Well, not literally, but monetarily.
The day did not start off well, with my alarm jarring me to consciousness at 8am after only four hours of sleep due to some Gears of War induced sleep deprivation, and even after that the cessation of GoW I had some trouble because of a certain Ghost haunting me for a bit. But I forced myself out of bed, because I needed to get down to Joe Louis Arena to get my Red Wings tickets. When I finally got out of bed about half an hour after waking up I ate breakfast real quick and then got ready for the trek down to D-Town (I promise not to call it that again, I just wanted something to rhyme there). I called Jasmine and Kyle to wake them up and then my brother and I left to pick them up before heading to Detroit.
The drive there wasn’t bad, although my car didn’t much appreciate the extra bodies in it. When we got off the freeway and into the city we passed by the notorious Fist Statue, and as we did I made a remark about its symbolism for your potential to get, well, fisted in the city. Little did I know that this wasn’t a joke, but a prophesy. I was worried that there may be an excess of traffic due to the auto show, but there was surprisingly little. However, I did discover that there was a dozen or so WWE semi trucks parked along the side street that I usually park on when I go to get tickets from JLA. The alternative to parking in the street was to pay $10 at a lot across the street. I decided that I didn’t want to pay $10 to park so that I could purchase $9 hockey tickets, so, even though there were only a couple other cars parked in the street besides the semis, I decided to park in the street. Wow, did that turn out to be a terrible (and kind of ironic) decision.
At this point, it was about 9:45, and the box office didn’t open until 10, so we waited in line, outside in the cold. There were surprisingly few people there, considering the turnout the other times I’ve done this, but I was just happy that I wouldn’t have to wait as long. At 10 the doors opened and we got inside, but ended up waiting in line for another 45 minutes anyway because all of the ticket windows were moving incredibly slow, ours in particular. When we finally did get our tickets I was just relieved that I was able to get them for all the games we wanted and, with tickets in hand, we headed back to my car.
We parked a little ways down the street, but as we were walking I became very apparent of a startling lack of my car. I requested confirmation from everyone else that my car was no longer occupying the physical space where we left it. Devastatingly, they all agreed. At first I considered that it may have been stolen, but it wasn’t very likely, considering it was in plain sight and there were quite a few people around the area… including a few police cars, which led me to the next option; it had been towed.
We continued walking down the street, hoping to find it inexplicably, but safely, moved a couple hundred yards down the street. My wishes almost came true; it had been safely moved down the street, but it was very obvious how it had gotten there, as we found it atop a tow truck. As we approached, the driver of the tow truck was attaching a second car to the back of his truck and I informed him that it was my car that he had. A police officer approached contemporaneously and told me that I would have to pay the driver whatever he requested to get my car down, at which point I was told that it would cost $75 cash. Unfortunately, we only had about half that on us collectively, so Kyle ran inside Cobo Arena to go to an ATM as I tried to think of an alternative. The only one offered to me by the police officer was to pay with a credit card at the impound, which would be significantly more expensive.
At this point, I was pretty much proper fucked. Kyle was taking a while inside, but the guy started to take my car down. Thankfully he was pretty cool (or, more likely, greedy) and said that he would drop the car for $20 cash and we’d be straight, so I gave him the money and we had my car back. Unfortunately, that was when I noticed the ticket on the windshield, which is going to run another $30, but it still could have been a hell of a lot worse. Apparently if I pay within 10 days then there’s also a $10 reduction to the fine, so that should only cost me $20.
After we got my car back we made our way back to the highway, passing the iconic Fist, which I’ve come to realize is more of a warning than a decoration. Take my advice, and heed its waning.
Does anyone else have any fun law-related stories? Feel free to share them by leaving a comment. Or something. Is there anybody out there? Can anyone even hear me?
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Well, it finally happened. I got raped in Detroit.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Hockey is Finally Back
The clock continues to tick the moments by, and the realization that every second that passes carries the arrival for of four A.M. even closer make each one seem wasted. Common sense tells me I should be sleeping, but that’s simply not an option. I no longer experience these nights with any reliable frequency. Stability and happiness can have that affect, and I much prefer my current state, but I will admit that I sometimes miss these nights. I’m unsure if it’s from a genuine longing or pure nostalgia, but the desire is there. Granted, this insomnia is generally the result of what I perceive to be justifiable apprehension in preparation for a presumptive devastating catastrophe related to a girl that is unknowingly causing me such distress. But, tonight, well, this is entirely different. Tonight I am not plagued with worry, regret or sadness, but excitement. Only 15 hours separates the present from the future that I’ve been waiting for since June 5th. At 7:30 tonight rubber will meet ice and the hockey season will have begun. Arguably the season started on Saturday, considering the first regular season game was played that afternoon, and three more games have been played since, but for me the season doesn’t really start until the first Detroit Red Wings game has started. In addition, the four games that have been played thus far were played in fucking Europe, a fact even more tenable to uphold that the season hasn’t really begun. I am the proverbial schoolgirl, having recently attained the knowledge that my genitals are capable of achieving complete control over the opposite sex and giddy with anticipation of the consequent enjoyment that I’ll receive from causing havoc by practicing this dominion.
