Get Your Finger Out of That!

For a while now, I've been using this stuff called "crystal wax" in my hair. I think the name makes it sound more exciting and mysterious than it really is. I like to imagine orcs harvesting crystals in dark mines. Once collected, warlocks with purple cloaks crush the crystals to a fine wax--just so I can have spikey hair.

But now, I am not spiking my hair. It's gotten long and so I am now trying "the messy look." It seems to me that those hip guys who can pull off the messy look go to a lot of work to make it look like they don't go to any work at all. It's not just waking up and coming to work like I'd hoped. You actually have to do stuff with it. Having had 1/8 inch hair for the last 7 years, this is weird. Long hair also takes new hair products--leaving all those warlocks jobless, no doubt.

Anyway, I had to go to the store and get new hair product. I found some stuff called "Hair Putty." It's not just a clever name. It's actually spacle for your hair. At least, it looks like it. And because I am doing a lot of work on my walls at home, I am afraid I'll get confused and end up with spacle in my hair.

Anyway, the Hair Putty comes in a little canister with a screw-on top. Well, yesterday morning when I opened it for the first time, there was a finger mark in my new hair putty. It was quite evident that someone had poked their finger right into the middle. I can just imagine some dude stabbing his finger into my hair putty and then working it in for the messy look--in the aisle of Dominicks.

Hmmm, either that or he poisoned it.


Big Day for C-Dog

Hey exciting news: Family Force 5 has now posted Charissa's FF5 cartoon on their offical myspace page and in their fan e-bulletin. Cool, huh? It's now been watched by 9,000 people on YouTube.com.

Charissa got an e-mail from a band rep who said that they all love it. They gather around the computer and watch it over and over--and have shown it to the other bands they are touring with.

Congrats, Charissa.


My Badge of Pain

On Saturday night, My Intended and I were out at a progressive dinner. While I was progressing to eat 150,000 calories, the snow and ice were also progressing. While the roads weren't really bad at all on the way to the first house, the storm picked up considerably while we were there.

As we were going to the final house, I noticed that everyone else could drive faster than me in the snowy-icy conditions. That's normal with my rear-wheel drive pickup truck, of course, but I have weight in the back so I thought it should be better.

My Intended mentioned that the problem could be the weight distribution. She had a point. Because I've been moving all my old friends out of my house, I've moved the sand bags to the very front of the bed to make room. Without them centered above the wheel mounts, the weight wasn't helping much.

So, when we arrived to the final house for dessert (shout out to loyal reader Megan!), I told My Intended to go inside while I arranged the weight bags. Well, what happened after that no one knew.

The back of my truck bed has a hard fiberglass lid on it. It easy lifts up--and normally stays up. But with a couple inches of ice and snow, it was very heavy. Wile I could lift it up, it wouldn't stay open on its own. Instead of doing the smart thing of finding someone to hold the lid open for me, I lifted the lid enough to get the tailgate down, lowered the lid and crawled in. I can do it myself!

Imagine with me, if you will: It's dark. The truck bed is filled with bags of Goodwill clothes and other boxes. The lid is down. And I am crawling around on my belly with about a foot-and-a-half clearance. While tugging 50-pound bags to the center of the truck.

It actually all went pretty well. When I was ready to get out, I noticed that I could kind of crawl out--and push the bed lid up with my back. This was easier that slithering backward. It was also stupid. As I was about the get out, I lost hold of the ice-covered and heavy lid being supported by my back. It slammed down on the back of my head--and knocked my forehead into a hard plastic crate I use to haul stuff.

At first, I was sure I had a concussion. I kind of stumbled around a bit in the snow. Neighbors probably gathered at their warm windows to watch the clumsy drunk man cavorting in the snow. Eventually, I pulled myself together and went inside. I am pretty sure that I was a little "slow" once I got inside. I just stayed quiet and when I tried to have conversations, I am pretty sure some of my sentences didn't make much sense.

