9.27.2007
HO...LY...FUCK
What the fuck just happened? 4-0 Brazil? I'm devastated. Has the US ever lost by more than 2 before?
9.26.2007
USA-Brazil tomorrow morning, this one's going to be a barn-burner.
BTW, I hate the Nike ad campaign, "The Greatest Team You've Never Heard Of". Maybe if you asshats in the sports media and advertising world would get off your lazy asses and start following this game you would be able to capitalize on the most successful Women's National team and the most successful American National team ever.
These women kick ass.
9.25.2007
Chapter 3: Tea and what was that all about?
I tried to go back to sleep. Asleep I didn't notice my pounding head or the muscle aches or the cuts on my back, but mostly my aching head. Tragically, the bright sunshine coming in the window conspired against me. I went over the previous nights events a couple times before truly resigning myself to the fact that I was truly awake and not going to fall back into the oblivious embrace of sleep. I opened my eyes and immediately closed them as the brightness brought on a wave of nausea. I slowly swung my feet out of the bed and with my eyes still closed got to my feet. I opened my eyes to slits and slowly shuffled to the bathroom. Another wave of nausea swept over me as I stood at the toilet. But it passed and I wasn't pissing blood, always a good sign. I needed some tea.
With small careful steps I made my way to the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove. As I dumped a few pinches of wulon tea into a mug I could hear Wu Han in my head: the making of the tea is as important as the tea itself, tea should only be made with deliberate ceremony. Shut up, Wu Han, I don't have the strength. As I poured the steaming water in I could hear his reply: But, Lo-chan, the mind is more powerful than the body, without the ceremony you're just ingesting hot water and phenols. Yeah, yeah, the chemicals will just have to do the trick on their own this time I thought as I took my first sip. But I did it with deliberateness, felt the warmth of the water in my mouth, tasted the bitterness and the subdued minty under flavor. I felt the warmth slide down my throat into my stomach and imagined the healing properties spreading throughout my body, especially in my head. I opened my eyes, looked into the living room and if I hadn't already gone to the bathroom, probably would have pissed my shorts. Someone was sitting in my favorite cushy chair.
“Wu Han would have you doing menial task with deliberateness for the next month if he saw how you just made that tea,” Sabrina said.
“Shit Sabrina, you scared the fuck out of me,” I said.
She smiled in her usual way, mostly with her eyes.
“I know, I know, I actually heard him bitching at me as I was doing it,” I turned and pulled another mug out of the cupboard, “what kind would you like?” I asked her.
“Dragon's Heart,” she replied.
“Har, har,” I mirthlessly chuckled. Dragon's Heart was arguably the rarest of the nine Immortal Teas, teas that took the mind and body to levels beyond rational explanation. Hidden in a safe in the foundation wall of my house I had four of the nine; Bamboo in the Wind, Tai Shan, Jiushu, and Moth's Wings. I have had Moth's Wings but that is a story for another time. Once I thought I was going to secure a tenth stone of Dragon's Heart but it was an ill conceived and ill executed attempt and Sabrina liked to remind me of it every chance she got. But that is also a story for another time. I reached for Monk's Peace, which is what she usually drank.
“Lanterns,” Sabrina called from the living room.
Lanterns, interesting, it was one of my regulars, but Sabrina rarely drank it. Up front it had a spicy combination of cinnamon quickly followed by a spicier flavor of cayenne but as the spiciness slowly faded there was a contrasting flavor of mint and at the tail end sea water. Sabrina claimed the sea water taste was too strong and she didn't like it. But I loved all the contrasts and found that it stimulated my ability to make extreme mental leaps, to make purely intuitive connections. I put a pinch less than I would use in a tea ball, I knew she wouldn't want a full steep.
My head still hurt and I consciously kept my movements slow, but the tea was helping as I handed Sabrina her mug and settled on the couch.
“So, did you spend the night in that chair?” I asked.
“Yes.” She took a couple sips of tea and only grimaced slightly.
“Why?” looking at The Sword leaning against the chair she was sitting in I had an idea of why she had spent the night there but I was hoping she would do the explaining, my head hurt too much. But she just looked at me over the top of her mug with those beautiful almond shaped and almond colored eyes of hers.
Sigh, I would have to do the talking.
“Something wasn't right about the events of last night, I mean, over and above the usual non-rightness of me getting in a bar room brawl.”
Even with her mug obscuring half her face I could tell she was smiling at that. I had a knack of instigating bar room brawls. At least sixty percent of the time I was not looking for trouble but my mouth seemed to annoy people to the point of violence. What can I say, it was a gift.
“The Buggles had a gun. And while that is more than not right they were planning to use it on me,” I continued.
“Yes,” she said. I hate it when she did this. It felt like I was back in school working through a proof. But my head hurt too much to muster true annoyance so I just kept the train of thought going.
“The whole thing was a setup. Meerna was there to give Lil John an excuse to confront me. He planned on me to take out him and Paul and Ringo giving George the excuse to use the gun.”
