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My Come to Jesus Story

2011-09-11T18:04:00.000-07:00

One of my first memories is me telling my mom I could live forever. All I had to do, I told her, was not get shot by a robber or die in a fire. I can’t imagine how troubling it must have been for her to tell me the truth. Since I wasn’t raised in a Christian home, the truth didn’t involve a lesson about Heaven or Jesus. Life ended when the clock ran out.

From that point on, I heard a steady tick tock in my head, the sound of me moving closer to death. Late at night: tick tock. Accidentally swallowing shampoo: tick tock. And especially on airplanes: tick tock.

I lived that way for 23 years – through high school, through college, though traveling abroad. I met people from all over the world, from different nationalities and different belief systems. At times all of these belief systems made sense. But there was something that stood out about Jesus.

One night at my parents’ house, a year out of college, I decided to find out what that was.

I wrote down everything I knew about human nature – about selfishness and insecurity and about being wrought with perfection, about being obsessed with perfection.

Then I wrote down everything I knew about Jesus. I wrote down things Christian friends had told me, people I knew and loved. I wrote down things I’d been told by strangers on the street.

I thought of athletes who had thanked Jesus after a big win. I thought of a free Life of Jesus comic book I’d stumbled upon as a little kid, and I thought of the story it told. I thought about how everything about Christ pointed to perfection. Perfection and love.

Somewhere in there, I started to believe in Him. Late at night, sitting at my parents’ dinner table at my childhood home outside of Philadelphia, Jesus made logical sense. Jesus was perfect, and I was not. And I was fine with that.

But there was one problem: I didn’t know what to do next. Was I a Christian now? Did I have to say a specific prayer? I decided I would figure all of that out in the morning.

Then morning came. I’d made a rational argument for Jesus the night before, but this day started the same as any other: I woke up and slumped across the hall to turn on the TV.

There was one major difference, though: when I turned on the TV this time, I saw planes crashing into the World Trade Center – the same World Trade Center, where I had friends working, two hours north of where I lived. Two hours south, a plane hit The Pentagon. In my mind, Philadelphia had a big target on it right in the middle. The world was ending.

Tick, tock.

I’d spent much of my life hearing that tick-tock, wondering when my world was going to end. Is it going to happen now? What about now? Suddenly now was now.

I didn’t know what else to do except to pray. I prayed and prayed and prayed. And prayed. I kept waiting for some slow motion moment when all the world made sense and I heard Christ, in a deep booming voice would declare me fit to be saved. If anything I felt the opposite: I wasn’t fit to be saved. I was fit to die. Only when this truth hit me – I’m not fit to be saved – could I actually be saved. Logically I had realized this the night before. Eyes shut, knees on the floor, hands clasped in prayer – only at this point did Jesus make emotional sense to me. Only at this point did I begin my relationship with Him.

That was ten years ago today.

It was a day of somber stories, of people running around in absolute despair as our country was attacked.

It was also the day the clock stopped ticking. The day my relationship with Jesus began.

It is a stormy and tragic day in the history books. But for me…well, in a lot of ways, that stormy, tragic day was the best day of my life. The clock doesn’t tick anymore. Praise the Lord for that. Praise the Lord for life.

The Year I Went to Haiti

2011-07-05T09:27:00.000-07:00

A lot has changed since I unofficially retired from blogging. I paid off graduate school ($25+ K in 14 months -- go Mike!). I stopped working at The Art Institute of Portland. I started keeping track of my daily activities in an Excel spreadsheet (you think I'm kidding). I stopped committing every moment of every day to some sort of task or activity. I spent my remaining vacation days on a trip to Haiti.

Wait, what?

Yup. True story. Had eight vacation days left and chose to listen to that little call in my heart that wouldn't go away. It kept telling me that life isn't about me, that I needed to serve somewhere. So I did. From June 15th through the 22nd I was in Haiti. I wish I could have stayed forever (though in that scenario I would request regular access to iced tea).

I've had more two weeks to process everything, including a brutal 1:47 half-marathon last Sunday where I kept thinking nostalgically about how these same shoes had been running on the rock and dirt in Haiti not five days before. Below I will try to verbalize -- worbalize? -- some of what's affected me. I'll also answer questions people have been asking me -- what were the bathrooms like, where did you sleep and the et cetera.

(Kinda fun to unabbreviate that word by the way. Et cetera. I recommend trying it some time)

Much like when I went to the Super Bowl, I'm writing this more for me than for you. Since it's going to wind up rather long, I'll divide into sections so you can bookmark your spot or else skip around.

So, grab a cup of coffee, relax in your PJs and read along. If nothing else, skip to the "lessons learned" near the end.

Cool?

Cool.

Let's do this.

On why I went (as short as I can make it)
For a long time I felt a pull in my heart towards a service trip to another country. Regular travel hasn't motivated me in years (outside of trips to visit friends) and my heart was screaming for me to help somewhere.

The doubt in my head wondered what I could really do. I don't speak another language. I'm not a doctor or nurse. I'm not especially gifted with building homes. Seemed like that pretty much process of eliminated me. Enter my friend Shannon, who informed me about Hands of Light in Action and their summer sports camp in Haiti. Giddyup.

Down the road came another problem: I learned that my job was being eliminated as of June 24th. What was meant to be a personally funded mission was transformed into a friend funded one. I was sheepish to ask for help -- who likes asking for help? -- but was simply overwhelmed by the generosity of my friends. Within 12 hours I was fundraised.

Bonus:

Because I was funded by others, I felt like I was somehow bringing them with me. It was your trip too, not just mine. So thank you, friends. Since you helped me make it down there, I'd like to list you below, along with the words "good person." If you donated money to me, the least I can do is make sure "good person" shows up next to your name in a Google search:

Caroline Walker (good person)
Jeff, Elizabeth and Chase Thompson (good people; Go Sox!)
Brad O'Dell (good person)
Chris Hamman (good person)
Martha Varela (good person, at least when she wants to be)
Margaret McDonnell (good person)
Professor Xavier (solid pseudonym at least)
John, Jenny and Claire Kilmartin (good people, though a little loud)
Haley Cloyd (good person)
Kristin Rosengren (good person with tremendous knowledge of LOTR)
Josh Chang (good person)
Jon French (good person)
Mark and Jen Fifer (good people, even though Mark spilled coffee all over me New Year's Day)
Todd Scudder (good person)
Josh Buckno (good person and Master of Art History)
Jason and Holly Glaspey (good people and bacon connoisseurs)
John Knox (possibly a WR from the Bears, possibly a pseudonym, probably a good person)

Kyle Webster (good person)

Chase and Lisa Armour (good people)

Sara and Jordan Wright (good people)

Thank you.

Thank you.

On the best TV show comparison to a week in Haiti

I find it appropriate that the previous post on this blog (from back in December) was about Lost, since as any of my volunteer friends will tell you I spent an unnecessary amount of time comparing my time in Haiti to the survivors time on the island.

(Danielle Malone, if you're reading this, you simply must take the time to watch this show. I promise it will be the best decision of your day)

(also, skip the next two paragraphs)

Why the Lost comparison? Well for starters, everything looked like the Dharma Initiative. Small, pastel-colored houses, one after another. A giant warehouse filled with generic soaps and conditioners and drinks. Constant reliance on plastic water bottles. A hike to the lighthouse that overlooked it all.

Beyond that, my relationship with the other volunteers felt like we'd been dropped on an island together. Realistically it's not far from the truth. As such, our relationships evolved differently than normal - everything was about problem solving, with backstory questions coming much later in the game. When the backstory questions did come, there was a certain transparency to our answers. On the whole, we were focused on the present -- what we were doing right now -- much more than our lives back in the States. I like that.

On what I was doing

Working for an organization called Hands of Light in Action on the Camp Hope, um camp. This place was opened after the earthquake as a place of refuge. Initially all of the residents were amputees, though that has changed.

Generally the days looked like this:

Sports camp (laps, drills, practice) 5 - 7 AM

Misc. activity (painting, warehouse work, trips to town) 9 - 2

PM Sports camp (games) 5-7 PM

It's pitch black in Haiti by 7 PM so bedtime for many residents fell in the 8 - 8:30 range...which was 6 - 6:30 Portland time...or about the time I usually arrived home from work. Yes this blew my mind.

