Winning Makes Even the Snack Wraps Taste Better

I went on a retreat to Michigan with the junior high youth group this weekend. It was uneventful, fun, and relaxing for the most part. We played a mammoth match of volleyball on Saturday. I always feel this odd inner-battle of wanting to crush the kids (and boast of it) and wanting to just let them win and be encouraging. But of course, the "CRUSH!" side won and when I came up to serve down 14-9 in the deciding game, I wouldn't allow a loss. But you know, it's having fun that matters. And winning is fun.

I love Michigan, but I hate getting there. Why is the only route to Michigan from Illi-noize always under construction? At some point, the construction has to end. Right? Anyway, it took us about 2 hours to get from Hinsdale to the Indiana border. Ridiculous. But before departure, we went to McDonald's. And I had another ethical dilemma.

I ordered two snack wraps, fries and a soda. The man took my order and then a woman behind him instantly prepared the tray. I had my food in like less than a minute. I sat down and began eating. When I realized that the kids' didn't get napkins, I got up. As I walked by the counter, our youth leader handed me a tray--with two snack wraps, fries and a soda. The reciept said #176--my number. And there was no one else there.

I didn't want to steal someone's food. But it appeared that they made my tray twice...however, it wouldn't be right to just take it, would it? I went back to my seat without the doppleganger tray. About 5 minutes later, I could see the tray was still there. At this point, I decided that it was an honest mistake. And no one was going to eat it but me. They couldn't reuse that food...so I might as well enjoy the bounty.

It turns out that I don't even like snack wraps. But hey, free is still free.

The only other moment of note this weekend was a prank gone bad. The girls took the pillows of the boys and hid them...in the boys' restroom. The boys' restroom is directly downstairs from the girl's restroom at the retreat house. Well, the girls' toilet back up, flooded and the water leaked through the ceiling...into our bathroom and onto the guys' pillows.

Good times.

PTOIT SPECIAL FEATURE: DREAM LOG!
(A dream from last night)
My mom, one other person and I were riding horses down Limestone Road back home. We turned onto 17 to head home. On the corner, Mom's horse took a number two. Right then, a police squad car arrived. The officer said that we couldn't just leave the horse's waste on the street. We had to pick it up. We had no shovels or bags. But we did have my umbrella. [Remember: I had planned to use my umbrella two weeks ago to remove a dead bird. Apparently, my umbrella is my catch-all tool now.] I scooped the horse dung into my opened umbrella. Then, I moved to the ditch to dump it. But the cop stopped me. He said I couldn't leave it. I had to take it with. So then, I re-mounted my horse and rode down a busy highway holding an opened umbrella full of crud off to my side.

Rockin the Keytar

I got to check out MuteMath at the Park West last night. What a show. I've heard rumors about this band's amazing live show and I've seen their former band Earthsuit deliver an amazing live show (complete with a rock mainstay: jumpsuits!). But my expectations were exceeded. Mainly because of what you see above: A Keytar. Oh yah. You don't see that rocked too often. But it's just one of many instruments employed.

Every member played various intruments. There's electronics. There's odd percussion. There's beating on guitars with a mallet. And there's even this home-made insturment that looked like a metal detector with a gieger counter duct-taped to it. At one point, all four were on keys. At another point, they were all playing percussion--hitting anything that would make a sound (including stools, flourescent lights, and mic stands).

This photo was taken by Marc (I stole the top one formt he Internet. Thanks, Internet!). He, Emily and Charissa were standing up on a higher section of the floor to see better. At one point, the lead singer Paul Meany pulled a major cool rock star moment by running into the crowd...and right to Marc, Emily and Charissa. He stood by them, touched Charissa's leg and then jumped into the crowd. Charissa may not wash her pants ever again.

Another cool rock moment: The drummer was bleeding. In my understanding and perception of rock, hurting oneself and bleeding in a show--and continuing on--is big time. Way to take one for the rock, man.

PTOIT QUOTES OF THE WEEK
"What do you do when a rockstar is standing next to you?" -Marc

"I got ran over by a bike. It's how I roll." -My sister, returning to work all bloody after a very simple task to deliver paperwork to a nearby building went bad.

Raining Down

It's never a good sign when someone stops you on your way in to work to say, "Just a warning before you see your office..."

The facility guy Paul met me on the way in today to warn me that my office leaked again last night. Whenever it rains, my brick wall becomes a fountain. And last night it rained like 8 feet of water here. They've tried to figure out why my office leaks but after having the roofer out here three times, it's still a mystery. Paul thinks it may be the porous bricks. I call it the Wailing Wall.

Even with the warning, my office wasn't that bad today. Paul had cleaned up most of it and dried off my papers. The only casualty was my desk calendar. But hey, it's October anyway.

Goodbye, White Sox
Speaking of October, the baseball playoffs start today. And the White Sox are sitting at home. I thought I should look back and cap the season here. Eulogize the team, if you will.

I look at the goal of the baseball season as making the postseason. If that is your target, anything less is a failure. Anything less is a disappointment. And with the Sox' 57-31 first half record and never-realized potential, not making the playoffs is a big dispointment. This team's record in the second half was on par with that of the Cubs--a team that didn't win 70 games. That's disappointing. Especially when you consider that if the Sox had only gone .500 in the second half, they would have very likely edged out the Twins. So why did they dip so badly? They scored more than one run less per game in the second half and the batting average dipped from .283 to .277. The team ERA rose from 4.44 to 4.78. (Stats as of Sept. 25). The bullpen also struggled when it counted most, producing a 6.71 ERA during the season's final month.

However, this team did win 90 games. Only 5 other teams did that. They were in the hunt until the last 2 weeks. They were in the toughest division in the league. They had incredible years from Dye, Crede, Garland, Konerko, Thome and the Gooch. There are definite bright spots. There were heroes. There were amazing comebacks and exciting plays. There were almost-perfect pitching performances. There's still joy for White Sox fans. It was a fun season--and there's hope.

So, until next spring White Sox, goodbye. It's been...something. Oh, and what happened to the promise of "Win. Or Die Trying?" No one died, White Sox. No one died.

WHOA

37-6? I was amazed last night. We have a real football team. I knew the defense was good. I saw the offense was stable. But this exceeded my expectations (a 21-17 win). In fact, when I tuned in after youth group and heard it was 20-3, I figured we were the 3. I went home and watched the rest and wasimpressed at how dominating the defense was. Hasslebeck just couldn't do anything. How much fun is this?

What are you doing Feb. 4?

Dead Animal Rescue

I got a call this week at work from an old friend of mine ("Old" as in we've been friends a long time. Not that she is old). She sounded shaken. She said, "Todd, I need help." I asked her what was wrong. "I need to be somewhere," she said. "But I heard a noise outside and I thought, 'That sounded like a bird flying into my screen door. But that can't be what it was.'"

It was. And the bird was dead right outside her door--and on her path out of her apartment. "I tried to get past it," she said. "But I just can't do it. I just can't walk past it. Can you come get the bird?"

I've never recieved a call like this before. I've never had any "dead animal pickup" calls before. Luckily, her apartment is not far from my work. So I went over-armed with a garbage bag and an umbrella. It wasn't raining. But I thought I'd use the umbrella to prod the bird into the bag.

When I got there, my friend was still trapped in her home by this lifeless winged threat. And I found a broom outside another apartment. So I took it. No use in contaminating a good umbrella. Luckily, the bird was in a spot where he was easily swept into the bag. However, on the first try he just sat on the lip of the bag so I had to do a lot of jiggling to get him in. Rest In Peace, little guy. Rest In Peace.

With that act, my friend was liberated.

And now for something completely different:
I saw the ad below in a Christian magazine. The site sells Christian-themed shirts, but also this: A Christian energy drink...I guess because us believers can't just drink the regular stuff. Actually, I went to the site because I thought it might be a really clever parody to draw you to their website. But it wasn't.

You may not be able to make out the can's slogan, but it actually says, "Fused with the fruit of the spirit." Whaa? How'd they combine that with ginseng?

PTOIT SPECIAL FEATURE: QUOTES OF THE WEEK!

"Yes, Kate is like the British Navy. She sneaks up on you, surprises you, and then all the sudden you find yourself on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean." --Chris, a co-teacher of The Intended, responding to the observation that The Intended is "silently aggressive" in recruiting kids for school activities.

