Do I look like an idiot?

I've gotten this email from "Bank of America" numerous times before. Of course, it's not actually from Bank of America, but rather, most likely, from some kid in Nigeria trying to steal my account information so he can steal what money I have in the account (as well as other assets I'm sure).

This is how the email reads:

"Your Online Banking is Blocked

Because of unusual number of invalid login attempts on you account, we had to believe that, their might be some security problem on you account. So we have decided to put an extra verification process to ensure your identity and your account security. Please click on sign in to Online Banking to continue to the verification process and ensure your account security. It is all about your security. Thank you, and visit the customer service section."

Seriously, how stupid do you think I am? I've probably gotten this email ten times over the past year. It's always exactly the same. It's been my experience that a large number of Bank of America tellers are less than perfect in their ability to communicate the English language (to put it nicely), but I have to doubt that an official notice from Bank of America would confuse "their" and "there".

And as if it wasn't obviously a scam just from a cursory glance, when you drag your mouse over the "sign in to Online Banking" link, you realize that it points you to a page called "dardasha.net"... Really, how can anyone fall for this?

Go Dawgs

It was around 3:30am at a casino center bar in Las Vegas in December 2005. I started chatting with this brunette who looked to a couple years older than me. She recognized my accent and asked me where I was from. When I told her that I was from Athens GA, her eyes lit up. She told me that she went to school at UGA as well, and even went to business school there, which I was doing at the time. She told me that she was working in Philadelphia these days. We chatted about Athens and the Terry College and at one point I remarked on how she didn't have a southern accent. To that, she responded "If you ever want to get anywhere, you have to drop that. People won't take you seriously."

I probably get asked a minimum of five times a week where I'm from. Most people guess Texas, although my experiences in that state are limited to sitting on an airplane for half an hour at DFW. It seems like everyone asks. They know I'm not from the northwest. I don't know if they take me any more or less seriously when they hear me, I never really think about it. And it doesn't really bother me.

I appreciated what that woman in Las Vegas told me, and looking back, it seems somewhat poignant now, even though it just felt like a late night thing at the time. This is who I am.

I am very proud of where I came from. I am very proud of my education. I'm proud to be able to hang my diploma on the wall, and I'm proud to put my little ceramic Bulldog on the balcony facing the southeast, facing toward home. If I have to start changing all that just to be "taken seriously".... then I must not think too much of things the way they are. That's just how I feel about it.

I think that we'll beat Florida in, as I write this, about 11 hours from now. I'm picking 20-17 Dawgs. But win or lose, I'll love Georgia and UGA just as much on Sunday as I do right now.

The Worst Parts of Me

Been a while, right?

I decided that I wanted to do something different this weekend. Everyone was going to Leavenworth, which I understand to be like small faux German village in a valley in the Cascades. So I decided not to go. Instead, I wanted to watch Georgia and Tennessee, and I wanted to watch it by myself. I hadn't watched a game by myself in a long time, and for some reason, I just wanted to this past Saturday. Not being anti-social or anything, I just felt like spending some alone time with it. So everyone else went to Leavenworth on Saturday and I stayed behind. I slept semi-late, went for a walk, grabbed a couple of sandwiches at Subway, and turned on the TV at 12:30.

Not that I need to further profess my love for The G, so it goes without saying that Saturday was a big deal. I'd been calling for us to win the SEC ever since we beat Auburn last year (students and alums can refer to the team as "we" in my book) and my prediction was shared by Phil Steele, the author of the most accurate pre-season college magazine out there. Losing to South Carolina put us behind the 8-ball, but with Florida going down last week, the SEC East was again wide open as we rolled into Rocky Top.

So I'm sitting here in my apartment, by myself as planned, with a foot long sandwich on a plate in my lap, as we take the field, arms locked (like the last time we played in Knoxville). Arm in arm, the team walked onto the field in front of 106,000 people.

That was pretty much the last time on Saturday that I was feeling good.

Right from the opening kick, it was a disaster. The offense was terrible, so was the defense, and we gave up a blocked punt for good measure. I'm pacing around my apartment, but not good pacing, not the kind of pacing you do right before you head into overtime, for example. Bad pacing. I walked into my bathroom any number of times during stoppages in play and just stood there. Or I'd stand in the hall. Or catch a knee on the floor. Somehow, I guess I thought that if I changed positions in the living room, things would be different. But they weren't.

I'm sure that we've all had exams in college that we felt confident in taking, didn't really prepare for, and then two questions in realized how much trouble we were in. That's what it felt like Saturday. That's the most accurate way I can describe it. The first quarter was like being on number 5 of a 50 question test, and knowing that you've missed the first 4 questions. It's just a feeling of despair, and you realize that you now have to pay the price for something, and it's your own fault.

We were completely unprepared out there, at least that's how it looked to me, and it didn't take very long to figure that we were in a world of trouble. As poor as our fundamentals were and as much as the focus appeared to be lacking, the lack of a solid game plan or any visible preparation is what bothers me the most. Our coaching staff should be better than what we saw Saturday.

The game ended and we lost 35-14. Shortly thereafter, I stretched out on the couch and went to sleep for an hour or so. When I woke up, I didn't feel much better. I didn't Sunday and I don't today. It's just a hard feeling to shake, seeing something that important to you fail so miserably.

I've seen Georgia lose games before, but again, this one was just different. This wasn't like losing to Tennessee last year, or Florida in 05 when we were 8-0, or any of the other losses under Mark Richt. In all of Richt's six years coming into 2007, we'd only lost two other games that were unwinnable going into the 4th quarter. One was to eventual national champ LSU in the 2003 SECCG. The other was to Auburn the following year, when they went undefeated and finished #2. There was no shame in either. In 03, it was in the SEC Championship Game. At least we'd gotten there. In 04, we weren't going back to the SECCG anyway, but had still put up a good season. Saturday we were dominated by a team who might be fortunate to play a game in January. Saturday was lost for the sixth consecutive time to an SEC East opponent. Saturday dropped our record to 13-7 since we won the 2005 SEC crown.

As much as all of those factors were irritating me, I really can't say that's what had me in such a blue funk. Forget the SEC East losing streak or the 13-7 mark. Saturday depressed me only because of what I saw, and didn't see, on Saturday.

Sometime later on, it hit me why I was so despondent.