Okay, maybe women aren’t as evil as I’ve been known to say. And, in addition to being false, maybe that isn’t a great analogy, either. Give me a break, it’s late.
With sleep out of the question, I’ve chosen to attempt to extract entertainment from television, a difficult enough task at a reasonable hour and nearly indomitable now. Thankfully I don’t require much reliance on it at the moment, as my mind is crowded with thoughts that demand contemplation. The new season offers many questions. Will the acquisition of Marian Hossa prove to be as beneficial as expected? He’s a great player, there’s no denying it, but where will he be best placed? During pre-season he was placed on a line along with Datstuk and Holmstrom while Zetterberg was moved to the “second” line along with Franzen and Hudler. Personally, I disagree with the decision to split Pav and Hank, known collectively as the “Euro Twins.” The two have developed a playing style that is seemingly dependent on their pairing at times. They individually do things that I don’t think would be possible if not for the other one being on the ice. They have an inexplicable awareness of each other at all times. They are, without being aware of it, the strongest argument for the existence of extrasensory perception that I’m aware of. I’m curious how much Babcock will demand of Hossa on that line. If he holds him to the same expectations that he had of Zetterberg, then I fear that Hossa will be ground to dust under the pure weight of it all. I’m also unsure of Hudler’s promotion to the second line. I’ve got nothing against him, but I think there are a couple other players that have proven themselves more worthy. I think after some further development that both Hudler and Valterri Filppula could be solid material for a second line, but right now I think Dan Cleary is much more deserving of the position. He’s shown tremendous dedication and he’s played on the top line in the past so he’s more familiar with the pressure associated. Of course, this could all change at any time…
For the first time in recent memory, the goaltending situation actually seems to be almost entirely decided before the season is starting. Chris Osgood will be starting with Ty Conklin acting as backup. It’s good to see Osgood finally being given this opportunity after consistently performing so well throughout his time here in Detroit, especially during the playoffs last season when he took over for Hasek in the first round and was solely responsible for the position after that. I’m sure Conklin will be playing a fair amount of the games during the season, perhaps 10 – 20, but I’m excited to see how well Osgood can do with an entire season as a starter.
Defense continues to essentially be a non-issue. Every defenseman we had last year has returned for this season, which has actually created the advantageous problem of having an abundance of qualified candidates. There are several of our prospects that appear to be ready to make the jump to the NHL from the minor leagues, but there simply isn’t room for them. Meech proved last season that he was capable of holding his own in the league, and I’ve heard that Jonathan Ericsson will almost definitely be added to the roster for next season. Although he’ll be out for a month and a half or so, Chris Chelios is returning for a remarkable 25th season, although he’s not likely to log a lot of playing time. Lebda will be back, and hopefully will improve on his performance from last season. For better or worse (almost certainly for worse…), Andreas Lilja will be back to haunt us for at least another two years. We were fortunate enough to hang onto Brad Stuart, who will remain paired with Niklas Kronwall, which proved to be a very effective combination in the playoffs. And then, of course, there is The Defense Pair. If I didn’t know any better, I’d probably feel bad for Brian Rafalski. He’s an outstanding defenseman, and on almost any other team, he would be the defenseman, but instead his talent is dwarfed by the mere idea of The New Captain. But I’m fairly positive that any potential lack of recognition is being more than compensated for by the fact that he has been deemed worthy of playing alongside the man known as The Perfect Human. I’m speaking, of course, of Nicklas Lidstrom. He will be gracing our team in his third year as captain. There’s little that needs to be said of the man. He is almost unquestionably the best defenseman of his era, and arguably the best of all time. And yet, he still seems to be underrated by some. Based strictly on numbers, he is impressive, but to truly appreciate what he’s capable you have to really see him play and study him. At first, some of his decisions seem almost inexplicable. He appears to be out of position, but somehow the puck always comes right to him in a spot where no one ever expected it to go. The first couple times that you notice this you’re prone to simply write it off to pure chance, but after he repeatedly accomplishes this every game, you’re forced to rationalize it some other way. He demonstrates almost impeccable prescience with a consistency that most people would not fathom possible. But he does not execute his unique style of play in a way that would ever draw attention to him. He is subtle in everything he does. He rarely ever hits anyone, and he gets hit just about as often. You won’t often catch him in a situation where he’s forced to rush back. He plays the most minutes of anyone on the team and, almost, more than anyone in the entire league, but also manages to spend barely any time in the penalty box. His approach to leadership can be likened to how he plays; he does not rely on spectacle, but subtlety. The logic is simple. Every game he plays more minutes than any other player, and he outperforms every other player, but he never draws attention to it. He doesn’t brag, he doesn’t complain, he doesn’t make excuses. And if he doesn’t then no one can. Ironically, his humility is one of the things often bragged about by other people.
Ehem… well, I said that there isn’t much that needs to be said about him, but there’s certainly plenty that can be said about him. I have the tendency of going on for much longer than I expect to when I get on the topic of Lidstrom.