A little while later, I had a little red mark on my forehead as a badge of stupidity. My Intended called it my Harry Potter scar. That was pretty accurate--it was shaped like the corner of the box I landed on so had a bit of a zig-zag effect to it. My mark is gone now. And it's too bad because it would tingle when I was around Voldemort.

But anyway, the good news about the story is that I took the blow to the head--where not much further damage can really be done.


Welcome, Old Friend

Well, let the mocking begin. I've brought R2-D2 into the office. I think he looks cool in here. And that makes two robots in our department. Let's see Resources beat that!

Anyway, three comments on R2 already:

"Throw some clothes on the floor, and it's a 12-year-old's closet." -
Designer Doug

"Boy, it's every high school boy's dream come true." -Marilyn

"Oh, it's a soda cooler? I thought it was a urinal." - Designer Doug

Well, at least the condo is quickly clearing out. The Intended and I have taken three peices of furniture to her house and several tubs and boxes to Jeff's basement. I've thrown away over 10 bags of garbage. And now R2 is in his new home. So, just about everything that had to be out of the condo before showing it is out. I've now begun a lot of the wall work--just sanding, caulking, and filling cracks and nail-holes. Painting will begin soon.

My Intended walked in a few nights ago and said the place looks a lot different already. It does. It seems a lot bigger. And more bare. It's not me anymore...but it looks nice. When I get the painting done, I will be proud to show it. It should look good.

As I've been doing work around the house these two weeks, my talking to myself has increased. I'm not sure why that is. I guess there's more to say when you are working than just sitting around. I've noticed trends in how I talk to myself. A friend of mine recently told me that she discovered that whenever talking to herself she somehow adopts an accent. I don't talk any differently, but I do talk in the plural. And my favorite phrase that I always say aloud to myself has always been, "Okay, now we have to..."

However, as I've been moving and packing, I've discovered a new favorite talking-to-myself line. Last night I found myself picking up a piece of furniture and saying to it, "Well, old friend..." I realized that I've been calling a lot of my possessions "old friend" recently.

That's kinda weird.


Income = One Sandwich

Wedding Wednesday
Tonight, My Intended and I have our big premarital counseling session to talk about money and budgets. From our mentor couple and other married folk around us, we've long heard many horror stories about money fights and shocking realizations of how fast money goes when you are a couple. Still, we got quite the shock last Friday night when we did our first combined budget.

Using records we kept of our expenses through January, we made a monthly budget considering everything--from DVD rentals to band-aids. We considered all income--her salary, tax returns, Dominick's coupons, freelance work, everything. We even included my salary. Since I'm a non-profit journalist, we just wrote "one sandwich" on the line for my yearly income.

Of course, it's not quite that bad. I kid. But still, when it was all said and done, we found that we were $600 in the hole PER MONTH. We were really depressed. And confused. How can we both be currently paying mortgages separately but yet together we can't afford one? I decided the problem was too many DVD rentals and new clothes. I was worried we'd never be able to afford children. I was concerned about never eating Salt Creek again. But really, I just couldn't believe that all the Chicken Little warnings from wedding books about how quickly money disappears in a marriage were true. Well, at least we thought they were for about 12 hours.

On Saturday morning, My Intended ran all the numbers again. It turns out that we had entered my paycheck as my monthly income. However, I get paid TWICE a month. We were chopping my salary in half and that solved the whole budgeting problem.

I tell ya, that half of sandwich makes a big difference.


I've Got Theories.

There was a time when I'd put Sweet Baby Ray's BBQ sauce on anything. Well, like food. I wouldn't just lather it on my shoes or anything. Designer Doug and I even keep a bottle in the fridge in our department.