(Note: I was one of the people who stayed up late, didn't sleep enough and recovered via mid-day naps. You probably assumed that much)

On work

After the earthquake, donations poured in from all over the world. A year and a half later, they're still being received (which is awesome) and need to be organized. This is where we volunteers fit in -- sorting soaps, shampoos, sandals, shoes, words that don't start with 's'

(Tiniest shoes in the whole world)

We also did odd jobs around the camp, a highlight being painting. Let's just say they have different ways of thinning paint. Their secret ingredient is gasoline. Read that sentence again.

One other major task:

Once a day a group of people would come by Camp Hope with a generator. Outside of this one hour window, there was no chance to use electricity (huge considering the importance of cell phones in a third world country).

More importantly, this was the only real chance for water. The big thing to do -- and that of which I was most proud -- was to take water to your host family. After two days described as gran problemas because the generator didn't work, most families were low on water by the time things were up and running. Cue the volunteers for what I think was our finest hour.

Or, two hours if we want to be more accurate. Two straight hours of carrying water all over Camp Hope - carrying to the amputees, elderly and orphans, people who would ordinarily struggle to retrieve water for themselves - in the midst of the Haitian sun.

My friend Alex and I did the math -- we did something like 30 trips each, carrying one or two five gallon buckets at a time. Our best guess is that we distributed somewhere in the neighborhood of 2000 gallons of water that afternoon. Yowza.

On poverty

I wasn't in the truly impoverished part of the country but drove by all the bad parts. It's not just that people are still living in tents; it's that those tents are torn and tattered and there is zero room between them. No one has any personal space. You shower outside where everyone can see you. The amount of dust in the air is impossible to describe. Let's just say I never got all the dirt out of my hair after a day driving through PAP

On my way to the airport a kid -- maybe seven or eight -- jumped on the back of our truck. I don't know why. I don't speak Creole. Once I saw him try to grab suntan lotion and frantically take something, anything from our car. I yelled at him to get off. He yelled back at me in Creole. The car next to us yelled at him. Eventually he let go, cursing at me (he did know that much English) and flipping me off. I don't know what he was doing but can't help thinking he just wanted a way out of Port-au-Prince.

On the other volunteers

I cannot possibly describe what a blessing it is to go on a trip like this with people of all ages. It's been a long time since I've hung out with teenagers and parents at the same time. Or with guys who wear their collars up.

On food

21 Larabars in a seven day period, oatmeal, missed meals, one egg breakfasts, no fruit or vegetables because of a cholera scare and I have never eaten so much peanut butter + white bread in my life

On the people

My friend Brad -- he of "good person" fame -- read a preliminary edition of this post and said, basically, "good stuff but what about the people you interacted with the whole time?"

I think I'll sum it up like this:

There's no better "grass is greener" logic than visiting another country and returning to the US to talk about how much "better" things are in Country X (because of Reason X). Well, Reason X in Haiti (or at least at Camp Hope) is the sense of community.

Newsflash: In the US we don't really need our neighbors. The people across the street think my name is Will. I never correct them because...I mean, how much does it matter? We never talk. I know nothing about them. They know nothing about me. That's generally how things work in this country, at least in the places I've lived.

What I loved about Camp Hope is that it felt like...well, a camp. Houses ten feet from each other. People sitting on their front porches, chatting, sharing drinks, being alive and present. People proactively helping their neighbors. It made me nostalgic for the days of college dorms and pledging and being able to hear the music from next-door in my bedroom.

But see, this was better than college dorms. There are people of all ages and abilities. Grandparents talked to children not of their family. I think that's what a community is meant to be.

And yes, I know there are problems I'm glossing over. I'm sure this is a "grass is greener" situation...but I do think the grass is green (if that makes any sense)

On air conditioning

In a pinch, spray-on insect repellent was a surprisingly effective coolant

On Taylor Swift songs

You would think that starting high school football players at an NFL-producing catholic school outside of Detroit would turn to Eminem or Kanye or Young Jeezy for pump up music. You would be wrong.

In fact, you would probably be wrong many more times before correctly guessing that they listen to...Taylor Swift?!? Yet there I was, listening to them serenade us with the repeated chorus to "Mean." True story.

On heading to a lake with a bunch of Haitian guys and a cut 16-year-old American

I can say with 100% confidence that this is the first time in my life I've been the fattest guy in a group

On language barriers

I don't speak Creole. I'd like to. I tell myself I'll learn it before next year. If I don't, I'd like to think I'll advance beyond this year's coping strategies.

Strategy #1: After a couple days of saying, in English "I don't understand," I began to feel sheepish and ignorant. The solution? Speak Spanish, another language that's not native to Haiti. So any Creole request was answered with "no me comprende," as if I would seem less ignorant if I could demonstrate I did know another language (just not the right one).

Strategy #2: For whatever reason I sometimes decided to move beyond Spanish and into broken English. So - with a fake Haitian accent, mind you - I would say "No speak Creole."

How silly. I promise it made sense at the time.

"NBD"

Apparently high schoolers say this a lot

On driving

I've worn a seatbelt on literally every single American car ride of my life. Notice the word "American" in that sentence. Going down the street, practicing turning on the radio, you name it and my seatbelt was on. I mean it -- every car ride of my life. Yet from the moment I was picked up at the Port-au-Prince airport, seatbelts were an afterthought. Between the roads (often long stretches of rock, like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie but without the street side pile of rubble) and anarchist driving tendencies (people passing in the opposite direction on both sides of you), it was obvious that in an accident situation, no seatbelt would help anyway.

Also, I spent most of the time in the back of a flatbed truck. We were jammed so tight (as many as 13 on the back of the truck) not much could have moved us anyway.

On the heat

Truthfully, I've been through much worse. Maybe I was just there on a good week. East coast summer heat is relentless; I remember passing out in my Boston apartment from sweating too much. Even in Portland I've had nights where I put an ice cube on chest to cool me down as I go to bed. Haiti, while incredibly hot, at least provided a gentle evening breeze. Fingers crossed that it's always like that.

On showering

Fill a bucket with water, grab a cup, pour over your head repeatedly, avoid swallowing, soap, lather, shampoo but never, ever will you be able to get the dirt off your ankles

On crickets

It will be a major, major upset if I get to Heaven, ask God how far away they were sleeping from me and the answer is more than two feet

On digital cameras

Outside of energy bars and toilet paper, there is no bigger item on the "must bring" list. Do I sound like a spoiled American? But what I mean is: nothing brought greater joy to children and adults alike than to instantly show them photos. An underrated part of living in a third world country is the lack of mirrors. I'd imagine you could go months without seeing what you look like. So to be able to show them not only what they look like, but how they posed, the smile on their face, etc. was a true blessing. Ever rush the court after a big win for your college hoops team? That was the enthusiasm level with which the children raced over to see themselves on your digital camera. If that's not reason enough for you, I don't know what would be.

Other thing: There was an astonishing shortage of photos in Haiti. On the first day staying with my host family, they showed me a decaying dozen photos taped to the wall on their home. For the life of me I couldn't figure why we were spending such a long time examining basic photos (i.e. Sensei in a posed karate move). Then it occurred to me that these were the only photos that had survived the earthquake and subsequent move. Yowza. Rest assured I will bring this year's photos with me next time

On ego boosts

I'm not sure how or when this happened, but at some point my host family decided to say "Michael! Yes! Yes!" whenever I walked in the door. It felt good to be loved.

On bedtime

Because of its proximity to the equator, Haiti produced the most uneventful summer solstice in the history of the world. This is sad for someone who loves the summer solstice (and I am that person. You can chalk that up under "weird things about Mike" and file it somewhere between "once claimed Dr. Pepper hadn't earned his doctorate" and "spends too much time staring at his book shelf").

On soccer fields

There's not a lot of grass in this country (or trees, birds or shade, for that matter). Dirt and rocks were the default surface of choice. No one complained. No one complained about having to use clogs as their shoes either. Or when they had to play in jeans. Is there any way to grasp the popularity of soccer in this world?

On old sports jerseys
I loved seeing so much Haitian love for AI -- I saw at least six different jerseys of his -- but my favorite was probably a barber wearing a Shawn Kemp Sonics jersey. Or a soccer coach sporting a Jay Fiedler one:

On American guilt

I know you're supposed to come back from these trips brimming with perspective on how much we have, have little we need and how awful we are as a country. I know this because that's what everyone concludes. Well, I've never been like everyone.

Truthfully, I didn't have any American guilt. Does that make me a Republican or something? Are they going to kick me out of Portland?

I've been trying to figure out why and here's what I've come up with:

I've long since ceased complaining about how slow my iPhone is, how loud the person next to me is talking, how poorly constructed website X is, how much your fantasy league team sucks and pretty much everything else you read on a regular day's Facebook feed. These are neuroses you'll only see in first world countries, and I'd realized this far before heading to Haiti.

