NotTheRock Musings

Here in New Jersey, we're not known to be the best drivers. I admit this. I embrace this. And little do most of you know who aren't from here, we sort of wear it as a badge of pride. You know how they say lawyer jokes are enjoyed the most by lawyers? Well, we kind of have that thing about how "crazy" we are as drivers around these parts. We think it's funny and it only serves to make us want to scare the shit out of you further.

We already are one of the first few states to ban talking on your cell while driving without a headset, a law largely ignored by residents of NJ. But now, it looks like some state Assemblymen from Gloucester County have discovered what their kids are always fiddling with on their cellies and have decided that that's no good, either! They're going to push for a ban on "texting" while driving. How Blackberry usage fits in to this is unclear. As is how it would be enforced. ("Ma'am, hand me your cell phone so I can check the timestamp of your last transmission.")

Next things to be banned will be conversations with those in the back seat, followed by conversations with those in the front seats, followed by paying too much attention to the radio.

Labels: Jersey drivers, text messaging, upside-down underwater basket-weaving

I'm not a big fan of cats. In fact, I'm allergic to them. And I'm a mean bastard who likes to mess with animals so I find the below picture rather...well... hilarious. Almost as hilarious as the reactions from people who love cats and would probably be upset by this photograph.

My future wife is also is not a fan of cats. Actually, saying she's "not a fan" of cats is like saying I'm "not a fan" of dental work. What I mean is, she hates them. So, I'm dedicating this post to her.


This one's for you, honey!

And I don't care who you are. Don't even try to lie and say you didn't laugh at this photo.

Labels: amusing animal cruelty, kitten on draught, lesser-known uses for pint glasses

I played soccer for all of my young life and, as a kid, I had been more of a forward -- fast, ability to score, etc. But high school exposed the fact that I wasn't enough of a scorer to continue trying to score goals so my focus was changed to stopping goals and I was moved to fullback, where I prided myself on my defensive abilities.

One of the more exciting moments of my high school soccer life was when I managed to score a goal during my junior season from midfield, lofting a ball over the surprised goalie's head. In a game earlier that season, I had clanked one off the crossbar from about the same location as we were pressing to tie the game.

But I don't think anyone who has played soccer in their life can deny that this has got to be one of the coolest goals ever scored. Especially if you were/are a defender or goalie.

Labels: goals, orangutans, soccer

While this is a rather cool idea, let me just say that there is no flippin' way I would ever walk out onto that thing.

What thing? Well, for those of you too lazy to click the link above, a large "skywalk" has been installed at the Grand Canyon, allowing you to walk out 70 (seventy!) feet from the Canyon's edge. As though that's not freaky enough, it's also got a transparent bottom! That's right, you'll be walking on basically a glass-bottom boat teetering out over the edge of the Grand Canyon, a mere 4,000 feet from the bottom of the ravine. The good news is that at that height, when it gives way nobody will be splattered with blood. You won't even be able to hear them hit the bottom. Yikes.

This just worries me. I know there are likely safety engineering fail-safes in effect, but there's a show on the History Channel called "Engineering Disasters," and it isn't a one-time show. There are plenty of catastrophic failures from an engineering perspective to keep filling the show up.

From the story:

The Skywalk has sparked debate on and off the reservation. Many Hualapai (pronounced WALL-uh-pie) worry about disturbing nearby burial sites, and environmentalists have accused the tribe of transforming the majestic canyon into a tourist trap.

Transforming the majestic canyon into a tourist trap? Right, good point. No tourists go there now. Environmentalists are so smart.

Construction crews spent two years building the Skywalk. They drilled steel anchors 46 feet into the limestone rim to hold the deck in place. Earlier this month, they welded the Skywalk to the anchors after pushing it past the edge using four tractor trailers and an elaborate system of pulleys.

I'm no geologist but isn't limestone really crumbly? And also, those sound like very precise tools -- tractor trailers and an elaborate system of pulleys. I like to picture them suspending a tractor-trailer off the side of the canyon attached to a pulley that keeps the skywalk balanced. That would be an elaborate system of pulleys.

Architect Mark Johnson said the Skywalk will support the weight of a few hundred people and withstand canyon winds of 100 mph. The observation deck has been embedded with shock absorbers to keep it from wobbling like a diving board as people walk on it.