But today, it's not working for me. I am eating a leftover skillet meal from a Greek place. There's a lot of hash browns. I want ketchup for it. Since I have none I tried Sweet Baby Ray's. I'm not a fan. I guess that shoots my theory that SBR's can make any food better. But that's OK, my other two life-ruling theories remain intact:

1) The Kuleta Monkey Theory. According to this discipline founded by my old college roommate, there is a monkey somewhere on TV at all times. It is testable by slowly flipping through your channels. Before you get back to the channel you started on, you will see a monkey 90% of the time. It's so true. I've only had this NOT work once when demonstrating for crowds of people.

2) The Theory of Chocolate Fountain Supremacy. This theory is all mine. I developed it in many, many experiments of serious scholarship. The theory is simple: You can stick any food product in a chocolate fountain and not be disappointed. I began my research at a party in Nashville when I first beheld the magic of the chocolate fountain. I tried nachos. Buns. Pizza. Anything. It all becomes better. Besides that, any chocolate will taste better if run through a fountain. It's just true.


The theory that rock music only gets better with dragons continues to be upheld.

This weekend, Charissa posted her Family Force 5 video onto YouTube and is getting mucho attention for it. You should check it out. It runs much smoother and quicker now. And even after dozens of views, it's still wonderful.

It's been viewed over 800 times. Family Force 5 has seen it and commented on their audio blog this weekend. They called it "hilarious."


Glory Glory Hallelujah!

Shhh, do you hear that sound? In the distance?

It's the popping of a ball in a glove. Oh sweet glory, baseball is back. Spring Training is beginning and it feels so good. A peek at my windows weather widget tells me it's -4 degrees out. But just knowing that somewhere out there someone is playing baseball brings the sun out in my heart.

Do you know how we know it's time for baseball season? Hands are permanently chapped and red because the Illinois winter has been so cold for so long. Sunflower seeds begin to litter the ground. The White Sox unveil new catchphrases. The Coop mixes up a new bag of magic. Random old players are signed to minor league deals. Barry Bonds speculation fills 3/4 of sports radio airplay again. And of course, Kerry Wood gets hurt.

Speaking of that, I really got into the baseball spirit this morning by reading this article about weird baseball injuries. My favorite? "Back in the 1920s, Red Sox pitcher Clarence Blethen had a fondness for taking out his false teeth while he pitched. One day, he forgot to put them back in his mouth when batting. After getting on base, he tried to break up a double play at second base and he landed so hard on his butt that his own teeth bit him."

Only in baseball.

Quotes of the Week

"Your genes came with a longer inseam." -My sister.

"I love the sun." -My sister.


Boys Are Stupid

So I was at the flower shop last night getting flowers. You know, it's Valentine's Day. And it's 4:30. So I had ordered my flowers on Saturday. I am glad I did because I get there and there's like 7 guys in line asking for arrangements on the spot. I couldn't believe they show up at the end of the day and just expect to get flowers made up quickly. But I guess that's what men do.

Anyway, my favorite guy there was this kid barely out of his teens. He was the kind of guy who always got picked first in P.E. kickball--tough and cool, but not a scholastic star. He stands there in line for at least 15 minutes--watching as people leave with roses and the florists make arrangements with roses--and when he gets to the counter he says, "Uh, do you have roses?"

I think maybe he thought roses were some exotic flower that only his lady wanted--but most stores don't carry.

The cashier, who is holding a bunch for a customer, says, "Yes."

And then the guy says, "Do you have some I can buy?"

I wanted the cashier to say, "No, but I can rent you these. Just bring them back."

But she was polite to him and he blew like $90 on a dozen roses. Whoa. This same store sells roses for $1 each any other week of the year.

To continue the boys are stupid theme, I then went to Jewel at like 11:00 last night. I lost my gloves. So, I bought a pair of gloves for 34 cents. yah: 34 CENTS. Surprisingly, they aren't so hot. Or warm. Or fit very well. So my frugality has bit me in the bum. But the good news is that I came to work today and found my gloves. Now, the 34 cent pair is unneeded after all.

Speaking of my frugality...