I spent a long time Saturday after the game thinking about some of the disappointments in my life, and they all seemed to be a lot like that game. High, perhaps unrealistic, expectations, a quick realization that trouble was afoot, and no mechanism to stop it. By the time you realized there was trouble, it was too late to address it. It's such a powerless feeling to be sitting there, unable to put the brakes on things, and KNOWING that it's going to be a bitter pill to swallow, and all you can do is wait on it. You get that feeling down deep in your stomach of impending gloom and doom. I think about the times that I took exams at Georgia that I wasn't ready for, and I'd sit at my desk and think "oh no.... why didn't I do more to avoid this? This is going to be ugly."

I think that's why Saturday struck such a bad chord with me and with a lot of other die hard Georgia fans. It was a systematic failure, like we all run across with a bad relationship, or a bad test, or bad vacation, whatever, only you saw it play it with the one entity who you really thought to be above that sort of thing. The one group that you thought could never be unprepared, never be unready, and never have their confidence shaken. You know that Mark Richt and UGA don't owe you anything, but you still feel let down. I know I do.

3

So I moved into Queen Anne on 7/7/07, which I thought was bound to be a lucky day. So far, I'd say it has been.

I really enjoy living there. The neighborhood is great. My apartment is in a pretty good location, as I can walk to just about anything I need. I kind of enjoy walking down the hill to pick up some dinner, for example.

Living in Renton, I never would've gone out walking past dark. There was a shopping center about 100 yards from my apartment complex, and I used to drive over there. I couldn't really sleep in my bed at that place because the noise from the streets was too great, and the loudest noise was the police sirens that I'd hear a few times a night. Hearing things like that makes me fairly unapt to go for a walk after dark. I think I even heard gun shots once or twice.

Queen Anne is different though. Since I've been living there, I usually head out from my place around 10:00 to walk. I've found a pretty good loop. I walk all the way to the top of Queen Anne Hill, and continue past all the restaurants and shops and what not. I take a left and walk by the softball fields, where I play on Sundays, and then walk to the two viewpoints, one which overlooks Puget Sound and the other which offers a postcard view of the city. Then I walk back to my place. It's close to three miles I think. It sure beats going to the gym as well. All the nice houses I pass by on 3rd Ave and 7th ave, all the friendly people that you come across on the sidewalks. It's just completely different from Renton. I just find it much more mentally refreshing than Ballys.

One night when I was walking, one of the first nights that I went out, I came across a church on 3rd Ave, just up the hill from the lookout. It was a small church, and looked like an older building. A closer inspection revealed that it was called Queen Anne Christian Church, and it was a Disciples of Christ church, which used to by my denomination when I was younger.

The original plan was to walk to this church from my place on Sunday morning. I liked the idea of walking up the hill with my Bible in hand, walking a mile or so to church. I thought that the walk would clear my head even more, like it does when I walk at night. Unfortunately, it was raining on Sunday morning, so I had to drive.

It's a small church and the attendance wasn't great on this day. They also had the exact same hymnals as my old church in Watkinsville, which I thought was pretty neat. The regular minister was also out of town, so they had a guest.

And when this man started to speak, I was very glad that I came.

His sermon was about the Third of the Ten Commandments, but in order to explain things more clearly, he had to explain some things about the One and Two.

The contention of his sermon was that we have misquoted and do misapply the first Three Commandments. He offered some Hebrew translation to further his point. He stated that the First Commandment, instead of "Do not worship any Gods before Me" should instead read "As I am the only God, you CANNOT worship any Gods before Me"... not as in we are disallowed, but that we physically cannot. Likewise for Number Two, which states "Do not create false idols."

This was a real eye opener for me. I'd always taken it at face value... Don't have other Gods and Don't make idols. But his contention was that this point of view is simplistic and wrong. It isn't "don't" but rather "can't"... Needless to say, at this point, I was quite intrigued.

And then we got to Number Three. I've always been taught to believe that this one was "Do not take the Lord's Name in vain." But again, the guest minister invoked some Hebrew translations to explain his point, and then invoked some logical reasoning as well. He said "So it says, 'Don't put any Gods before Me, Don't create false idols, and Don't cuss? Does that third one not seem to follow? It makes me want to cuss."

And thinking on it, he had a point. I'd just never questioned it before. He then went on to state that, according to the original Hebrew, Number Three states that you CANNOT invoke the Name of the Lord for nothing (ie, in vain). Because every time that you invoke the Name of the Lord, there is an effect. Again, it is not that we SHOULD NOT, but that we CAN NOT.

So now, I'm REALLY into it. These were ideas that I'd never considered, let alone heard. And I was fascinated. And then, it got even better.

"You CANNOT invoke the Name of the Lord with no effect. But what was the Name of the Lord to Moses? When Moses asked God how he should refer to God in talking to the Israelites, what did God say? He said 'Tell them I am.'"

I am who I am. The Great I am. HOW DID I EVER MISS THAT?

The guest minister went on to say "Anytime you say 'I am ______' you are invoking the Lord, and it CANNOT go for nothing. 'I am lonely. I am healthy. I am sad. I am wealthy. I am happy.'"

It was amazing. And I started to think about what all "I am".... which is way too personal for this forum, obviously. And I prayed about it in church, both after the sermon and during communion.

But at any rate, that's how the sermon ended, although I would've been perfectly content sitting there for another few hours learning about the rest of the Commandments.

That was July 22. I didn't go to that church on the 29th, because I was in Maine. But I'll go back next Sunday, I believe.

I have been thinking about that sermon a lot since I heard it, and how it applies to my life. And I've kept it inside since I heard it, I haven't told anyone about it or written about it until just now. I didn't know if I should, or if I wanted to. But I got to thinking about how much I enjoy Queen Anne and how excited I was when I first found that church and how intrigued I was by that sermon.

And I thought the whole time that there was a reason that I ended up in Seattle, and maybe it didn't have anything to do with adjusting homeowner claims. Or maybe it did. Or maybe it's not apparent yet. But I did think that there was a reason when I went to that city. Likewise, I think there was a reason why I went walking down 3rd Ave that night a short while ago, and a reason why I was sitting in that church on 7/22.

++

"This is a revolution of the mind."