“Yes.”
I sipped my tea. It was definitely helping with the pain not not helping me think any better. Why would Lil John want to kill me? I let my mind drift, trying to slip into a deepra trance. I let my senses expand. I heard Patrick next door fiddling around in his garage and kids on the street playing footie. My vision crystallized so that I could see every strand in the spines of the books on my shelf. I could smell the water left in the kettle on the stove. But there was too much pain in my head, I couldn't bring my mind to the next stage.
“Feck, Sabrina, I can't see why Lil John would want to kill me,” I instantly regretted raising my voice as another wave of nausea hit me. I gulped some tea and it passed. “I mean, I'm extra careful with the intarwebs haxor, but it could be the Web Consortium, it could be any number of people I scammed, it could be any number of women's hubbies or boyfriends, but I can't see any of those willing to risk contracting Lil John to kill me and providing a gun to do it.”
“Yes,” Sabrina said as she lowered her mug, “I think it has to do with the research you've been doing lately.”
For a full minute I didn't know what she was talking about. “My historical research?” I asked increduously.
“Yes.”
I took another sip of tea and almost balked at saying, “So, you think it's the Union?”
“Yes.”
I couldn't think of anything to say.
“I've called in some favors, you're under Foursquare protection for the next 48 hours. You don't leave here under any circumstances. I'll send Wu Han over to take a look at you. In two days we visit Lil John and get to the bottom of this,” she said as she set down the now empty mug, stood and picked up The Sword. “And Locki, strap on those knives of yours and unless it's me, Wu Han, Sneaky Pete, or Jessie, unsheathe them expecting to kill.”
Feck, I thought, well, at least I can get some reading done.
With small careful steps I made my way to the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove. As I dumped a few pinches of wulon tea into a mug I could hear Wu Han in my head: the making of the tea is as important as the tea itself, tea should only be made with deliberate ceremony. Shut up, Wu Han, I don't have the strength. As I poured the steaming water in I could hear his reply: But, Lo-chan, the mind is more powerful than the body, without the ceremony you're just ingesting hot water and phenols. Yeah, yeah, the chemicals will just have to do the trick on their own this time I thought as I took my first sip. But I did it with deliberateness, felt the warmth of the water in my mouth, tasted the bitterness and the subdued minty under flavor. I felt the warmth slide down my throat into my stomach and imagined the healing properties spreading throughout my body, especially in my head. I opened my eyes, looked into the living room and if I hadn't already gone to the bathroom, probably would have pissed my shorts. Someone was sitting in my favorite cushy chair.
“Wu Han would have you doing menial task with deliberateness for the next month if he saw how you just made that tea,” Sabrina said.
“Shit Sabrina, you scared the fuck out of me,” I said.
She smiled in her usual way, mostly with her eyes.
“I know, I know, I actually heard him bitching at me as I was doing it,” I turned and pulled another mug out of the cupboard, “what kind would you like?” I asked her.
“Dragon's Heart,” she replied.
“Har, har,” I mirthlessly chuckled. Dragon's Heart was arguably the rarest of the nine Immortal Teas, teas that took the mind and body to levels beyond rational explanation. Hidden in a safe in the foundation wall of my house I had four of the nine; Bamboo in the Wind, Tai Shan, Jiushu, and Moth's Wings. I have had Moth's Wings but that is a story for another time. Once I thought I was going to secure a tenth stone of Dragon's Heart but it was an ill conceived and ill executed attempt and Sabrina liked to remind me of it every chance she got. But that is also a story for another time. I reached for Monk's Peace, which is what she usually drank.
“Lanterns,” Sabrina called from the living room.
Lanterns, interesting, it was one of my regulars, but Sabrina rarely drank it. Up front it had a spicy combination of cinnamon quickly followed by a spicier flavor of cayenne but as the spiciness slowly faded there was a contrasting flavor of mint and at the tail end sea water. Sabrina claimed the sea water taste was too strong and she didn't like it. But I loved all the contrasts and found that it stimulated my ability to make extreme mental leaps, to make purely intuitive connections. I put a pinch less than I would use in a tea ball, I knew she wouldn't want a full steep.
My head still hurt and I consciously kept my movements slow, but the tea was helping as I handed Sabrina her mug and settled on the couch.
“So, did you spend the night in that chair?” I asked.
“Yes.” She took a couple sips of tea and only grimaced slightly.
“Why?” looking at The Sword leaning against the chair she was sitting in I had an idea of why she had spent the night there but I was hoping she would do the explaining, my head hurt too much. But she just looked at me over the top of her mug with those beautiful almond shaped and almond colored eyes of hers.
Sigh, I would have to do the talking.
“Something wasn't right about the events of last night, I mean, over and above the usual non-rightness of me getting in a bar room brawl.”