Cereal update
After one month, I am now on my 5th bag of cereal from that 11 bag purchase. Oh yah, I am flying through these bags. I told ya, I eat a lot of cereal--32 ounces a week it seems. There were those who doubted I could eat 352 ounces of cereal before I move out in June. Or before it goes bad. But I will. Oh yes. The cereal's going down.


The End of An Era

I've lived in my condo since September 2004. Last Thursday, I met with a realtor to begin the end of that era.

It's an exciting time. I look forward to moving in with my future wife. But it's always an interesting process to be closing a chapter in order to open a new one. This was the first home that was "mine"--not just in terms of owning it but also that I lived by myself. I decorated it. I took care of it. I cleaned it all--or it didn't get cleaned. It was my home. In a way, it was me.

And still is, but now I am hurriedly readying it to go on the market. That means staging the unit as very neutral and impersonal. Wall hangings go down. Shelves get cleaned out. Knick-knacks go away. That also means painting over all walls that aren't neutral colors. That means goodbye Monopoly-themed bathroom. Goodbye very-blue dining room. Goodbye Sci Fi Living Room. Goodbye White Sox corner. Goodbye homemade Star Wars endtable.

It's weird to be packing up to move about 4 months before I will actually move. I am packing up some things in boxes that won't be opened until July or later. Other boxes will be things I do need before the wedding--but that need to be out of the unit for showing. Some stuff I need everyday. One thing is for sure, when I am done preparing this unit to go on the market in March it will look and feel like a very different place than the one I've come to call my home. (I plan to show lots of before and after pics here soon).

As I am packing up, I am doing a lot of sorting and organization. I've filled 7 garbage bags in less than a week. I am also doing a lot of reminiscing--both about times in that condo and about stuff I am finding in all my horded belongings. I found a Smurf button last night. And notes for a screenplay. And lots of silly lists that my old boss Randy and I used to keep--like one of all the names I used to call some guy because I could never remember his real name. (It was something like Rufus Hoover. Or Reggie Honus. Or something.)

One good thing about the timing of selling the condo is that it now has heat for the first time in 3 winters. Seriously. And I never realized it. The thing is, my condo is on the third floor and it's HOT all the time. Thanks to heat rising, it's always been just fine in the winter. Until last week when temps went down to -11. Then, for the first time I realized, "Hmmm, the heat doesn't seem to be doing much..."


The End of Todd Super Week

Todd's Super Week (TM) has come to an end with a bang. My Birthday Party was seeing Wicked and eating at the Italian Village in Chicago. First of all, Wicked really rocks. I was impressed. Several people who came with had seen the show 2 to 4 times. But now I understand why they'd come back. It's a great story with catchy tunes and really great set design--including a giant smoking dragon!

We then barely made it to the Italian Village thanks to a tricky closed sidewalk that lured us to walk about 2 blocks out of our way and ended in a dead end. We had to go all the way back and start again. If we were lemmings, we'd be all gone now. We just followed each other through this little tunnel and didn't even question the giant sign that said "CLOSED SIDEWALK." How can 11 people miss the same sign? I don't know. I know my excuse. I saw the sign but instead of reading it, I just thought about pretending to run into it. Anywho, we managed to overcome this setback and get there without being hit by any cars. Which is good because Todd Super Week would have really suffered had the Bears lost AND I got hit by a bus.

Since no one was hit by a bus and the Bears didn't have to play the Colts again, the day was the perfect capper to a truly super Todd Super Week. When it was all said and done, one-forth of my gifts had to do with monkeys. The rest were all related to either Star Wars, the White Sox, Mister Rogers or the Nation's First Ladies. Of course. I may be the only 30-year man who has ever been given a First Ladies Word Search book as a gift. I wear that honor like a badge.

