Archive for the ‘The Human Uterus’ category

There Will Be Parte Dos

February 28, 2008

Hm, this seems like it should’ve been posted quite awhile ago. Oh well.

We continue our story later that night after a shower and other necessary functions after day one of snowboarding.


Hey look! It’s the Oregon-USC game on a giant plasma! Awesome! Oh no, they’re not hitting anything! Oh wait now they’ve decided to storm back with two minutes left to completely overpower the Trojans and tie the game with a second left! And now they just gave up and lost. Blech.


S’mores seemed to be a reasonable way to drown the sorrows of watching Daniel Hackett bank in two crucial threes. Notice the focus.


I’m putting on a brave face. Between what a day of snowboarding did to my body and what another blown Duck game did to my heart, I was in shambles.


The next day, this time we went to Homewood. Oliver looks the part. Me, not so much.


From the beginning, it didn’t seem like it was going to be my day. I never thought I’d long for the days of a gondola, but nothing makes you miss a gondola like taking an eight minute lift ride in heavy snow. I’ll admit it, I was scurrrrrred.


So for obvious reasons, I quit. I did one “Beginner” run, that I still maintain was no such thing. We only did a half day anyway, so it wasn’t a gigantic quit, just an ordinary-sized one.


Homewood is just a front for a mountain of lies. My supposed beginner run has temporarily derailed my dreams of snowboarding superstardom. If and when these dreams play out, I’ve decided to give myself the nickname of “The Flying Bran Muffin.”

After the mountain…


Here’s Jeff (Asian) eating some Sun-dried Tomato and Basil Wheat Thins. This may have been the best part of the trip for me. Any time you can come back from a vacation claiming a new cracker in your repertoire, it’s at least a moderate success.


View from The Chalet. I wouldn’t say we lived in the lap of luxury for a couple days, but we lived in the lap of luxury for a couple days. We cocoaed, ate hummus, overpriced pizza, mozzerella sticks, and almost died from Oliver starting a fire in his fireplace that sent smoke and fumes to the upstairs part of the house.


Chandelier.


Oliver brushing his teeth. You’re welcome for such an inside peek at my life.


Our steed for the drives to and from Reno and Tahoe. I played no part in digging it out because I was too busy fearing that we may be snowed in until April. Turns out everybody else de-snowed the car in about six minutes. Oops.


The Chalet, itself. Honestly, we were just grateful that Oli didn’t burn it down. For serious.


Jeff made this. I’ll be honest, it’s just as funny now as it was then, which, for the record, is very.


Clearly, Jeff (Asian) didn’t have the energy to stay awake during the drive back after crafting such a magnificent snow-peen.


I dominated a video blackjack machine in the Reno Airport. And then I lost a dollar. And then all flights were cancelled. And then we checked into a hotel whose name is also surely the name of a gay bar somewhere.


I give you, The Peppermill! Jeff and Oli gambled more, I watched briefly before slipping into a terrible bed for a three and a half hour nap. I will say this: Reno is the single worst place I’ve ever been to in the world.


You can go to hell, Reno.

No more snowboarding for at least 2008.

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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.