"You know what's a good show? That 24 with Keith Sutherland fighting all those crazy terrorists. You know, they gave that Keith Sutherland or whatever his name is an Academy Award for that show. It took them a long time because they didn't think it was a good show and then they realized it was a good show and gave him the Academy Award. He is good--always getting those crazy terrorists." --Some guy in a resturant Doug and I were patronizing.

"Terrell has 25 million reasons why he should be alive" --Kim Etheredge, Terrell Owens' publicist addressing rumors of T.O.'s attempted-suicide--and ridiculously alluding to his three-year, $25 million contract with the Dallas Cowboys. With that line of thinking, I have about 800 reasons to be alive.

Never Too Early

Here he is, future starting pitcher of the Chicago White Sox Landon William. I got to visit with my new little nephew two nights ago. We even did a little working out of his left arm. They say that with the proper work and strengthening you can help determine which hand a child uses. I figure we need to encourage him to throw left handed because major league ball teams are always in need of left handed pitchers.

Landon was less than 24 hours old when I saw him. I've only gotten to see two other babies that young. They are all adorable, but there was something different with Landon. Before I tell you that, I need to flashback about 27 years ago. The night my brother was born, my dad was watching him in the nursery. He was shocked to see his barely-born child pick his head up and look around the room. I was almost three at the time and I barely picked my head up. Chad was then walking at 9 months, climbing ladders at 2 and driving tractors at 3. (I estimate I'll be climbing ladders in two or three months. ) As I saw Landon the other night, sure enough, the little guy was holding his head up and looking around the room.

Chad has hopes that Landon will be mowing the yard in two to three weeks. I fear that may interfere with infield practice.

So Many Emotions

Last night I became an uncle for the first time. Landon William is 8 lbs, 10 ounces and 21 inches long. I am so excited to go see him tonight. I am so happy. And so proud of Chad and Michelle. There were some tough moments in the delivery and so I know God really provided. Landon is with us because of God's strength.

While I am on a high for Landon's birth, I am also sad. Landon was born on the same day the White Sox were officially eliminated from playoff contention. I am wearing black today in mourning. It's a sad day...but not unexpected. Did you realize that the White Sox have a worse second half record than the Cubs? Yah. And the Twins are 68-30 since June 5. Ridiculous. I have more White Sox thoughts to share as the season peters out over the next week...

Giants Need To Go, Too

On Friday, I saw Fearless. Seeing marital arts movies like this always make me want to kick people on my way out of the theatre. After seeing The Matrix, for instance, Jeff and I did whole routines of slo-mo fighting and running up on walls. And after this, I wanted to compete in to-the-death Wushu battles. Another reason for wanting to kick people on my way out of the auditorium was that I had to use the restroom.

I made it to the restroom before the rush, but only one urinal was open. Regular PTOIT readers will remember another time this happened and I choose to use the low-set kiddie urinal. Well this time, it was the opposite, the urinal was set very high on the wall. I realized (while trying to look around too much) that this restroom had three urinal heights: one kiddie, one normal size and one about 3 inches higher than that. I'm not kidding. I am 5’ 10" and my waist was under the bottom of the urinal. Who is this for?

When I got out of the bathroom I discovered that while I was enjoying my film, the world was being destroyed. Well almost. A major storm passed through and I guess there were funnel clouds above the theatre. But I was more concerned about all the kicking.

PTOIT DREAM LOG
(Dated: September 9, 2006)
I was at some school or institution of some kind. I walk out back and there's this stream. A janitor leads me to this busted up, half-sunken wooden row boat in the stream. We get in and it floats. I can't believe how well it works despite being all broken.

When we reach shore, we are in a lush beautiful land of tall grass, forest and brilliant, giant waterfalls. It's kind of like Jurassic Park. The janitor is now my friend Josh. We get out of the boat. I say, "Where are we?" He says, "We're just outside of Nashville."

There are all kinds of animals running here and there. It's untainted and wild nature. But yet, it also like a very busy and popular park. Humans are all over the place--hiking, playing frisbee, etc. At one point, a rhino charges out of the woods and nearly hits a jogger running by. But the runner doesn't seem startled. He just keeps going. And then stops to get a drink at a fountain.

Josh leads me to where I will be staying, a tiny but nice little cabin. Next to it is a huge pavillion. The pavillion has bathrooms in the rear and the lines for them are long. Josh says he needs to go and disappears into the crowd. I walk around the front of the building. There, I see this massive statue enclosed in glass. The bottom is this cluster of bronze hands reaching upward. Above them about 20 feet above are these golden faces wrapped around a globe and looking down. I hear someone mention that this monument is meant to represent a verse from Revelation.

Movie Roulette

So, Josh and I went to see The Illusionist last night. Before he got there, I was in the lobby with these three old women. They had free tickets somehow--and no idea what movies were out. For more than 15 minutes (really), they stood at the ticket counter asking the lip-peirced emo i-hate-my-life cashier what movie they should see. She was obviously thrilled to help them.

I like going to the movies whenever I have a spare couple of hours and just seeing what's playing at that time. Just last week I found out that Charissa and Emily call it "Movie Roullette." I used to do it ever Sunday when I'd return from a youth group trip. Before even going home, I'd see a movie. I'd often do it between church and youth group on Sundays too. I'd often end up seeing hidden gems that I normally wouldn't have seen. But the difference is that I'd look at the marquee and have some idea of what movies were playing. These women last night acted as if they never have heard of a movie before. I wanted to help them, but I really didn't know what to recommend to them. I did tell them tho that The Last Kiss, which they thought sounded like a good romantic epic, probably wasn't for them. So several more minutes ensued as they debated. I thought Emo girl was going to walk into traffic.

Anway, I recommend The Illusionist. Good stuff. I could tell where the mystery was going...but it was told so well I just sat back and enjoyed it. It feels like an old short story written in the early 1900's that you'd read in English class. And it kind of is. It's based on a book, but a more recent one. Anyway, Ed Norton and Paul Giamati are fantastic. But what else is new?

While I'm wearing my Reviewing Shoes, I thought I'd point out a few things. I got to see the new show Jericho. The premise is interesting: A guy comes home to his small town after a mysterious 5-year absence. As he's leaving, nuclear explosions strike at least Denver and Atlanta. Uh-oh. What's happening? What does this small town do? It's been billed as Lost meets Little House on the Prairie. And oddly, that fits. And it should stick to the Lost end. It gets awfully schmaltzy. There's this one scene where all the town's eccentric personalities are confronting the mayor about what to do. And it feels like The Gilmore Girls with nuclear explosions. The tone is just off. It almost feels like a high school production of "Our Town" at points. If the tone was less sentimental and just pitched straight with more mystery, this could be a good show. But as of now, I give it a shaky thumbs kind-of-up.

Meanwhile, if you are confronted in a dark alley by the new comedy The Class, run. Just sprint away. It's horrible.

PTOIT Quotes of the Week

"A koala and a pooh bear? How can one guy be so lucky!" -Becki when discovering that I now have managed to get two free animal costumes. That right, I have a koala costume and a pooh bear costume. Oh yah.

"On the day after a game, you think about a game and how things could have gone differently. I thought this morning about our 84-66 record. Paul hit a grand slam to tie a game here last October. Scott Podsednik won another with a homerun. The point is: We went 11-1 in the playoffs and lost a total of 64 games last year." -Ed Farmer, talking gibberish during a Sox broadcast. With Ed, you always feel like what he's thinking must have a connection in his head. It must make sense...but then it comes out and is non-sensical.

"As a fan, you don't want your team to lose. You want them to win. When they don't win, they lose. And you don't want that." -Ed Farmer again.

It's Finally Here!

All Hands Hoay! Avast ye, mateys, it's finally Talk Like a Pirate Day! Arrgh! Shiver me timbers, I never thought the blimey day would come when we'd go on account as pirates. So swab the deck and hoist the main sail, ya Powder Monkey.

PTOIT editor's note: I am so happy that International Talk Like a Pirate Day falls on the day of our quarterly luncheon. I am sure our VPs will throw out some "Arrghs." Update: No one talked like a pirate...

PTOIT Special Feature: Fun with Google

In honor of this most blessed of holidays, we will search Google Images for a Pirate's favorite words!

Search Terms: "Arrgh" and "Matey"

The results:

Photo #1: While at first this appears to have nothing to do with pirates, I've decided that real-life modern-day pirates would indeed drink PBR. They'd definitely get a Hogshead full of this Grog.