I go to the gym practically every day. I lift weights and walk on the treadmill. I don't like running on the treadmill, it just doesn't feel right. So I walk. Walk briskly, but still walk. I like walking on one of the treadmills under a TV, and that TV is usually on CNN. I think that Anderson Cooper is a wimp. He's a very small, frail man, but beyond that, his attitude makes him a wimp. He comes across as an internationalist and his first question to any problem is "who is to blame for this?" That's wimpy I think. His whole slogan of "we're keeping 'em honest" just makes me want to puke. It's not your job to keep anyone honest Anderson. It's that level of arrogance from the major media that we could all do without. I wish someone would finally get the gumption to respond to having a CNN mic shoved in their face by saying "I don't owe you guys an explanation for anything. Go pound sand, I don't answer to you." It's not just CNN, it's every major media outlet, including ESPN.

You get in ruts sometimes. It can either be an all inclusive rut, or just a specific rut. I got into a food rut something awful near the end of April. None of the things that I was buying at the store appealed to me. I had things in the freezer that I just didn't want to eat. Furthermore, I didn't want to grab take out from any of the places I usually frequent. It was a food rut. So I went shopping at a different store and bought different things. I expanded. I bought ground turkey instead of chicken breast, oyster stew for the hell of it. And I got out of the rut, cooking and eating things that I hadn't cooked or eaten before.

The same thing happens at the gym sometimes. You get into a rut of doing the same exercises on the same days, listening to wimpy Anderson Cooper while you're on the treadmill. I can walk three miles on three different days and finish each time within five seconds. There's strength in consistency sure, I mean I can curl more now than I could by consistently doing curls four times a week. There's also mental strength in it of course. But at the same token, as David Perno would say, I think that there's also strength in being dynamic. Change it up every once in a while. A guy in high school told me once that I was single because I wore the same pair of Timberlands each day. That was silly, I was single for other reasons too, but back then I was scared to deviate too much from a routine. Now, I think it's necessary.

Some magazine ranked Bainbridge Island as the second best place in the United States to live. It's a 35 minute ferry ride from Seattle, anything further I can't exactly explain. It has a good feel to it, and I like being out there. So Thursday night, rather than walk the same walk and listen to the same wimp, I drove down to the ferry terminal and walked onto the Bainbridge ferry. I stood outside at the front of the ship for the whole ride, just me. I took my work cell phone with me because I needed a clock when I got to the island, but I left the other phone and my blackberry at home. Sometimes I like truly being by myself without a chance of being disturbed by anything. People are slaves to their communicaes. I'm no different when I have them with me. I'll probably look at my blackberry 300 times during the day to see if I have any emails. But sometimes it's good to leave those things behind. I like not having the distraction.

There sure are a lot of jelly fish in Puget Sound. I counted a ton of them during the ferry ride, big ones too. People love the ferry, and I'm no different there either. I love standing outside at the front of the vessel, smelling the salt water and the Seattle breeze. It's hard to not be in a good mood out there. I was just standing at the front of the boat looking at the jelly fish when some guy with his kids approached me and asked me how fast we were going. I said I didn't know, because I didn't want to come off sounding like the loser who knew EXACTLY how fast we were going because he'd read up on all the features of the M/V Tacoma a number of times before. I just said I didn't really know exactly. The guy said "Looks like 16-18, wouldn't you say?" I said "yeah, I bet. We're moving pretty good." Good guess on his end, since we were going 18 knots at that point. He said he heard that the water was about 600 feet deep at that spot, and I looked it up later. He was right about that too. Smart fella.

I had been walking semi-randomly around Bainbridge Island for about a half hour when I saw a sign that said "Hawley Park" on the side of the road. There was a trail. So I start walking down the trail. About two minutes into that, I started smelling the salt water, and it was really strong. "Trying to get to yoooouuuu and that booty...." was how I felt, assuming that "yoooouuuu" was the end of the trail, and "that booty" was the water. The trail ended at a cove surprisingly near the ferry terminal. I'd been walking for 30 minutes and came to a spot that was 200 yards from where I started. There were some kids messing around on the "beach" area as well. What a great hangout for some high schoolers. It was a good spot for me too. I sat down on a piece of driftwood and watched the M/V Wenatchee come in to dock. When the ship turned such that a number of windows in the main cabin were facing my general direction, I stood up and proudly exposed myself. The high school kids didn't know what to make of this seemingly unprecedented move on my part. I looked over at them while still facing toward the incoming vessel and said "you kids want to see what your future looks like?"

But in all seriousness, I sat there for about 15 minutes or so and figured that I'd better get back to walking if I wanted to get on the next ferry back to Seattle. It took about half hour or so to walk back into town. I couldn't help but think how neat it would be to live on Bainbridge. I'm sure I could rent a place there if I really wanted to. But I dunno... I'd probably get tired of having to wait on a ferry every time I wanted to go into Seattle. It'd be neat to do for a month I bet. It'd be really neat to raise a family there, assuming that I didn't want to do that in Georgia, which I do. But if I had to do it somewhere else, it might just be Bainbridge. I could see myself there, even though the populous is overwhelmingly liberal.

Once back in the downtown area I stopped off at a small grocery store near the ferry terminal. Don't eat when you aren't really hungry. Eating out of habit is how you get fat I think. And while I was walking around, I kept on thinking about how I wanted to grab something to eat for the ferry ride back. I picked up a bag of raisins, since when did those have so many calories? Each serving had 130, and there were four servings in the bag. I picked up the bag and walked it halfway to the register and then took it back. I wasn't really hungry, and so what if I look like an indecisive idiot? Sure they're just raisins, but it's my body. I should be able to put whatever I want to into MY body, but thankfully we have a government oppressive enough to protect me from myself should I ever decide I want to put some heroin in there. What a society this is. The harder you work, the more you make, the more you get taxed. Two consenting adults want to have sex, fine. But let there be a monetary transaction with it, and it's illegal? I want to buy cocaine with my own money and blow it up my own nose and I can't do that? Look, I'm not advocating any of these activities. I have no idea why you'd ever want to shoot heroin or sleep with a whore, but if it's your body, why can't you? Those activities don't harm anyone but you (and possibly the whore, but it's her own body too). I don't need anyone to protect me from myself. I have no desire to do any of those things that I mentioned, so I guess it's a moot point anyway. But it's my body and my money and I didn't want the damn raisins after all. I got a peach vitamin water instead. It was pretty good.