Even with her mug obscuring half her face I could tell she was smiling at that. I had a knack of instigating bar room brawls. At least sixty percent of the time I was not looking for trouble but my mouth seemed to annoy people to the point of violence. What can I say, it was a gift.
“The Buggles had a gun. And while that is more than not right they were planning to use it on me,” I continued.
“Yes,” she said. I hate it when she did this. It felt like I was back in school working through a proof. But my head hurt too much to muster true annoyance so I just kept the train of thought going.
“The whole thing was a setup. Meerna was there to give Lil John an excuse to confront me. He planned on me to take out him and Paul and Ringo giving George the excuse to use the gun.”
“Yes.”
I sipped my tea. It was definitely helping with the pain not not helping me think any better. Why would Lil John want to kill me? I let my mind drift, trying to slip into a deepra trance. I let my senses expand. I heard Patrick next door fiddling around in his garage and kids on the street playing footie. My vision crystallized so that I could see every strand in the spines of the books on my shelf. I could smell the water left in the kettle on the stove. But there was too much pain in my head, I couldn't bring my mind to the next stage.
“Feck, Sabrina, I can't see why Lil John would want to kill me,” I instantly regretted raising my voice as another wave of nausea hit me. I gulped some tea and it passed. “I mean, I'm extra careful with the intarwebs haxor, but it could be the Web Consortium, it could be any number of people I scammed, it could be any number of women's hubbies or boyfriends, but I can't see any of those willing to risk contracting Lil John to kill me and providing a gun to do it.”
“Yes,” Sabrina said as she lowered her mug, “I think it has to do with the research you've been doing lately.”
For a full minute I didn't know what she was talking about. “My historical research?” I asked increduously.
“Yes.”
I took another sip of tea and almost balked at saying, “So, you think it's the Union?”
“Yes.”
I couldn't think of anything to say.
“I've called in some favors, you're under Foursquare protection for the next 48 hours. You don't leave here under any circumstances. I'll send Wu Han over to take a look at you. In two days we visit Lil John and get to the bottom of this,” she said as she set down the now empty mug, stood and picked up The Sword. “And Locki, strap on those knives of yours and unless it's me, Wu Han, Sneaky Pete, or Jessie, unsheathe them expecting to kill.”
Feck, I thought, well, at least I can get some reading done.
9.24.2007
9.20.2007
9.19.2007
Avast, ye landlubbers!
Shiver me timbers, today be Talk Like A Pirate Day. So, yo, ho, ho and a bottle o' rum.
9.15.2007
Regarding Chapter 2
This is completely a first draft, I haven't even read it through yet, but I said the next chapter would go up today so it's up. Feel free to leave comments, editing suggestions, what have you, in the comments or email me if you have my email address. This writing thing is hard.
Chapter 2: Fight at The Moondrop
“Lil John, I didn't know she was with you,” I said as he continued pushing through the crowd towards me. I glanced around. I have noticed that you can tell a lot about how a situation is going to play out by observing the reactions of the surrounding non-participants. All conversation had stopped and a space was clearing around me, people at the nearest tables were getting up and stepping back but nobody was actually leaving. So the crowd thought things were going to get violent but no one was going to die. The last part was somewhat reassuring, the first part wasn't. But I'd also seen mob logic go wrong before, so maybe I could still talk my way out of this.
“C'mon, man, I thought you were still with Blondie and whatshername over there never mentioned anything about you,” I tried the innocent approach as Lil John pushed into the growing clearing around me.
“Her name is Meerna. Are you saying it's her fault,” he asked as he stopped about six feet from me. Damn, too far away to land a surprise sucker punch. Nobody ever accused Lil John of being stupid.
“Of course not, just saying that without any physical indications, such as a big sign around her neck, or without her telling me of your involvement, I have no way of knowing that she is unavailable to me. You see my predicament, right? Everyone knows that all of the power lies with the women and unfortunately for me in this situation, it is in their best interest to create as much competition among us men as possible. Therefore, we have just this - “
“Shut up Locki, you've been asking for a beatdown for a long time,” growled Lil John. Something was strange about this. I knew Lil John, we had even been involved in a couple jobs together. Not partners but in on the same deal and things had always gone smoothly. Why was he so gung-ho on dismantling me on such flimsy grounds?
“Ok,” I said. So much for talking my way out of this. Lil John slid his right foot back. I couldn't let him charge me and become engaged in a grappling fight, I'd get clobbered. I took running step and launched myself at him. I planted both feet in his chest. Since I hadn't been able to get much forward momentum there wasn't much force behind it. But really my attack wasn't intended to be damaging. As my feet made contact I bent my knees and then pushed off against Lil John. He was a big guy and this only caused him to stagger back a couple steps. I, on the other hand, flew back far enough that I was able to do a flip and land on my feet about 10 feet away. My hands reached into my sleeves and closed around the hilts of my knives.