A "few hundred people"? Sounds rather nonspecific, doesn't it? I'd like to know precisely how much weight it can hold before I share it with a fat tourist from Iowa. I do, however, appreciate that it won't wobble like a diving board as people walk on it. That would probably no do much for its popularity.

The local indian tribe are christening the Skywalk by having two former astronauts join them on it and the story concludes with this gem:

And, as the Apollo 11 astronaut famous for walking on the moon, Aldrin said he has no fear of heights.

Because this is basically the same thing.

What does having walked on the moon have to do with heights? Does Aldrin think there was a chance he might have fallen off the moon and plummeted to, say, Florida? This is like saying, "As the first man to cross the Atlantic in a rowboat, I've got no fear of pogo sticks."

Makes about as much sense.

Labels: employment for washed-up astronauts, Grand Canyon, Skywalk

I don't know what the hell to call these posts anymore. Basically, I'm here to update you on how I'm doing in the Tournament. As though you care. Yeah, well, nobody shows me any love by commenting here anyway so whatever. I'll start posting more nonsensical-than-usual crap soon. We'll see how you like that.

Anyway, on ESPN.com, I am in 624,603th place (out of roughly 3,500,000), putting me in the 78.8 percerntile, meaning I'm doing better than nearly 80% of the country. I'm typically in about this position at this point but I've usually lost several of the teams I've projected to do big things. This year appears to be different, however. While I only have 10 of my Sweet 16 picks correct, among them are all eight of the teams I picked to make the "Elite Eight" and, thus, all of my Final Four teams remaining. There's really nothing worse than losing one of your Final Four teams in the opening weekend because then you feel like you've got no shot at anything the rest of the way.

In another pool I do, that is run by an actuary from my old company, I am in 64th place out of 601 entries. No, I'm not winning any money for that but it's always fun to feel like you know something about a sport. Well, at least for me, anyway.

In other news, Purdue got bounced from the tournament by the defending champs, Florida. The Boilers gave a very strong showing this year, rebounding from two pretty awful seasons to wind up with 22 wins, a victory in the first round over Arizona and a near-upset over Florida. I'm quite proud of the boys and looking forward to the future of this program.

Back later this week with more goodness to entertain you.

Labels: go-karts, NCAA Tournament, Purdue

You may recall in past years how I've regaled you with stories of my poor team-picking in the NCAA Tournament as well as my witty observations about it. And you'll recall how I'll remind you over and over again when I do something brilliant.

A couple of years ago, I had Kansas in the Final Four (something I have a history of doing) and they lost. In the first round. To Bucknell.

Yeah, so it's never good when your bracket is in the shitter on Day 1. As I said, I've put Kansas in the Final Four more than any other team over the years and the last two years they've been bounced in the first round. So when I did this year's bracket, I just figured I had to do it again. Hell, if I didn't pick them and they made the Final Four I'd be royally pissed. So not only do I have them in there, I have them winning the whole thing. So naturally, you know they won't.

However, I got off to a good start this year on day 1. I picked 14 of 16 correctly, including VCU's upset of Duke which was pretty much the only upset of the day. This has put me in the 96.7 percentile in the country, which isn't too bad. Staying there would be a trick, though.

For those interested, my bracket can be perused here. In addition, just for fun, I threw in another bracket on ESPN.com (since the best one wins ten grand) and that can be viewed here. Notice any funny-looking teams in the Final Four? Yeah, I thought you might.

Labels: brackets, NCAA Tournament, thumbtacks

Well, I mean, what if this guy worked for God? Like, as a messenger or something? Something tells me, though, that God wouldn't pay you with checks as large as $50K. Way to try to do this inconspicuously, genius.

Okay, so it's been a little over two months since I began my latest concerted effort to shed my fatness, or at least some of it. The good news? I'm down eighteen pounds. The bad news? I was down eighteen pounds about a month ago.

I'm holding steady at 202 lbs and I guess that's not the worst thing. I could be like this guy, happy to be less than half a ton. But when you eat six tubes of Weight Watchers ziti for lunch and then eat a few fat free Pringles, you hope for continued results. I know, I know, not putting the weight back on is a continued result. I get it. Maintenance is important. But I want to lose another 5-10 lbs.

But you can only take so much before you begin to want some fried mac and cheese.

Labels: pistol-whipping, stupid fat people, Weight Watchers

So Watersyne and I are in the mall a few weeks ago and there's a Porsche there and you can fill out a card and drop it in the box, supposedly giving you a "chance to win!" I know there's absolutely, unequivocally zero chance I will win a Porsche (has anyone actually ever seen one of these given away?) but I decide to fill one out anyway and I encourage her to do the same.