I love how people take pictures of the Seattle skyline on the ferry at night. You always see all these flashes going off. The pictures won't turn out at all. They'll just look like you took a very close up picture of a bucket of tar. Maybe you'll get a few dim lights in there, but probably not. I know this because I tried taking pictures of the same skyline from the same vantage point once upon a time and none of them turned out. A couple asked me to take their picture with the skyline in the background. Of course I agreed, but they'll be disappointed. But how could you not want to take a picture of that? It's just beyond words, what this city looks like coming across the sound at night. I'll never forget the first time I saw it, back in July 2003. I thought to myself then that I could really see why people fall in love with this city. It's worth getting cold to stand outside and see. That was my seventh ferry ride from either Bainbridge or Bremerton back into Seattle and the skyline just gets me every time. I can't wait to see it again.

You know Larry King kissed Marlon Brando once, on TV? King said afterward that he "couldn't stop thinking about it." I'm not about to do anything homosexual like that, because I find it disgusting personally. A lot like heroin use, but hey, if Larry King wants to lock lips with another man, that's his choice. And if he wants to say that he can't stop thinking about it, that's his choice too. I remember all my sexual encounters vividly. I think that when they cease to be seminal moments, it starts to lose some value. But what do I know? Whenever I do something out of the ordinary like take a trip to Bainbridge, visit Mt Rainier, or whatever, I can't stop thinking about it afterward. It's like my mind just doesn't leave those places. I went to sleep last night wishing that I could have sat on that piece of driftwood for another two hours, just watching the water, and watching the sky get dark.

A great day to whoop somebody's ass

Want to know one way to piss me off? Get me intrigued about moving into your apartment complex, only to tell me that I make TOO MUCH money to live there.

Today is June 5, so I still have time, but I'm starting to feel some pressure about finding a new place. I gave my current apartment complex written notice today that I'll have my happy ass out by June 30. I need somewhere to go.

I am looking at a place tomorrow, and three places on Friday. I also have some calls into some other places that I really like a lot. So it's not like there's nothing out there, but I just don't like the uncertainty of not knowing where I'm going to go.

It's also very expensive to live in Seattle, especially the parts where I want to live. I can't afford to pay $1,400 a month for an apartment and maintain the flexibility to do the things I want in my off time. No place is worth is so much that you have to spend practically every moment there.

I have found some places in the $900s or even $800s, and I can swing that. I've been scouring Craigslist really hard the last few days, and there are some good leads there. I just got really angry looking for places online just now though. I found this place on apartments.com.... It wasn't my first choice for neighborhoods, so I don't suppose it is that heartbreaking, but still. I'm reading the description for this place and I'm thinking "wow, those are some great prices..." Dirt cheap deposits too. And then, down at the bottom, I see "income restrictions apply." To move into this place and live by yourself, you must earn LESS than $32,700.

Just how screwed up is this country when there is a mandate that you must be BELOW a certain to income limit to move into a private residental establishment?

There are a lot of things that I like about Seattle. The very first time I came here, I said "wow, I can see how this city would really get into your blood." When I had to choose a branch office to go with Amica with last October, Seattle was really my only choice. I don't regret that now, certainly not. And while it's not "in my blood" right now, I still see how it could be one day. But one of the things that I don't like about this place and that I've never liked about it is this overwhelming leftist influence. I knew what I was getting into here, but it still flashes at me sometimes and makes me angry. Today was one such day.

One a different note, I was talking to the people in my current leasing office today about moving out. The lease lady asked "What is going on with your neighbors?".... I found her question funny, because I probably have more grounds to complain about them than anyone, because of my apartment's proximity to theirs, and I haven't said a word. Not because I'm spineless or anything, but just because I don't like to bitch about stuff. But she asked the question, and I answered it, explaining that they were very loud, that people were usually coming and going from their apartments at all hours, that they slam doors and stand on the landing and yell at each other, and that they fight with each other a lot. The lease lady took it all in with very little surprise and said "Yeah, we've had some complaints. We've told the police about them."

To which I replied "Well, there's certainly no lack of police activity around here."


This will work out. It always does.

Is it real?

I was just listening to "I don't feel like Dancing" by The Scissor Sisters. The first time I remember hearing that song was in our hotel room in Mechanicsburg PA back in January when my company training class was there for the Vale Estimating Program. We had such a blast.

By the end of the trip, I was sorely craving a homecooked meal. We ate out every night (obviously, since we didn't have a kitchenette in our room) and went out every night as well. It was tough on my body, but again, it was a great time.

But here's the thing. Mechanicsburg PA. You've never heard of it I'm sure. I never had either. It's a town just to the west of Harrisburg, which is no metropolis either. But that's where we congregated and stayed for two weeks, at the Holiday Inn on the Carlisle Pike.

I find the chances that I'll ever be in Mechanicsburg again to be somewhere between very remote and non-existant. There aren't many places I've been that I can say that about. Even Camp Chatuga in Mountain Rest, SC, where we went for high school football camp, is a place that I might see again at some point, just for sentimental value. I left a part of myself there, and whenever I get back to Georgia, I wouldn't mind seeing the place again. But Mechanicsburg? It's just hard to envision a scenerio that will take me there again.

I left a part of myself there. I made some changes to my routine when I got back to Seattle that I've haven't let go of, so there's that, but even beyond that, with all the experiences there, I know that I left a part of myself behind. And that's fine.

Thinking back on it, and I know it sounds stupid, but I almost wonder if that place even really exists. I'll never see it again I'm sure. Of course I know that there is literally a town there called Mechanicsburg, that's not what I'm saying. It's more abstract than that. That place, as I knew it, might not really be there anymore.

This isn't about anything other than Mechanicsburg. That Scissor Sisters song just got me to thinking about it.

I'll write something funnier later on.

A capital idea

Go to www.delta.com/change .... this is Delta's page dedicated to all the changes that they are going to make now that they've symbolized their return to the black by donning an all-red logo. There is a section of the site where the common man (people like you) can submit ideas for Delta Airlines, or share tips for your fellow travelers (like "get your children under control, or stop having them.")

Anyway, I didn't want to crash their server with tips for my "fellow passengers".... and besides, I'm a big picture guy anyway. So I made a suggestion directly to Delta Airlines. Here it is:


We've all seen "Airplane" and every red-blooded American man out there knows that he can land a jumbo jet if only the opportunity would present itself. Why not allow Delta to present this opportunity? On each trans-continental flight, one lucky passenger would be chosen at random to land the airplane under the watchful eye of your grandfatherly captain, or failing that, Otto Pilot. It would add quite a bit of intrigue to the phrase "Ladies and Gentleman, we've been cleared by the tower to land."

Make sure you get everything!