I was planning on writing on a variety of other topics tonight, but it’s getting rather late, there’s absolutely nothing good to watch on television, and I’ve already gone on for longer than I probably should have. There will likely be further updates in the very near future.
we walk together forever
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Canada
There I was, spending my night like I’ve been spending a lot of nights lately; playing The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess. I had just finished the Temple of Time, which was possibly my least favorite Zelda dungeon I’ve ever played. It’s boring, repetitive and tedious. I spent most of my time going through the same puzzles, which were far too simple and straightforward. Also, considering its late stage in the game, the boss was far too easy. After finishing off the temple I ran around for a while to snatch up a few heart pieces and such while pondering some of the reasons that I disliked it so much. That was when my phone rang. I was a bit surprised to see that it was Sarah calling because it had been a while since we last talked, so I quickly wondered what it was she could want before answering it. This is pretty much how the conversation went:
Me: Hey, what’s up?
Translation: Hey, what’s up?
Sarah: Hey, not too much. What are you up to tonight?
Translation: Hey, I’ve got quite a bit going on. However, I know you never do anything or participate in social functions. You're doing me a favor.
Me: Not too much.
Translation: I probably haven't done anything in well over a week. I can’t be sure because it's hard to tell time without events or a schedule to help keep track.
Her: Megan and I are going to Canada and Ashley was supposed to drive us but she bailed so I was wondering if you could drive us back?
Translation: Get your shoes on. You’re crossing international borders soon.
Me: Hmm, I don’t know. I don't really see what's in it for me. Seems like work...
Translation: It's late and I’m kinda tired. Plus I’m playing Zelda...
Her: Well, you have had my Wii for a couple months now and I’ve let you borrow it for free.
Translation: Seriously. Put your fucking shoes on or I’m taking the Wii.
Me: Well, I am using it right now, so I guess I kinda owe you.
Translation: Yes, masthta.
After I had gotten off the phone and acknowledged that I am, in fact, a little obsequious bitch, I got my shoes on and fortunately remembered that I would need my birth certificate to make it over the border so I found that. She called me when they got to my house and as I got to the door to go outside, Sarah was standing on my porch with a large flag pole that I was told to store in my house as it may look a bit suspicious going through customs. I put it in my basement, which is where it still resides as she has yet to take it back, while she went back to the car, and once I walked outside I was instructed, through a series of vague hand signals, that I was supposed to go around to the back of the car on the driver side. I did so, got into the car, and realized that Sarah’s friend, Steve, was also going with us. I had met Steve once before on a night when Sarah, her brother and I all went out to a club. My interactions with him are not completely aware to me as some of the night was apparently removed from memory as the result of a few regretful drinks I decided to have that night. However, from what I could remember, I did recall that he was pretty cool and had a brilliant sense of music, which was quite fortunate for me, as he was responsible for choosing the music that we were listening to when I entered the car. He was playing music off of his iPod and, although I didn’t recognize barely any of it, I enjoyed almost all of it. We stopped at Meijer before getting onto the expressway so that Steve could purchase a Father’s Day card (this happened the night before Father’s Day). Steve, Sarah and I all went in while Megan stayed in the car. He quickly found a card and shortly after having a quick laugh over a certain someone’s attempted suicide, I received some spectacular news concerning a couple people that I vowed revenge against at a party a couple months back. The details must remain secret (in case someone actually reads this), but basically they did my work for my by ruining their own lives.
As we were walking back to the car I began to prepare myself for the musical bliss that I was sure Steve would continue to supply, but that luxury proved itself to be only temporary since Megan had commandeered the radio while we were inside. I was then forced to brace myself for the onslaught of inexplicably popular modern music which followed. I unhappily endured the noise for the rest of the drive to Steve’s house in Detroit, not too far from the Ambassador Bridge, so that Steve could drop off the Father’s Day card and also get his birth certificate. He also brought back a couple text books, which become important later in the story. After running that errand we headed to the bridge.
Once we get to the customs officer at the border, Sarah is talking to her and answering the questions that they normally ask. Then, when she asks if we have anything to declare, she says no, but Steve decides to pipe up for some reason. He announces that he has several textbooks currently in his possession including, but not limited to, a Japanese language book and a book on how to write an essay to get accepted to a grad school. As Steve made himself look more and more suspicious, I forcibly avoid panic and instead convince myself to enjoy the humor of the situation. She then asked a question that could have lead to catastrophe; when she inquired if any of us had any weapons, Steve, who is almost a black belt, nearly replied “yes,” in reference to his hands. Thankfully he avoided that urge, but we were still asked to pull aside in order to be searched. As we began to pull away to the customs’ office, I began laughing quietly while Sarah and Megan asked Steve, “What the hell is wrong with you?!”
Once we had parked in the designated area we were asked to exit the car while they searched it for items of interest. We were then told to go into the custom’s building, where we had to give our identification and such to someone and then we had to wait in another room for a bit. Sarah was becoming noticeably panicked, while I maintained my traditional insouciant demeanor. However, if I had a standing bench warrant for my arrest, as I later learned she had, I suppose I may have been a bit more apprehensive toward the situation. Although, I don’t know if I’d be trying to cross the border under those circumstances either so I can’t imagine it ever becoming a problem for me. Regardless, after waiting for ten minutes or so we were informed that we were free to leave, and so our trip to Canada continued. While driving across the bridge Sarah and Megan joked around with Steve about things he should avoid while going through customs. I briefly consider the potential hilarity to be enjoyed by shackling Steve (he’s black) and claiming him as a slave on our return trip across the border but I decide not to share this thought with everyone else since I don’t know him very well and there was a myriad of reactions he could have to a statement such as that, a solid majority of which could be devastating to my well-being (remember, he’s nearly a black belt, and may actually be by this time).