“Locki,” Pat bellowed from the bar, “those knives come out and I'm coming over the bar for you.” Shit, I couldn't afford to piss off Pat, I did too much business out of this bar and I had too much fun in this bar and I was just as scared of Pat as Lil John. I pulled my knives out anyway. Lil John's eyes narrowed and a little smile appeared on his lips. But before he (or Pat behind me) could make another move I spun around and slammed my knives down on the bar.
“Pat, can I get a glass of Eire juice,” I asked as innocently as possible. Pat, cricket bat in hand, scowled at me. But before he could formulate a reply I heard Lil John charging towards me. And so much for the indifferent card. Oh well, it seldom worked anyway. I jumped, landed both feet on the bar and back flipped off of it. I landed with a little too much momentum as Lil John crashed into the bar. I continued the extra momentum and rolled over onto one knee to stop directly in front of one Lil John's buddies, I think it was Ringo. He was standing gape-mouthed staring towards the bar. I punched him in the groin using the momentum of my flip and roll. Pivoted on my left knee and got to my feet to face Lil John, just in time to see a bar stool flying at me seat first. I was able to get my hands up to catch the seat but the momentum still slammed me off my feet and flying through the air to land on a table, which collapsed beneath me. As I struggled to get up in a morass of plates, food, glassware and napkins my left hand closed around a butter knife and my right found a fork.
I got to my feet with the knife in its usual position, blade sticking out the back of my fist, elbow slightly bent, arm at my side, solar plexus level. The fork, a weapon i was completely unfamiliar with, jutted out of the top of my right fist, arm locked straight ahead at shoulder level. I looked good.
Lil John was still at the bar, bent over, holding his ribs.
“Lil John, I'm truly sorry, I didn't know she was with you and really nothing happened, I was just spouting at the mouth as usual, consider me warned,” I said. I really wanted this to end. Now. Something just wasn't right.
He looked up and I saw something in his expression...remorse, uncertainty?
Arms wrapped around my shoulders with the force of a vice. In these kind of situations it is amazing how fast and precise your reflexes can become. I flicked my wrist, opened my hand and caught the handle of the butter knife as it flipped around. As I raised the knife to the cheek of my assailant behind me I slammed my head back into his face. His head jerked back as mine slammed into his chin and I felt the blade open his cheek. People don't realize that butter knives can be dangerous, especially if they are serrated. The arms loosened around my shoulders but still had enough of a hold on me to drag me down as, I think it was Paul, fell backwards.
As I struggled to sit up I saw feet pounding towards me from the bar and a boot swinging around to side volley my head. I was able to get my shoulder up to somewhat deflect the kick but it still caught the top of my head and I flew sideways. My vision went brilliant white and stark black. But I was able to roll over onto my back and was somewhat impressed that I still held both the knife and the fork in each hand.
I looked up to see Lil John standing over me. But he wasn't looking at me, he was looking to his right and shaking his head. I followed his gaze to see George staring at me with a wild eyed, scared look as if he wasn't in control of his right hand which was pulling a gun from inside his jacket. A gun! My brain stopped interpreting reality as it repeated “gun”, over and over. What the feck were they doing with a gun? So, it was from a great distance that I heard a soft but clear voice from the bar.
“That's enough,” Sabrina said, “I think he learned his lesson.”
My attention slid back to reality and Lil John towering over me, “Shut up Sabrina, I know he's your little bitch boy, but this is not your concern.”
I was looking in his face as the only reply from the bar was the slight snick of the The Sword's habaki sliding free of the scabbard. His eyes narrowed and then went wide, he glanced right and again shook his head. His fists unclenched and he stepped back a pace... and then another. I rolled over and struggled into a standing position. Staggered over to the bar. “Pat, your establishment is starting to attract some riff-raff, good utensils though,” I said as I dropped the knife and fork on the bar, picked up my knives and slid them into their sheaths.
My head was still ringing and every time my heart beat little white fireworks bloomed across my vision. I stumbled once or twice on the way out but Sabrina held me up with one hand, The Sword still loose in its scabbard in her other. As we crossed the street outside of the Moondrop I fell to my knees and threw up.
“I think we should probably call it a night,” said Sabrina.
“Yeah,” I croaked. What a lousy way to end the night.
Chapter 3: The Aftermath will be posted Saturday, September 22
“C'mon, man, I thought you were still with Blondie and whatshername over there never mentioned anything about you,” I tried the innocent approach as Lil John pushed into the growing clearing around me.
“Her name is Meerna. Are you saying it's her fault,” he asked as he stopped about six feet from me. Damn, too far away to land a surprise sucker punch. Nobody ever accused Lil John of being stupid.
“Of course not, just saying that without any physical indications, such as a big sign around her neck, or without her telling me of your involvement, I have no way of knowing that she is unavailable to me. You see my predicament, right? Everyone knows that all of the power lies with the women and unfortunately for me in this situation, it is in their best interest to create as much competition among us men as possible. Therefore, we have just this - “
“Shut up Locki, you've been asking for a beatdown for a long time,” growled Lil John. Something was strange about this. I knew Lil John, we had even been involved in a couple jobs together. Not partners but in on the same deal and things had always gone smoothly. Why was he so gung-ho on dismantling me on such flimsy grounds?