So I went to check my mail today, a little habit I've developed on all non-Sundays. I had two pieces of mail today. A bill from Comcast was one. I don't know why they send me paper bills. I don't even open them. I pay all my bills online and I get emails informing me when I have a bill anyway, so why waste the postage to tell me in another medium? Who cares? My last cable bill included my MLB Extra Innings charge which made it $257 as opposed to the normal $88. Sure felt good submitted that payment. Anyway, I always think "what are you doing?" when I see a utility bill in the mail.

The other piece of mail I had was of much greater interest and concern to me, however. It was from our friends at the Internal Revenue Service. I could tell by the envelope that it wasn't my "refund" (a term which I don't really care for). My heart immediately went into my throat. I thought I was getting audited, but why? I filed a 1040EZ, it's kind of hard to mess that up, but I did it with Turbo Tax just to make sure. Besides, I spent about 75% of 2006 earning $8.65 an hour. Why would they audit me? Furthermore, what's involved with an audit? This could be a major pain in my ass.

As soon as I got back to my car (my mailbox is a ways away from my apartment, so I usually grab it on the way out the door) I opened the envelope. No audit, thankfully. But what the letter said brought a sad smile to my face. My "refund" due from this most recent tax return was set to be $142. The letter stated that I still owed federal fees of $6.25, so my adjusted return would now be $135.75. Make sure you get every last drop, fellas.

I knew where this came from. Back in 2005, when filing my 2004 return, I noted that nobody could claim me as a dependant, and was due a "refund" of $340. I e-filed that return and cashed my check when it showed up four to six weeks later. Later that summer, for some reason, I looked at the return and noticed that what I put for dependant status. Now, my Dad always files an extension and does his taxes in October, so he hadn't filed his yet. I called him up. This is how that conversation went.

"Dad, I said on my return that no one could claim me as a dependant. Were you planning on claiming me?"

"Uhhh, yeah."

"OK. What should I do?"

"You need to file an amended return. It'll mean a whole lot more money for me than it will for you, and they'll audit the shit out of me if I claim you as one, when you said that nobody else could."

So that's what I did. This was in August 2005. I redid my taxes and filed whatever form the amended 1040EZ is. I wound up owing Uncle Sam $390. They, of course, wanted their $340 back, and the change in status meant that I owed them $50 more. Keep in mind that I'm in college here. I'm making around $8.25 an hour at the animal labs then. Plus, I was trying like crazy to pay my truck off completely. The bill on that was $355 a month. At this point I was paying around $400 a time to take care of late payment charges that I'd accrued a few times in college when I couldn't afford to write that check the day it was due. So it's not like I had a whole ton of extra cash lying around anyway. That August was a VERY lean month for me, in large part because I had to pay for my income tax filing mistake. But I got it taken care of, somehow. Actually, I got through it by borrowing some coin from my grandmother, but that's neither here nor there.

A few months later I get a letter in the mail from the IRS stating that I owe them $6.25 in accrued interest from the amended return. I put this letter on my desk at my house with the intention of paying it. But, as those of you who saw my college house will attest, I didn't live in the cleanest environment. I never saw that letter again and forgot how much they wanted from me anyway. I knew it wasn't much, certainly not enough for them to lock me up over.

When I filed my return the next year, I owed some money, so I took care of that and didn't think anything more about it. I'd forgotten all about those six plus dollars, but I guess our federal government didn't. By the way, I find it hilarious that they charged me interest over those couple of months when an income tax "refund" is really extra money that you pay to the government over the course of the year, which is held WITHOUT interest, and returned to you as taxable income. Seems like a double standard to me, but I can't get too upset since I'm completely powerless to do anything about it.

The amount of tax that we as citizens pay in this country is simply mind boggling to me. I love it when I hear one of these pseudo-intellectuals say "well we don't pay that much because people in Europe pay a whole lot more." By that logic, Adolph Hitler wasn't such a bad guy because Pil Pot killed a whole lot more people.

Think about everything that we are taxed on. Here is a list right off the top of my head. And before I write this list, think about the recent crackdown on Online Gambling that this country saw this past fall. Is there any reason to wage such an attack on this industry, other than that the government can't tax the billions of dollars flowing down the Caribbean for gambling purposes?

Income tax
Property tax
Ad Volorem tax
Estate tax
Gift tax
Capital Gains tax* (didn't Bush repeal that? That would be one of the rare good things that he has done)
Sales tax
State income tax
Excise tax
City tax (if you live in New York City for example)
Gas tax
Benefit taxes (IE, the taxes that have to be paid on the $100 gift cards we got at work)
Airport taxes
Rental car taxes
Sept 11 Security Fees
Tax on early withdrawal of 401(k) or IRA
Liquor tax
Tobacco tax
etc etc etc

I seem to recall that the issue of too much taxation was a major causal factor the revolution some years back. I remember hearing about how a bunch of guys were pissed off about the idea of a "tea tax" that they threw a couple tons of tea into the Boston Bay as a way of telling England "you can stick this tea and tea tax straight up your non-representative asses." Now we have a bunch of pussies who go around saying "We have no right to complain about our taxes when you consider what they pay in Europe." You know, the day I start feeling good about things here because of the standards in France, that's the day I'll just go ahead and roll all the way over.

This isn't about the Fair Tax or anything like that, although I think it's a great idea, too great and too fair to ever have a chance of passing. This is about us, as citizens, being taxed at every single turn of our lives. It's not right. I realize that the government is running a fairly large deficit right now. And if they'd spend their money with any level of discipline or prudence, I'd feel more sympathetic to their plight. But as far as I can tell, they just waste money up there. Do we really need a National Endowment for the Arts? Do we really need to programs like "Partnership for a Drug Free America"?

Would you feel sorry for a neighbor who asked you to borrow money if he had 50" television, the best cable TV package, a top model cell phone, a cabinet full of liquor and a refrigerator full of beer, and a pocket bulging with a pack of cigarettes? You'd probably say "You know, if you'd stop pissing your money away on things that you don't need, you'd be able to take care of things that you do."

Unfortunately, the only way to tell the government that is at the ballot box, and good luck there. The majority of people in this country don't even realize how much tax they're paying because they get a "refund" after filing their income taxes, and simply don't think about how the $4 here and $9 there in sales and other embedded taxes add up.

So take your damn $6.25. Maybe you can buy some hunk of twisted iron to stick in front of a courthouse somewhere.