Once we got into Canada and reached the main strip we found a parking garage and then started walking around to find an acceptable establishment to enter. Being a person who rarely partakes in excursions such as this, I was a bit surprised at the scene. I’ve rarely seen streets so packed during the day, let alone when it is nearly 1 A.M. The ladies finally decided on a club called Woody’s Outhouse. As we walked up to the doors there were a couple bouncers, one of which, a rather tall and large man, told us that the cover was $3 for girls and $5 for guys. However, when I passed him he said that it would only be $3 for me, possibly because he sympathized with a fellow “big ‘n fluffy person,” or perhaps because he recognized me as the unfortunate hapless soul who agreed to come with great reluctance and would later be responsible for these soon-to-be drunken teenagers. Or maybe he just thought I was a girl. No matter what the reason, Sarah paid for me anyway, so I really didn’t care. Before we even got inside I recognized a noise similar to that I had heard a lot of in the car and I, once again, greatly disapproved of these sound waves forcibly entering my ears. Once inside I discovered dozens of people “dancing” to said noise. The reason for the quotes is because I don’t consider what those people were doing as dancing, but I realize that my opinion does not align with the opinions of most. Also, I’m not clever enough to think of another word to accurately describe it. Personally I consider the engagement in such activities more appropriate while under the dominion of psychotropic drugs much more potent than alcohol, but hey, that’s just me.
The girls quickly made their way to their bar and ordered and drank quite a few potions while I cautiously discerned my surroundings. Steve, meanwhile, had managed to disappear. Soon after they decided that they wanted to “dance” and tried to coax me to do the same, which I had no desire of doing given the absence of the aforementioned drugs. No, I had decided long ago that I was there merely for observation. I did agree to escort them to the “dance” floor, where I remained for several minutes, standing awkwardly in a sea of movement around me, to better perceive the experience. Then I decided to take a seat at the bar and grab a drink for further reflection, which lead me to several realizations.
As nearly anyone reading this will be aware of, I haven’t had the greatest luck in regard to relationships, due in part to a deep-rooted insecurity dating back to even before my first serious relationship which tends to cause problems. And then there’s my reprehensible desire to try to chase after the women I’ve lost. I was recently guilty of such stupidity once again just a couple months ago when I started seeing one of my ex-girlfriends for, arguably, the third time. We had not been talking for several months prior to this when she decided to initiate a sabbatical from our radio silence and called me. After things went south once again after only a month or so, I decided that I was correct in thinking that I shouldn’t be associating with this person for several reasons. Immediately following that was a major, but short, depression that ended when I made myself realize how much better off I had been since we had stopped communicating. But in the past couple weeks I’ve been thinking about her once again which has caused a minor clandestine sadness, but being at that club reminded me of the pivotal differences that made us so incompatible. I’ve obviously been unaware of her actions since we stopped talking, but back when we dated she went out occasionally. This night made me realize how appreciative I am not to be involved with someone who willingly participates in activities such as this, regardless of frequency. I guess I share the same feelings about dance clubs and the inclination to feel like a “hate camel” as Bill Hicks.
While I was thinking about all of this, I was also doing a cost comparison of the Coke that I had gotten from the bar. I believe that they served it to me in an eight ounce glass, filled mostly with ice, so I’d make the generous estimate that there was actually only about four ounces of Coke in the glass. That drink had cost me $2. Based on my estimation that the glass actually only contained roughly four ounces, after some simple arithmetic, that would mean that Coke cost roughly 50 cents an ounce. Now, I would imagine most people would compare the cost per ounce of that drink to perhaps a 20 oz. Bottle or a 2-liter since those are common volumes that Coke can be purchased in. I, however, decided to compare extremes. I had gone to 7-11 earlier that same day with my friend, Mikey, and he filled something called a Team Gulp, a one gallon red monstrosity whose name implies that it is meant for several people, perhaps a “team,” but he has been known to tackle the challenge himself. I own one of these myself, which has fondly earned the nickname of “Truth,” while Mikey’s goes by the epithet of “Justice,” but I had forgotten mine at a friend’s house a few weeks back and still hadn’t gotten it back yet so Truth did not join us on this journey. For those of you who are a bit rusty on your customary unit conversions, one gallon equates to 128 ounces. That is 16 times the amount of liquid that could potentially fit into the glass I was drinking from at the bar, and around 32 times the amount that was probably actually in the glass. Subtract a few ounces for ice and not filling it all the way to the top, and we’ll say that he actually only put about 116 ounces of pop in it. He paid 99 cents for this, plus tax, which came to a total of $1.05, which is the same price as freedom. He actually only paid $1 because the cashier just took five cents out of the penny tray to avoid having to make change for $2, but just to make it a more accurate comparison, we’ll say he actually paid the whole price. So, assuming that he had 116 ounces of pop and paid a total of $1.05, by dividing the price into the volume, we get approximately 0.00905, which would mean that he actually paid less than one cent per ounce. Now, dividing that price into the estimated 50 cents I was paying at the bar indicates that the Coke I was more than 55 times more expensive than the pop from 7-11. And this was without even having any alcohol added to it. I, once again, acknowledge that I am a little obsequious bitch, and then I move onto other thoughts.