“Ok,” I said. So much for talking my way out of this. Lil John slid his right foot back. I couldn't let him charge me and become engaged in a grappling fight, I'd get clobbered. I took running step and launched myself at him. I planted both feet in his chest. Since I hadn't been able to get much forward momentum there wasn't much force behind it. But really my attack wasn't intended to be damaging. As my feet made contact I bent my knees and then pushed off against Lil John. He was a big guy and this only caused him to stagger back a couple steps. I, on the other hand, flew back far enough that I was able to do a flip and land on my feet about 10 feet away. My hands reached into my sleeves and closed around the hilts of my knives.
“Locki,” Pat bellowed from the bar, “those knives come out and I'm coming over the bar for you.” Shit, I couldn't afford to piss off Pat, I did too much business out of this bar and I had too much fun in this bar and I was just as scared of Pat as Lil John. I pulled my knives out anyway. Lil John's eyes narrowed and a little smile appeared on his lips. But before he (or Pat behind me) could make another move I spun around and slammed my knives down on the bar.
“Pat, can I get a glass of Eire juice,” I asked as innocently as possible. Pat, cricket bat in hand, scowled at me. But before he could formulate a reply I heard Lil John charging towards me. And so much for the indifferent card. Oh well, it seldom worked anyway. I jumped, landed both feet on the bar and back flipped off of it. I landed with a little too much momentum as Lil John crashed into the bar. I continued the extra momentum and rolled over onto one knee to stop directly in front of one Lil John's buddies, I think it was Ringo. He was standing gape-mouthed staring towards the bar. I punched him in the groin using the momentum of my flip and roll. Pivoted on my left knee and got to my feet to face Lil John, just in time to see a bar stool flying at me seat first. I was able to get my hands up to catch the seat but the momentum still slammed me off my feet and flying through the air to land on a table, which collapsed beneath me. As I struggled to get up in a morass of plates, food, glassware and napkins my left hand closed around a butter knife and my right found a fork.
I got to my feet with the knife in its usual position, blade sticking out the back of my fist, elbow slightly bent, arm at my side, solar plexus level. The fork, a weapon i was completely unfamiliar with, jutted out of the top of my right fist, arm locked straight ahead at shoulder level. I looked good.
Lil John was still at the bar, bent over, holding his ribs.
“Lil John, I'm truly sorry, I didn't know she was with you and really nothing happened, I was just spouting at the mouth as usual, consider me warned,” I said. I really wanted this to end. Now. Something just wasn't right.
He looked up and I saw something in his expression...remorse, uncertainty?
Arms wrapped around my shoulders with the force of a vice. In these kind of situations it is amazing how fast and precise your reflexes can become. I flicked my wrist, opened my hand and caught the handle of the butter knife as it flipped around. As I raised the knife to the cheek of my assailant behind me I slammed my head back into his face. His head jerked back as mine slammed into his chin and I felt the blade open his cheek. People don't realize that butter knives can be dangerous, especially if they are serrated. The arms loosened around my shoulders but still had enough of a hold on me to drag me down as, I think it was Paul, fell backwards.
As I struggled to sit up I saw feet pounding towards me from the bar and a boot swinging around to side volley my head. I was able to get my shoulder up to somewhat deflect the kick but it still caught the top of my head and I flew sideways. My vision went brilliant white and stark black. But I was able to roll over onto my back and was somewhat impressed that I still held both the knife and the fork in each hand.
I looked up to see Lil John standing over me. But he wasn't looking at me, he was looking to his right and shaking his head. I followed his gaze to see George staring at me with a wild eyed, scared look as if he wasn't in control of his right hand which was pulling a gun from inside his jacket. A gun! My brain stopped interpreting reality as it repeated “gun”, over and over. What the feck were they doing with a gun? So, it was from a great distance that I heard a soft but clear voice from the bar.
“That's enough,” Sabrina said, “I think he learned his lesson.”
My attention slid back to reality and Lil John towering over me, “Shut up Sabrina, I know he's your little bitch boy, but this is not your concern.”
I was looking in his face as the only reply from the bar was the slight snick of the The Sword's habaki sliding free of the scabbard. His eyes narrowed and then went wide, he glanced right and again shook his head. His fists unclenched and he stepped back a pace... and then another. I rolled over and struggled into a standing position. Staggered over to the bar. “Pat, your establishment is starting to attract some riff-raff, good utensils though,” I said as I dropped the knife and fork on the bar, picked up my knives and slid them into their sheaths.
My head was still ringing and every time my heart beat little white fireworks bloomed across my vision. I stumbled once or twice on the way out but Sabrina held me up with one hand, The Sword still loose in its scabbard in her other. As we crossed the street outside of the Moondrop I fell to my knees and threw up.