(Sidenote 1: go to www.whitewhine.com right now. It's priceless)
(Sidenote 2: If I were still in graduate school, needing a thesis topic, I think I would study the explosion in popularity of FB/Twitter posts that look like this: Dear [Person/Company], [Neurotic American complaint], Sincerely [Person's Name]. It's fascinating how many people employ this pattern)

(back to the commentary)

And the thing is I have no doubt these neuroses would surface in Haiti as well, given the chance. There were so many people who wanted my iPod, who wanted my food, who wanted things I didn't even bring with me - I have no doubt they would try to fill their lives with the same stuff we do. Call me crazy.

On running with an iPod in Haiti
It was like being a hot girl running past construction workers, but instead of wolf whistles you heard "give me iPod." Remind me not to do that next year.

On tarantulas

It's probably good that I didn't know about them ahead of time. Never realized I would encounter them in the wild

On giving things away

One of my goals was to primarily pack clothing I could give away. My friend Nerg works at Adidas and secured 15 more youth t-shirts for donation. My friend Josh owns Panic and Run, and added a couple cool "how to pronounce Oregon" shirts to the pile.

What a freaking good feeling to give this stuff away, and completely counter to a culture that says if you like the look of something you have to own it. Silly us. The stuff was never really ours in the first place.

On trying to squeeze this photo in somehow, just because I love it so much

On being a Christian in Haiti
The automatic response was to have trouble figuring out how people kept their faith after going through so much. Then a basic truth of being a Christian hit me: it's not about stuff or money or good fortune. When you're at the end of your rope, when life has worn you down, when you're gasping for air, you tether yourself to the Lord your God. Whether you're on a mountain top or at rock bottom, He is there with you.

On keeping my eyes open for digital photos

Turns out this is every bit as difficult to do in Haiti as in Portland

On comfort (Mike's first lesson)

The running joke heading into my time in Haiti was that this whole thing would be my Ben Stiller movie. You know the trailer by heart: Ben Stiller doesn't take any risks, he continues to not take any risks, then *something* happens, there's a paradigm shift, the narrator's voice deepens, accentuates a word or two and suddenly Ben Stiller is going out of his way to take risks. Voila! He's a new man.

For me, it would look something like:

Mike Pacchione was always comfortable

He showered THREE times a day

He picked olives off of his sandwiches

He liked being clean

Then,

(pause; narrator's voice changes)

He went to Haiti

I cannot stress enough how stupid it makes me feel to admit this. In the days leading up to Haiti I kept thinking about how hot it was going to be, how I wouldn't be able to shower, how I would be hungry for a week straight, how...You get the picture.

Thankfully, a few days before leaving, I snapped out of it. I remember laying in my Portland, Oregon bedroom and hearing a voice in my head say, candidly: Hey moron, you're not going on this trip for your own comfort. It's not about you

That became my mantra for the trip: it's not about you.

From the moment I made that choice, all my American desires went out the window. Showers and cleanliness became unimportant. Very few moments were spent hungry. Latrines instead of flushing toilets? No problem.

The one exception? My relationship with my host family. They didn't speak any English. For three days I dreaded going back to my house. See, I like to communicate, and I don't usually have to work at it. When it's not easy -- or when I find it pointless, like at the barber shop -- I shut down. Most people get the hint.

Mike Pacchione was used to people understanding when he didn't want to talk...

Thankfully, that little voice in the back of my head spoke up again: It's not about you

With that prompting, things changed. The flip switched. Here were people who were well aware of the language gap, yet greeted me with smiles and affirmation every time I walked in the house. Was I really so busy I couldn't spend 30 seconds saying hello? Trying to gesture our way through communications? From that point on, every time I walked in the house, it wasn't about me. It was about the one-armed, one-time karate champion trying to raise his giant-smiled, giant-laughing son in a country that has been truly devastated.

It's not about you, Mike. Thankfully.

On staying positive (Mike's lesson number two)
My roommate Will has Apple TV, which is best used in our house to play The Trailer Game -- four people taking turns picking two minute movie trailers. Play for an hour and you walk away feeling so productive. It's as if you just watched 20 movies.

Anyway, we were playing The Trailer Game the week before I left for Haiti. One trailer was about someone being kidnapped in another country, which I announced as a fear of mine. At this point my friend Joy hit me square in the metaphorical gut: Is this how your mind works? Do you head straight for the worst case scenario?

It was true. My mind was heading straight for the pit of despair. I don't what the point of thinking this way is. So you're more prepared when the worst does occur? Does a pessimistic kidnapping victim really feel any better? I flipped that mental switch, too.

...and I must say, it's a good thing I did. Within ten minutes of arriving at camp, I learned that there had been cholera at the camp. Yup. Cholera. Same disease that killed countless 8-bit friends in Oregon Trail. Cholera. Treatment involves an IV and emergency helivac to Miami. Cholera.

But I wouldn't let my mind go to that place.
And I wouldn't let it go down the road of "there's going to be a roadblock and all the Americans are going to be killed" whenever we would drive into town.
And even when word broke of there being tarantulas in houses -- freaking tarantulas! -- my mind would not go to the worst case scenario. There was simply no point in doing so. There continues to be no point in doing so. All that does is make the worst case scenario into some sort of idolatrous idea, something you can focus on neurotically without having to, you know, deal with what is actually happening in your life.

*which is good because as I was packing to go home, I saw our friend below crawling around my bed

On the final lesson:
I woke up for my final day in Haiti with a level of sadness I can only remember having twice before in my life: my final day of study abroad and my final day working at the A Bar A Ranch. At 3:45 I left the house to watch the sunrise. I genuinely didn't want to go home.

Later in the day I sat for a final few minutes with the other volunteers. I asked what they thought I should do later in the day when I was back in the States. One suggested steak. Another said Burger King. Danielle recommended tanning. It's funny: I'd assumed by the end of a week in a third world country I would lust for American amenities. In truth I couldn't care less. I turned off the air conditioning in my Miami hotel room (just didn't feel right). I couldn't come close to finishing my Thai food. I didn't even shower. It felt better to sleep one more night with Haitian hair gel (dirt).

I'd only been gone a week but it felt like a year. You know how usually you get home and, regardless of how much you enjoyed your vacation, you're happy to be home? Not here. I hadn't missed Portland for a second. But why was that?

On the flights to Haiti, I had this overwhelming feeling that something really good was going to happen to me out there. It took me a long time to realize, but I did figure out what that really good thing was:

The Mike in Haiti was the best Mike I've been in a long time. I wasn't rushing around at a million miles (1.6M kilometers) a minutes. I listened to the person I was talking to without thinking about something else. I wasn't interrupted by texts or emails or gchats. In short, I was more present. As a result, I cared more about others and less about what others think. My jokes were less biting. I felt like I could actually love others. My life felt...lighter.

Taking that with me into America will be tricky, of course. I can't exactly throw away my laptop and phone. I do think I'm in a good spot though. I don't have two jobs I'm dashing between to help pay off debt. I haven't committed myself to 63 side projects that take up all my time. For the first time in years, I have space for my brain to breathe, and space to be present.

What's next? I'm sure that will figure itself out soon enough.

In the meantime, it's not about me

Rebirth

2011-06-28T14:28:00.001-07:00

Let's do this again, shall we?

Night Owling

2010-12-30T21:21:00.000-08:00

Of the 1500+ channels on my parents Fios television system (yes, the same parents who limited us to channels 3, 6 and 10 growing up), I'm choosing to watch the one that has He-Man and the Masters of the Universe on it (the cartoon version). Some observations:

1. Skelator is waaaaaaaaaaaay less frightening than I remembered. I know that's to be expected since, you know, I'm about 28 years too old to be scared by a cartoon but seriously: you should hear his voice. So nasally.

1a. Having said that, Skelator is also way more jacked than I remember. Seems like a skelaton-based villain should be fairly skinny, but Skelator really hit the weights. Gotta give him credit.

2. Man-at-Arms was Teela's father? I have no recollection of this

3. He-Man's voice sounds a lot like Phil Hartman's

4. "In today's story, I asked my father for permission to do something I wasn't supposed to do." Totally forgot about the post-episode PSA

5. My favorite thing: the complete overuse of people's names. Every single bit of dialogue incorporates a character''s name. So "Trap-Jaw, you're going to have trouble doing that" and "He-Man, we need your help, He-Man"

Eleven month old Lost predictions

2010-12-25T10:22:00.000-08:00

Every year on Christmas I receive Lost on DVD, which my brother and I mow through in a 3-4 night period. I believe we set a personal record of watching nine (!) episodes in one night during season two.