(Note: I may be wrong about the price of the Coke at the bar. It may have actually been $4, but decided to give them the benefit of the doubt in order to avoid mistakenly making a greatly exaggerated comparison.)
When I realized that I was doing a mental cost analysis of a beverage, I knew I was bored as hell. Then I heard a most amicable sound; it was the unmistakable tune of “Sweet Home Alabama,” and once I had taken a moment to ensure that it was in fact that and not Kid Rock’s atrocious plagiarism “All Summer Long.” This was the first song that I could actually recognize as music since the last song Steve had chosen in the car. Unfortunately, the victory was short lived, as the DJ decided to mute the song whenever the words “sweet home Alabama” were being sung so that the drunken blob of people could all simultaneously screech their own rendition of the lyrics. The song was also cut off quite short, only having been on for a minute or so, before being replaced by more noise that I believe goes by the name “Soulja Boy,” or some ridiculous nonsense like that. The girls returned to the bar to have a couple more drinks and they were quickly accosted by to guys that had been standing near the bar for a couple minutes. They talked for a little while and the guys bought them all a few rounds before returning to go flail their bodies about on the “dance” floor. It was then I realized that I had been reduced to deafly watching soccer and baseball (two sports I don’t like) highlights in a Canadian bar while sipping on an exorbitantly expensive Coke. For the third time I acknowledged myself as a little obsequious bitch and decided to try to make the best of it. I feigned enjoyment while watching sports replays, hoping that this would trick myself into thinking I was actually having a good time. This plan failed immediately, and instead I just sat there and was forced to listen to some of the “music.” It was then that I devised the theory that most modern music had been haphazardly scrawled across blank pages of sheet music by Helen Keller.
The girls returned not too long after with their newly attained admirers, who bought them a few more drinks. Now, before this night my suspicions about nightclubs had only been postulation, but based on the circumstances of the people I was with and their actions I had attained confirmation and I composed this definition: Nightclub - a place where outside relationships seemingly don’t exist and the bounds of fidelity are stretched to their very limit. I wonder about what kind of borderline infidelities my ex may have committed while I was her non-boyfriend while she was out, with complete male strangers using her as the equivalent of a glorified, human humping pole. Then, once again, I feel relieved for having been removed from that situation.
Thankfully by this time it was approaching closing time which meant I would soon be able to leave the wretched place. The girls were still “dancing” so I decided to order another Coke. It was at this time that I had the good fortune to look down at the floor and see a Canadian $20 bill and, since most people had already left the bar, I assumed that the person that dropped it was already long gone. I picked it up, ordered my Coke, and when I tried to hand the $20 to the bartender, he waved it off and walked away. Within moments I had found $20 and gotten a free Coke. I felt like I was being rewarded for the suffering I had volunteered myself to endure. I finished off my Coke and then me and the gals headed out to find Steve, who had apparently escaped off to a pizza shop. Along the way I got to witness the dichotomous effects of alcohol; Megan and Sarah had been reduced to drunken blabber while two guys were yelling at each other on the street, one screaming at the other “Go back to fucking Michigan!” It was strange to see blissful honesty an arm’s length away from ignorant rage with both scenarios being a result of the same substance.
Once we had found Steve I generously offered to treat everyone to McDonald’s with the money I had found before leaving for The States. After we finished eating we headed for the tunnel back home which, as it turned out, was extremely busy. Megan complained about having to pee the entire half hour that it took to get through the damn thing, and when we finally did we luckily breezed through customs and stopped to let her go to the bathroom. After that both Megan and Sarah were asleep which allowed Steve to exercise dominion over the music we listened to, which I greatly enjoyed. His musical tastes can be described as nothing short of wonderfully eclectic. I had the pleasure of experiencing music spanning nearly every genre and style and made me realize how disappointingly narrow my knowledge of music is. The remainder of the trip was spent in this fashion, with Steve providing the music and me grooving to it, until arriving back at Oakland around 5 or 6 A.M. where I was finally able to get some rest (but decided not to sleep and instead jotted down some notes about the night that I wanted to write about; in retrospect, not the best choice.)
Monday, June 23, 2008
R.I.P George Carlin
Comedian George Carlin died Sunday, June 22, of heart failure at the age of 71. There is little that needs to be said about a man whose career spanned five decades, more than 20 albums, more than a dozen HBO specials and four books. He was widely regarded as one of, if not the best comedian, of all time. He was adored by millions, and will certainly be missed.
"Frisbeetarianism is the belief that when you die, your soul goes up on the roof and gets stuck."
-G.C.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Pittsburgh Penguins Under Suspicion of Illicit Activities Following Playoffs
The Detroit Red Wings won their 11th Stanley Cup in franchise history, and their fourth in just the past 11 years, after beating the Pittsburgh Penguins on Wednesday night in game 6 of the Stanley Cup Finals. As celebrations were beginning in Detroit a different story was developing in Pittsburgh…
After what many biased fans considered a terribly officiated series, the NHL even became suspicious of the Pittsburgh Penguins when several players and head coach, Michel Therrien, filed for bankruptcy the day after the series ended. The NHL was concerned that the organization had been bribing referees in order to win games and were fearful that the scandal may actually draw some kind of attention to their sport. The League demanded that a full-scale investigation be launched.