Photo #2: Again, no pirates. But I guess he is walking the plank. Or Uni-biking the plank.

Photo #3: No Pirates! And no self-respecting pirate would be seen in this hat.

Photo #4: Finally, pirates. Arrgh.

I Am The Jersey Jinx, or Sorry S-Pods

An Open Letter to Scott Podsednik:

Dear Scotty,

Well, it looks like the White Sox playoff chances are now about as likely as you reaching your stolen base stats of last year. Even the Sox's biggest optimist (me) admits it's over. We're on the outside looking in. Four games behind with thirteen games to go, we'd have to come up nearly perfect in order to win the wild card. The chances of that are not good. As much as coming up big in the important moments was last year's credo, being unable to grasp open opportinites is this year's. We just haven't played well and we've backed ourselves in a corner.

Speaking of not playing well, Scotty, you are the target of much criticism. Most Sox fans are itching to run you out of town. And yes, you won't be back. You just haven't produced. Your base running abilities have disappeared, you're a lead off man who can't get on base, and you've missed plays in the outfield that should be made. Sure, you had a great game yesterday (except for another caught-stealing), but it's just too little too late. You were my favorite player. You still have a place in my heart. But even I must admit that you're not consistently helping the team. You're not the S-Pods you were last year in leading us to that World Series Championship.

And this, Scotty, is where I have to take the blame. I know, I know. You're thinking, But Todd, how could it be your fault? I am the one striking out four times in one game. But let me tell you what I did. Over the off-season, I got your jersey. This seems innocent. But it's not. Let me explain.

I've owned three players' jerseys in my life. When I was in high school, I started following the Buffalo Bills. I just loved quarterback Jim Kelly. I bought his jersey. I wore it all the time. But just a few months after I bought it, the Bills went to the Super Bowl for the first time. And we know what happened. They preceded to lose 4 Super Bowls in a row.

A few years ago, I was again a fan of a quarterback who wore the number 12. Rich Gannon of the Raiders. He was a gun-slinging quarterback who lent huge numbers to my fantasy team. As the Raiders entered the playoffs, I showed my support by buying a Rich Gannon jersey. They were massacred in the Super Bowl and Gannon's career, for all intents and purposes, ended there.

And then I got a #22 Scott Podsednik jersey. Luckily I didn't get it until last Christmas--after you helped us when the World Series or else the Astros really would have had a championship season. But still, damage was done to your career. And I am sorry.

But now, enjoy your last few days as a White Sox. And maybe, just maybe, this admission will be an exorcism that will bring you back to life. And magic can happen again. But yah, probably not. At least I'll always have your bobblehead to remind me of the good times we had.

-Todd

PTOIT Special Feature: Dream Log
(Dated: 9/18/2000)
My sister is getting married to a kid she grew up with. They aren't dating (in or out of the dream) but just decided to get married. They are 16. When I ask her why she wants to marry him, she says, "I just wanted someone to sit with at lunch."

The ceremony is at my parent's church. For the reception, we all go to a small pond nearby. And fish. I catch a giant lizard. It won't come off the hook, so I cut it in half. The front half runs all the way back to the church. I chase it and watch it regenerate it's back half as it runs into the church. I go in to find it.

Inside, my grandparents are still in the church pew. They are wearing St. Louis Cardinal uniforms. When I ask them why, they say, "Because your Aunt Donna gave them to us."

The Roy Willaims Promise

You may have heard that Detroit Lions WR Roy Williams has guaranteed the win Sunday against the Chicago Bears. This is a man on an 0-1 team that scored 6 points in their first game. Yet, he said, "there's not a defense in the NFL that is going to stop us." Hmmm. What is wrong with people in Detroit?

So, Mark and I took a look at what else Roy Williams has guaranteed:

-Chicken dinners for the poor
-Jessica Simpson, PhD
-Weapons of mass destruction
-Peace on Earth
-Nice French people
-The oceans will dry up by October
-No more ugly people
- Osama Bin Laden's hidden location
-Subs so fast you'll freak
- Jfk's killer
-President Jess Ventura, Vice-President Arnold Schwarzenegger
-2007 World Series Champs: The Royals
-A replenishable fuel source
-No more Pauly Shore movies
-Pizza in 30 minutes or it's free
-Barry Bonds used no steroids
-There were no dinosaurs
-A Cubs championship
-Middle East group hugs

A virtual gushing current in my pocket

FRIDAY FLASHBACK
One day when I worked at CT, I was down in the lunchroom heating up my TV dinner. When it was done, I realized that the TV Dinner was so large and hot that I needed two hands to carry it. But I had a can of Sprite too. Easy enough. I slipped the soda can in my front pants pocket. (It was unopened.)

I walked up the stairs, through the door onto the first floor and then around a tight corner where a short metal filing cabinet jutted out. I took the corner too sharply and I heard a "Tink" and then a "SSSSSSSSSSS." I didn't really realize what had happened. I kept walking. And then, I felt a cold sensation against my leg. My brain suddenly reliazed that the metal corner had pierced the can in my pocket. It started as a trickle. And became a spray. Soon, I had a virtual gushing current streaming out of my pocket. The dark circle grew along my right hip and then rushed down the outside of my leg.

It all happened very quickly. One minute I am a guy with a TV dinner walking along the hallway. The next, I am a guy still holding a TV dinner but with a soaked leg of Khakis now weighing about 80 pounds. I set the TV dinner down and pulled the can out of my pants. Sprite shot down the hall. I put my hand over the hall and rushed it to the bathroom. I threw the can into the sink. The sweet sugary smell became intoxicating.

After throwing the drained can away, I retrieved my TV dinner. My sock was now wet and made that squishy sound when I walked. The entire pant leg was dark brown, sticking to my leg and dripping. Who knew a can of pop holds that much soda?

I grabbed my truck keys from my office and popped my head into my boss Ted's office. "Hey, I am running home," I said. "I need new pants."

When I got back, my TV Dinner was cold. And I had no Sprite to drink.

PTOIT Quotes of the Week

"So today at work everyone thought it was my birthday for some reason, and there was even brownies...so I went with it." - My sister.

"I have an idea for a movie discussion guide and would like your permission to pursue it. It is based on the film Snakes On a Plane and is centered around getting a better understanding of God's Judgment." -A real e-mail recieved by our company.

"The only juicing Ryan has ever done is apple or orange." --Ryan Howard's brother Chris in a discussion of steroids.

A-tack-ed!

I had a close call yesterday. And a near-HR disaster. All in one incident.

I went into my boss Chris' office to discuss some pertinent matters of magazine publishing. Or to talk about sci-fi. One of the two. I sat in the little chair across from his desk under the bulletin board. When we ran out of things to talk about, I stood up and left. Nothing strange yet.

But then, Chris began to yell and chase me out of the office. That's not all that unusual actually. Then it got weird. "Stop moving," he urgently ordered. "Don't move!" Always obeying my boss' orders, I stopped and stood still against the file cabinet. This is when it got really weird. He began doing something behind my back. To the back of my pants.

"I am uncomfortable right now, " I said.

"Don't move," my boss repeated.

I am sure the two of us created a very odd picture there in the hall. And I am so glad no bigwigs happened to be strolling by. After about 15 seconds, Chris held up what he'd perceptively seen: A thumbtack stuck in the seat of my pants. Somehow, it got stuck in there when I sat in his office without me feeling it. But had I re-sat on that, I'd probably have an injury in a bad, bad place.

That is Christlike love right there -- Love knows no better than this: a man who will pull a tack out of the seat of another man's pants.

Step Aside, Tyra

I am very happy to announce that, finally, my career as a model is taking off. I know, we've all been waiting. Well, a while back, the editor of one of our sister publications, Today's Christian, asked me to stand in for a photo shoot and I did.

It turns out the shoot was the day I got into the car accident. I was late and a bit shaken, but I don't think it hurt my work at all. You do get a little feel of frustration and weariness from my expressions and pose. But I was mainly going for confused and aloof. I think you'll agree that I pulled it off.

Without further ado, here's my modeling debut in the Today's Christian Sept/Oct issue:



PTOIT Special Feature: Wedding Wednesday!

I'm kicking off something new today to give reader's a peek into the planning of a wedding--from the groom's perspective. In Wedding Wednesday today, I begin what I assume will be a long glossary of new words I am learning.

Ramekin -- I thought this word was either: 1) A baby goat, 2) a scaley villain from He-Man or 3) A mythical Lord of the Rings character smaller and more delicate than a Hobbit. It's actually some sort of fancy bowl that we're registering for.