One of my favorite parts of the day was when the waiter tried to lead my party in singing Happy Birthday. After he got them all started, he decided to stop them for some reason. I believe my candle was not lit yet. The problem tho was that the waiter was no conductor. He didn't know the sign for "cut" and just repeatedly waved downward. Of course, my musicically gifted party recognized this as the sign to decrease in volume. So it became like a round of "A little bit softer now, A little bit softer now" until the man finally stopped them. Then, my spumoni with a candle stuck in it was put in front of me. The song started all over. I was so excited that I just sang along. When I realized that I was the guest of honor, I stopped. But man, I can't resist a good sing-a-long.


Everything Smells Like Balloons

OK, so my friends need hobbies. Seriously.

They pranked me again. My office was stuffed with balloons floor to ceiling this morning. This turning 30 thing stinks. When I turn 40, I am moving.

Pictures will come later. The good thing about all this is that I've become a Master Balloon Popper. I swung my scissors like a machete. One poor lady came into the office and thought someone had a machine gun. The best part though was having the company's CEO help me pop balloons. What a company! We had the office cleaned out in 15 minutes this morning! But I've left a bunch of balloons that are magically floating on the ceiling. It's like a rave in here.

My favorite part of this morning was when one of The Pranksters had to return to the scene of the crime because she left her cell phone here. Haha. Almost as good was one Prankster referring to the air compressor they used as "The Inflato Machine."

Well done, gang. I know they invested a lot of time and money into this--and bloodied fingers. So I appreciate it. Besides, I deserve it for all I've done to them.


I think 30 is the legal age to begin doing the "I remember when" game. You know, when you take stock of the world changes you've witnessed. 30 years isn't long. I mean, my grandmother (hey, grandma!) has seen so much change in her life--she's gone from the Depression to reading her grandson's silly blog on the internet. I can't compete.

But even just in 30 years, I too have seen our world change. I decided to make a list this week. There were lots of technological changes (i.e. Beta to DVD). But fittingly, almost everything else I came up with this week was sports.

You know, I remember The Houston Oilers.

I remember the first years of the Florida Marlins and the Colorado Rockies.

I remember going to a Chicago Sting game.

I remember when the Boston Celtics were a respectable franchise.

And I remember when people cared about the Chicago Blackhawks. Well, sort of. Not really.

Quote of the Week
"I forgot we were brother and sister." -My sister.


I Am 30.

Two years ago, I walked into work on my 28th birthday to find my office door shut. "Strange," I thought. I peeked through the window to see odd light reflections. I couldn't figure out what was going on in there. I opened the door to find the office waist-high in black balloons.

I thought, "If I get this for 28, what's gonna happen on my 30th Birthday?"

Last night, I found out.

Now, I was innocent that first birthday when I was pranked. Now, I am not so much. Since the Black Balloon Incident, there have been tinfoilings, strung offices and offices completely emptied. Since I have many people out for revenge, I knew I was gonna get hit hard. Add that to this "milestone birthday" and the sum is trouble.

Thus, I knew some prank was going to happen. I've been very suspicious for about 2 weeks of anything that was said or done out of the ordinary. I've thought through so many scenarios and ideas that I probably could have said, "I thought maybe this is what you'd do" to about anything they did. Not that I knew what they were gonna do, but I had considered lots of possibilities. I even had fleeting thoughts that maybe they'd strike my truck or my home, so I moved the truck around the parking lot often and kept the bed-lid locked. I've booby-trapped the office at night. I also thought maybe they'd do something in the hallway of my condo. But I was counting on them not being able to get into the building, much less my condo.

I went to dinner with The Intended last night. Driving home, I didn't even think that maybe the Pranksters had gotten into my house. I wasn't thinking that anything was out of the ordinary. I wasn't expecting anything until this morning. In fact, I considered stopping by the office on my way home last night to see if the Pranksters were there and surprise them. But I wanted to get home. When I did, my bedroom door was almost completely shut. "Oh no," I thought. I opened the door to find my bedroom filled with nearly 1,000 balloons. They hit me at my home. And they got me good.
It's all come full circle. The balloons were back. But this time they are colorful with celebration--and not black with aging regret. Very nice. The Pranksters deserve credit. This was hard work. They have raw and bloody fingers. They have no oxygen left. They didn't have flavored balloons to make the work more pleasant. And they struck me unaware. I tip my cap. And feel celebrated.