Although the investigation is still underway, a questionable source has revealed that some information has already been uncovered. Referee Dan O’Halloran was unable to be contacted for questioning on the matter. When investigators appeared at his home to apprehend him they found it to be completely abandoned. FBI records show that he was on a plane headed for the Caribbean but has not been heard from by friends or family since Wednesday night.
In addition, an auction on ebay.com was apparently posted by Sidney Crosby on the afternoon of Game 1 of the series, anticipating a four game sweep of the Red Wings, to help reimburse the team for the money given to the referees.
Other items up for sale include game-worn equipment.
The accused maintain that they have committed no crimes. Therrien, whose devastation has amused devoted hockey fans for years, issued this statement, outside of an American Red Cross Blood Donation Clinic, regarding the matter:
The most intense jowls you will ever encounter.”I rish I had a buck! I rood go round block ride! Gung-ree. I vood or-bob-lee uff gawl over and err-teck my piss. Hats prob-nob-ult.”
Note: Statement has been phonetically transcribed. He incomprehensibly muttered for about five minutes before being rushed to a hospital to have seven of the eight pints of blood he donated injected back into his bloodstream. He was promptly asked to return the money he was paid for the seven pints returned to him.
Therrien has also been deviating from his usual style of dress. He generally wears a suit, as seen in the picture above, but lately he has been seen dressing much more casually. Some speculate that this is because he has had to pawn his clothing.
"What, it's comfy!"
However, the conspicuous behavior has not been limited just to Coach Therrien. The Penguins captain and high-school student, 17-year-old Sidney Crosby, has also been inspiring some suspicion. This year he made a base salary of $850,000, and after incentives, bonuses, advertising deals and his allowance for chores and good grades, he made over $3.5 million. However, it was recently discovered that the 15-year-old NHL superstar attained a summer job at Arby’s Roast Beef Sandwiches.
“It’s just a fun place to work,” said Crosby, in response to being asked why he was choosing to work a minimum wage job after making several million dollars this year. “I mean, 3.5 million dollars in a year seems like a lot, but it doesn’t hurt to have a little extra cash in your pocket. I’m allowed to ask for a raise in a month. And plus I get discounts!”
The head manager of the store, Andrew Turgeon, is thrilled to have “Sid the Kid” working at his restaurant. “It’s really been great for business,” Turgeon commented. “We’ve been having specials every Friday where we offer 87 cent Arby’s Melts. He works a 10-hour shift that day. Kid’s a really hard worker.”
Turgeon has also been utilizing other strategies to generate revenue, even taking an idea from amusement parks. “Well, one day I saw this picture of my wife and me at Cedar Point of us on The Raptor. Then I thought to myself, ‘people would pay for a picture of them with Sid.’ So I started printing still photos off of the security cameras with him at the cash register and selling them to people like after you get off a roller coaster. With the way things are going, this is going to be our most profitable quarter ever.”
Despite the continued inquisitions, 16-year-old Crosby insists that this is just a learning experience and that he did not offer any money to the referees. “Cheap food and extra money? How could I pass it up?! I’m trying to get Gino (teammate Evgeni Malkin) a job here, too!”
Thanks to Mikey for the second Therrien picture and your continued collaboration.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Wings Go Into Game 5 Winning Series 3-1
Four games into the Stanley Cup Finals the Detroit Red Wings lead the Pittsburgh Penguins 3 games to 1 in the best of 7 series. Detroit started the series off by posting back-to-back shutouts at home, winning games one and two with scores of 4-0 and 3-0, respectively. In game 2 the Penguins were noticeably frustrated, as they resorted to cheap shots on the Wings’ star players, including Henrik Zetterberg and Johan Franzen. These attacks were reciprocated by an unlikely person; star forward Pavel Datsyuk, who is also a ninja in the off-season. After his linemate, Zetterberg, was the recipient of a late hit from Ryan Malone after a play ended, Datsyuk teleported himself over there and started pummeling Malone. Johan Franzen, who had just returned to the lineup after missing six games with headaches and concussion-like symptoms, was punched in the head by Penguins veteran Gary Roberts. Then, with just over a minute remaining in the game, Petr Sykora ran into Wings goalie Chris Osgood. Then I’m pretty sure Sykora threatened to kill Osgood’s dog and then eat his children. In the scrum that followed, Datsyuk got revenge for Franzen by beating Roberts into submission. But after completely dominating at home, the Wings were headed to Pittsburgh, where the Penguins have been impeccable.
The Penguins bounced back in game 3, narrowly defeating Detroit 3-2, but after that game it wasn’t just the players that were surprised by Detroit’s speed. Several Pittsburgh cameramen were left confused, and some injured, after game 3. During games broadcast on NBC, they occasionally mention, between Edge Shave Gel advertisements, that they have Iso-Cams that you can watch on their website. These cameras follow around the star players while they are on the ice. During game three, they had a dedicated camera following Henrik Zetterberg and Pavel Datsyuk for Detroit, and Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin for Pittsburgh. Steven Porter, 37-year-old Pittsburgh native, was the unfortunate soul that was chosen to follow Datsyuk. Porter has been a professional cameraman for a decade and a half, but said he had never encountered anything like Datsyuk.