Watersyne chides me for it, saying "Do you really think you're going to win a Porsche?"

"Probably not," I concede, "but it costs nothing to fill out the card."

"What do they need your address for?" she asks.

"Probably because they're going to call in a week or two and say we won some bullshit shopping spree or a free trip and all we have to do is come listen to a seminar on time-share."

"That's stupid," she concludes.

I continue filling out my card and point out that if I win the car, I'm going to remind her she said the whole thing was stupid and that she won't be allowed to drive it because of that. Before I know it, she's filling out a card next to me, and I think she said something about hoping she wins so she can hold it over me.

True to form, I get a message from some woman saying -- surprise! -- my card was pulled and I've won four airline tickets and a $1,000 online shopping spree if I call her back and go to a stupid-ass, high-pressure sales pitch for something. She doesn't say anything about the catch beyond asking I call her back but I know it's coming so I delete the message and go about my day.

The next day, I'm on the phone with Watersyne and she tells me all about the phone call she got about winning four airline tickets and a $1,000 online shopping spree.

"Yeah, I got the same call," I said. "I ignored it. I told you that would happen, remember?"

"Well, but... why did you do it then?" she asks.

"On the tiny chance I might win a Porsche."

*Deep sigh from Watersyne, the kind I get when I'm being frustrating*

"We just need to go for ninety minutes," she says, "It's only ninety minutes of our time."

I tell her no way and that it's a ruse and complete bullshit and annoying and that she's the kind of sucker they're looking for and... no way. And 90 minutes is a long time.

"But it's a $1,000 online shopping spree," she reminds me, not for the first time.

Not being able ot think of a way out, I counter with: "Can I just pay you $1,000 so we don't have to go to this?"

It's these kinds of strong negotiating skills that are going to make me a pushover with kids one day.

Labels: Porsches, shopping, tree trunks

As you may or may not know, I'm getting married. Part of this glorious process involved getting presents. Sure, everyone loves presents but it's odd (to me, at least) to create a very defined and specific list of things you want and then share that list with everybody.

The only other time in your life when you can get away with this is while you believe in Santa Claus. So from age 8 or whatever up until you're engaged, these rules do not apply and then, suddenly, it's like Christmas 1979 all over again.

My darling Watersyne and I went through the bulk of the registering process back in January and, for the most part, it was fun. The first day was spent at Bed, Bath & Beyond and, I'm not gonna lie to you, the fun part was the scanner gun. Amazingly, she let me handle the gun while she manned a list of "suggested items." I'm not quite sure how they have a standard set of suggested items when they don't know how old people are. I mean, if you're living at home and are 22 and are getting married, you definitely need everything on the list. But I'm 31 years old. I've got a fuckin' spatula.

Nevertheless, not only do they give you suggested items, they automatically add something like twenty kitchen items to your registry because "they're things everybody needs." Really? What if Rachel Ray goes to register there? Do they assume she's never used a large plastic spoon before?

So we set out in the Westchester store because it's huge. I mean, it's HUGE. Ginormous in fact. We started with silverware and, if you know my fiancee at all, you know how indecisive she can be. Starting off with silverware wasn't a good idea. So we moved on to easier things.

Things were going well and, honestly, it does take a while to get comfortable scanning items onto our registry. You feel like it's such a definitive decision as it's electronically added to your wish list. But I got loosened up and before long, I wasn't even waiting for approval to scan things.

"Hey, look, a glassware set..." Watersyne would begin to say.

"Beep," the scanner would say, followed by me moving on to the next aisle.

At one point we came across bottled water. Beep, beep, beep.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Hell, they're 59 cents each! This is a steal. Plus we'll probably be thirsty one day."

"Remove them."

I pouted but obliged.

Later on, we were in the kitchenware aisle. For a long time. Watersyne really likes kitchen stuff so I don't think she wanted to leave. And then a couple of weird-looking people walked in and I got a fun idea. I went to the spot where the kitchen timers were hanging on hooks and I went to work.

I set one for twelve minutes. Then another for thirteen minutes. I was up to sixteen when Watersyne caught me.

I figured this accomplished several things:

1. Watersyne hates to be publicly embarrassed (so why she's marrying me I do not know), so this would hasten our departure from the kitchenwares area.
2. It would startle the weird, hillbilly people (one of which had a sleeveless shirt on in January and dark sunglasses...inside).
3. It would amuse me.

