Archive for the ‘KtL’ category

The Story of Why I Struggle to Walk Right Now

April 28, 2008

Here’s a story. Hopefully there’s some sort of important lesson to be learned somewhere in here.

On Saturday, Yackie and I decided to drive down to Rendondo Beach to visit Sully and KtL. We’d hang out, eat El Burrito Jr., and watch the NFL Draft. A simple enough day. We got their around 1ish, watched a little of the draft, decided to get El BJ, brought the food back to his place, and watched more NFL Draft. As you can probably imagine, Yackie and KtL were not all that enthused about watching names flash across the screen for any extended period of time. We then went out and walked to the beach, got some frozen yogurt (I went with a Coke Float, I have no idea why), came back and, you guessed it, watched more draft coverage. With all the talk of draft picks, 40 times, verticals, lifting reps, and “thrust,” Sully, Sully’s roomate Josh, and I started talking again about how we should see how fast we could run the 40.

This is where the pain begins.

Sully lent me his Arizona basketball shorts (cursed), Josh put on some sort of über-tight nike shirt, and we all went to West Torrance High School to run the 40. Yackie and KtL both had stopwatches, we blasted Kanye, and generally got pumped for a pretty bad idea (as Yackie stated it was many times).

The school was open and we were lucky enough to have the yard markers painted on to the edge of the track, which circled the football field. I immediately took my shirt off (you’re welcome ladies of the South Bay) to cut down on any possible resistance, and began stretching and jogging around. Sully remained unsure if he would run the 40, as he anticipated injury and/or embarrassment. Josh and I were getting in our respective zones (he played HS football, I HS tennis), positioned everyone, and finally, started sprinting. My goal was to be sub-six seconds.

We ran individual, hand-timed heats on the grass, and both consistently ran in the 5.5-6.1 range, although I don’t think I got in the 6s on the grass. Despite Yackie’s complaining, it was relatively fun, and put my curiosity to sleep.

At this point, Sully decided (after numerous full laps around the track) that he wanted in, but only in a head to head fashion – on the track. He ran two heats. His first heat, he beat Josh by a length and finished around 6.06ish. Not bad, especially considering Sully was hedging his potential time by talking up his distance running and claiming to have no short burst.

In the final race of the evening, I raced Sully on the track for unspoken future bragging rights. It was counted off by Josh, timed by Yackie, and we were off. For some reason, Sully, for the first time that day, started grunting and moaning during the sprint, throwing me off a little. I don’t make excuses, Sully beat me by a length fair and square. Immediately after finishing, I felt a tightness in my hamstrings, and started walking a little more gingerly. I didn’t think much of it, and just chalked it up to soreness from not having sprinted in quite some time.

We got some more food, drove home, and lo and behold, the soreness increased. Fast forward a bit, and by the time I woke up yesterday, I could barely move. My hamstrings were the size of softballs, my hips (which don’t lie) hurt everytime I did anything more than flinch, and I became certain that I had not only just shin splints, but hip, quad, knee, shin, and foot splints.

Rad.

Today, I tried walking with Yackie at a regular pace in my neighborhood before she laughed and asked if it was ok to walk ahead at a normal speed. This isn’t good.

As I sit here now typing this, I just tried to cross my legs on the ledge underneath my desk, and it was an unnecessarily lengthy struggle.

Officially, I’m day to day, but I may be sent down for a simulated game and then a rehab assignment.

The lesson here: never fool yourself into thinking it’s a good idea to try to run the 40 yard dash, especially multiple times. I don’t get how it is I’m slower than every single offensive lineman ever, but I now accept it as fact.

Also, Yackie is almost always wrong about things, but occasionally she can be correct.

Ugh.

Wha? Monday Bullets?

December 17, 2007


Pre-SuperBurrito.

You got it Chachi. You got it.

• I’m watching House right now and it’s pretty good. Hugh Laurie is fairly strong but I’m not so crazy about the supporting cast. I guess it’s pretty much the Cleveland Cavaliers of the Fox drama department.

• Last night, I went back to Don Antonio’s (yes, the Don Antonio’s) with Yackie, Sully, and KtL. Last time we went was the day UCLA embarrassed themselves in the Final Four this past March. Sully wound up likewise embarrassing himself when he got conquered by the Chicken Super Burrito ($10.75). Fast forward to yesterday, all remained similar (save for Yackie getting an enchilada this time) and Sully managed to at least stay awake through dessert, albeit in a pompous, over-the-top fashion. I have no idea if he fell asleep during the car ride home with KtL, and I don’t know if we’ll ever know. God Speed, Sully, God Speed.

