The Century Mark

Without realizing it until now I've hit my hundredth post here. Since it snuck up on me, I've got nothing more enterprising than that offering, which I more than likely posted in the past. I think you might find it quite hypnotic-notic-notic-notic...

Before some quick thoughts on our nation's capitol, I've got to shout-out Lloy Ball, who I somehow failed to mention in my last post, which is rather astonishing as he was in fact the impetus for my discussion of favorite Olympians. During one of the matches I swear the color commentator made reference to Ball being a used car salesman before joining the national team, which just makes him that much more endearing in my estimation. I can't find any corroborating evidence to back this up, but he does have a tattoo that says "anger is a gift." Whether it is a homage to one of my all-time favorite bands or not, I'm not sure, but I'll just go ahead and say it is.


Since I couldn't find any photo I felt truly captured Ball's grittiness, I opted for this one because a) it looks like David Lee has a volleyball for a head and, more importantly b) Lloy's jersey says "1 Ball."

So I spent the extended weekend in the District of Columbia for what I will call my first "real" visit. I'd gone once on a high school field trip, and another time about six years ago, but on neither occasion did I stay overnight, nor did I even take the metro. I'm not sure if it (the metro) has this effect on other new visitors to the city, but I certainly felt like I had stumbled into the future, or at least an 80s movie set representation of the future (I'm thinking Total Recall). I'm a metro amateur however, with only New York and Boston as reference, but I'll go with DC completely dominating them.

It's also always interesting, for me at least, to see the style of the people in a city. DC seemed to have a healthy dose of pink polo and khaki shorts, and that was not only out in Georgetown. I also managed to have pleasant interactions with all of the locals I encountered, perhaps the most pleasant of which was with a homeless man in the metro. Still, I admit to being slightly scared in certain neighborhoods when houses looked a little more rundown and people were staring at me a bit, but I expected it after all the stories I have heard, and I didn't manage to make it to the more depressing neighborhoods.

Perhaps the most hilarious and simultaneously borderline frightening interaction I witnessed was a man stopping dead in his tracks on the sidewalk to heavily ogle a woman, literally dropping his jaw - though not enough to let his cigarette drop - and saying "mmm, mmm, goddamn!" In the moment I didn't think much of it, as I'm sure the average DC-er might not either, but looking back I really don't know how many times I've witnessed anything quite like it.

Quickly then, as I'm a bit of an ice cream fanatic, I decided to drop in at a Maggie Moo's. I'd never been in one, or heard of one for that matter I don't think, but I can't be entirely sure. Immediately upon entering I thought, "It's Coldstone with a different color scheme." After eating it, my conclusion changes little. Like Coldstone I found the ice cream overly sweet and heinously over-priced but so it goes. The saddest bit might be that I fully expect I will eat at one or both establishments in the future. So much for standing ground.

Anyway, that's my brief and boring summation of the nation's c[r]apitol. Shout out to "Foggy Bottom" as a nominee for most amusing neighborhood name.

MFO

Alright, I can't deny that all I've been doing of late is viewing the Olympics. I have been a bit pissed that NBC does not show any of the track events live since, well, I'm a runner dork and that interests me just a bit more than other Olympic sports. Still, hasn't stopped me from seeing NBC's six Olympic commercials approximately 438,000 times each. Sadly that isn't much in the way of hyperbole.

Quickly then, my favorite couple of idiotic commercials, which I have already mentioned, perhaps ad nauseum, to actual humans. The first is an ad for the Buick Enclave, an SUV. It begins with some stupid white guy saying "A lot of people think the words SUV and fuel economy don't go together." He's right, I don't associate them, so this is where I wait to be proven wrong. But I'm denied this when I'm told that Buick Enclave has better fuel economy than the Acura MDX because, yes, that's right, the Acura MDX is also an SUV. Congratulations on your totally worthless advertising campaign. If people will vote for Bush twice though, I doubt they'll notice this clever effort from Buick.

Oddly enough, I'm blanking on my other most-hated Olympic ad, so as filler I'll say those Chevy "gas pumps hate us" ads suck some rather significantly-sized ass.



Anyway, let's be joyous and move on to my "Most Favorite Olympian," or MFO. It very well could be the girl pictured above, Shelly-Ann Fraser. She's just so damn jolly, and she wears braces, which makes it better. I also dig Lolo Jones, and was very sad to see her nick the second-to-last hurdle as she was well on her way to gold. You never know I guess, but again, she seems like a nice person. My bias is obvious here on the track front, as I also dig Walter Dix and how do you not like a guy like Shawn Crawford, who races giraffes and zebras?