Petit four -- Seeing it spelled out isn't as scandalous, but when I first heard The Intended say she wanted to have "Peddifores" at our wedding, I was nervous. I mean, people who cruelly mistreat children have no place at our nuptials. Then she explained she meant this.

The Reviews Are In!

Here's what is being said about me:

"My chosen profession is made worthwhile when I meet people like you, who actually listen to what I say and show such improvement."

"This is just outstanding. Fabulous. I am stunned. I just can't believe it. You deserve a pat on the back!"

What's everyone raving about? My dental care! My dental hygienist and dentist--perhaps the most encouraging, affirming people on Earth--were over-the-top complimentary and celebratory at my sixth month cleaning yesterday. They talked so much about how great I did at brushing and flossing, I thought I'd leave with a trophey. Or at least a gold star sticker. But nada.

Still, the comments on my good "home care" are huge. As longtime readers know, I haven't been the "best" at oral health. I didn't go to the dentist for 7 years. When I went early this year, it was a bad bad scene. But no longer! I am now the model of dental hygiene. My dentist said so.

I am sad to report that I have one tiny cavity. But my dental team says the cavity is from the damge done in the 7 years of negect--not the last 6 months of stellar home care. So I will return next week to fill that cavity in and make it 5 dental visits in one year.

PTOIT Special Feature: Fun with Google

This weekly feature again finds us searching Google with two random search words to see what comes up.

Today's Search Terms: "Car" and "Toilet"

The Results:

Photo #1: Look, it's gas-powered. haha.

Photo #2: This is apparentely a two-seater in a mine somewhere. Can you imagine two burly miners needing to both sit down and use the pot? "Hey, pass the TP would ya?" And what's that huge crank for?

Photo #3: I thought this was a prank photo at first. But it's apparently an actual product you can get for camping. I'm not sure really how it works. But if you are going to use it, I recommend seizing the car keys.

Photo #4: There's nothing that can be said to add to that.

That Suckey Thing

So, babies hate me. It's a trend. Or a conspiracy.

I was at lunch with my friend Laura, her two daughters and one of the high school youth group kids, Mike. Laura's oldest had to go to the bathroom so she asked me and Mike to watch Jenna. I love when more than one guy tries to watch babies together. I find it hilarious. And this was no exception.

I continued feeding Jenna her baby food. Everything was fine at first. And then the uncontrollable weeping and screaming began. Mike, ever helpful, suggested we try to find "that sucky thing." Holding the wailing, violently-thrashing child in one hand, I handed Mike the baby bag in the other to find the pacifier. After a few seconds of searching, he said, "Oh! and pulled something out. I thought he'd found the solution to all our troubles. And then I saw a small bottle in his hand and he said, "Look, sunscreen. Maybe that's what she wants." We didn't lather her up, but I am pretty sure that's not what she wanted.

Mike then found a rattle. He began shaking it loudly. "Mike, that will do no good," I said. And then, Jenna stopped crying. She was fixated on the rattle. "Keep shaking, Mike!" After 1.3 seconds of fascination, Jenna decided the rattle wasn't entertianing after all and the crying commenced.

Luckily, Laura returned and instantly, Jenna stopped crying. I did too.

Fantasy Football Update: It may be a long season for Papa Bear Malice. I have one more player going tonight but I am down 73-40 so the odds aren't too good. I didn't think I drafted that poorly until the holes became evident yesterday. Quarterback Drew Brees may have not been the "best" choice. I need more than 1 TD from you, Drew. Heck, I should have taken Rex Grossman over him. One thing I am bitter about is that I'd never heard of Reuben Droughns of Cleveland until the draft. My draft sheet said he was the next highly rated runningback to take. So I took him. The reality: He blows. Cleveland only gave him the ball 11 times. 27 yards, Reuben? No thanks. Of course, there is hope. My receiving corp (Harrison, Coles, Shockey and Ward) is strong. We may still pull together a decent season. And at least I have no Packers.

PTOIT Special Feature: Dream Log!
(Dated April 5, 2005)
I'm in a large banquet room and there's a room full of formally-dressed old men. We are all eating at round tables. It's a memorial service for the Pope. An old priest asks me to do a reading in the service. I agree to. When the time comes in the service, I go to the lecturn and start the reading. That's when I realize it is in Polish. And I don't know Polish. I wish I would have prepared more. Instead, I begin to just sound out the words. I pretend like I know what I am saying. As I go, I begin to actually understand it. In fact, the words begin to physically turn into English on the page.

Singed Baby Hair

I think the blog is going to suffer a lack of updates because Fantasy Football time is here. I have spent so much time in the last two days juggling my roster and figuring out who to play. It's an illness really. I tend to over-manage. I already dropped a guy on a whim--and now it looks like I should have kept him afterall. I am not even sure why I got rid of him. I just got it in my head that he was no good. D'oh.

Anyway, I thought I'd introdouce a quick new feature this week. All the blasts form the pasts this week made me realize that when I have no new fun stories, I have lots of old ones! So here it goes:

FRIDAY FLASHBACK
One day in junior high, I was at my friend Jason's house. Three or four of us were over hanging in the basement and no parents. We were hungry. We wanted pizza. But we were lazy. So we hit the small kitchenette in the basement's bar. There was a freezer. In it we found frozen pizzas. Score. So we popped them int he downstairs oven because then we had to do no walking up stairs.

Jason pre-heated the oven. And waited. And Waited. It wouldn't get hot. The oven was still stone cold. But yet, something smelled hot. Then we smelled the burning.

We looked everywhere. What could be burning? What is hot? The oven isn't even warm! Then I checked the broiler under the oven. Smoke billowed out. Jason had turned on the broiler insted of the oven. All would be fine but Jason's sister used the broiler to play house and it had been full of plastic dishes, glasses and baby dolls. Oops. The broiler was now coated in melted plastic and simmering hair.

Being stupid junior high boys, we decided to jump to action to clean it up so that we would get in no trouble--even tho it was an accident. We used my pocket knife to scrape plastic off the broiler racks. We doused doll baby hair to put out the redhot embers. And Joey put the glasses under cold water to cool them off. And we all know what that did. Yah, they shattered. That was kinda exciting actually.

PTOIT Quotes of the Week

"Attack, Attack, Attack." --What Doug V thinks he heard his 8-month-old daughter whispering this week.

"[The lead actors of The Covenant] hope to unravel the mystery of this new impending doom as they strike actor poses in sleeveless shirts and relaxed fit jeans. Sons of Shatner, UNITE FOR JUSTICE!! At any given moment the movie could have dissolved into an overdub of a narrator from Project Runway saying, "Caleb is fighting evil today in distressed denim and a tight basic black t-shirt, proving that simple themes can battle back bad fashion anyday! (Caleb strikes a pose and broods)." --A review for the movie The Covenant which is undoubtedly more fun than the movie.

"Meanwhile, back at the dorms, [the female characters] ponder the motivations of their men while finding reasons to disrobe or just sit around in their underwear." -That same Covenant review.

"You know it's fall when the UPS man starts wearing pants." -Doug F.

Free Massage Ettiquette

I had breakfast with Doug this morning at our normal little diner and it made me think of a story that I never told anyone. One morning, I got to this little greasy spoon before Doug. As I sat there, I began to think maybe I had crossed over into some kind of bizarro world.

There were three other customers in the restaurant. And starting with the booth furthest from me, our regular waitress started going from person to person with something that sounded like a tiny motor. I wasn't sure what what happening but I could hear the soft "whirrrrrrrrr" sound as she stood next to their table and each customer seemed to be appreciative. After about two minutes, the waitress would move to the next customer.
When she got to the third person, I saw that she was giving everyone hand massages with some kind of little electronic massager. Now, there's nothing wrong with getting electronic hand massages from a stranger. But it's just weird. Especially when your waitress is methodically moving through the patrons of the establishment in this way. The third guy asked her to use the little massager on his neck. And it just creeped me out. It seemed so random and out of place.

After the neck guy, my booth was next. I was trying to figure out what the proper ettiquette is when a waitress offers you a free hand massage instead of, you know, bringing you your orange juice in due time. I wanted to find an uninsulting way to decline. I rehearsed a few lines in my head: "No thanks" or "No thanks, I just had a hand massage at the last diner" or "No thanks, my hands are properly loose" or " No thanks, I'm not that kind of guy." As I thought about it, my hands started to feel stiff and cramped. I caught myself thinking, Boy, I could use a hand massage right now...crap. Nevermind.