We were a few aisles away when the ringing began. And it was fun to pretend we had no idea what was going on.

Usually, I really don't have any idea what's going on.

Labels: horseshoes, pranks, shopping, wedding

I've recently changed my morning routine. For the past three or four years, I've been turning on the Bose Wave Radio and listening to 1050 ESPN Radio here in the New York listening area every single morning. Mainly, I did it because I wanted to hear sports talk in the mornings and also because a few years ago I got sick of morning television like Today. They were getting lazy, in my opinion, and their "stories" were things that weren't topical or current and then there were awful things like their weddings in the Fall. They became annual events wherein we had to hear about the potential couples, the dresses, the locations, the cakes, how whipped the husband was, etc. I mean, you're willing to get married on the Today show?? That's lame.

But now I'm back to the Today show because ESPN radio became completely intolerable. I'd say I've been back on Today about two weeks or so. And I'm already pissed at them.

This morning, leathery-looking Meredith Viera (age 53), got all hot and bothered about the topic of "hooking up," mainly because she has teenaged kids. What continues to piss me off about this stuff is that they're always late to the game. Like, twenty years late to the game. This reminds me of the time a few years ago when Katie Couric got some kids in a room and asked them what "friends with benefits" meant (she even used the air quotes, as I recall). You're asking about hooking up and what it means now? What continued to piss me off was the way Viera simply dismissed the 1960s and 1970s sexual revolution (when casual sex was extremely frequent) because she said, "But that had a political undertone to it."

Hey, Meredith, justify it however you want, you old fart, but the reality is that your generation was just as whorish as any other generation. It's just that it's talked about more these days and women who are willing to have sex aren't always labeled sluts anymore.

Casual sex is not a new phenomenon. As I said, it went on long ago and has continued to go on... there was even a movie with the title in 1988. That was nineteen years ago! It's not a new concept!

But anyway, I let that go after much consternation on the set of Today as Meredith made disapproving faces on the subject. Then they moved on to someone who ("amazingly," they kept insisting) had a 93-pound tumor that she didn't know about!

Well, if you think that she had to be a 500-lb monster in order for a 93-pound tumor to not be discovered...well, you'd be right!

I mean, it's fantastic that a doctor finally felt something wasn't right and that there had to be more to it than her simply being a fat slob and accurately detected the ovarian cist. But still... maybe if you weren't quite so abjectly disgusting and could fit into an MRI machine, they could have detected the tumor sooner. It's hard to hide a nearly 100-pound tumor... unless you're the size of a Buick.

The good news is, the Tulsa hillrat is down to 360 lbs (at age 32) so things are looking up. She might actually live to 40 before her heart gives out. Good news!

All-in-all, hard-hitting news from the #1 morning show in America.

Labels: industrial caulk, stupid fat people, Today show

Tuesday night I was at the Rangers-Montreal game with MG and, as seems to be the case more often than not anymore, there were some loud, obnoxious imbeciles on my section. They were all Montreal fans for some reason and they were loud and ignorant morons. Every time there would be anything rough, they'd SCREAM "Fight! Fight!" like some ignorant turd who thinks it's still 1975 and only animals watch hockey.

Every time Montreal got the puck, one douchebag would SCREAM "GO!!" as loud as he could. And periodically, usually on their way to or from getting more beer, they would stand in the aisle and SCREAM "GO HABS GO!!" Smart thing to do in MSG. But, really, with people this stupid, most fans don't mess with them becuase they're simply so stupid and moronic that people figure they'll make enough of an ass of themselves on their own.

Throughout the night, they (there were four or five of them) LOUDLY discussed life and what they did and liked, etc. It became clear that they worked on the stock exchange, referring to themselves as "traders," though by the looks of these losers, they probably just run coffee to the floor of the exchange and back. At one point, this tool says, "I love being a trader... I go out at lunch, smoke a joint, then go to a massage parlor... get a massage and get jerked off and then go back to work."

Right.

This is where I began to really want to punch this little twit, who wouldn't know what to do if a female ever touched his pecker. At one point, he started talking about how he couldn't remember how many chicks he'd done... to which MG replied, "So now you just count the guys" in a voice plenty loud enough to hear. Of course, when he told the rub-and-a-tug story mentioned above, I gave a loud, "RIGHT, sure you do" as well.