Oregon lost to Nebraska. Tajuan Porter, had an unreal game, but couldn’t make a free throw. I don’t like where this season is heading if the Ducks can’t make defensive stops, hit free throws, and get controlled play from the point guard position, they’ll be sixth-ish in the Pac-10 instead of second-ish, where they should be. Blech.

• Had a downright tasty lunch with old buddy RPT (she’s not old, although I’m pretty sure older than I am), visiting from Portland. I ate with her and her friends she was visiting at Canter’s. It was pretty uneventful (I went with the standard CB Sand), other than a fire truck and ambulance sitting outside the restaurant to take somebody away. Not all that surprising – Canter’s skews anything but young.

Andrew Bynum‘s arms look to be about nine feet long. He looks to be pretty good at basketball. Woo.

• It’s college football recruiting season, which, of course, brings out the recruiting uber-nerd in me. I won’t go into any detail that will at some point incriminate me (and there are many far worse than I), but the Ducks’ class appears to be coming together quite nicely. You’re bored, I’m moving on.

American Gangster is pretty good, not great, though.

• The season two highlight reel of the CFTG I believe should be up on SI and my site in the near future. You won’t believe all the nudity, A-list celebrities, and rampant drug use that’s included. Mostly because it’s not in there.

• The season four Lost trailer looks awesome. Crazy Asian guy from Uncle Junior’s nursing home on The Sopranos? Check. The guy who played Eugene from Eugene, OR from Rescue Dawn? Check. More of the Jack beard? Check. I’m jazzed. Ok, I’ll never say “jazzed” again.

• I just downloaded the CTU phone ringing sound as a new ringtone for my iPhone. I won’t lie, I’m pretty excited.

More later this week. Yes….more!!

Fotografias, Parte Dos

July 30, 2007

This is part deux. Unfortunately, due to legal issues, I’m unable to post the pictures I just took at the Playboy Mansion celebrating The College Football Tour Guide. Sorry.

The Birthday Fiesta


Yackie made a cookie cake. If you’ve outgrown cookie cake, chances are I don’t associate with you. Efforts to convince Yackie to include my full name in frosting went unfulfilled.


Guns.

You’ll notice the lovely kitchen that couldn’t possibly be mine. My parents were kind enough to let me move all my crap into the casa while waiting to move to the other coast. You’ll also notice that Sully has what appears to be a male gunt (munt?).


One of the central themes to this gala was the Chickadilla. I shouldn’t have to explain what a chickadilla is (triangular chicken finger, quesadilla hybrid), but let it be known that it trumps most other Americanized Italian fast-food appetizers. Pictured: Yackie in the midst of a chickadasm.


Big Daddy Eisner chickadasm. You’ll notice the subtlety and grace with which he eats his chickadilla. Some attribute this to his dipping choice of ranch dressing. Others say he takes Ameci‘s appetizers far too seriously. We may never know.


KtL‘s first chickadilla. I can’t say for sure, but I think Sully loves her a little more after witnessing two of his favorite things in life come together in one magical moment. Sully, in particular, is one of the biggest proponents of the chickadilla in the Greater Los Angeles Area may ever see.


See. Such style, such decisiveness. If you ask me, it’s a wonder he stayed on the market as long as he did. KtL truly has a late round steal in Kevin Sully.


When I blow out birthday candles, I make as much of an effort to appear as primate-y as possible. Just my thing.


Big Daddy Eisner, on the other hand, get’s so excited that his pits explode with anticipation sweat. Miller Time appears to be in drastic need of seconds.


Woo.

The combination of too much chickadilla (some say this phenomena doesn’t exist), too much pizza, too much alcohol, too much cookie cake, and too much milk mixing with all of this wasn’t smart. I’ll save you the details of my night. We’ll leave it at saying that my religious pleas went answered, albeit barely.

The Birthday Dia


Yackie and I decided to go to Ventura for a couple hours for the ol’ 24th birthday. This is the Anacapa Brewing Co., whose greatness was discovered by Yackie and Me, and later confirmed by Sully and KtL. Rating: 5 out of 5 Steinies.


Pulled pork, duh. I get so transfixed by this sandwich that I suck out all of the light behind me. I really have no idea why it seems so cavernous behind me – it looks as if we had to know some sort of password and kill a hobo to get into this place, but I assure you, everything was on the level.


Yackie with her sandwich. She got so excited over this sandwich that she turned pale with excitement. Oh wait, never mind, standard pigmentation.


Artsy fartsy and out of focus. Just how I like it.


Hobo-killing darkness!!


When one reaches 24, he must understand that it’s probably time to start acting more adult and celebrate occasions accordingly. Or so I’m told. Here is some mini-golf and go-karting.


Yackie kept it surprisingly close, considering her lack of wingspan, upside, and athleticism. She’s got what you can’t teach (no, not heart) – sheer luck.