Just as the massage in front of me was ending, Doug walked in and the waitress realized that she had to go get another menu. After that, she just took people's orders.

As Doug sat down, I so wanted to tell him what had just occurred. Instead, I just sat there with a weird smirk on my face. Which really isn't that out of the normal.

A Blast From the Past, Part II

Today's blast from the past is a little non-fiction essay I like to call, "I Feed the Dog." I am not sure how old I was during the writing of this peice but we're guessing 2nd or 3rd grade. It is from the "Fox and Rabbit Take a Walk" era.

I've kept all the original capitalization and spelling:

I feed the Dog
I feed my dog.
I do it in her pin.
I do it Tusday, thusday and Saturday.
My brother dos it the ohoer day's.
I do it Becuse I don't what my dog to Die.

I think the best part of this finding (besides my reasoning for feeding the dog) is the illustration with it. I loved to draw. In another school project we found, I wrote that I was going to grow up to be an artist. And you know, I wasn't bad. But I think my talent plateaued because this picture of a dog is better than I could do now at 29.

My dad takes issue with "I Feed the Dog." He claims it is not actually non-fiction, because he doesn't recall anyone but him ever feeding the dog.

A Blast From the Past

I took a trip down memory lane this weekend when my mom got out some of my old grade school papers and drawings. (This is a continuation of our efforts to clean out of my old bedroom closet.) I was quite the artist. I tended to draw Santa a lot. And dogs.

But the best findings were my writings. I thought I'd share a story today. (Tomorrow, I will share an excellent piece of nonfiction titled, "I Feed the Dog.") In today's story, I kept all the spelling and capitalization of the original. Note in this story my very early distrust of bears. And my love for dramatic fight scenes. And meat.

I wrote this in 2nd grade, we believe:

Fox and Rabbit Take a Walk

Once upon a time there was a Rabbit who Loved carrits. And there was a fox who Loved meat. The Rabbit and the fox were frends. One day the fox and the Rabbit were walking through the forest. And a bear attacked the fox and the Rabbit. And the bides Rapped vinees aRound the bear. And tock him to a cave with a rock by it. They had a tiggr put the rock by the hole of the cave. And I forgot to say that the Rabbit was a girl. And the fox was a boy. And the fox and Rabbit got marryed.

PTOIT Special Feature: Fun with Google!It is back! America's favorite sensation where I search Google Images with two random words to see what I get.

Today's Search Terms: "Garbage" and "Monster"

The Results:

Photo #1: Finally, a monster truck is featured on PTOIT. Can we all say Amen?

Photo #2: This is an odd photo. Everyone knows that no self-respecting Green Garbage Monster would be seen in public in blue denim.

Photo #3: No garbage. No monster.

Photo #4: This image sums up exactly why Fun with Google exists. Whoo. This is nice. I like to imagine this guy's name is Hank. And he's playing "Tip Toe Through the Tulips." Or some New Wave hit.

Not a Rookie, Not Quite a Vet

I've had one of those age revelations this week that I think we all encounter at some point. I'm not facing any sort of mid-life crisis (whew, since that'd mean my 60th birthday would be a real bummer). And no, I'm not freaking out over my age. I'm only 29. But instead, it's just hit me that I'm an adult in a new way. I've gained a new gauge upon which to weigh my age.

And, being a guy, of course it would come to me through professional sports.

I remember being a kid and looking up to my parents or teachers or other adults and assuming that they somehow had it together. It was almost as if I assumed that at some point you passed an "Adult" test and then knew what to do, what to say, and how to have it together. You were something GREATER. You were an ADULT. As I got older, I realized that really isn't the case at all. You never really have it together. And maybe you never really feel like an adult. You're just you, but around for longer. I made that revelation first when I got to be the age my parents were when I was born. I couldn't believe they could hand out infants to people like me: so young, so immature, so unprepared. Then, shortly out of college I had to pay all my bills, and then I had a mortgage and was the only person with a set of keys to my residence. It all made me think about this thing we call "adult."

But this new thought is a bit different. When I was a kid, I looked at professional athletes as these men who could take on all obstacles. These guys had it together. Maybe even I rationalized why they were so good and could think so quickly and do what they do by reminding myself they were adults. They were older than I, and maybe someday I could achieve what they have. But this week I've heard a lot of talk aobut players' ages. And I realized that if I were a professional athlete, I'd no longer a rookie sensation. They'd be starting to call me a veteran.

It's sobering to look at your favorite team and realize that most of them are younger than you. And the team veterans--the old guys--aren't much older than you. Paul Konerko is a year older than I. Jermaine Dye three years.

I guess the consolation is that if I were a coach, I'd be considered really young.

Best of the Spam
Best Recent Addresses: Daintily K. Impunity, Twiddle M. Workaday, Gloomier E. Muesli, Ruler V. Forgettable

Best Recent Subject Line: "Rigorous Minivan"

Quote of the Week
"[Coach Bill Parcels] doesn't know my groin." -Mike Vanderjagt, Dallas Cowboys kicker, about who should decide whether he is healthy to play or not.

"Ahhh, your shirt is really blue!" -Emily, explaining why she was so frightened as I entered her office.

No Time For Doors

Doug F. was telling me yesterday about driving 65 mph on the interstate when he looked over and saw a UPS driver keeping up with him--with no door. He found it curious that someone would drive that fast with no door--and only a thin strap of fabric to hold them in.

"There's nothing between him and the pavement but a pair of polyester shorts," said Doug. "Please, give that man a door!"

I have always enjoyed the fact that UPS men drive around in trucks without doors. It makes them seem so urgent. "Doors? I don't have time for doors! This package has to be in Cincy by 2!" Opening and shutting doors takes time. It makes me feel secure to know that somewhere, a doorless van is carrying my package with a man or woman just ready to leap out to make sure it gets to me. It also makes me think of UPS drivers as helicopter gunners. Without a door there, they could just whip out the gatling gun at any time.

I'm so proud of those tough, risk-all drivers. They sacrifice their bodies to protect our packages, which they take no risks with--not even just leaving it at my dang door. Here's to you, UPS guy.

I read an interesting Slate article about a new "trend" for couples geting hitched. It said:

"If you've read the British news in recent weeks, you might have come away convinced that American couples are crazy about "meshing," or that when John U.S. Smith weds Mary America Jones, they inevitably anoint themselves the Smoneses (or the Jiths). "Word reaches us of new linguistic horrors concocted by the Americans in their continuing assault upon our common tongue," Carol Sarler announced in the British Observer on July 30. Besides the Observer, the Sunday Times, the Telegraph, and BBC News Magazine have all run stories on the putative trend in the last month. (Even the English-language China Daily picked up the news, scoffing at the latest fad among America's "well-meaning liberals.")

There's just one problem with these trend-spotting pieces: They all list only the same two examples. In 2004, when New York Times correspondent Jodi Wilgoren got married to Gary Ruderman, they changed their surnames to Rudoren. The only other case of "meshing" that is mentioned is Los Angeles Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa, who used to be Tony Villar
before marrying Corina Raigosa in 1988.

Some trend!"

Being a sort-of journalist, I find it fascinating that the press in other countries have made this rare U.S. occurance sound like a trend. It shows how you can use any information to serve your purposes. And here, they've used an 8 year-old instance to make it seem like this is happening every day. As if every couple is going all smash-up with their names. And we now have all these Jiths and Smonses running around. Funny. Like that would happen.

In unrelated news: As of next June 23, I will be Todd Loehertz. Or maybe Herbach. I haven't decided yet.

History of Crushes

OK, So I've been holding onto this post for like a week until Blogger would let me post photos. But it still won't. So, I will just go with it anyway. But before I get to that, I thought I'd a quick recap of favorite (to me) PTOIT features:

Fun With Google: Will return to PTOIT whenever Blogger lets me post pictures.

Monkey Search 2006: The last development was when we discovered that the missing Red Fez Monkey pencil topper was indeed still out there somewhere. Even though I'd given up ever seeing him again, this new information gave Monkey Search 2006 new hope. But then...silence. No new news. No letters. No photos. There is no sign of that little guy. However, there is a new Red Fez Monkey in my life. My Intended bought be a two-inch ceramic monkey (wearing a red fez). And this one--hold on to your hats, people--actually smokes. There will be pictures ... you know, someday.