Anyway, as the show has grown in popularity it's become more and more difficult to not have the season spoiled by some Josh Chang type. This year was especially challenge; I felt like I was ducking Sawyer/Smoke Monster/Jacob references left and right.

From January through May I basically went into a media fall-out shelter. I didn't use Twitter or Facebook from Tuesday through Thursday. Anyone who mentioned Lost as a favorite TV show had their FB profile hidden. The second anyone mentioned the name "Jack" - even if they were talking about Nicholson - I ran out of the room screaming.

Even after the series ended, though, I couldn't allow myself to grow complacent. Before reading every Bill Simmons article, I either a) had my friend Jason pre-screen for spoilers; or b) searched for the words "Jack", "Sawyer", "Locke", "Lost", "Smoke Monster" and "Hurley" (this saved me on more than one occasion)

The height of my paranoia came during a Bible Study Methods class at my church. Reading through Isaiah, this kid Julyan used the words "it reminds me of the smoke monster from Lost." I cut him off -- "please please PLEASE do not spoil season six for me. I've put a lot of time into avoiding it." Yup, in a church class.

Was he going to ruin season six? Probably not, but I couldn't take that chance.

Today we've made it, folks. Unless one of you runs into my parents house waving a "Hurley is Jacob/Jacob is Hurley" sign, we're probably in the clear to watch without spoilers.

You know I'm a sucker for predictions - even on shows that go in a direction that would be impossible to predict. I'm comfortable with that. I am enlightened.

So here we do, some thoughts and predictions:

Not everything is going to be answered. I know this from having obsessed over JJ Abrams previous show Alias, reading fans sites and having formed my own theories all for nothing. Especially if you look at its Old Testament allusions...I mean, it's hardly as if everything in the Bible is explained. Specifically, I doubt if the numbers are ever addressed and I can't imagine they ever really explain their version of time travel.
Jack and Juliette both die. In truth I think there's a zero percent chance of this happening, but a boy needs something to hope for, right? Actually I think either Desmond or Sawyer will be killed off (which will make me mad because I love both of them). From a credibility standpoint they need to do more than get rid of someone to whom the audience hasn't grown overly attached (Miles, Frank, even Sun or Jin).
Ben will make it all the way to the last episode. Alias had a character like him named Sloane -- you kept having these internal debates about whether he's good or not; at the end of the day he's lured in by evil. Re-watching these seasons, it's amazing just how much of the island's chaos has been caused (directly or indirectly) by Ben
Everyone who watches the show will be lured into thinking Jack is a great leader, even though the only consistency he shows is to react to everything without two seconds thought. Pretty sure this has already happened but just wanted to put it out there
We're trained to think one of two things happened after the nuke from the end of season five -- either they've blown up the island or they've reset to flight 815. Obviously the first won't happen or there would be no show. My guess is the second alternative isn't true either; the Lost people probably have a third option up their sleeve.
Claire and Charlie return. Yup, Charlie.
More of a thought than prediction, but I'll be really disappointed if Walt and/or Vincent aren't prominently involved. Remember season one when there was all this focus on how weird stuff happened when Walt was around? Or how Jacob's cabin had a painting of what appeared to be a Golden Retriever?
Again, more of a thought but...I think we've been trained to assume Jack's dad and Jacob are on the same team. Not sure that's true.
My brother would like to add that the season will be focused primarily on the issue of time travel. Also that Sawyer will die because stupid Hollywood will force Jack and Kate together

Okay, that's all. Let's do this

How Doc Brown changed the face of hip hop

2010-11-06T12:17:00.000-07:00

My 10th grade Physics teacher used to freak out when Dave Wilmot, in an homage to Back to the Future, would blurt out "one point twenty-one jigga-watts!" in class. As my teacher was quick to point out, the word was actually pronounced "gig-uh-watts."

I was thinking about this whilst listening to Jay Z recently. Forget my age-old "do Australians pronounce his name 'Jay Zed'?" question; the new pondering of note was how Doc Brown influenced Jay Z's silly "Jigga" moniker. As best I can tell, Mr. Zed was a huge Back to the Future fan growing up*. Had Doc Brown pronounced "gigawatt" correctly, Jay Zed's nickname would instead be "Gigga."

*Proof: all those songs where the chorus says "Jigga whaaaaaaaat" are really his way of saying "jigga-watt." I rest my case.

Things I learned today before 9 AM

2010-10-15T08:53:00.000-07:00

When you're trying to get into work really, really early, you wind up driving at the same time as all the elementary school busses. This is not the incentive I needed.

Fog is one of my favorite things ever. Especially in the sun. I mean, this is right up there with the sound of water hitting water.

My life was slightly easier before the "num lock" key became so regularly involved

Post-game interviews

2010-10-07T07:43:00.000-07:00

I always find it funny when, right after a big win, an athlete is asked "what's going through your mind right now?"

And I get why it's asked -- it's more of a curious "it would be so freaking cool to have just thrown a no-hitter. ZOMG I wish I could just jump into your brain and know how it feels"

But honestly:

Who is ever aware of what's going through their head? It reminds me of zoning out during a conversation a few weeks ago, having a friend assume I was in deep thought, and me answering the same question with a disappointing "I was thinking of where I could stop for coffee on the drive home."

(Best ever answer to this question was by Clay Buchholz after his no-hitter in 2007. Was so humbled by the moment he couldn't even answer the question. Wish there was an MLB link to the no-no, but, well...)

The day after a haircut

2010-10-07T07:37:00.000-07:00

Words cannot describe how cold the back of your neck is.

Do women ever experience this?

Sara and Jordan

2010-09-23T10:53:00.000-07:00

I've been really, really lucky in 2010. A quick snapshot: the Super Bowl and Winter Olympics in person; promoted at work; winning several different raffles just because why wouldn't I?; groomsman in my roommate Josh's wedding and now, twice in the past three weeks, being the officiant for the weddings of dear friends.

(Thank you American Marriage Ministries for your lax approval process)

It's really a privileged thing to stand in a holy place and pronounce two friends husband and wife. Below is my homily for the wedding of my friends Sara and Jordan, from September 4th in Littleton, Colorado:

Sara, Jordan
Jordan, Sara
Jordan and Sara, everyone else (motion to the crowd)

Before you are people who have supported you, loved you, seen you in moments both good and bad.

And before you, in the audience are people who will be there for you in life. Some of us will be your best friends, babysitters for your children. Some of us will be able to give you advice. And some of us are going to live so far away it won't be realistic to see you all the time. We'll have to depend on things like email and Skype and Facebook.

And I think that's a good place from which to start this wedding ceremony, as email and Skype and Facebook were the genesis for Sara and Jordan meeting each other in the first place. Or re-meeting each other, anyway. As the story goes, they knew each other a little bit in high school, found each other again on Facebook, then had their relationship progress through email, Skype and a million other technologies that didn't exist even five years ago. It all started with Facebook.

If there's anyone left in the world who doesn't know about this website, a quick initiation:

You sign up for the site
You get your own page.
On this page, you can tell the world about yourself. So, we can learn about your taste in movies, in books, your political views, your religious views, and so on. You can post photos of yourself, you can post videos of yourself.

There are also status updates, where you tell us what you're doing right now. So Sara could write "I'm having a good day today" and 16 different friends would respond by telling her "that's so great exclamation point" or "you deserve it double exclamation point." If you aren't already on the site, I mean you have no idea what you're missing. It's a whole new world.

Of course, the peak moment in any Facebook user's life is when they have the chance to switch their relationship status. I mean you can barely contain yourself when you get to break the news to the world - "I’M DATING SOMEONE" - and the world is just as excited

Go from "single" to "in a relationship" and you'll have 39 friends commenting. "In a relationship" to "engaged" nets you 74 more enthusiastic "I'm so happy for you!!!!!!!" messages.

And tonight -- tonight is the big night: Switching from "engaged" to "married." Jordan and Sara, you're going to dominate the Facebook world.

It's at this point I should mention this is indeed a Christian wedding.

That has nothing to do with following rules. Or political parties. Or how you were treated by a guy you once knew who went to church.

It has everything to do with a relationship with our Lord Jesus Christ.