“It was really weird,” said Porter, dressed in a standard issue hospital gown. “Things were going well for me that day. My wife made me a nice breakfast. We had intercourse before the kids got home from school. But then the game started.”
Porter was experienced with NBC’s Iso-Cam, having done it for previous Pittsburgh home games throughout the playoffs. “It was always really simple. Just follow the player around the ice and then when he’s on the bench, follow a different guy until your guy comes back on. But that Pavel guy, I didn’t know what to do. I’d be following him and then he’d seemingly just disappear out of frame. A few times I swear I saw him throw something, and then there’d be a flash of light and a little puff of smoke, and then he’d be gone. I’d look all around and he’d somehow be on the complete opposite side of the ice. I didn’t know what was happening.”
During the first intermission Porter tried to calm himself down by doing some breathing exercises and drinking a few cups of water. He talked to Chris Dulsen, the person in charge of the broadcast, and told him that he thought there was something wrong with his camera.
“He was really frantic,” said Dulsen. “He was talking really fast, seemed really nervous, looked like his hand was shaking a little bit. Kept saying stuff about smoke and flashes of light on the ice, and this guy kept teleporting or time-traveling or something. I was kind of concerned.”
Porter’s camera was replaced for the second period and he returned to his post, confident that it was the camera that was causing the issues. But unfortunately, that wouldn’t be the end of his problems.
“They were warming up a bit before the second period started and I was just watching this guy skate around,” continued Porter. “That was when I started to get really paranoid. I mean, I’m sitting here watching this guy, but it felt like someone was watching me. I mean, this is the NHL, nobody was even watching my camera online, let alone watching me. And then I just felt really terrified.”
Porter tried to rationalize the situation and managed to calm himself down a bit a few minutes into the second period. However, things took a turn for the worse for him shortly after when Datsyuk stole the puck at neutral ice and then gained the offensive zone.
“I couldn’t cope,” said Porter. “He was all over the place, completely sporadic. I saw him weaving in and out of guys, I’d lose him for a second, then I’d think I had him again, but it was always someone else, then I would look at the ice and he would be way over somewhere else. And that’s when he looked at me.”
Porter claims that Datsyuk was attempting to deke around at least three opposing players, but then stop and looked directly at him. Porter described Datsyuk’s eyes as “a black and devoid nebulous.” Porter then fainted and was unconscious for a short time. When he woke he was rushed to St. Francis Central Hospital. Witnesses described Porter as “possessed” and said that he “was rambling in foreign tongue.” At the hospital he was administered chlorpromazine, a drug used to treat schizophrenia, and then became unconscious again shortly thereafter. When he woke he did not know where he was or how he got there, but his recollection of the incident has been returning.
“When I looked into his eyes and fainted… I saw… things. They were… it was just… unimaginable horror…”
At that point in the interview he began weeping and exited the room. Porter is still being held at the hospital for psychiatric evaluation. The fifth, and likely final, game of the series is tonight at 8 P.M.
Monday, May 19, 2008
AD Documentary
My life is generally quite mundane and I rarely do anything outside of sitting around my house on the computer or hanging out with the usual crew. However, a few things quite out of the ordinary have taken place the last few days. Thursday was supposed to be pretty normal and boring, but turned out to be quite disastrous. It was originally supposed to be just a couple good friends of mine and me playing some video games and having a couple drinks, but things got extremely out of hand. I don't want to go into many details on such a public forum (I realize the absurdity and inaccuracy of that phrase in this context), but I will say that there was a bit of damage done to my house and person, and the police were forced to become involved.
Fortunately, Friday night was much better. Just in case someone reading this has not already been introduced to Arrested Development by me, or at least hasn't heard me talk about the show, then I will tell you now; it is the greatest thing ever grace a television screen. It's a television show that was, unfortunately, aired on Fox for three seasons (2003 - 2006). It's hard to provide a satisfactory description of the show because it has so much going on in it, but essentially it's about the perfectly dysfunctional Bluth family. If you have never seen it then you should find a way to watch it. I cannot recommend it highly enough. You can even legally watch episodes online here. Anyway, I have every intention of eventually writing a (probably rather lengthy) article about the show, so I'll save that for a later time. The reason I mentioned it is because there are a couple independent filmmakers that are also huge fans of the show and decided to make a documentary about the show. Basically they've been travelling the country interviewing fans of the show and any cast and crew they've been able to get in contact with about the show. Well, they've been doing that since mid-October 2007, and they just finally arrived in Michigan to interview fans here. They got here Friday evening and I had scheduled to interview with them that night. Mikey and Scott, two friends of mine that I got addicted to the show, went with me to interview as well. We met them at their hotel room in Southfield a bit after 10 o'clock. The two guys running this whole operation are Neil and Jeff who are just good friends and fanatics of the show like my friends and I. As soon as we met them we all got along very well, which is a bit strange for us. I am usually very shy, as are my friends, and we don't often interact with outsiders, which we usually refer to as "the normals." But going into the situation acknowledging the common ground made things much easier. After we had completed our formal introductions, he began explaining how things were going to work, gave us the release form to look over and sign, and gave us each a business card.