Toward the end of the game, they began trying to set up a car service for one of their friends. And the guy on the phone kept spelling his street over and over again...

"No, it's Lispenard...L-I-S-P-E-N-A-R-D... no, Lispenard....LISpenard...it's between Canal and Broadway...L-I-S-P-E-N-A-R-D...L-I-S-yeah, Lispenard... yeah..."

I don't know where Lispenard street is because I couldn't find it on a map between Canal and Broadway but who cares. This schmuck thinks he lives there.

Then he was obviously asked for a number so douchebag 1 asks douchebag 2 what number to give him and douchebag 2 recites his cell number. Three times. And then douchebag 1 recites it to the car service people....three times. So about the fifth time I heard it, MG and I exchanged a glance and I pulled out my cell and entered the number in.

We left soon after and when we got to the car, we called the number, using the *67 block caller ID feature of course. MG played the part of the confused, foreign car driver and kept repeating, "Leeespenard.... where ezz eet?" while I almost died laughing in the passenger seat.

"Yeah, 50 Lispenard. Apartment 1," douchebag 2 tells us.

"Okay, I be downstairs in five minutes."

"Wait, no...what?"

garbled noises, the organ can be heard at the Garden in the background

"When?"

"Okay, I here!" MG announced.

We then hung up because we were laughing too hard, imagining these dumbasses racing home because the car was already there. We really wanted to call back at 2 AM and say we were right downstairs again.

But it didn't end there. These guys were annoying and so we wanted to continue to mess with them. MG found a site that identifies the cell carrier of any number you enter in and then it allows you to send anonymous text messages to anyone. This is too good to be true.

So far this week, douchebag 2 has gotten several random messages about what a douchebag he is, along with a few saying, "Tired of being annoyed yet?"

We're currently looking to sign him up for some text message alerts of things he could never ever want.

Labels: Mount Rushmore, pranks, Rangers

So you've made it to the new-look NTR site. And therein lies one of the first issues I had to deal with and am still wrestling with: what do I call the revised site? NotTheRock.com is being retired in short order seeing as how it does nothing but lie around and cost me money (good practice for one day having a lazy teenager), the original Musings portion of the site is also now permanently banished to the Archives... and really, this will be the focal point of my ongoing Web endeavors. So maybe it should take on the simple moniker of "NotTheRock," thus dropping the ".com" and the "Musings," since hey, it's a blog and, duh, obviously it's got musings on it. But the Musings were such a part of the identity of why I began it in the first place. But I guess this is already way too much thought devoted to somethine as insignificant as the title of this here slice of the Internet (or, "the eBays" as FSU coach Bobby Bowden calls it).

I've still not really formally defined what I'm doing here. Yeah, sure, blogging (god, I hate that stupid term), but about what?

If you know me, then you know I'm weirdly private about my personal life. So why share any of it on here? Well, good question, and stop poking into my brain. It makes me kick all funny.

No, but seriously, this is here for me to do a few things: vent, make fun of things, bitch, moan... well, wait, those are all almost the same thing. Hmm, well, it's also here so I can keep writing. I write and write and try to then write some more. Having an instant outlet like this is healthy for me and I enjoy it. And as you'll see if you haven't already, I also write (and have written) other places, including Boiled Sports, Ranger Fan Central and Four Magazine.

You'll note I went with a color change. I still like the black background but decided to go with something a little different for now. We'll see how long it lasts but, judging by how often I updated the look and feel of other Web endeavors, I'd say get used to this look.

You can still visit the Jan '03 to Feb '07 Musings whenever you want by looking over in the right nav bar and seeing the links to visit there. And I'll also probably link there periodically since I'm actually arrogant enough to link to my own commentary. But don't worry, the old stuff doesn't get lonely. It's not really alive.

Not sure what else to share here except that if you've been reading a while and I know you, then thanks! And if you're reading and I have no idea who you are, well, welcome, I guess. And feel free to identify yourself in the comments.

Oh, yeah, comments! Those are a lot more free and easy to use, too. At least more free and easy than over at Xanga. You don't have to have an account to comment here but you might want to make one just for fun anyway.

There's also the labeling system here where you can "tag" your posts to make them easier to sort. Well, part of me thinks this is a neat idea and part of me thinks this is a bit silly. So I'll probably be putting labels on each post -- some will be legit and others will not. I bet you can figure out which ones are which.

Labels: explosions, NotTheRock, writing