Going to Maine

Yeah, so I'm going to Maine the last week in July for a rafting trip with some of the folks from the training class (as well as some other people). I think this is going to be a good time. I had a few ideas for things this summer, and this is the direction that I'm going to go.

Today I filled out a "time off" sheet and handed it to my supervisior saying "I want to be off on these days, and furthermore I want to be compensated for the time that I'm gone." After telling me "that's quite a demand there" the days were approved and it's all but official (I still have to buy plane tickets).

It looks like I'm going the AirTran route because it's far and away the cheapest. Evidently, it's far and away the most logical route too, because both trips between Seattle and Boston connect in Atlanta. I guess that "The A" is AirTran's only hub, so what can I say?

I'm flying in Thursday, we're going to Maine on Friday, rafting on Saturday, and going back Sunday. I'm thinking that I'm going to fly back Wednesday though, because I want to catch a Red Sox game at Fenway that Tuesday night.

This should be fun. I figure by that time I'll be wanting another vacation, and the folks in the office will prolly be needing a break from me as well.

The boss put me in "timeout" yesterday because I was being disruptive. I don't know if it was the singing of "Superman" at my desk, the throwing of paper airplanes across the office, or toking a camel wide while I did the above, but she was none too amused. She said "Peacock, if you're not going to work, you should just go home." I said "I thought you told me I had to come in because I wasn't getting my work done at home." She paused for a second, "touche'" written across her face. She didn't want to tell me I had a point, but her face gave her away. Instead she said "OK, go sit in the corner and think about what you've done." I felt kind of stupid. A college graduate being placed in timeout by his boss, only for being himself. Some smartass threw one of my paper airplanes at me while I was facing the wall. It hit me right in the back of the head. I got up and beat the living the shit out of that girl. It took three cops to finally sedate me, and I got to ride in the back of their cop car. It all worked out pretty well though, because I had to go to the police station anyway to pick up an incident report for yet another theft loss.

My Email to Adidas

Hey fellas,

I'm not one to normally complain, but today I think that my complaints are warranted.

I am a claims adjuster for an auto/ home insurance company. Well, that was accurate this morning. I'm not anything now, and in a way, it's your fault.

I was working on a theft loss claim this afternoon. I had a list of things that had been jacked by from our policy holder, and was in the process of verifying the values of everything, by finding prices for all of these items on the internet. Apparently, this fella liked to workout because he had a good bit of athletic equipment stolen. Apparently, he knew what he was doing too because almost all of his stuff was Nike.

Now, for the record, their page pissed me off as well. I couldn't just get a price for anything, I had to go through all these steps of personalizing all the shit that I was looking up. Like who gives a damn really? If the fact that the Swoosh on your gymbag is teal, instead of green, who cares? Let me know how much it costs before I have "Bad Motherfucker" stitched across the top.

After I got this guy's Nike stuff squared away, I turned my attention to your page to look up the value of a pair of pants. That's it. A pair of "classic" tear-away fucking pants. Why do you guys call them "classic" anyway? Anything that you can buy at K-Mart is not, by definition, classic. Anything that is made by people in third world countries for four cents an hour isn't classic. It's a pair of pants, get over yourselves.

Anyway, so I load up www.adidas.com.... and that reminds me, does that name really stand for "All Day I Dream About Soccer"? I always feel like a liar for saying that in my head, because of all the things that I day dream about during the day, soccer gets less brain time than your "classic" tear-away pants, and if all you dream about is soccer, why make basketball pants?

What's the story with your website anyway? I practically had to shave again by the time that intro finished loading. "Impossible is nothing?" Would it be possible for me to access your regular site before I start collecting my social security? For a second there, I didn't think you sold anything on your website except for paintings which look vaguely like Gilbert Arenas. And I do mean "vaguely"... Maybe Gilbert should spend more time trying to assemble better players around him, then maybe nobody would have seen the Wizards advance to the second round as opposed to nobody seeing the Wizards get knocked out in the first round. Seriously, I only know like three people who watch the NBA and they all hang out together. When you guys advertise during the NBA playoffs, how many people see it, like 12?

So I click on "basketball" to try and find the price of these "classic" pants, and I see this big fucking hand on the screen and the words "adidas Basketball. Click here to launch experience." I think that you guys are a little full of yourself. Las Vegas is an experience. Sitting around with a thumb up your ass trying to order sweatpants online is no more of an "experience" than those pants are "classic." What are you going to say? "Honey, I paid $50 for a pair of sweatpants with buttons from the ankle to the hip... I could've gotten a pair of sweatpants from Sears for $11, but it was all about the 'experience' of paying a 3,000% markup." Do ad campaigns like that work on anyone?

Your page is so slow. You should change your slogan to "The Brand of Three Shits" because that's how many times I wound up getting up to use the bathroom while waiting on your page to load. In between, I got bored so I beat freecell, did my income taxes (I got quite a laugh on April 17 when I mailed the IRS an envelope full of Pizza Hut coupons), beat solitaire, read half of Faust, beat Minesweeper, and finally started looking at some porn right there in my cubicle because I wanted to beat off while I waited.

That's pretty much how I got in trouble. The third time I got up to use the restroom (to urinate), my boss was standing next to my desk when I came back. She pointed at my moniter and said "What the hell is that?" I said "I don't know the exact pronunciation, but I believe it's 'man-ahge-a-twah.'" She was not impressed, even though the fella had a huge dong.

I had several other windows open, and one of the others was pretty nasty, even by my standards. She wrote on my termination slip that I was viewing on company computer equipment "sexually explicit material including orgy and boocockay." She didn't even know it's spelled "bukkake." Hilarious.

So I don't have a job now, and it's pretty much your fault because I wouldn't have been porning if your website ran efficiently. Ironically enough, I'm going to be spending a lot of time wearing sweatpants.... it's all about the experience.