Her form is remarkably below-average, although she makes up for it by viciously cheating with absolutely no remorse. I should probably make a mental note of this.


I never felt weird mini-golfing that day, mostly because we were playing behind the lead singer of Nickelback‘s skinnier, terrible mini-golf playing cousin.


Unmatched focus. Sure, I may have held up some little kids looking to keep moving, but you can’t rush perfection. You just can’t.


Call me a hippy, but I stand by my separation of church and mini-golf ethos.


Look at that form. If Big Daddy Eisner were there, his pits would’ve exploded with form-envy sweat. I closed out the round late, proving once again that my upside and wingspan trumps Yackie’s ability to luck into putts and viciously cheat without remorse.


To celebrate, I sped around in a go-kart that I barely fit into. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t drive the Cole Trickle way. Rubbing=racing, just ask Big Daddy Eisner’s daddy, Big Red Eisner.


Almost the entire race was spent in second place, or as it’s more correctly coined – first place loser. Back to the drawing board I go.


Good times were had by all. I couldn’t catch the first kart, Yackie refused to kart, I bumped somebody illegally while gaining inside position, and my picture is now probably on an “Unwelcome Parties” list at Golf-n-Stuff. Oh well, there’s always next year.

Scandinavia Knows How to Party

June 4, 2007

• So there’s one more episode of Sopranos left. The last 35 minutes of last night’s episode was downright nerve-wracking. They won’t possibly be able to tie up every loose end and open-ended plot line in 65 minutes next week, but I’m sure it’ll still be infinitely better than anything that’s ever happened on Bones or Medium. I’m too hung up on how much better Sopranos is, rather than how good it is, if that makes sense. By the way. the scene where all the strippers and bouncers come running out of the Bing naked was great, and I say that speaking beyond the nudity, although that doesn’t hurt.

Entourage loses me a little every week. It’s as if they know this and specifically named a new character (played by Adam Goldberg) Rubenstein, just to make me happy. So far, I’m on board, but soon I’ll need a Dan Rubenstein to stay fully committed.

• I make good turkey tacos. The key is using the thinnest shredded cheese possible and La Victoria Hot Taco Sauce. I’m pretty easy.

• Ernie Kent will be signing copies of the Oregon Basketball 2006-07 DVDs at the UO Bookstore this week. I don’t know if he’s personalizing them or not (my guess is no), but if he is, I want somebody to get me one that says, “Moooove, Dan, moooove. – Ernie Kent”

• I just looked down at my fingernails and thought I may have unconsiously murdered somebody, as they appeared to be bloody. Good thing I realized that it was just La Victoria Hot Taco Sauce.

Knocked Up gets a solid A from me. Tons of Freaks and Geeks and Undeclared supporting cast, Seth Rogen is great, Heigl held her own, and their was even a fantasy baseball scene. I wish I had a personalized ratings system for a movie like this. Ok, fine, I will. I give it 4.5 out of 5 Rubies. I’ve got to figure out what a Ruby looks like so I can create a visual for my rating system, but just know Knocked Up is great and you’ll get more value out of your $11 than if you went and saw Shrek or Johnny Depp.

• The new Patton Oswalt cd is still really good. It opens with a frank discussion of the KFC Famous Bowls, which somehow were considered to be famous just as they were released. I’m starting my own campaign for restaurants to prove the fame of menu items. Times will change under my watch.

• I went to Manhattan Beach on Saturday night to attend a party that coincided with the week of Sully‘s birthday (although I would not call it his birthday party). I drank most of a cup of what tasted like sweetened Drain-O and stood around uncomfortably as familiar Calabasas faces loomed nearby. I almost saw Oliver “Don’t Call me Squanto” Gunanto but left before he arrived. Yes, I gave him that nickname, it was a tennis thing.

• I did nearly 41 pushups today and expect to be wiggling my rippling pectorals in no time. That’s right, ladies.

• No word on KtL in Europe. While I was probably overreacting when I guessed that she had taken up with Richard Krajicek, Sully admitted that he’d be less hurt if KtL started a whirlwind romance with Stefan Edberg. I’m not sure why this is, my guess is Sully just has a soft spot for Scandinavian serve and volleyers.

• In a related story, Sully managed to embarass American tennis even more than the professional men did at Roland Garros, which is saying something.

• The Dodgers haven’t hit a home run since 2003. Thankfully, they got rid of Paul Konerko.

• I don’t really go there all that often, but before Knocked Up, Yackie and I went to The Cheesecake Factory and they had apparently removed my go-to sandwich from the menu. Luckily, my spirits were raised when Yackie tore through a slice of cheesecake like she hadn’t eaten since the last Dodger home run.