The Matt - Charissa Connection Campaign: Another photo-intensive feature, this effort to get my friend Charissa to meet Relient K's frontman will hopefully return in the next couple of weeks. No, Matt has not yet contacted Charissa, despite the video she made him. And all my wonderous photos of what a meeting between them would look like.

Now, on to today's thoughts:

Last week, I got to hear my Dad's version of my sister's "Meeting Neal Cotts" story.

In his version, Sisterwas so weepy and on the verge of blacking out at the presence of the White Sox reliever that my Dad had to almost push her over to him and then literally hold her over the bullpen wall to hand him her ticket to sign. (If only opponents got so weak-kneed at Neal's presence.)

Anyway, it got me thinking about celebrity crushes. My celebrity crushes really aren't that intense. They are pretty fleeting. And I don't even think they are really as romantic as they are admiration. And I find a common thread in my crushes--almost always my crush is on an actress' character, not her. Thus, my crushes aren't about actually wanting to meet or date that person, but more of just innocent thinking that I'd like to meet a real-life someone like that character. When I say innocent, I really mean it. I am, after all, still pretty much a 5-year-old in an adult's body. And my crushes still seem to be that innocent and naive as chasing around a girl on the playground, and not knowing why.

My first crush, and the girl who made me realize that girls are kinda cool, was Kelly Martin on Life Goes On. Sweet Little Becca. He cute bob hairdo, her little glasses (early on), and her downright sweetness. She started my thing for the girl next door. I didn't know why I found her so interesting, but I just knew that I did.

After Becca, I remember being in junior high or high school when the big Mighty Morphin Power Rangers craze hit. I never watched the show, but the ads and McDonalds promotions were everywhere. And so was the pink ranger (Amy Jo Johnson). And a second crush was born. Since I didn't watch any of the shows she was in (Rangers, Felicity), this crush actually wasn't about her character. She was just a cutie. And it's interesting: Because the crush was just based on looks, it was very fleeting. And then I moved on to two characters...

When Scream came out, I was shocked by how good the films was, and how darn lovable (and tough) Neve Campbell was. And a new crush developed. I loved Sidney. I wanted to protect her (or have her protect me). By the time, Scream 3 and her rash of other bad movies came out, I was over it....

And onto Monica Gellar (Courteny Cox). When Friends debuted, she was always my favorite. Even over cutie-putie Jennifer Aniston. I think it was how goofy, organized and manic she was on the show. She was a cool combination of funny-zany and responsible. I admired that mix.

After Monica and Neve, I had more of like mini-crushes. There was Thora Birch's clever and snarky character in Ghost World. There was Samantha Morton's sweet, determined, and gently loving mother character in In America. And Kelly Martin returned to TV on ER and my crush returned. She was still Little Becca to me. But all growns up. I took her death on ER pretty hard.

The only girl I've ever met after thinking she was neato from a far was singer Joy Williams. Yah, she was too young for me. And yah, this was again very much an innocent schoolboy crush. But, like everything else in my life, I enjoyed hamming it up. It's what I do for laughs.

Anyway, two funny stories with Joy:

1) I went to a banquet where every table had a CCM singer at it. I saw the table with Joy's placecard on it, and there were like 6 single guys already squating there. And it turned out, that right before the meal, the organizers moved her to another table. Hmmmm.

2) When I first met Joy, she was as sweet and effusive as could be. I didn't blackout or tear up or anything, but she did put her hand on my leg at one point to show sympathy (this is most womens' reaction to me) and I was like, "Holy crap."

Anyway, going through my History of Crushes has made me realize that I don't currently have any celebrity crushes. Instead, I guess my only crush is My Intended (ya, I should get points for that.)

But here's what's funny: I do see traces of some of these celebrity crushes in My Intended. She had one high school friend who always called her Becca for her resemblance to Kelly Martin. And lately, a few of us have joked that she can have Monica Geller-like moments. I think this history of crushes helped me identify the things that I'd really want in a woman. And I found The Intended. In her, I see the girl next door sweetness of Neve, Becca, and Joy. And the cleverness of Ghost World's Thora Birch, the cunning toughness of Neve's Sidney character, the strength and nuturing of Samantha Morton in In America and the faithful devotion of a Joy Williams.

So, that makes me believe my sister will find a guy with Neil's scruffiness and increasingly ineffective left-arm. (That's not you, Derfman.)

Grooming Jedis

So, blogger once again will not let me post photos. Thus, delaying a big post I had planned for today. Instead, I thought I'd do a few little bits and pieces:

DREAM LOG
Last night, I had my first Star Wars dream in quite a while. In the beginning, I was Luke and I was in the Emperor's lair. I was confronted by both the Emperor and a young cloned version of the Emperor (a character that must have been inspired in my head by the Star Wars Dark Horse comics). I was fighting the Young Emperor, when he grabbed me with one hand and began flossing my teeth with the other. And then, he turned into General Grievious.

The next thing I know, I am walking down a city street with college friends Adam and Jeff. We apparently just saw this new Star Wars film and are discussing it. "I think what Lucas was trying to say," Jeff said. "Was that the Emperor and Grievious were grooming Luke to take over." (Get it: grooming=personal hygiene. Yikes.) And then, Jeff turns and points to a building in the distance. "I think that's the Jedi Temple there. We should go there sometime."

The rest of the dream involved me driving a four-wheeler around my brother's farm with him and my yet-to-be-born nephew. And then, my mom and I watched aTV show witha group of homeless people under a bridge.
Sign I Am A Geek #413: I know that there's a Star Wars Dark Horse comic.

PTOIT MOOD ALERT
This weekend, all of my loved ones should keep a careful eye on the sports headlines. My mood and tolerance are likely to be in direct coorelation with how the Sox do against the Twins. We need a sweep. 2 out of 3 will be accepted. Anything else may result in the kind of rage unseen since someone stole Ross' sandwich on Friends.

NEWS COMMENTARY
Have you heard about poor Pluto? It's been kicked out of the Planets Club. Honestly, I feel bad for Pluto. It's like he just got booted from sitting at the cool table. And I think it is sketchy justification too:

"Pluto doesn't make the grade under the new rules for a planet: a celestial body that is in orbit around the sun, has sufficient mass for its self-gravity to overcome rigid body forces so that it assumes a ... nearly round shape, and has cleared the neighborhood around its orbit. Pluto is automatically disqualified because its oblong orbit overlaps with Neptune's."

Hmmm, or does Neptune's orbit overlap Pluto's?! Maybe it's Neptune that isn't a planet!

I kind of imagine this "International Astronomical Union" like a bunch of scheming high school snots who have just been waiting for their chance to pick on the poor kid way out in space that can't defend himself. They are kind of like the rich snobby frat in Animal House who tried to shut down Delta Delta Delta. And I bet Neptune's dad is a big financial contributor.

POP CULTURE WATCH
So, Survivor has for years been accused of not being diverse enough. Well, it wll be this year! In fact, they are putting several blacks, whites, Latinos and Asians on the show--and then making them fight it out! That's right, they will be divided by race and compete against each other. OK. So how does this not end up ugly?

CHRISTMAS LIST UPDATE
Oh yah! www.armorofgodpjs.com

QUOTES OF THE WEEK
"I touched him and I think I blacked out." -My sister about when she met Neal Cotts.

The Morality of Freebies

Last weekend, I saw the World Series trophy again. And surprisingly, it became a moral issue.

My Intended and I were at the State Fair with her dad and the trophey was set to arrive at the U.S. Cellular tent at 1. We got there shortly before 11:30 and got in line (we were numbers 4,5, and 6!).

Behind us in line were three high school boys and one of guys' younger brother. They were sitting in an area of the tent right next to the booth's supplies. The young brother, we'll call him The Beav, was even sitting on one box of U.S. Cellular beach balls.

As I watched, The Beav began to take deflated beach balls from the box and distribute them to brother Wally and his miscreant friends. When they each had stuffed at least 2 a piece into their pants' pockets, I'd had enough. But I held my tongue. And then, Beav pulled out a can cozie from another box and handed it to a kid who looked like a Laguna Beach extra.

I caught Wally's eye and said, "Did they say you could have those?"

Wally: "We just grabbed a ..."

Me: "I know you're just grabbing. You're grabbing whatever you can. No more taking what isn't yours."