The 800 Pound Jesus

I don't know who did this song first, but I know that Sawyer Brown did a version and so did Paul Thorn. Here it is:

"I saw a garage sale
Pulled up in the yard
Found a statue of Jesus
It was eight feet tall
He held out his arms
And he seemed all alone
So I loaded him up
And drove him home

Out by my driveway he
Looks down the street
With his long hair and sandals made
Of rebar and concrete
I painted him white with a long purple robe
He's a rock of ages on our gravel road

Chorus
He's an eight-hundred pound Jesus
Standing taller than a tree
He's an eight-hundred pound Jesus
A bigger man than you or me

I thought loosin' my job was
The end of the world
Till my best pal ran off with my best girl
I felt suicidal with no real friends
So I walked outside with a rope in my hand
Out by that statue there's a big old tree
So I stood on his shoulders
And I counted to three
I had every intention of buying the farm
But when I jumped off he caught me in his arms

Chorus

I wanted to return the favor to him
Cause I never had a more solid friend
So I planted some flowers
All around his feet
And I bought him a flock
Of ceramic sheep

Chorus
He's a bigger man
Than you or me"


My dad had that song on his desktop when I was back home two weeks ago and I wound up listening to it a lot. It got stuck in my head and in a very short time came to symbolize my trip back to Athens. Reading those lyrics or singing it to myself takes me back to the good times and bad times that I had there, which seems like a while back now, even it was only a handful of days in the past.

I was pretty depressed about coming back to Seattle. I knew that I would be though. It was something that I tried not to think a whole lot about, but in the months leading up to it, I always knew that when the week was over, it would be very hard for me to get on the plane to fly back to the northwest. Back in March, I tried to tell myself that I hoped it would be hard, because that would mean that I had a good trip. But that's not really even true, no matter what kind of time I had there, it could've been the worst week of my life, I still would've had a hard time saying goodbye to everyone all over again.

It's hard, those last hours that you spend with your family and friends before leaving again. Everyone is down, and everyone tries to play it off. I said to myself after Christmas that "If it's going to be this hard to leave, I'm not coming back home until it's permanent." Of course I didn't really mean that either.

When the plane touched down at Sea-Tac, I grabbed my bags and hopped on the shuttle to my off-site lot where I parked. Driving out of the airport, for the first time in a few days, I felt excited again. I'm going to be in Seattle for a while longer. The only way I won't be (barring some unforseen catastrophe) is if I screw up bad enough at work to get fired, or I quit. And I'm not a quitter. So I was looking around as we were leaving the airport, and I thought that to myself, that I could either bitch and moan about being away from Athens, or I could make the best out of this incredible opportunity that I have. You probably know which way I'll go. As the van turned down Hwy 99, I said to myself "you know, we can really make something play in this city."

You ever seen "Blue Chips"? It's a basketball movie, stars Nick Nolte and Ed O'Neill. It's pretty good. There is one scene where Notle, as head coach Pete Bell, is talking to a corrupt booster, named Happy. They are talking about a player who Happy "bought" who is suddenly discontent with his situation on the basketball team. Happy tells Bell "You can sell ice water to eskimos and you can sell this spoiled little BRAT on how happy he really is."

Sometimes I think I kind of acted like a brat about coming back up here after Christmas and then two weeks ago. This is what I asked for, this is what I wanted. I prayed a lot about the Amica job and about coming to Seattle. Even before I went to training and saw the list of openings, I was telling people that I hoped to wind up in Seattle. Go all the way back to fall 2002, I told my parents that me moving to the northwest wasn't a matter of if, but when. One of my co-workers comes out here and completely falls in love with this place. Says he'd move out here in a heartbeat. And while I do think that's perfectly natural to feel a level of depression about having to say goodbye to your family for a few months, I also believe that it's bratty to almost dread having to get on the airplane and come back. I was standing in the baggage claim in Atlanta when I touched down two weeks ago. I heard an all-call go over the PA for soldiers heading to Fort Jackson and Paris Island, which as you know, is the basic training site for the Army and Marines, respectively. I prayed for those kids, because I can't even imagine the nerves and anxiousness that they might be feeling. Those guys are, voluntarily, going to be seperated from their famlies and loved ones to defend our nation, our way of life, for the next three or four years..... They're defending a culture and way of life that allows me my standard of living. And I'M the one bitching about saying good bye?

Things are fine up here. I'm making money, making friends, and feeling more comfortable every day. I spent a lot of time on Wikipedia last week trying to learn more about this region, the Cascades, Puget Sound, all that stuff, because I want to be able to appreciate it more. I'm getting back into the routine of working and working out and have already signed up for another softball league this summer. And on that note, I think I'll drive out to Mt. Rainer.

I think I met a serial killer

Tuesday, May 1. I might have been brutally murdered that day. Or I might have just gone to a gas station.


One of the less glamorous parts of my job as an adjuster is the so called "locus work" for an auto accident. Now, don't misunderstand me, I don't mind doing it. I actually like doing it. I get to be out of the office, driving around the Seattle area, seeing things that I haven't seen before. Even on days when the weather sucks, I'd still rather be doing that than sitting at my desk in the office. But the reason I say that it's less glamorous is because I sometimes feel kind of silly walking down the side of a road taking pictures of an intersection. If I saw a guy dressed in "business casual" literally taking pictures of pavement, I'd laugh. I laugh at myself really, when I'm doing it.

So Tuesday was one such day. I had to take some pictures of a locus that, according to the telephone loss report, was "WA-169 between Black Diamond and Enumclaw." That's an eight mile stretch of road. Nobody could narrow it down further, but it wasn't such a big deal. WA-169 is fairly desolate in that area, and I figured I could find it fairly easily. And I did.

I'll try to explain the layout of the road, although if you could see the Locus Diagram that I did yesterday and posted the file, you'd understand exactly, because it was pretty damn well done. WA-169 is a standard two lane road, one lane of travel in each direction. There is a fairly wide shoulder on either lane, which is about 12 feet wide. Shoulder driving is allowed, because it's a little bit hilly there (foothills of the Cascades you see). I parked my car in the north bound shoulder, and proceeded to start taking pictures. I walked toward the accident scene in the south bound shoulder to capture pics from one point of view, with the intention of walking back in the north bound shoulder to get pics from the other point of view.

So there I am, walking in the south bound shoulder of WA-169. It's downhill, so I'm walking at a brisker than normal pace. I've got my camera in my right hand, snapping pics every several feet. Traffic is driving past me, at a level which I'd describe as "moderate".... there was a car every five to ten seconds or so it seemed like. It was about 1:30PM, fairly good weather. Nice day. I hear this truck coming up behind me, and I hear it slow down quickly. The truck, which is an old suburban with dark tinted windows, is braking hard as it passes me. The driver pulls the suburban over onto the shoulder about 40 feet in front of me. I see the guy poke his head out the window and hear him saying something, but I couldn't make out what he was asking with the traffic noise.