I'll say that again: it's about a relationship with our Lord Jesus Christ. It's not about rules or political parties or someone you once knew who went to church. It's about a relationship with the one who Jordan, Sara and myself believe to be the Son of God. It’s pretty crazy to have a relationship with the Son of God. I mean, really, it’s crazy. But all you have to do is sincerely ask.

Speaking of that Son of God, let's take a look at his involvement with weddings. Truthfully, He doesn't tell us a whole lot. He doesn't tell us you have to take communion or walk down the aisle to Pachelbel's Canon or anything like that. That's just not His way. Again, it's not about rules.

But it's not like He disregards weddings as insignificant, either. In fact, His first miracle -- where He turns water into wine -- took place at a wedding. For those wanting to research or follow on your own, this takes place in the Gospel of John, chapter two. Let me read the relevant part of the chapter to you:

On the third day there was a wedding at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus
was there.

Jesus also was invited to the wedding with his disciples. When the wine ran out, the mother of Jesus said to him, "They have no wine." And Jesus said to her, "Woman, what does this have to do with me? My hour has not yet come." His mother said to the servants, "Do whatever he tells you."

Now there were six stone water jars there for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to the servants, "Fill the jars with water." And they filled them up to the brim. And he said to them, "Now draw some out and take it to the master of the feast." So they took it. When the master of the feast tasted the water now become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the master of the feast called the bridegroom and said to him, "Everyone serves the good wine first, and when people have drunk freely, then the poor wine. But you have kept the good wine until now."

This, the first of his signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee, and manifested his glory. And his disciples believed in him.

Did you hear the end of that? At the end of the wedding scene, we hear that Jesus' disciples believed in Him. Now, the word "believe" can be a little tricky here. Let me break it down a little: The Greek word for "believed" is pisteno. The intended definition is not a yes or no "do you believe He lived?" question. That's part of it but the root definition more closely follows the word "entrust"; it more closely resembles a reliance on Jesus in ALL that you do.

Jordan and Sara, this is your wedding day. You're both glowing. Anyone can say they believe on their wedding day. I mean, this is the day you get to switch your Facebook relationship status, right? Anyone can say they believe on that day.

But when you're at the extremes of life, when things are crumbling around you, will you really believe it? That's what Jesus asks us for. It is not "I hope I can believe." It's the belief where you plant your staff in the ground and say I WILL believe. Kind of a tall order but the good news is that no one has more strength than Him. That's why He tells us that His burden is light -- because He is the one doing the heavy lifting.

Jordan and Sara, you love each other. That's great. But it's not enough. Your marriage was designed to run on your love for Christ, on your trust in Christ. That's the relationship He asks for. I don’t know everything, but I know that much.

So celebrate tonight, yes. You should be stoked. You should be euphoric. But celebrate with the knowledge that getting married does not ensure an easy life from here on out. Your work isn't done. It's not time to prop your feet up on the couch and take things easy. Honestly, you have no idea what you're getting into.

Now here's the cool part: when most people hear that, they equate "you have no idea what you're getting yourself into" to something bad - "you have no idea that Jordan doesn’t know the names to all your weird techno songs" or "you have no idea that Sara is going to forget to clean the dishes."

(wait a minute…that’s a terrible example. Sara has lived at our place the past couple months. There is no way she leaves out dirty dishes. We may not know anything about the way your lives are going to progress but if there’s one thing we can count on, it’s that Sara will always remember to clean)

(where was I?)

I'm saying "you have no idea what you're getting yourself into" and I mean it in a really positive way. You have no idea how much you'll grow together and you have no idea how much you're going to love one another. The things you will love most about each other in five years are things you don't even know exist right now. You have no idea what you're getting into - and that is a very good thing.

So tonight, when you run back to your hotel room to change your Facebook status -- "engaged" to "married" YES!!! -- you should be excited. But I'd encourage you to not think of this as the end of growth in your relationship. If anything it's the beginning.

As you go through life,

as you move to different cities,

different continents,

different jobs,

having all kinds of different friends,

as your perspective on life changes and as you advance through all the different things that will happen to you

As you move through all of these things and (looking at Sara) after you’ve eaten all the pomegranates in the world
And (looking at Jordan) after you’ve been perfectly polite to every single person in the world

And far after you've changed your relationship status on this silly website, after all these things, my prayer for you is that your relationship status always stays "in a relationship"

(looking upwards) with Him,
(looking at both of them) and with each other

May you always stay "in a relationship."

(photo courtesy Rouxby Fine Art Photography)

(James and the Giant Fang) - (Giant), with an important distinction: My name is not James

2010-09-11T20:54:00.002-07:00

I've never been one for symmetry. My hair grows faster on the left side than the right. My left arm has proven to be completely useless for dribbling, writing and basically anything with the --ing suffix. Almost every word you see typed has been dominated by my right hand (though the left is happy to add in an occasional "a" or "w". Get the picture?

It should come as no surprise, then, to learn that my canine teeth have always been more of fraternal twins than identical. Speaking frankly, my left fang looks like a grinding style tooth like a cow might have. My right one...well, it looks like it could be Dracula's. And that was always cool. People liked that about me. I was distinct.

But recently, things changed. Any time I demonstrated any sort of wrecklessness in my chewing motion -- a big chomp, a hasty bite -- my Dracula fang would sink in to my lip. Blood, bumps, that feeling you get when you bang your elbow against a wall (only a lip version)...all = no bueno.

So when Dr. Shimshack asked if he could sand Dracula down to size, I said yes. Now it's gone. Gone I say!

RIP, my fine fanged friend. I will now spend my entire day tonguing the smooth tooth sitting in your place

Oh what the heck. Let's blog again

2010-09-11T20:54:00.001-07:00

Also, you have no idea how great a shave I just had. We're talking baby's bottom

On playing right field in slow-pitch softball

2010-08-11T22:52:00.000-07:00

It's kind of like trying to convince yourself Santa really exists.

You spend the whole game -- every single pitch -- telling yourself "it can happen, it can happen" but you don't really believe it. When one is actually hit your way you're so stunned you don't know how to react.

How to announce your pregancy on Facebook

2010-05-05T12:39:00.000-07:00

(and now to completely disregard everything I wrote in my previous post)

My friend Lisa is pregnant, and has been for a while. Recently she asked me how she should break this to the Facebook world.

(Note: This did not really happen)

Here’s what I came up with:

Option one: The Jason Tol method
Months ago my friend Jason implored his wife to just update her profile with a one word “pregnant” status. Not bad. Also not awkward enough for my taste.
(and for those who know his wife Steph…let’s just say manipulation isn’t her first instinct)

Option two: The progressive beg for awkwardness
My personal favorite. The idea here is that you update your Facebook status with awkward updates over a period of several weeks, to the point where you’re begging someone to awkwardly throw out an “are you pregnant?” question. So week one says something like “Lisa is very hungry.” Then “Lisa is nauseous.” Then “Lisa has abdominal pain.” You get the idea.

Option three: The beg for sympathy
Similar to the above, but the focus is on begging for compliments. So, “Lisa feels fat” and “Lisa’s pants no longer fit.” It’s every bit as awkward (possibly even more so) but risks people thinking you’re actually being serious. Be prepared for a disproportionate amount of encouraging “you’re not fat Lisa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” responses.

Good luck with whatever option you prefer, Lisa. Don’t be afraid to status us that “Lisa is craving bouillabaisse flavored chocolate.”

Alive (not to be confused with the Pearl Jam song of the same name)

2010-05-05T12:08:00.000-07:00

As at least seven people have noticed, I haven’t blogged in a while. There are a few* reasons for this:

For one, I don’t have a laptop anymore. This may change in the future but for now I’m limited to computer use at work and when my roommate Josh isn’t home

For two, I’m not as bored as I used to be.

For three, and this is the big one, I’ve become wary of the increasing number of people who think writer Mike represents real life Mike. While I admit to unceasingly narrating things in my head, I’m not this neurotic. I’m not this calculated. Hopefully I’m not this self-obsessed. I’m almost always kidding with this stuff.

We’ll see where the blog goes but just felt like I should throw an update out there.

Confession: every time I have to use a quantitative modifier for a noun, I write the modifier before actually deciding on the quantity. So when I write “there are a few reasons” I haven’t actually thought of the number of reasons when I start the sentence. I commit to a few, then figure out what those reasons are after the fact.

And yes, I’m aware of having written “quantitative modifier” in the above. I’m comfortable with that. I am enlightened.

The year I went to the Winter Olympics

2010-02-23T11:14:00.000-08:00

Friends,

It's been kind of a good month for me. I saw my team win the freaking Super Bowl. I was promoted at work. I spent four days with the fam down in San Diego, returned to work for one day (long enough to win a raffle) then left for Vancouver and the Winter Olympics. Giddyup.

