-mouth kissing with Paris Hilton.
(By the way, does Paris have her own venereal disease named after her yet? It's got to be just a matter of time, right? And wouldn't that be a bigger badge of honor than having one's own Wikipedia entry? I'm sure Paris would consider the namesake disease to be more of an honor.)
It looks like Paris has a little itch going on downstairs here. She must have skipped her daily shot of Amoxycillin or something:
Wait a second, did I get side-tracked again? What were we talking 'bout?
Ah, yes. NFL coaches, like Bobby Petrino and Nick Saban, bailing out of traveling on private jets to take college jobs.
Now, I'm NOT suggesting that being an NFL coach would be easy. Getting three hours of sleep a night, getting reintroduced every 24-36 months to the people living in your house ("You say you're my wife? And these are my children? Interesting...") -- I just feel like the NFL is the pinnacle of football coaching, and why voluntarily take a step back.
Unless you really suck at being an NFL coach, that is.
Nick Saban, of course, famously proclaimed - while he was the head coach of the Dolphins - that he would NOT be the Alabama coach.
Then less than a week later, he was introduced as the head guy of the Crimson Tide.
Hmm... maybe Nick forgot that words and images can be recorded now.
I just thought it was interesting that Bobby Petrino wasn't even a full year into his stint with the Falcons before bailing to take the Arkansas job. I guess he felt like the job wasn't as good without Mike Vick there (remember that, when he got hired, Vick was still expected back with the team in 2007).
Oh well, poor Arthur Blank gets screwed over again. Maybe he can go home and sob into his bricks of cash he has lying around.
By the way!
Did you know that, back in 1976, there was another first-year NFL head coach, who quit his job with his team 3-10 (exactly the same as the Falcons are currently) in order to take a college job.
Not only that, but do you know what university this coach quit his NFL job for? That's correct, Arkansas - just like Petrino.
Eerily similar - almost identical circumstances, except for the fact that the NFL teams were different (Jets instead of Falcons).
Do you know who that coach was? That's right - Lou Holtz.
The story goes that ol' Lou, who had always been a college coach, was lured to the NY Jets because of the big money - and during his first day on the job, he sat down in his office and wrote a team 'fight song' for the Jets, just like they were a college team.
As you can imagine, the professionals in that locker room weren't too stoked on singing a corny fight song - and Lou pulled the Eject rip-cord before the season even finished.
Aren't you glad you read this blog? Admit it, the YouBeQBlog gives you your money's worth.
Every time I see Raiders Defensive Coordinator Rob Ryan shown on TV during a game, it makes me chuckle.
Did you ever think you would see an NFL coach looking like THAT? And no matter how you answered that first question, answer this: Is there *any* team in the league that you could possibly imagine this guy coaching for BESIDES the Raiders?
I mean, what would his other options be?
Note to self: need to submit my resume today, several good job possibilities for me:
Greeter/bouncer at tattoo parlor
New Disneyland stage show - extra in a viking scene (bonus for the props I would get: plastic sword and horned helmet)
Oakland Raiders coaching staff
What do you expect from a team that has an anima-tronic corpse in a white track suit as its owner? A commitment to excellence, that's what.
Hi, everyone! I think I'm finally starting to reach a huge readership. My fans have grown exponentially and they now number in the One's (though someday I may have tens of fans).I'm reasonably sure that my mom would read this blog - if she knew how to get on the internet.Let me clear out some stuff that has been cluttering up my 'Blog tickler file' for a while now.
I have NO earthly idea how these guys accomplish some of these things with just a ping pong ball, but this video blows me away. Here's the link if the window below stops working.
One thing that I do know is that it would take a lot of hours with a ping pong ball before you were able to pull this stuff off - and I'm not sure what that says about you. I think it's kind of like being really, REALLY good at bowling or playing pinball. Yes, it's a skill, but by showing your expertise, all you're really telling the world is that you've spent a LOT of your life in a bowling alley. It would kind of be like bragging to your friends that you hooked up with Janet Reno when you were in high school. Even if it's true, it might be something best kept to yourself.
Even former NBA superstar Michael Jordan couldn't help the Miami Dolphins last week. Jordan responded to a request by Dolphin DE Jason Taylor, a friend of his, to give the winless team a pep talk at the Miami training facility last week. The team responded to the motivational speech with a 40-13 home loss to the hapless Jets. (Maybe they should have asked him to suit up; they could have used him in the backfield).
From the "Who Ever Said Chivalry Was Dead?" file, feast your peepers on this dude, who clearly knows how to treat a woman with love and respect. My theory is that he brainwashed her, because if not, they were probably divorced before the film in the camera got developed.