He kept the suburban parked as I continued to walk toward it. As I neared the vehicle, I moved toward the road a little bit, thinking to myself that, like a cop, I should probably keep some distance from the guy's door. As I move in front of his window he says, in a very polite voice, "Didja run outta gas or something?"

The guy was a small man. He wore glasses, and had a buzz cut that looked like it was grown out about a month too long. He had a very round face and an expression that just made you feel a little bit uneasy. If you had to cast a child molester in a movie, this guy would at least go to the final cut. But regardless of how he looked, it was a very nice gesture to stop and ask if I needed help.

This is exactly what I replied:"Oh no, nothing like that. I work for an insurance company..... we had an accident out here a while back and I was just taking some pictures. I 'pre-shate-cha stopping though."

The man didn't say anything. He just halfway rolled his eyes and literally drove away. I don't think that he ever responded to my reply other than maybe like a half-audible "yeah".... and I'm not even sure he said that. He got incredibly flustered looking and drove off.

I've heard cops and ex-cops talk about getting a "hinky" feeling in situations like that, or getting chills when they think back about it. But honestly, neither one of those happened to me. I just stood there for a minute thinking "wow, that was strange." I crossed the street, took my pictures from the other shoulder, and drove home.

I am a good bit bigger than this fellow was, and I'm sure that I could've overpowered him if the situation came to that. But who knows? Part of me wonders what would've happened if I'd actually been out of gas, and hopped in the car with him. One thing is for sure, he was completely flustered when I indicated that I didn't need a ride from him. Maybe he was angry that I just walked up to his card and didn't really pick up my pace while he waited. But as I mentioned, I was already walking down hill, already walking at a brisk pace, and didn't think it'd be a good idea to just RUN up to the guy's window. So maybe that set him off. I don't know. But what I do know is that he was very willing to give me a ride, and was then very, at best, irritated, when he couldn't do it.

He drove off down WA-169 toward Enumclaw and I doubt our paths will ever cross again. But still I wonder, what would have happened?

My Email to 960TheRef

For those of you who don't know, AM 960 is a local sports radio station in Athens, Georgia. They are affiliated with ESPN Radio, so they broadcast the Colin Cowherd show, as well as Dan Patrick, and the regular ESPN Radio night feed. More specifically, they broadcast UGA sports such as football, baseball, basketball, and occasionally something else, like soccer.

They do two shows on 960. There is "The Morning Show" which runs from 6-10AM. It's VERY good. I used to listen to it every morning on my way to work or school, and pretty much whenever I was in the car during those hours. The two hosts are funny guys and always seem to talk about something of interest to me.

There is also "The Home Team" which airs from 4-6PM. Although they do talk about a lot of Georgia stuff, and Jeff Dantzler is one of the only people out there whose knowledge of Georgia football I consider superior to mine, their show isn't quite as good as The Morning Show.

I've won a number of things from 960 TheRef over the years, everything from combo meals at Krystal, to college football trivia book, to tickets to Monday Night Football in Atlanta. Well, that's actually about all that I've won, but whatever.

I wrote the guys at The Morning Show this email on Sunday night. Since I live in Seattle, and 960's broadcast range is about 40 miles, I can't really pick them up, so I don't know if they ever read it on the air or not. But I thought it was funny.

Here it is:

"Hey fellas.

So when you graduate from high school, pretty much everyone gives you cash. I made out pretty well upon high school graduation. Five years later when I graduated from UGA, I felt like a lot of people didn't really know what to give me. I already had a job lined up, and judging by the lack of monetary gifts that I received, I think it is safe to say that people felt somewhat uncomfortable in again piling cash (in the form of checks) at my feet. So I got some interesting gifts.

One of those gifts came from my aunt. She gave me a "960TheRef" t-shirt. It's pretty sharp.
So fast forward a few months, and I find myself living here in Seattle Washington and working at that aforementioned job.

In an attempt to subject one (or more) "lucky" females to my advances, I joined a co-ed softball league. It's pretty informal. And by "informal" I mean "beer league"....our second baseman was chugging cans of PBRs that SHE carried in her gym bag before the first game.

Our team isn't very good. We lose by scores that would be considered ass kickings in football. I'd like to say that I do my job, but I guess that isn't entirely accurate. I did pretty well for the first game, going 2-2 with 2 RBIs.

Then the second game rolled around. Unable to continue to torrent hit streak, I saw my average plummet .400 points in one afternoon following a 1-3 day. My last at-bat, I grounded out to the pitcher, and very frankly, lost control of myself in a fit of rage. Deadly ill over the prospect of falling to 0-2 while my teammates literally drank in the dugout, I slammed my bat down so hard that Joey Side must have smiled somewhere, and launched into a profanity laced tirade so foul that a small boy vomited.

Several days later, after calming down, I came to a conclusion over luke warm bourbon and South Park reruns. I needed a spark on this softball field. And since our team is too disorganized to have uniforms (or practices), the solution was simple. Rather than practice, I'd break out a new shirt for game 3.

With a renewed since of vigor (and bad headache from the night before) I dressed myself for game 3 with one noteable change. I would still sport the gray baseball pants, pulled halfway up my shins (a la Rip Warren) with black socks (since I'm not buying another pair of baseball pants or tall black socks, one of each is plenty), only this time, I'd don the 960TheRef shirt that my aunt had presented me with way back in May 06.

I think the main thing that it gave me was an additional sense of pride. I felt that, by wearing this shirt, I would play to a higher level, or at least not lower my average by .400 points again.
So I'm staring at myself in the mirror before I leave my apartment, as I'm wont to do, and I can't get over how good I look in my 960TheRef shirt. I mean, I look good in everything, but even against myself, I looked pretty sharp on this day.

Sometimes I like to change things up and speak in street lingo, and I found the morning of game 3 to be one such time. I looked at myself and said "aight, you'd better step it up homeboy. 'Cause you're not only repping The G, but you're repping their Speak too." I didn't really know a good street term for "radio station" but I thought that "speak" was a pretty good guess.
As for game 3, well, we still lost, which was about as predictable as rain up here. But I played great. I went 3-4 with a couple RBIs. The highlight though was a triple that I laced into left center field, which I managed to leg into a double. From now on, 960TheRef will be worn proudly at the diamond, and hopefully kept clean, although I can't promise that I won't fall down when I attempt to run to first base.

So even though we lost, it was an all around great day, expect for our second basewomen who got so drunk that she told everyone that she and her husband live in downtown "Cialis" before passing out on the dugout bench in the third inning.

I love softball."