"It wasn’t really the pronunciation that bothered me."
Their actual business information was on the reverse side, but for those of you unaware, that is a joke from the show. After he explains how things are going to work and tells us a few of the questions he'll be asking we found out that they can only interview two people at a time which meant that one of us would have to go alone. We all kind of awkwardly stood around staring at each other trying to decide which of us it would be until finally Scott decided to suck it and take a chubby (that line is also a joke from the show) and offered to be the one to go on his own.
Mikey and I were up first. Neil asked us questions while Jeff ran the cameras. He asked us our favorite character, favorite episode, why we thought the show was unique, and several other questions. It went pretty well, but there were a few questions that we kind of blanked on since we didn't know we would be asked about them. After that Scott went and was asked pretty much the same questions. But, ironically, the discussion about the show really picked up after the cameras stopped rolling. Perhaps it was just because there was no pressure since we knew we weren't being taped anymore, but we started quoting a plethora of memorable lines from the show and talking about all the subtle jokes. It was a pretty typical conversation since that happens quite often when I'm hanging out with Mikey and Scott, but it was weird having other people around that actually knew what we were talking about. Usually when there is a person with us who isn't part of our usual group, we get some strange looks for some of the things we say, e.g. "Watch out for hop-ons," "To the nuts! No, the bridge mix!" and "I just blue myself." They also told us about some of the more interesting interviews they'd done and some cool stuff they had learned from other fans about the show that they were unaware of before starting the documentary. We all had a great time talking to them and it was just nice to see other fanatics of the show since they are quite rare, as we've found. Although it seems that it's hard not to be a huge fan of it after seeing it, with very few exceptions. Overall, it was a good night that was much needed after Thursday.
Saturday night was a bit more uneventful than the previous two had been, but it was still a deviation from the norm for me, since I rarely do anything. As usual, I slept in much later than I should have, and then watched the Red Wings game in the afternoon. Unfortunately, we lost to Dallas again, which is now forcing a game 6 tomorrow. Then I got a call from Jasmine inviting me to go play Mario Kart Wii at her friend Ashley's house. She also informed me that we'd be playing it on Ashley's home theater. Needless to say, I was in. I ate dinner and then picked up Jasmine and then we headed over to Ashley's. Once we went inside I was introduced to her parents and then we went downstairs. That is where I saw this.
Just off to the right is the furnace room where I intend to start living soon.
What is not displayed in this picture were the three recliners which were directly in front of me and below the camera where we would all be sitting. After I could function again after the initial happiness shock, I went and sat down in order to test if the recliners were as comfortable as they appeared to be. My hopes were confirmed. Jasmine and Ashley began setting up the Wii and syncing the remotes while I took a couple pictures that I intended to have some special alone time with later. Then we started playing Mario Kart, which was pretty great because before then I had only played it on a very small television. To give you an idea of the difference in size, each individual split screen was probably around three times larger than the entire tv that I had used before. I was happy.
After we had played quite a bit of Mario Kart and had some good times bashing the computer players, Ashley inadvertently revealed to Jasmine and me that she owned Super Smash Bros. I started chanting "Tank rape!" and Jazz quickly joined in, and then it was decided that we needed to play that for a bit. "Tank rape" is an inside joke of ours in reference to Fox's Final Smash. If you're familiar with the game, you may know what I'm talking about, if not, then basically what happens is he gets to go in gigantic tank and destroy everyone with it. We left around 11pm since I had plans around 11:30, so I dropped Jasmine off at her place and then went home.
After I got home I hung out for a few minutes and then headed over to Steve's. He was having a few people over for a bonfire and hang out with Kent. Our friend, Kent, got a job out of state for the summer so it was kind of a small going-away party. I got there, Steve and I went outside, and then he started on the bonfire. Kent got there not too long after and we sat around talking for a bit. Then I called Mikey to see if he was back from his sister's wedding to see if he wanted to stop by. I eventually got ahold of him and he came over. Then Kyle showed up and we just chatted for a bit and Mikey told us about the wedding and I made quite a few s'mores. Kent had been drinking a bottle of beer, and after he finished it Steve devised the genius plan of filling the empty bottle with gasoline and then throwing some into the fire.
After laughing about that for a bit, everyone except Mikey and I went inside. We stayed outside and he told me a bit more about the wedding until it started to rain a little bit, at which point we headed in with everyone else. When we went inside we told everyone it was starting to rain so we went out to grab some of the stuff and put the chair away, which is when this happened.
After that everyone went inside and we talked and joked around for a bit about a variety of topics, including, but not limited to, school, work, rectal examinations, drinking games, food coloring, testicle ultrasounds and Kent's car catching fire. Mikey and I left shortly after that, and then I came home and stayed awake far too late, as I've had the tendency of doing lately.
The last few days have been a bit different for me, but now it seems that things are returning to their normal and mundane ways. With the exception of the catastrophe that was Thursday night, it was a pretty welcome change, but I don't really mind the shift back to monotony. At least it's summer and I've got a few great friends to share it with.
someone use words