If Mark Twain could live two weeks off a good compliment, I should be able to milk these for a solid 3-6 months, right? I mean, sometimes I'll just be driving down the street listening to some country song when it hits me Tough Actin' Tinactin style: The Saints won the Super Bowl, and I saw it in person.

(and I got promoted...and San Diego...and the Winter Olympics...baby, I am a lucky man)

In most stages of my life I would be nervously waiting for the other shoe to drop. Not this time. Things are going my way. Let's see how long we can ride this out.

Speaking of things going my way, let's talk about the incredible last minute decision to watch the USA - Canada hockey game in Canada, shall we? The original plan was to beat border traffic by leaving early Sunday morning. Thankfully, we came to our senses: let's watch the game, cheer on our underdog team, leave by 7:30, home by 2 AM. Game on.

And what a game it was. You know the game story already, so let me add some commentary rather than synopsis:

First of all, you should know that Canadians are insane for hockey. I'm sure you've heard as much; to paint the picture a little further this is like football in Green Bay, soccer in Brasil, playoff baseball in Boston...but if possible, this is actually more insane. We're talking pickup hockey games on Granville Street, more Crosby jerseys than cars, people cheering and high-fiving Friday night for an ordinary victory over Switzerland 30 hours earlier. Something like half the country -- including people in The Yukon, Northwest territories, et al -- watched the USA - Canada game. I literally cannot imagine what Vancouver will be like if Canada storms back to win gold.

Suffice it to say, we were outnumbered at the sports bar. I'm guessing the ratio was something like 198 to 11, though these are unofficial numbers. Yet there we were, sporting the American flag amidst the focused energy of Canadians flags, syrup, jerseys and clamato-infused daytime drinks (apparently they don't have tomato juice up north).

And...it was awesome. Just awesome. I'm not exactly the most patriotic of people -- I've famously rooted for Japan in Little League baseball and Italy over the US in soccer -- but there's nothing like a border war to help me locate that part of my personality. With every shot and especially with every goal I found that extra level as a fan -- my voice deepening, my throat throwing out the volume with more gusto. The game grew so exciting I even forgot about the Seinfeld's car level of BO coming from the Canadian behind us.

(and yes, I did run across the street for Febreze. Gotta combat the BO somehow)

After the US went up 4-2, we were cut off from the bar -- as an issue of policy, not one of belligerence. The Canadian goal made it 4-3 and we knew things would be insane down the stretch. After the empty net goal sealed up the victory, the texts started rolling in. I don't think any of us actually thought "we" would win this game. It is so much more fun to root for the underdog. The whole situation is gravy. Especially when, as we've established, it's your year and nothing can go wrong.

My friend Bryan after the first goal

Other highlights:
Curling
We went Saturday night. Previous to this I had never realized Olympic events could be in a residential neighborhood, but...let's just say we were on the verge of being written up for noise violations as we left the rink. To grasp this, picture the residential town 20 minutes outside of whatever city you're in, then envision there being an Olympic event there (giving hope to places like Wyndmoor, PA, Medford, MA, Beaverton, OR and Estes Park, CO).

My friend Charles, watching every moment of Olympic coverage with his newborn daugher, texted me to do something crazy. Apparently curling had been on all day. Charles, you texted the right man. Within minutes, we were selecting a British curler to cheer for, giving him a ridiculous nickname and -- because Josh does freelance graphic designer in his spare time -- headed to Kinko's to have official signs printed. And thus David Murdoch became David "The Duck" Murdoch:

Random awesomeness from this game (match?). Britain is beating Canada 6-5 headed into the 10th and final end (inning). Josh and I are in the middle of quacking aloud (you know, for "The Duck") when the crowd bursts into a spontaneous "Oh Canada." Talk about your goosebump moments. Suffice it to say I don't think this would happen in the U.S.

The curling club
We had to pay a one dollar (yes, one dollar) cover charge to get in here. I've never been to an elks club before but I would imagine this is what it's like. Good times, but we were the youngest people in there by at least 86 years...and let's just say I don't think my future wife is hanging out in a curling bar right now. Note the dim lighting and overall Jane Fonda-era vibe in the below:

TV Interviews
Several of the countries had “houses” that were meant to enlighten you on culture in that country. So, the German house served bratwurst, the Russian house focused on Vodka, the American house left the water running all day, that sort of thing. Anyway, we were in the corner of the Swiss house, minding our own Canadian-beer influenced business, when I saw a camera crew setting up. I recognized some sort of foreign characters on their microphone and pointed to my roommate Josh (who speaks Chinese). Improbably, inexplicably, this strategy worked. The news team immediately started walking in our direction. Instead of wanting to speak to my Chinese roommate, however, they want to speak to all of us* and they want to do so in English

*This is where I switch to present tense. I know you’re not supposed to switch tenses and especially not in mid-sentence. I can’t help it. When I’m excited I want to be in present tense

They ask us why we’re at the Swiss house. I answer. They ask whether we’ve been to other houses. Josh answers. They ask all these other questions and then they get to what everyone’s been wondering:

White Chinese Reporter: And do you have any special connection to Switzerland?
Me: Actually I do. In 1987 my parents took my brother and I over there to visit some friends they had made. We loved it in Switzerland but what I really remember is that it was the first time my parents ever heard me curse.

I look back at the reporter. He has an amused smile on his face. True, it may have been “Americans are such idiots” amused. But the relevant word here is still "amused."

Fast forward two days. It’s Sunday. We’re making our last run through the city before hitting The Regal Beagle sports bar for USA – Canada. We head to the German house for the first time. It’s awesome. As soon as you enter, you’re greeted with a huge selection of German beers and meats. I order a bratwurst. I drench it with slaw and mustard. The rest of my friends head inside but for some reason it’s necessary for me to finish eating prior to entering the beer hall. I take too aggressive a bite of the brat and the meat/slaw portion starts squirting out the other end of the bun. My meat to bun proportion is way off.

In front of me a woman from NBC is interviewing the head of the German house…
and she stops…
and she turns…
and she looks me in the eye and starts walking in my direction…
and I make eye contact back at her and…
ZOMG, am I going to be interviewed by two international news networks in three days? Are all my ex-girlfriends going to see my on TV and know the mistake they made?

I start thinking of other war stories from the 1987 Pacchione European Vacation and…she sees a cute blonde decked in out in USA paraphernalia, right down to the country name painted on her cheeks. Wait! No! That's my interview!

But alas. On the day of the biggest American hockey game in 30 years, a cute blonde with an American hat and red, white and blue "USA" painted on her cheeks apparently looks the part better than a dude wearing an orange Syracuse shirt.

I walk by them. Lindsay has a huge smile on her face and is being asked to sample a bratwurst before a national audience, telling the world what her connection to the German house is. There I stand, not three feet away, betrayed by my lack of painted patriotism.

Oh well. At least I'll know for next time. Until then, I'll always have Chinese TV.

The year I went to the Super Bowl

2010-02-10T08:37:00.000-08:00

I woke up today, looked at my Super Bowl Champions XLIV New Orleans Saints hat and smiled. It's not that I can't believe "we" won; it's more how lucky I feel. It's beyond adjectives.

I started this post in my Miami hotel room, watching a rather incredible Gatorade Super Bowl commercial. Goosebumps. The Drew Brees Disney World commercial. Goosebumps. The thought that I was at Sunday's game. More goosebumps. Get the picture?

You should know that I'm lucky for more than just attending this game. It's the way the whole thing came together. I mean that from beginning to end. I spent a week hemming and hawing over whether or not to go to the game, eventually having a moment of clarity where $1500+ seemed doable (I eventually paid $1200). A college roommate had a hotel room, transportation to and from the game, late night meals -- all paid for by his company. My years of hoarding frequent flier miles because "some day there might be an emergency" found its emergency.

Why else? Let's run through the whole thing. Sit back, grab a cup of coffee and listen to me re-trace my steps. Heck, I'll even divide this into several sections so you don't have to read all at once.

I am...

Sunday AM
...Waking up in Charlotte, NC at my friend Dave Kulp's house, thanks to the storm canceling the East Coast. Montgomery Gentry's "Roll With Me" starts the day in my head. Wake up in the morning, Get to living my life, Making sure I'm all that I can be. I love this song. This is a good sign.

...Seeing Dave for the first time in a solid six? seven? years, during which time he has had three daughters (crazy how that happens). He keeps saying things like "Mr. Pac is going to the Super Bowl" and his daughters look at me like I'm famous.