“I think we should probably call it a night,” said Sabrina.
“Yeah,” I croaked. What a lousy way to end the night.
Chapter 3: The Aftermath will be posted Saturday, September 22
9.12.2007
Bittersweet
The best part of the DCU-RSL game last night occurred after the game. As soon as the whistle blew, RSL's Alecko Eskandarian fell to the ground and lay there for a few moments, a couple of his teammates gave him a pat on the back and after a while he got up. But he kept bending over and at one point dropped to his knees. But then one of the DC players came over and gave him a hug (I think it was Boswell) and then another and then another until at one point he was surrounded by at least 5 or 6 black jerseys patting him on the back and hugging him. And then it got even better. He slowly started to walk over to Barra Brava like he wasn't sure if he really wanted to go over there, like he wasn't sure what kind of reception he would get. He shouldn't have worried. They started cheering for him, he gave a little wave and then turned around and started to walk away. But then the "ESKY, ESKY" chant started up and he turned back around and jogged over to the the sideline to get hugs from the fans. It was great to see and as far as I'm concerned (and seemingly most everyone in the stadium), Esky is and always will be a member of the Black and Red, he's just on loan. BTW, same goes for Eddie Pope and Nicky Rimando and I guess we can even squeeze in Cary Talley.
9.11.2007
September is Girl Power Month here at FreshSnaps
We start with this.
Did you know the United States has won two (2) World Cup titles? Did you know that every time since the inaugural one in 1991 we are expected to win it? That's right, I'm talking about the Women's World Cup. This is what it feels like to be Brazil. 1991 (Michelle Akers kicks ass), 1995, 1999 (Brandi Chastain wears a black sports bra... and again Michelle Akers kicks ass), 2003 (this commercial is great on so many levels, too bad neither China nor the US made it to the final), 2007 the US is the team to beat, the team that everyone fears. It feels good. BTW, I'd have Mia Hamm's children; whatever Mia wants, Mia gets...or, um, Julie Foudy. God, I love the beautiful game.
Next up, girl music, specifically, ironically, M.I.A.
Did you know the United States has won two (2) World Cup titles? Did you know that every time since the inaugural one in 1991 we are expected to win it? That's right, I'm talking about the Women's World Cup. This is what it feels like to be Brazil. 1991 (Michelle Akers kicks ass), 1995, 1999 (Brandi Chastain wears a black sports bra... and again Michelle Akers kicks ass), 2003 (this commercial is great on so many levels, too bad neither China nor the US made it to the final), 2007 the US is the team to beat, the team that everyone fears. It feels good. BTW, I'd have Mia Hamm's children; whatever Mia wants, Mia gets...or, um, Julie Foudy. God, I love the beautiful game.
Next up, girl music, specifically, ironically, M.I.A.
9.08.2007
Chapter 1: My Own Fault
I hit the door too hard. It bounced off the railing and on the rebound caught my back foot as I jumped off the porch. I landed at the bottom of the steps on my hands and knees and then on my face. The good news was that the door continued its trajectory and slammed shut which slowed down the guys who were intent on beating me senseless. The bad news was that my inelegant landing knocked the wind out of me. Through the paralyzing combination of pain and not being able to breath I heard the door slam off the rail again and judging by the profanity that followed smack someone full in the face. In spite of my current position that made me smile. It is possible to be in pain and scared and still find humor in a situation, just requires a certain disregard for reality.
I rolled over, glanced back to see a pile of arms and legs spilling down the stairs and scrambled to my feet. Having honed my theory of tactical withdrawal to near perfect practical application I knew that the next few seconds were critical. Not many people intent on teaching me a lesson were so intent as to continue the chase more than a few blocks. I headed left down Garner Street.
Within half a block I had regained my breath in time to start breathing hard. I glanced back. Bummer, the four guys had sorted themselves out and were starting after me. No matter, running was one of my things, I’d soon lose them. I ignored the shouting behind me and concentrated on my running. This was a residential neighborhood, so there was rarely any traffic, I stayed in the middle of the road, no need to have to dodge around trash cans and kids' bicycles on the sidewalk. I passed Dewitt and after passing Horner chanced another glance back. Damn, they were still following and while they had lost a little ground they were mostly less than a block back. Too close. I cut right on Arctor and they hadn't yet turned the corner when I cut down the alley halfway down the block.
I knew exactly where I was going. Months ago I had noticed that many of the row houses along this alley had garages, single car sheds really. Rickety wooden walls supporting corrugated tin or fiberglass roofs or even some without walls, just supports. Some even had rusting and dilapidated cars. Did anyone in this neighborhood really think they would be driving any of these heaps ever again? Meh, irrelevant to what I had noted so long ago. One of the garages was made of cinder block with a brick wall attached encircling the yard. The brick wall was recessed about two feet back from the front of the garage.