With great love of track athletes, there are inevitably those I don't love. The big talk of the games for anyone but me is probably Usain Bolt. Maybe it's the cockiness, maybe it's just that it makes the seemingly impossible look so easy (sometimes I think they call this jealousy), but I just was not rooting for this guy. The 100m record was amazing and of little consequence in my mind, but the 200m...I remember watching that from the Atlanta Olympics and I really never thought that record would be broken while I lived. Hell, a lot of people thought that, including Ato Boldon, whose trackside commentary is one of the few things I enjoy in the NBC coverage. Records are made to be broken, but somehow I just wanted Johnson's to live on a while longer.

Still, congratulations Bolt, you are an absolute freak of nature. In the meantime I'll hope for a sick men's 400m final tonight and for my man Bernard Lagat to get to wag his tongue in the 5k after not advancing to perhaps beat stupid Rashid Ramshit in the 1500m like at last year's world championships. Maybe if I knew why he really moved to Bahrain and was able to drop his 1500m pr from 3:39.xx to 3:30.xx in one year and didn't speculate it was drugs and money I wouldn't dislike him so much. Until then, he can continue to not give a shit that people like me think he is a disgraceful cheater doped to the gills.

Five Rings for Patriotism

If there's ever a time to get me feeling particularly patriotic, it's the Olympics. I enjoy the Olympics so much that I start referring to teams and athletes from our country as "we." This is fairly common in sport, but I try to avoid it because, let's face it, I'm not part of the team. However, a case must always be made for the fans and their impact. Would athletics exist without fans? Sure, but not on nearly the level.

Anyway, that requires a little more discussion that I'm not in the mood for, so why not go right to Michael Phelps. Dude is an absolute beast. Again, this is obvious but, for whatever reason I never was all too into Michael Phelps. Now I've got a 106° full-fledged Phelps fever. And I'll further admit that the NBC humanizing introspective on his eating gargantuan quantities (as well as a shot of a box of Honey Smacks...which are actually inferior to Pathmark Brand frosted puffed wheat, but no matter...) only made me like him more.

So, like many of the rest of you I hope, I have been tuning into every Olympic event possible. Are there a few sports I don't see as belonging in the Olympics? Most certainly, but that's for corrupt committees to decide, not me. I will say this as well - for as much fun as it is to watch scored events, you are just opening up one ugly ass can of worms. Maybe if I understood the scoring systems a little more it would help, but it never sits quite right with me.

And I can't mention scored events without citing gymnastics and, more importantly, crazy-as-batshit Bela Karolyi. This guy is totally off his gourd, along with his wife Martha, and they are the only thing that detracts slightly from my rooting for the home team in gymnastics. Thank goodness they have lovable fourth chipmunk Shawn Johnson. If she should decide she wants some mystery-solving adventures after gymnastics, she can always join Chip 'N Dale. But seriously, Bela and Martha seem to run a bit of a frightening cult, even if it might not be as worrisome as the Chinese athletic system practice of removing prospective athletes from their families almost entirely to live in training facilities. But hey, again, that's for the big boys in places like the government to decide. You know, people like President Bush...

Always Wrap Your Turd Nuggets in a Two-Dollar Bill

Last week—Thursday morning I believe—I took the mother of all dumps. Not sure this was the largest bowel movement of my life, but it only took one look to tell me this was going to need a plunger unless I wanted to risk dangerous overflow. The term "mother of dumps" makes a lot of sense as it would then be a large dump that would be capable of giving birth to smaller dumps. Much like a 135lb woman might give birth to an 8lb baby, calling an average dump one pound and following this model, the "mother of all dumps" would correlate to something like 16lbs. I think my numbers are quite off here (or I hope so). Anyway, since I love word play, it got me thinking about "the father of all dumps." I think this can be nicely summed up as your bowel-cleansing-inducing food of choice. For many people this is Taco Bell, but a standard cheeseburger does the trick for me if I haven't had red meat in a while.

Moving on but not really past the fecal then, Saturday I found myself at The Levee: home of the two-dollar bill wrapped turd. I've given it that lovely subheading because, while I was tossing some darts, my companions were discovering just that. I don't know who has the presence, or dementia rather, of mind to place a piece of poop inside a two-dollar bill and lay it on a bar surface, but the answer is at least partially "someone who was in The Levee Saturday night." The culprit could certainly benefit from this product from the Brown Corporation. And aside from some slut in heels stomping on my flip-flop clad foot (my fault for wearing flip flops to a club, but I think this was going to hurt even with a shoe on and I'm mostly just pissed because the bitch went on her merry way like it didn't happen) it was a good night. Hell, I never expected to see a dollar slice of pizza again in New York City, but there it was, and not even that bad.