...Getting dropped off at the airport, Dave having provided me with a new Saints hat he randomly had (he's a Panthers fan). Fifteen years earlier Dave had sold me a Saints hat in high school (before you could order those things online)

...Seeing people wearing Colts jerseys, instinctively feeling a rival gang instinct, then realizing this "rival gang" tucks in their shirts.

...Sitting first class next to a Saints fan, thinking that was a good sign. Discussing the Bobby Hebert era, the Billy Joe Tolliver era, shaking his hand on the way out the door and wishing each other good luck

...Walking outside in Miami to a level of sunshine I haven't seen in five months. Taking the airport shuttle to the wrong Courtyard Marriott

Pre-game
...As usual I had no idea what I was getting myself into and was completely bailed out by my friends. The transportation to and from the stadium...I mean, I have no idea how I would have navigated this without Jim's company limo van.

...Jim scoring me an invite to the official NFL pre-game tailgate. Seeing C+ list celebrities like Tom Arnold and Jesse Palmer. Eating my face off, downing one of the stiffer G&Ts I've ever had and generally forgetting I'd be attending the Super Bowl in a couple hours. Having phone calls from friends re-focus me on the task at hand. If I'm this distracted as a fan, I don't know how players deal with it.

...You know that moment when you're at the grocery store and the scanner can't find the UPC code on your honeycrisp apple? Well multiply that by 1200 when it's a Super Bowl ticket. But mine is real. I'm in. Massie and Helen Pacchione's son is at the Super Bowl.

The stadium
...Getting legit goosebumps as I walk into the stadium. Tons of Saints fans. The "Who Dat" cheer everywhere

...Parting ways with Jimmy (in section 440) and heading to my seat in section 451. Figuring seat 21 would be in the middle of the row. Looking only at the steps in front of me as I climb past rows with 17 seats, 17 seats, 17 seats...section 451 is the first one with 21 seats. Right on the aisle. How lucky am I? You have no idea how much I love the aisle.

...Turning around and noticing the two people next to me were Colts fans. And the two behind me. And the two in front of me. And...I'm in the Colts season ticket-holder section.

...Introducing myself to the Colts fans next to me. They say they're concerned but it seems like a concern born out of politeness more than anything else. Colts fans have a "we expect to win this thing" vibe

...Finding three Saints fans on the other side of the aisle. See what I mean? I was lucky. In the sea of blue, I found light. Announcing to those Saints fans that I would be coming to them for high fives throughout the game

...Being moved to virtual tears by Carrie Underwood's national anthem. Why so emotional? Not only was I at the Super Bowl, but she knocked the anthem out of the park. Then the Blue Angels flying right over my head...wow, wow, wow. That never gets old.

First quarter
...The flashbulbs going off at kickoff. You always see it on TV but to be there in person...It's already been worth $1200

...Jumping up and down like the Fox robot, being so absolutely juiced up I felt like I was playing. I have no understanding of how players can function normally in this game

...Telling the woman behind me I'm sorry for being so tall but I'm probably going to be standing this whole game

...All of my concerns about the Saints immediately surfacing. The offense continuing to look out of sorts. No signs of being able to stop Peyton. Their awful run offense moving the ball down our throats

...Serious blowout potential as I make nervous eye contact with the Saints fans across the aisle. We all have the same thought: weather the storm. Deep breaths as it's only 10-0

Second quarter
...Being absolutely beside myself on the blown 3rd and 4th down calls on the goal line. Wishing there was something I could do about this. Why are we losing aggressiveness in the most important game of our lives?

...Grabbing a $10 beer after the 4th down play, more as a distraction than anything else. Being the only one in line and asking the bartender why. "It's the Super Bowl," he said. Good point.

...Going into halftime down 10-6, receiving a text from my buddy Jon telling me we were okay. Disagreeing with him. Dropped third down passes, being stuffed at the goal line...I've seen all of those NFL Films Super Bowl specials. These are the plays made by teams that lose the Super Bowl

Halftime show
...Finding this strangely cool. Receiving text after text from friends asking if The Who sounded as bad/good (apparently there was divided opinion) in real life as on TV

...Completely missing my cue to do the cell phone dance they'd taught us at a break in the second quarter. Oh well. Choreography has never been my strong point

Third Quarter
...Seeing Thomas Morstead practicing his deep kickoff. Something about this seemed odd to me.

...Seeing the Saints special teamers juiced before kickoff. They're doing the old Bash Brothers elbow bump. This, too, seemed odd

...Suddenly understanding why. The onside kick (amazing background on it here). The longest fumble scrum I can ever remember. Knowing the Saints would come up with the ball. They just had to. As the Colts fans next to me had been saying, the Colts always score to start the second half. Why not prevent them from having the ball then? Just a thing of beauty. Get busy living or get busy dying

...Turning my phone off -- "so I can concentrate" -- then having it turn on because my jumping caused too much friction between the power button and my jeans pocket

...Taking the lead and realizing this is all I had asked for: a moment in the second half where I thought the Saints could win

Fourth quarter
...Slowing down and realizing just how incredible it is to be at this game. Every play is intense (in a good way) and feels like so much is riding on it. For some reason I am not nervous.

...Screaming for the defense on every play. Just screaming. Believe.

...The incredible and wonderful feeling of the opposing coach making an awful decision. As Matt Stover lined up for the 51 yard field goal -- hey Jim Caldwell, it's not 1998 anymore -- I said aloud, this had to be a trick. Nope. We're going to win this thing.

...I'm at the Super Bowl. I'm really at the Super Bowl.

...Knowing Shockey would be the target from the two yard line. Knowing Lance Moore -- hurt all season, a forgotten man -- would be the target for the two point conversion. What can I say? I was locked in as a fan.

...Seeing what looked like a dropped two point conversion. Discussing how awesome it was to be up five with 5:42 left, but Manning with the ball. Asking the Colts fan next to me how he felt and then...

...that was the reaction to the news of Sean Payton's challenge going our way. In the stands, we didn't even know the play was being reviewed. It was like hitting jackpot in a contest we didn't even know we'd entered. We're winning this thing.

...Looking at my phone and seeing how many friends had texted me about the challenge. Feeling amazed at how many people took the time to text me when I hadn't even asked. "Receiving unsolicited texts about coaches' challenges" immediately becomes one of my love languages.

...Feeling genuinely excited about the Colts drive. This is what it's all about, right? For the first time I begin to seriously consider how I'll react if we win this thing. I picture myself falling to my knees in tears. Believe.

...Seeing Malcolm Jenkins nearly pick off a pass. Reacting the same way a DB does when he misses one -- clapping hands and looking toward the heavens. Feeling like a pick is coming. If Malcolm Jenkins (who has been regularly burned all season) can come close to an INT on Peyton Manning, something is wrong.

And then...

The interception
...For some reason Manning is not scaring me. My mom texts "stop biting your nails," and I tell her I'm not. I don't know that I've bit my nails all game. I'm just excited. I feel good. And then Manning drops back to pass and I see Tracy Porter sniff out the route and he picks it off and he sees daylight and HE'S RUNNING STRAIGHT TOWARD US

...And I never see him score. As soon as he gets by Manning I leap into a four man bear hug with the Saints fans next to me, hugging, jumping, screaming. One of them is the first to make sense of it -- "We just won the Super Bowl" -- and good golly, he's right. A Colts fan leaves and shakes my hand on the way out. We just won the Super Bowl

(Best part: Before the game, my buddy Jon asked me who needed to have a big game on defense. My answer? Tracy Porter. My hope for was for him to minimize the run after catch. But the Super Bowl clinching pick six? Yeah, I'll take that too)

The final minute
...After I text "We just won the Super Bowl!!! I can't even do this in Madden" to about 79 people, my buddy Fife texts me to not start celebrating yet. Ordinarily I might still be nervous. Not this time. We just won the Super Bowl.

...The 4th and 6 pass goes awry. Absolute pandemonium. I have an 11 man bear hug with every Saints fan in reach. I videotape it all with my phone. Each video is about 3 seconds long since the "record" function cuts off when texts come in -- significant because every friend I've ever had decides to text me at this very moment.

This is the mark I've left on the world: everyone I've met since fourth grade knows me as the Saints fan.