Now, I am proud that I stood up for what I believe in. I am glad that I said something. But I have other thoughts too:

1) The stuff they were taking were freebies. No, the US. Cellular people had not yet begun passing this stuff out to people. They weren't out for the taking, but they were there for eventual giveaways. So was taking them really wrong?

2) Knowing high school boys, I know my scolding didn't matter one bit. They probably kept at it when my back was turned. In fact, they've also probably made me into a big joke and snicker about me telling them to stop stealing freebies.

3) After I said what I did, I found myself kinda paranoid that they'd try to do something to me. I guess I've heard too many stories about good samaritans getting beat up when they were trying to do good. So I was kinda worried. I just didn't want them to try something like putting Snakes in My Car.

Having this happen at the viewing of the trophy was sad. It was like bringing evil into the garden of Eden. Such a wonderful, joyous event torn down by darkness. Surely, they can't be Sox fans...

Anyway, seeing the trophey was fantastic. Since My Intended and I have gotten pics with it before, we took this opp to take a comedic photo. I will post it when I get the film back (the digital is in the shop). We also got free limited edition World Series baseballs and got to see one of the rings. No, I didn't win my ring in the big raffle. But I got to see one and it was amazing.

After the State Fair, my weekend of fun continued with a day in Chicago. My Intended and I went to the King Tut exhibit at the Field Museum (awesome) and the Lincoln Park zoo. I love monkeys. I saw a baby one and his dad kept grabbing him by the face with his foot. I wish i could do that. We topped off the day with a ride on a paddle boat shaped like a giant swan.

Sign I Am a Geek #412: The entire time I was looking at the amazing ancient Egyptian finds from Tut's tomb, I kept comparing them to 1994 sci-fi movie, Stargate.

A Theory Out the Window

So, I had this theory. I think I shared it. And now I retract it.

The theory was thus: "Because my beloved White Sox won the World Series last year, the losses and failures that are surely going to come will hurt less. We won't win every year, but I don't need it because this was enough. I will always have that taste of victory, and can now smile through seasons like the 88 previous to 2005. August swoons, slow starts, slumps, everything--I can handle them because I've seen the mountaintop."

Early this year during slumps and challenges I said, "You know whenever this happened in the past it was a lot harder to take beacuse I'd never seen a championship. Now, it's not so bad."

Well, that is a bunch of bunk. This current rollercoaster of winning and losing is rough. We've lost 2 of 3 to the Twins who are a game behind us for the wild card. And now Detroit has finally learned to beat us. And they are increasingly out of reach. And you know what? It hurts. It hurts bad. Yah, I will always have 2005. Yah, I will ponder those memories in my heart. And no one can ever take that away from us. But, right now right here, this is painful. If we don't make the playoffs, it will be killer. And past success won't really make it feel better. I want it again. And losing sucks. This will be a very long 88 more years...

Or will it? Are we really done this season? Is this it? I feel a depressing black cloud hovering over us. Our heads seem to be on the guillen-tine. And it seems hopeless.

But let's take a step back. Just over a week ago, we were on the top of the world. We beat the Yankees 2 of 3. We swept Detroit. We had momentum. We can get that back. There's no reason why not. Not long ago, the Red Sox were handing the Yankees their lunch--and now who's the boss? Anything is possible. Besides, it's not like we're 6 games out of the last playoff lot. We are leading the wild card! The rollercoaster is stressful and I'm pretty sure I've had three heart failures already. But we're still in it.

This is still an exciting August. And will be a great September. This is still baseball at its best. Things just appear worse than they are. On the Inside the White Sox blog today, the VP of communications writes:

"This is not the end of the world ... it just may sound like it and feel like it. We need to win some games. We need to score runs, and we need to have our starting pitchers step up. No doubt. We need to step up. It is worth noting that in each of the last three games (all key), we faced a pitcher who likely will finish among the AL Top 5 in Cy Young Award voting. Like a basketball team that doesn't shoot well, it is tough to look like you have energy when you are facing good pitching.

Let's take stock of where we stand ...
*37 games left
*We still hold the lead in the wild card
*We play our closest challenger for the wild card six times (three and three)
*We rank second in the Majors in runs scored
*We have the fourth-best record in baseball
*We have a 42-33 (.560) record against teams remaining on our schedule If we play at that same pace over the final 37 games (21-16), we finish 94-68

But, of course, we need to play the games."

The American League Wild Card is ours to go out there and get. (And more maybe?) And if we don't get there, it will be dissappointing. It will hurt. But I'll still love my Sox. So, all I have to say is this:

Go, Go, Go White Sox.

For the Love of Everything Holy!

Memo to the the White Sox:

They are the ROYALS. They are 43-78. Most of them are between the ages of 43 and 78. You should not lose to them. Ever.

And when every win counts to whether or not you'll get to the playoffs, you cannot afford to lose to the ROYALS. (See first paragraph for why.) Because of this blundering, all that stuff you accomplished last week: For naught! Yah, a pennant/wild card race in August is exciting and intense--but you are making it more exciting and intense than it needs to be.

I know, this may be my fault. I wore the magic Playoff Jersey for too many days in a row. I pushed it. But please, for the love of everything sweet and holy, please win today.

And always, always let Alex Cintron bat in the 9th. Maybe he can pitch too. Just an idea.

Maybe the problem is that we don't have an official song yet. Get out the Journey records. Find something!

But for now, Don't Stop Believing,
Todd

That's what I am talking about.

Don't hand out the pennants yet. This thing isn't over.

What a great weekend of baseball. After a great rotation of starts for the starters, a solid week of bullpen work and a blast of those timely hits that had been missing, the White Sox are still alive. It wasn't always pretty (see the Yankee series) but the Sox have won 5 of 6 in a stretch that we all knew would be tough and all improtant. Now we are 5 1/2 out of first and 2 ahead for the Wild Card. Uh oh, Detroit.

What an exciting time.

But all is for naught if we don't keep it going. Garland needs to get back to his July numbers. The rest of the staff have to stay away from those July numbers and the offense needs to keep plugging along. This would be a great time to hit our stride. We have to win at least 3 of 4 against the Royals starting tonight. And then, another tough and important stretch starts Friday with Minn, Detroit, and then Minn again. Everything could change drastically (for good or bad) by the end of this month. I love baseball.

Go check out The Palehose Six today and look for the El Farmio cartoon. (Randy, this is for you!) It's a great lampoon of radio broadcaster Ed Farmer. And it makes me miss my old Ed Farmer Quote of the Week blog feature...

In personal White Sox news, my sister and dad went to the game Friday night. I got this brilliant text message from Michelle: "I got Neal's autograph. I cried a little." I laughed out loud. She's had a crush on reliever Neal Cotts for a long time, and now I think her heart is ruined for all other men.

Other News: I have finally named my Fantasy Football team. This is a tough process every year. I've been working hard on it. I'd considered Roethlisberger Helmet, Co., Rex's Gross Men and Mythical Team of Destiny. For awhile, I was going with "Your Mama." I thought it would be funny to see and hear people say stuff like, "Your Mama got beat this weekend" or "Your Mama picked up a running back..."

But in the end, the name of this year's team is officially: PAPA BEAR MALICE.

The only other newsworthy stuff in my life is that I went to Chuck E. Chese this weekend. My Intended was babysitting an 8-year-old who'd been trash talking me for several days that she'd beat me in Skee-Ball. I finally had enough and threw down the gauntlet. When she beat me, I kicked her in the shin and ran away.

Where's Jar Jar?

So, the more I look at some of those proposal photos, the more I find something striking. Of course, My Intended (formerly The Ladyfriend) does not quite see what I do, but to me it's really quite amazing.

Look at this photo:


Doesn't it look like we are on Naboo, home world of Queen Amidala from the Star Wars prequels? I think so. It even looks a little CG-enhanced. I hit the good old internet to find photographic comparisons from the films but only found these two. They aren't great, but there is a resemblance:

PTOIT Special Feature: Fun with Google

Here at PTOIT (Putting the Odd in Todd), we strive for objectivity and credibility. So I want to assure you that today's selected words for Fun with Google were drawn randomly out of a hat and have no meaning or connection. OK, that's all a lie. Anyway, like every week, I selected two terms and searched than at Google images to see what came up. Here it goes.

Today's search terms: "Wedding" and "Star Wars"

The results:

Photo #1: I especially like the fall leaves that create a gentle cradle for the Vader cake. I love that despite the nerdiness, they tried to class it up to match the rest of the wedding. The look really says, "Classy Autumn Nerd-dom" or "Trick or Treat: Imperial Takeover" or "This is a Compromise so I Didn't Have to Dress Like Amidala."