As usual, my the train back to Jersey was lots of fun. Rarely do I go an entire round trip without witnessing several incidences of out and out jerkery. On this occasion it was an elderly and presumptuous slag that decided it was the duty of others around her to help her off the train. Shortly before her stop (which happened to be the same as mine) she pronounced to two girls seated ahead of me that one of them could help her off the train. Yes, not asked, stated...they should be so lucky...When it came time for our stop, I stood there clad in my moderately-to-highly douchey get-up of tight jeans, white v-neck, sunglasses and iPod. Still, this did little to deter said slag from declaring "he can help me off the train." He was me in this instance, and I had little choice as her greasy claws (they weren't greasy, but it makes for a better effect) were upon me as she made this declaration. She thanked me after I helped her off and I just walked away shaking my head and laughing. The thing is, I would gladly have helped this lady had she simply asked, but I never like presumptuous self-important fuckers.

I've got a potty mouth, but what I don't have is the patience to proofread this post. Catch you on the flipside.

Jeb's Summer 2k8 Playlist

A little while ago I'd gotten a couple of emails basically calling me out on my own musical tastes (on the coattails of posting something about musical elitism). I think I said it then, and I'll say it again, they are pretty varied. What I decided to do, then, was comprise a list of 30 songs of Summer, one for each day of August (retroactive to yesterday). Picking only thirty was tough, I admit, and there are probably some glaring omissions (e.g. Sublime) but, in the meantime, here are some jams, most of them Summer-esque.


1. "Escape" - Enrique Iglesias. This song makes me happy every time it comes on my playlist.

2. "Naive" - The Kooks. Love the British enunciation.

3. "Lean on Sheena" - The Bouncing Souls. "Here we are after dark, knocking back the Maker's Mark..." Could be the Jersey in me, but I love the Bouncing Souls.

4. "Eventually Anyway" - Edna's Goldfish. From my ska-loving days. Still good.

5. "Paper Heart" - The All-American Rejects. This track can be my dirty little secret.

6. "Just a Little Respect" - Erasure. Obviously.

7. "Bizarre Love Triangle" - New Order. Original, or extended dance remix. All-timer.

8. "My Egyptian Grammar" - The Fiery Furnaces. A friend of mine recommended this band to me a while back. Upon first listen I gave it the seal of disapproval, but somehow this track was on my iPod and when it came on I had no desire to turn it off. In fact, I just kept wanting to hear it.

9. "This is Such a Pity" - Weezer. Newish Weezer (from "Make Believe) and for some reason I love this jam.

10. "Apart" - Elkland. I don't think I really like any other Elkland songs, but they've had me with this one.

11. "Trash" - The Whip. Saw these guys at a free concert in McCarren park a couple of weeks ago. I immediately needed this song.

12. "Walcott" - Vampire Weekend. These guys seem not to like Cape Cod, but I dig this song.

13. "Macy Day Parade" - Green Day. Not new and not classic, but I've been feelin' it.

14. "Kids" - MGMT. I admit it, this song still gets me pumped.

15. "The Gambler" - Kenny Rogers. Probably the only Kenny Rogers' song I can name. Great stuff.

16. "Semi-Charmed Life" - Third Eye Blind. Du-du-du-du-du-du-dude I have been listening to this song since probably eighth grade or so. When it gets sunny out, I like to hear this.

17. "Sitting, Waiting, Wishing" - Jack Johnson. Every summer needs at least one Jack Johnson song. This summer this is that song.

18. "Under Pressure" - David Bowie & Queen. This song just rules.

19. "Common People" - Pulp. At least one Pulp song needed to be on this playlist and this seemed the right fit.

20. "Goodbye Horses" - Q Lazarus. Okay, maybe this doesn't belong on a summer playlist, but it's summer and I've been listening to this and this is my playlist, so there it is.

21. "Always On My Mind" - Pet Shop Boys. Again, can't have a playlist without Pet Shop Boys. This narrowly edged out "Flamboyant."

22. "Somewhere Only We Know" - Keane.

23. "Ayo For Yayo" - Andre Nikitina. I just like to hear this song any time of year, so why not summer.

24. "Back in The Day" - Ahmad. Summer eventually draws to a close and summer always makes me think of summers past, or what it was like, "back in the day."

25. "The Seed" - The Roots. Just a good song.

26. "Mardy Bum" - The Arctic Monkeys.

27. "Change Your Mind" - The Killers.

28. "Yours to Keep" - Teddybears. Yes.

29. "Hawaiian Superman" - Israel Kamakawiwaole. The deceased artist everyone knows for his "Somewhere Over the Rainbow Medley." RIP.

30. "African Queen" - 2face Idibia. I don't understand how you wouldn't love this song.

If I have time tomorrow or the next day, I'll try to youtube link for song samples. As they say on the posterboard at my old middle school: "Have a Safe and Happy Summer."