• Oh yes, back to the Manhattan Beach non-Sully birthday party. After the party cleared out pretty early, we (Sully, Big Daddy Eisner, future Sully roomate Josh, and I) went to some bar/club that was either very close or very far from the party. It was uneventful, save for the girl who did everything short of procreation with a happily cooperative guy on the dance floor. Seriously, it was difficult for any male within 15 feet to concentrate on anything else for a solid 25 minutes. I tried to bust a move in her general area, but she wasn’t having it. My guess is she knew that she wasn’t ready for this jelly.

I don’t know how this sort of thing begins, but I can go as far as guessing that the guy probably didn’t just go up to her and ask if she would mind dancing on him to the point where her uterus was possibly exposed. I heart clubs.

Time to keep pounding the pecs/go to sleep.

Hey Y’all

May 30, 2007

Hello. I was out of town this past weekend to do some work back east (more to come on this) but I’m back now, so all order will now be restored to the world.

• I just ate at City Wok (get it??) with Sully. They didn’t give us enough lettuce cups for our lettuce wraps, so I had to go ask for more lettuce – there’s a first time for everything. The standard orange-y chicken there is good but spicy. I almost died when a a piece of pepper got lodged in my throat. Sully then got a Jamba Juice while becoming increasingly worried that KtL will soon begin dating Richard Krajicek. I had a ridiculously generous $1 scoop of Rite Aid ice cream.

• The NBA Playoffs are still going on. I’m pretty sure the first round began in mid-January.

• Every American male was eliminated at the French Open in the first round. While embarrassing, it pales in comparison to the egg that Sully apparently laid at a tennis club in the ‘Mento this past weekend.

• Last week, I went and saw the Dodgers beat the Brewers. The positives include Saitomania continuing to sweep Chavez Ravine and the negatives include my inaugural garlic fries sweeping across my gastrointestinal system for 8-10 hours. I’ll announce in this very space the next time I plan to go to Dodger Stadium so that my widespread readership can collectively purchase Tums stock in record amounts.

• I found a site that detailed the Lost finale a few days before it aired and couldn’t resist reading it. It was all correct, but the finale was amazing nonetheless. There will supposedly be flash-forwards and flash-backs next year, which will be interesting/wreak havoc on my below-average comprehension skills.

Big Daddy Eisner was once again held in the “love dungeon” over the weekend. The man has both given love a chance and apparently given love-nesting a chance. Kudos.

• I don’t know how it happened, but all of the sudden I noticed that I had become wildly addicted to Run’s House. Last night I found out that this week’s episode was the season finale and became inexplicably disappointed and anxious. This is a problem.

See you at Sully’s Super Sweet 23.

Hola.

May 1, 2007

Quickly, and I’m not sure why this is at all news, but here is what is probably a redundant, self-serving post featuring Jackie, Sully, KtL (Sully’s far more photogenic lady friend), and plates of Mexican food. A few weeks ago, we went to Don Antonio’s because it was a seemingly normal Mexican restaurant on the west side that happened to be frequented by Spencer from The Hills, also known as Sully’s favorite television personality, well, ever.

This time we went to El Coyote on Beverly, partly because it’s been on (I think) Newlyweds, possibly The Hills, who really knows. Mainly, it earned its stripes serving Big Daddy Eisner when he’s out on the town. That’s a good enough endorsement for me. I’ll be back tomorrow, although I’m sure K-Town has his doubts.


To his credit, Sully went into the meal refusing to order any item with an overblown adjective (super, colossal, huge, mega, etc.). It should be noted, however, that he didn’t vow not to give a retarded, vaguely climactic glance at his combo meal once it arrived.


It should also be noted that we were all understandably excited when the waiter brought over a side of guac that nobody ordered with their meal (and we didn’t get charged). KtL was strictly business, swooping in a chip before Sully even had a chance to compose himself. She was anxious, he was rattled. Cute couple.


I got a plate of red and yellow. It’s actually a chicken enchilada and taco (side plate) combo with beans and rice, but honestly, there’s a very good chance I’d order a menu item if it were simply called “A Plate of Random Red and Yellow Sauces and Cheeses with Accompanying Delicious Accessories.” Some might say I’m a slut for Mexican food. I say that some use the word “slut” a little too loosely.


With the way Sully’s hair has been behaving lately, I’m inclined to believe that he’s secretly auditioning to play keyboards for a wedding band. I hear the whole curly shag and semi-mullet plays well in Nevada, but you’re in the show now, Sully, pretend like you’ve been here before.


I’ve been running more, so my huge head is only giant now, so that’s good. Also, I feel that I have a five-star left nipple, and I’m not afraid to let the world know about it.

That’s all of them. The lead singer of Modest Mouse is wearing a funny-looking hat on Letterman right now, so I’m going to go watch.