Photo #2: I like to imagine here that the bride and groom do not know the men on either side of them but don't want to cause a panic in front of all their guests. "Just smile...Is that your uncle in the mask?"

Photo #3: These men have no honor. Look at those sloppy arcs. Qui Gon would not be pleased.

Photo #4: This is just so darn cute. The simple innocence of children--they won't say no when you make them dress up like an Ewok in public. But you can tell that the older one, the jedi, is starting to wise up. He's thinking, "Hmmm, do I want photos of this?"

The Story

This is how the story of the engagement goes.

As I came up with my plan for the proposal, I knew I wanted to do a few specific things: 1) I wanted it to happen during a surprise birthday party so that she'd be surrounded by all her loved ones 2) I wanted to do it on a bridge 3) I wanted to do it at a park the the two of us enjoy.

I didn't realize all the significance to my choices. In the planning and execution, I realized: 1) She's never had a surprise birthday party and always badly wanted one, 2) Her mom and step-dad were engaged on a bridge, 3) For years, she always just knew she'd be proposed to in this very park (and a friend has confirmed this) and 4) I unknowingly chose to propose on the same day my brother did a couple years back: August 6.

At the birthday party, I gave Kate a T-shirt reading "Te He."

I then whisked her away. We left the party and walked through an old wooden bridge and around a long city block to a beautiful bridge in the downtown area. As we made our trek, the party goers moved to a new location--a vantage point on the proposal.

About 100 yards from her friends and our families, I led her to a nice little balcony on the bridge. And got down on my knee.

This next photo may look like I am accusingly pointing at her...but I am actually proposing in sign language.

She says yes.

And then we return to our loved ones with our new team shirts on.

All the guys slapped me on the back and congratulated me. And all the girls went for peeks of the ring...

And all in all, there was much rejoicing. (I love this photo of Kate and my sis...)

(Thanks to Megan and Marc for photos.)

I'm Engaged!

Get out the Star Wars Wedding decorations...

Last night, I asked The Ladyfriend, to marry me. She said yes.

We are very excited to spend our lives together.

(More details and photos are coming!)

Something is dead under my bed

Earlier this week I noticed a smell in my apartment. To be honest, being a single guy who lives alone, that's not all that rare of an event. But it was a different smell. It wasn't a sock smell. It was more decaying and moldy. It was like a very pungent garbage smell. So, I checked my garbage and it was fine.

On Wednesday, I got out of the shower and went into my room. And I smelled it. It was very strong and was in my room. But as I sniffed around, the odor dissappeared. I shrugged and decided that it was perhaps outside or something.

Last night, I climbed into bed. (Hmmm. Isn't that a funny phrase? It's two feet off the ground. There's no climbing involved. If anything, I descended into my bed.) I snuggled into my bed and laid on my side. And just a few seconds later, I rolled over to face the other way. And that's when it hit me: the wall of smell. It was very pungent and RIGHT THERE.

Something is dead under my bed, I thought. In a matter of about 1.5 seconds my mind flashed to all kinds of hideous odor producing things that could be down there. There's a lost cat that always shows up on my window will (yah, on the 3rd floor!). There's a squirrel who likes my balcony. Perhaps I left the door open while grilling one day and they died on my floor, I thought. What then?

I got out of bed and turned on the lights. To be honest, I was scared about actually seeing what was down there. I pulled the bed out and used a flashlight to look around. I found some old shirts and washcloths. But none smelled. And then I saw it.

At this point, it was like a movie where a flashback fills in information you need to know. As soon as I saw it sitting there, I could practically see the events of probably well over a month ago. I had hurt my knee doing Ultimate Frisbee. I wanted to ice it down but had no ice (anyone who has ever come to my house knows that I am very bad at keeping the ice tray stocked). So, I grabbed a bag of frozen broccoli and cauliflower. I wrapped it in a rag and went to sleep with it on my knee.

When I woke that next morning, I didn't even think about where that bag had gone. And so it sat, under my bed rotting. And with me being gone last week in 100 degree heat with the air off, oh boy, did it get ripe.

I wish I owned a haz mat suit for situations like this. It was gross. And so pungent. I always knew vegetables were no good.

PTOIT Quotes of the Week

"How else are you going to get people into this move? Nobody wants to see Pacific Air 121. That's like saying Boat to Heaven. People either want to see this movie or they don't. So let 'em know: If you're coming to see this movie, you're going to see a plane full of deadly-*** snakes. That's what it should be called. Deadly-*** Snakes on a Plane." - Samuel L. Jackon in Entertainment Weekly about New Line's attempts to rename Snakes on a Plane.

"Nobody cursing is kind of unrealistic when you're in an airplane witha bunch of ******* snakes." - Samuel L. Jackson again. This time about New Line's attempts to keep SoaP PG-13.

"Many would equate Ecclessiastes with a depressed emo kid" -Family Force 5 member Chap Stique in a devo about Ecclessiastes.

Please properly mark your poisoned cabbages.

The Matt-Charissa Connection Campaign: Day 22

The Campaign has taken a huge leap today as Charissa herself has taken a step that will surely lead to Matt contacting her. Or we can only hope.

As you know, the campaign is built around my friend Charissa's realization that she wants to meet Matt T (not to be confused with Mr. T) of Relient K. We are doing whatever we can to try and get him to helicopter in to say hi or, you know, send an e-mail.

So, just for this purpose, Charissa taught herself how to make animated Flash movies and made her own sequel to Relient K's flash movie about Woodland Forest. See the orignal here. And then watch Charissa's version.

I am proud to say this marks my first time being a cartoon voice! (I play the cabbage.)

It'll pinch ya in the cheeks.

So, my canoe trip was cancelled last week with the youth group because of forest fires (not ones we set). The funny thing is is that if it would have been up to me and the boys, we'd probably have been rowing through flames with burning oars (or, you know coughing up black tar on the side of river). But luckily, non-boys called the shots and knew it was best to not try our hands at fire-jumping. Drat.

Instead, I took four kids camping to Devil's Lake in Wisconsin. It was a blast and very relaxing. In fact, it was interesting to see God's provision in the whole thing. We were suppoused to leave for the canoe trip on a Saturday. Instead, we left Monday morning. On Sunday night, one of the boys came down with a 104.3 fever. Had that happened while we were in the middle of nowhere in Boundary Waters, it would have been a bad bad scene. So, it worked out well. That guy wasn't able to go and the rest of us trudged on.

One story of the week: I found a brochure for a Cheese Factory where you could see the cheese being made. We thought this would be fun and interesting on the one rainy day. Well, we got there to find out that in order to watch cheese being made you have to show up before noon. Oops. Instead, they showed us a video. At first we were all bummed out...until it turned out to be the Greatest Video Ever. Seriously. At one point, two men used these big instruments to comb through vast vats of hardening cheese while the narrator said, "For 45 miuntes, they cut the cheese."

Now, being the adult in the group I decided I needed to practice restraint and not giggle like a 12-year-old boy. So I held in my laughter. But I finally burst toward the end when the owner of the factory came on screen. He was very creepy and did a lot of weird hand motions while decribing how you can tell a good cheese by it's taste. He finished by saying: "A good cheese will pinch you in the cheeks." I lost it. I couldn't hold it in.

And all week we tried to figure out, "What does that even mean?"

Random Special Mention: So everyone knows how I like pirates? And how much I like the White Sox? Well...LOOK: A Comic About The White Sox As Pirates! Glory, glory. And it's pretty dang funny. My favorite part so far is: "We lost our widger."

Tuesday Special Feature: Fun With Google:

Where I take random words and search for them on Google Images to see what I find.

Today's Search Terms: "Punk" and "Baby"

The Results:



Photo #1: This is a baby photo of Margaret Mead. Not exactly what I thought I'd find. I was imagining something more along the lines of mohawks...

Photo #2: Bingo.

Photo #3: Wow. This is beyond my comprehension. Punks like bear skin rugs? (Oh and Marc, I am learning to do tattoos for little Todd Douglas.)

Photo #4: I am actually afraid of this boy.


Photo #5: Awwwwwwww.

Photo #6: I am speculating that this is an early photo of Johnny Rotten. Or Pat Robertson. But I may be wrong. I actually have that tie at home.