"Paul, alley! George, Ringo, around the block”, I heard behind me. They were splitting up, perhaps these guys were a tad smarter than I had anticipated. No matter, should still be able to make the getaway. I leapt at the cinder block wall, planted my left foot and pushed off, up and to the right. My right foot caught the brick, I pushed off again, the left foot slipped a little as I pushed off the garage again but it was enough to get my hands firmly planted on the top of the wall and swing my legs over. I landed in soft grass, rolled once and lay on my back trying to quietly regain my breath. I only had time to put my hands behind my head before I heard their footstep pounding past the garage. Suckers. For a few moments I lay there and thought about things: life, the future, the past... inconsequential stuff.
After a couple minutes I realized I didn't hear running footsteps anymore and that Sabrina was probably at the Moondrop by now. I needed to get back there and convince her to go someplace else before the goons gave up looking for me and went back to drinking. Things tended to escalate rather quickly when Sabrina was around. I got up, unlatched the backyard door and peered out. All clear. I retraced my steps without incident and within a couple minutes was walking back through the door I had very recently abused.
“Locki, you break my door you pay for it,” Pat, the bartender yelled across the room.
“Yeah, yeah, Pat, sorry, you know how it is,” I shrugged at him with a lopsided grin. He just scowled at me, cast a slightly concerned glance at Sabrina's back as she lounged with her back against the bar and headed down the bar.
“Getting in some trouble are ya,” Sabrina asked as I waded through the crowd. I glanced down at The Sword propped against the bar. Usually Sabrina didn't bring it out when we were meeting for a night of carousing. Wonder why she had it tonight.
I looked around. The girl was still there in the corner and she was still lovely, “Aye,” I replied, “she's the one in the corner over there, I think her name is Myra or Meerla or Mirna, starts with an M at least” I said as I walked up to the bar. Sabrina glanced over at the M girl who was obviously avoiding looking at us.
“She's just your type, beautiful skin and so much of it. How far did you get?”
“The lips,” I replied. It was true, the M girl was showing a lot of skin.
“Hmmm, almost there, eh,” she said as she turned back to me.
“Yeah, listen, her goon of a boyfriend, Lil John, didn't appreciate my poetry and neither did his three goon friends, I think it would be best for us to go someplace else, quickly.”
“I think it's a good idea,” she said looking over my shoulder, “but I think you're too late.”
Aw crap, I slowly turned around and saw the four guys I had previously ditched standing in the door breathing a bit heavily. Before I could duck into the crowd the largest of the four, Lil John, I knew him mostly by reputation, saw me. His face hardened and he started pushing through the crowd towards me.
This was not going to end well.
“Well Locki, you need to learn a very valuable lesson. Don't hit on the ladies who are taken. I'm going to finish my drink, when you're done we can go someplace else,” I heard Sabrina say behind me as I watched the goon and his goon brigade shoving people out of the way.
“Locki, remember what I said about pulling out those knives of yours,” Pat bellowed from the other end of the bar. Yeesh, my friends berate me as they throw me to the wolves.
This really was not going to end well.
Chapter 2: Fight at the Moondrop to be posted Saturday, September 15
I rolled over, glanced back to see a pile of arms and legs spilling down the stairs and scrambled to my feet. Having honed my theory of tactical withdrawal to near perfect practical application I knew that the next few seconds were critical. Not many people intent on teaching me a lesson were so intent as to continue the chase more than a few blocks. I headed left down Garner Street.
Within half a block I had regained my breath in time to start breathing hard. I glanced back. Bummer, the four guys had sorted themselves out and were starting after me. No matter, running was one of my things, I’d soon lose them. I ignored the shouting behind me and concentrated on my running. This was a residential neighborhood, so there was rarely any traffic, I stayed in the middle of the road, no need to have to dodge around trash cans and kids' bicycles on the sidewalk. I passed Dewitt and after passing Horner chanced another glance back. Damn, they were still following and while they had lost a little ground they were mostly less than a block back. Too close. I cut right on Arctor and they hadn't yet turned the corner when I cut down the alley halfway down the block.
I knew exactly where I was going. Months ago I had noticed that many of the row houses along this alley had garages, single car sheds really. Rickety wooden walls supporting corrugated tin or fiberglass roofs or even some without walls, just supports. Some even had rusting and dilapidated cars. Did anyone in this neighborhood really think they would be driving any of these heaps ever again? Meh, irrelevant to what I had noted so long ago. One of the garages was made of cinder block with a brick wall attached encircling the yard. The brick wall was recessed about two feet back from the front of the garage.
"Paul, alley! George, Ringo, around the block”, I heard behind me. They were splitting up, perhaps these guys were a tad smarter than I had anticipated. No matter, should still be able to make the getaway. I leapt at the cinder block wall, planted my left foot and pushed off, up and to the right. My right foot caught the brick, I pushed off again, the left foot slipped a little as I pushed off the garage again but it was enough to get my hands firmly planted on the top of the wall and swing my legs over. I landed in soft grass, rolled once and lay on my back trying to quietly regain my breath. I only had time to put my hands behind my head before I heard their footstep pounding past the garage. Suckers. For a few moments I lay there and thought about things: life, the future, the past... inconsequential stuff.