After jumping into the colorful mass and playing in the balloons, I began the long work of popping enough to go to bed. There's still a lot in there. Designer Doug said this morning: "Did you feel like you were sleeping in a music video or a political rally?"

My sister thinks it would have more funny if they filled my bedroom with balloons while I was sleeping. That would have been a feat...but then again, I may have suffocated on latex.

You know, I love birthdays. And I love Todd Super Week. And this is a good one so far (except for that Bears thing). Turning 30 seems like a big deal. It's a big milestone, but increasingly I am learning with every birthday that you never really think of yourself as an adult. You never feel older. I can't believe that as this age my dad was supporting a family with a 5-year-old and a 3-year-old. I am no adult. Am I? Could I do that?

People pointed out to me yesterday that it was the last day of my 20s. Again, that seems significant. But what does it really mean? And how do you celebrate that? Go do something stupid one last time? I don't know. But I did have a beer at dinner and got really goofy off it. That told me that I am definitely not in my 20s anymore. I just don't drink much anymore...and have no tolerance at all.

Anyway, I am now 30 in body. But about 12 in mind. And I'll probably stay that way. I can't wait until my friends fill my room at the nursing home with balloons. Then too, they will have to work around all my Star Wars toys...


Clothe Me in Glory

As many know--especially given my favorite recent gifts--I love funny T-shirts. So, I want to share some faves. Anyway, here's another Top 30:

Todd's Favorite 30 T-shirt Slogans

30. Chicago White Sox: 2005 World Champions. - Let's just get this out of the way. I love that I have a shirt with this "slogan" on it.

29. Authentic Left Coast Punk – Because I am so punk, I love my MxPx shirt.

28. I Heart Hitting People – I like it because of a little heart sign instead of the word ‘love.’

27. Jesus: Cooler Than Nature – All hail the genius of Randomshirts.com.

26. Sorry Ladies, I’m Taken

25. ‘I Want my Rib Back’ –Adam – I laughed aloud when I saw this one.

24. Anchorage Fire Dept. – Who else has one of these? Alaskan fire fighters. And me. I got it in Alaska because a guy in our work group was a fireman. Sweet.

23. The Decepticon Symbol – Not a slogan, no. But a picture of evil says a thousand and one words.

22. Fetchez la Vache – My Spamalot shirt with flipping cows.

21. Calvinism: This Shirt Chose Me. Arminianism: I Chose This Shirt. –My boss has this shirt. It’s smart funny!

20. See Your History Die – I wasn’t really in love with my Staple shirt when I bought it. I just wanted a Staple shirt. But this slogan has really come to mean a lot to me.

19. Too Close for Missiles. I’m Switching to Guns. – I couldn’t pull off this muscle shirt (because my muscles are too big), but it makes me giggle.

18. Jesus is my Muffin man. Do You Know the Muffin Man? – This was the first winner of our magazine’s T-Shirt Slogan Contest.

17. I Am a Whosoever! –John 3:16- This was last year’s T-Shirt Slogan Winner. I thought it was so clever.

16. Push Button. Get Bacon. -I will never wash my hands again…without thinking of bacon.

15. Robot Reading Coloring Book –I love the online description, "If you ever wondered what a robot going through a Relient K coloring book looks like, well, this is it."

14. Predator- This was a gift from a high school friend because I watched the movie almost weekly.

13. I Do All My Own Stunts - A gift from Marc to celebrate my style of sports play--that I have no style but just dive around and "do my own stunts."

12. I Wish I Didn’t Do all My Own Stunts - hahaha.

11. Mexcellent!

10. Don’t Hate the Player, Hate the Game - Funny for me to wear because of how "playa" I am.

9. "Have You Ever Heard of Five Iron Frenzy?" "Yeah, They Owe Me a Dollar."