After a couple minutes I realized I didn't hear running footsteps anymore and that Sabrina was probably at the Moondrop by now. I needed to get back there and convince her to go someplace else before the goons gave up looking for me and went back to drinking. Things tended to escalate rather quickly when Sabrina was around. I got up, unlatched the backyard door and peered out. All clear. I retraced my steps without incident and within a couple minutes was walking back through the door I had very recently abused.
“Locki, you break my door you pay for it,” Pat, the bartender yelled across the room.
“Yeah, yeah, Pat, sorry, you know how it is,” I shrugged at him with a lopsided grin. He just scowled at me, cast a slightly concerned glance at Sabrina's back as she lounged with her back against the bar and headed down the bar.
“Getting in some trouble are ya,” Sabrina asked as I waded through the crowd. I glanced down at The Sword propped against the bar. Usually Sabrina didn't bring it out when we were meeting for a night of carousing. Wonder why she had it tonight.
I looked around. The girl was still there in the corner and she was still lovely, “Aye,” I replied, “she's the one in the corner over there, I think her name is Myra or Meerla or Mirna, starts with an M at least” I said as I walked up to the bar. Sabrina glanced over at the M girl who was obviously avoiding looking at us.
“She's just your type, beautiful skin and so much of it. How far did you get?”
“The lips,” I replied. It was true, the M girl was showing a lot of skin.
“Hmmm, almost there, eh,” she said as she turned back to me.
“Yeah, listen, her goon of a boyfriend, Lil John, didn't appreciate my poetry and neither did his three goon friends, I think it would be best for us to go someplace else, quickly.”
“I think it's a good idea,” she said looking over my shoulder, “but I think you're too late.”
Aw crap, I slowly turned around and saw the four guys I had previously ditched standing in the door breathing a bit heavily. Before I could duck into the crowd the largest of the four, Lil John, I knew him mostly by reputation, saw me. His face hardened and he started pushing through the crowd towards me.
This was not going to end well.
“Well Locki, you need to learn a very valuable lesson. Don't hit on the ladies who are taken. I'm going to finish my drink, when you're done we can go someplace else,” I heard Sabrina say behind me as I watched the goon and his goon brigade shoving people out of the way.
“Locki, remember what I said about pulling out those knives of yours,” Pat bellowed from the other end of the bar. Yeesh, my friends berate me as they throw me to the wolves.
This really was not going to end well.
Chapter 2: Fight at the Moondrop to be posted Saturday, September 15
9.04.2007
Actually, can you find anything wrong with this reasoning?
Splenda's Actually Sugar with Augmented Breasts and No Pubes
via Overheard in New York, Sep 4, 2007
I also agree that 8am may be a little too early for this conversation... also, if I heard this conversation I don't think there is any way I couldn't get involved.
Chick #1: I always use Equal.
Chick #2: Why?
Chick #1: Well, I like to think of Equal as the women's lib of sweetener.
Chick #2: So... What does that make Sweet'N Low? The pre-lib? Feminine mystique?
Chick #1: Yeah... Just look at it -- pink and pretty, sweet, and bowed low. C'mon. It's like, 'Hey, ladies, be sweet and pink for your man -- use Sweet'N Low and stay in shape and he'll love you more!' Then there's Equal -- it's blue, it's bold, it demands attention. It says, 'Yeah, we're an artificial sweetener, marketed towards women, but we're equal!'
Chick #2: Um... Okay, so what does that make Splenda?
Chick #1: I guess post-lib feminism?
Chick #2: Uh, I don't even know what that is...
Chick #1: Well, see, Splenda's in court now because apparently neither does anyone else.
Chick #2: Wow... The history of feminism, as interpreted by Deborah, through artificial sweetener... I don't think I was ready for that at eight in the morning on a Thursday.
Chick #1: Yeah... But that was the only time it was gonna happen.
--71st & West End
Overheard by: Pedro
via Overheard in New York, Sep 4, 2007
I also agree that 8am may be a little too early for this conversation... also, if I heard this conversation I don't think there is any way I couldn't get involved.
Pissed and Green...peace.
Found this on Crooks and Liars, here is the permalink and I agree with Nicole, I don't like the "you're either with us or against us" meme, the world is NOT black and white. But the longer a global, lifestyle change campaign against climate change is not implemented the starker the situation becomes. It becomes increasingly likely that my parents grandchildren and my kids (when I have some) will live in a world that is significantly worse than it was before. Draft Al Gore.
Interestingly, I couldn't find this ad/PSA on Greenpeace's website. The cynic in me wonders if it is a plant to smear Greenpeace.
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