8. Hip Hop Tour 1984 - A cool retro shirt I found at marshall's for $8! It makes the Top 10 for the line, "Where the Hip-Hop Don’t Stop Till the Breaka—Breaka Dawn."

7. Fact: Clowns Eat People - This shirt gets lots of reaction. Mainly because it is indeed a fact. They do. Actually, this shirt generates conversation because so many people just want to tell me about how scared they are of clowns.

6. Fact: Ninjas Hate Pirates - I love this shirt, but honestly if forced to pick sides, I am going Pirates. Yah, they might lose but they have sing-a-longs. Do ninjas?

5. Meat is Neat! - The perfect storm of a shirt. I love meat. I like to use the word "Neat" a lot. And, it is educational! Want to know your cuts of beef, just look at my torso! And that, my friends, is also a nice cut of beef.

4. Have a Whale of a Day! - This is the second greatest T-shirt my sister has given me. It's just very Todd. And what's great is that it's like a puzzle. I love watching people trying to figure it out.

3. I Am Very Excited to Be Here - This shirt is meant to be a sarcastic comment. But with me, it is true. All the time. Wherever I am, you can bet I am exicted about it. I am like a puppy.

2. I Am Incredible! - Tru dat.

1. Mayor of Awesomeville - My favorite shirt. And it's original. Which is fitting because Awesomeville can only have one mayor.


We Aren't Who We Thought We Were

Well, that wasn't so good. I'm not going to do any analysis or complaining. We all know what happened. The worse part, really, is that my self-dubbed "Todd Super Week" is off to a crummy start.

First, the Bears lose. And then we have the coldest morning in 11 years.

What's "Todd Super Week"? Well, it was to start with the Bears winning the Super Bowl, extend to my 30th Birthday on Wednesday, include about 7 Birthday trips to Salt Creek BBQ and end with Wicked and yummy Italian food on Sunday. But the Bears didn't win. And 11 years ago, I would have been young and spy enough to survive the cold. Now, I am brittle.

But really, what marks Todd Super Week isn't really about victory or not freezing to death. It's about people. And in the next couple of weeks I'll be surrounded by, pranked by and generally celebrated by my friends and family. And that's my favorite part of my birthday. That and Designer Doug's promise to do an interpretive dance of my birth.

Yesterday began the fellowship of Super Week. While the Bears' loss was disappointing, watching the game with my family was awesome. I don't think I will forget one moment in particular.

The game had just begun and my Dad, Chad and I were all on our feet, arms flailing, yelling, "Go Devin GO!," "Hester, Hester, Hester!" and "TOUCHDOWN!" And then we see that 4-month-old Landon is scared out of his mind. He's screaming and crying and scared by what these three men just started doing.

Poor kid. But wait until Super Bowl XLII. He'll be cheering for the Bears with us.

Update: Here's another funny Slate column about commercials. It's a good digest of the Super Bowl Ads, even though this just isn't an event anymore. They were pretty much the same ads you'd see anytime.

I love the Slate article's comment about Tostitos and the Civil Rights movement. He has some clever turns of phrase. However, unlike that writer, I liked both the "Paper. Rock. Scissors" and the sad dejected robot commercial. (But maybe I just like robots too much.) Also, I don't think the Slate guy realized that the Coke Grand Theft Auto Ad has been airing for months.

Anyway, The Intended also read the Slate article and responded: "The Slate column is good, but he didn't mention Blockbuster's Gerbil and Mouse commerical or the Wedding Auctioner...my two personal faves..." Great points. The sound effects alone of the mouse commercial killed me.


Another Top 30!

I saw my old boss (as in he used to be my boss, not that he is eldery) this week for lunch. Seeing Randy reminded me of our many lists. One of those incomplete lists was of the coolest celebrities of all time. So, I thought I'd complete it. So now, another Top 30...

My Top 30 Coolest Celebrities

The criteria is really untangible. These celebrities just have "it:" a calculated cool, a smooth sauve, a allure of attitude. They are just cool. They define cool. You'll notice that it my definition of cool, it apparently helps to be black or British. And I am taking Jesus out of the running from the get-go. We all know he's cool.

So who are my Favorite 30 Cool Celebs?

30. Bruce Lee

29. Tiger Woods

28. Bruce Willis

27. Jennifer Connelly

26. Michael Jordan

25. Angela Bassett

24. Telly Savalas

23. Eric Clapton

22. Terrance Stamp

21. Jack Nicholson

20. Robert Mitchum

19. Robert DeNiro

18. Anthony Hopkins

17. Humphrey Bogart

16. Kiefer Sutherland

15. Barry White

14. Judi Dench

13. Lee Marvin

12. Marlon Brando

11. Billy Dee Williams

10. Aretha Franklin

9. B.B. King

8. James Brown

7. Clint Eastwood

6. Sean Connery

5. James Dean

4. Denzel Washington

3. Frank Sinatra

2. Richard Roundtree

1. Samuel L. Jackson

The Honorable Mentions: Xzibit, Carl Weathers, Beck, Jermaine Dye, Ozzie Smith, Chow Yun-Fat, Derek Jeter, Will Smith, Morgan Freeman, Mike Singletary, David Bowie, Mick Jagger, Ving Rhames, Jimi Hendrix, Edward Norton, Douglas MacArthur, LeBron James, Jada Pinkett Smith, Jet Li, Lauryn Hill, Bono, Tina Turner, and Harrison Ford (who is added after Marc's IM campaign for him. I left him off because though he is cool, that whole 60-year-old with an ear ring thing really tarnished him in my eyes).

Quotes of the Week

"You know, this weekend a lot of people's motto will be 'Go Bears.' Mine will be 'Go Bare.'" -Designer Doug

"That's a pathetic banner." -Marilyn about my Bears rally towel.

"Them's boots are made for dancin'!" - Marc, about a drawing of a weird smoking buccaneer turtle.

"Wow, you put your hand clear through Pablo." -My Intended talking to toddler Lydia about a favorite toy.
"An apple without cheese is like a kiss without a squeeze." -Marshall at a company party.

"You're like our own Nipsey Russell." -Ed to Marshall.

Quotes Note:There were many quotes from last Sunday's get together. And, of course, I forgot them. But Marc, Emily, Charissa: Please send them in if you remember.


So Many Pockets

I've had the same coat for about 3 or 4 winters. This morning, I made an exciting discovery about it. I found a new pocket that I never knew was there. That brings the total to ten. Ten! In one coat.

The Newly Found Pocket is this little slip of pocket on the inside, underneath another pocket. I'm not sure yet what I will put in the Newly Found Pocket. But I like knowing it's there, because I've always had a good feeling about clothes with lots of pockets. It's not that I carry around a lot of stuff, but I know that if I had to, I could.


In a few weeks, I will be reviewing a movie called The Number 23. In it, a man (Jim Carrey) finds a book called The Number 23. He becomes obsessed because he realizes everything in his life (the letters in his name, his address, etc.) can be connected to the number 23. The idea behind this comes from some long-standing numerology idea called the "23 Enigma." This is a belief that all incidents and events are directly connected to the number 23--given enough ingenuity on the part of the interpreter.

Earlier this week, a friend asked me for some headline ideas for a project she was working on. I brainstormed several and sent them off. And it cracked me up to go back later and realize that two or three of them had the number 46 in them. For some reason, that number just became my default number any time I wanted one.

And shockingly, 46 divided by 2 is 23!

So, my Overenthusiastic Switchfoot Fan has now sent me a total of 400 contest enteries. Either she's set up an automatic web tool to submit entries or this girl is just getting no school work done.

Luckily, 400 is not evenly divided by 23. Or else that would be creepy.