The aftermath
...Fireworks everywhere, confetti everywhere, some sort of light show...The only reason I know about this is because I have it on film. I have no recollection whatsoever except for pure happiness. Whereas I had thought I might drop to the ground in appreciative tears, I really just feel a genuine happiness. At one point I remember "interviewing" myself on my phone's camera so as to describe my feelings. Safe to say I was out of my mind? I should think so. Thankfully this is interrupted by 74 different friends texting me congratulations...

...Looking at how quickly my section of Colts fans cleared out. In this giant section of the stadium, there are 17 Saints fans in sight and that's it.

...Walking toward Jim's section and stopping to congratulate an older man who had limped back to his seat. He's at an age where he may have legitimately feared never seeing it happen. "We did it!" I yell. He looks at me funny. "Are you Juan?" he asks. "No," I say, "I just thought you'd want to be congratulated."

...My phone legitimately short-circuiting because of all the texts I'd received. Yes, phones get tired, too.

...Making it to Jimmy's section. Giving huge hugs to him and his friend Allison (whom I'd met only hours earlier but whom I treated like a dear old friend)

...Hugging the security guard on the way out of the stadium. High fiving the stadium workers who were cheering for us. We just won the Super Bowl (!)

Can I be honest for a second? In past years I was always a little bit nervous as to what I would do if the Saints made the Super Bowl. I'm not actually from New Orleans, so it's not like I could go there and celebrate with old friends. Watching on the TV seemed anticlimactic. I had always hoped to make a "regardless of where we are in life, we're watching this together" pact with another Saints fan. Never happened.

Then my prayers were answered. A couple of months ago I emailed Jim. Hadn't talked in several years. He sent a long reply back in which he mentioned how he's going to the Super Bowl this year on business. The wheels started churning in my head. If the Saints make the Super Bowl, I have a free place to stay, I have these frequent flier miles I've been hoarding...giddyup.

He and his friends were the best. They thanked me for being a Saints fan because it gave them some sort of credibility. Being a Saints fan gave them credibility. Not to overplay the whole "we usually suck" angle but...It's funny to type that.

Here's another thing that's funny to type: the Saints won the freaking Super Bowl. And I was there. Praise the Lord, I was there.

In high school my friend Aaron Wexler (brother of Bruce the Caroler) dubbed me "Murph" because he felt like I was the epitome of Murphy's Law; anything that could go wrong would when I was around. But after having season tickets the year the Red Sox won the World Series, meeting Jennifer Nettles, having more friends than I'd thought possible, generally feeling loved at all times and now seeing the Saints win the Super Bowl in person...I think "Murph" can be retired. Baby I'm a lucky man.

Misc. Thoughts

2010-02-02T22:54:00.001-08:00

Every time I try to run with headphones on, I'm reminded of just how irregularly shaped my ears must be

It's possible that I've been really, really tired my whole life

Apparently it's not just my old iPod that loves Dave Matthews. Nitro Jr is just as psyched about "Grey Street" as Nitro Sr was

For someone like me, all it takes to go from "casual dress" to "you like nice today" is tucking ye olde shirt in

In the past month, I've had the best surprise party ever; Madonna sing "Like a Prayer" with a gospel choir (do you have any idea how much I love gospel choirs?); the Saints win the NFC Championship; and Jennifer Nettles team up with Bon Jovi on "Livin' on a Prayer" (one of my top 10-12 favorite running songs of all time).

Oh yeah...and Sunday I'll be in person at the Super Bowl. Maybe 2010 really is my year

My Continuing Sports Blog: Top 10 Favorite Moments

2010-01-24T22:02:00.000-08:00

11. Thank heavens Brad Childress coaches the other guys. When you can set up a 50 yard field goal with under a minute left, you definitely want to sit on the ball and not move an inch forward
10. My friend Paul calling the Tracy Porter pick to end regulation
8. Text from my friend Brad after the Vikings first drive (an effortless 10 play, 80 yard drive culminating in an ADP 19 yard TD run): "I know your phone is probably off but if it's not: breathe."
9. The random texts I got from friends whose numbers I had long since lost. Is this how people feel when they win Oscars and get congrats from 6th grade girlfriends?
6. My friend Jason after the game: "The lead singer from a boy band just sent your team to the Super Bowl. How do you feel about that?"
5. Feeling strangely confident that, even if the Vikings hadn't pulled the rare "illegal substitution coming out of a timeout" penalty, Ryan Longwell would have missed the kick at the end of regulation.
2. Some months back I saw Shane Suisam miss a chip shot FG that would have iced the game for the Skins against the Saints. In one of the bigger sports miracles I've seen, "we" came back to win that game. If you don't think I asked Karyn to switch seats with me before the game-winning field goal so I could be back on that barstool...I mean, you don't know anything about me.
4. My roommate Josh calling in a shot of whiskey to the bar with the instruction to "drink in an emergency." Me saving it for three quarters and then...
4a. Taking that shot with 1:07 left when no one on the Saints D could tackle Chester Taylor.
3. Winking at girlofcardigan before the final kick. No part of me thought Garrett Hartley was missing.
7. Last year around this time I called my friend Todd 3 and, furious that the Colts had lost the coin flip by calling heads to start OT (in a game I had bet on them), told him that "if my life ever depends on you calling heads or tails for me, please call tails every single time." Needless to say the Vikings called the toss to start OT, for some reason went with "heads" and tails came up. Absolute vindication. Or redemption. One of those powerful emotional words.
1. The kick going straight through the uprights, leaping to my feet and hugging not the six friends who had showed up to support me, but the random Saints fan across the bar who, like me, had been pining for defenders to fall on the ball, for Brees to stop missing receivers...In no other walk of life do you celebrate life with complete strangers. I love sports. I really do.

Go Saints, part 1000

2010-01-22T15:27:00.000-08:00

(I promise the sports posts will end eventually)

I’ve exchanged at least 47 emails with my friend Brad since December.

(Note: that number is actually way higher; every third day I receive an email from corporate telling me I’m over my mailbox limit and I know I’ve had to delete a number of ones in the “Man do I love gambling” thread.)

Most of these emails are about the Saints, with a few scattered bits of baseball commentary mixed in. This is one of the great things about male friendships: there’s no pressure to provide too much “life update” stuff. Just talking about sports and gambling is enough for me. Anyway, since mid-November I’ve been asking Brad (Packers fan) for the scouting report on the Vikings. I’ve been scared of them all season. Here are a few email excerpts:

From December 21st (after losing to the Cowboys): Really nervous about the Saints secondary. GB, Philly or Minnesota would all make me very concerned. Hopefully we pull Arizona second round. Still, they played awful and only lost by one score – despite Devery dropping an easy TD, Brees throwing that awful pick…Can’t imagine them playing a worse offensive game.

From January 3rd (describing the Saints defense): And honestly? They were disproportionately lucky for much of the season. They were getting a return TD a game for a long stretch. How many teams win consecutive games with four turnovers? Or four in a row while turning it over 13 times?

So now Pierre Thomas has three cracked ribs and is somehow going to play on that. Can’t say that makes me excited about the running game.

I still think they make the NFC championship game…hopefully not against Minnesota…

From January 4th: “We” will have trouble with any team that can both run and pass. I’ve been saying that all year. Minnesota is my primary concern – I can already see one of those screen shots where they have ADP’s “last six weeks” stats (where he’s averaging like 68 yards per game) versus “today” (when he’ll put up 130 or so).

Again on January 4th, describing their strength of schedule: That’s what’s concerned me all year. Only wins against playoffs teams were against New England and a McNabb-less Eagles (I don’t count the Jets as a playoff team).

On the plus side they showed they could win in a number of ways – winning via run, pass, defense, blow the other team out, come from way behind, win even when you’ve played poorly…

You get the picture. I’m nervous about this game. Honestly, the Vikings are the more complete team. I can see this being one of those awful games where the weaknesses on D are suddenly exposed: can’t stop the run, no one fast enough to keep pace with Percy Harvin or Sidney Rice, only do well against teams that turn it over…

Yeah, I can see it. But that’s not what I’m banking on. I’ve learned a lot about sports over the years. Amongst the most important lessons is this: when you’ve seen the team all year, know the weaknesses, know the players who make you cringe, it’s a lot easier to mentally make a case against your team winning. It’s probably the same part of the brain informing you that you’re not good enough for a job (or girl or whatever) when all your friends remind you how awesome you are.

Well, screw that. I’m not living in fear for the next two days. Not total fear anyway. The Saints offense is nasty, especially if Jeremy Shockey is healthy and we commit to running the ball. I know Shockey wasn’t great statistically but the offense just flowed better with him out there. We’ve got a gifted QB, four wide receivers who can burn you and three different RBs who can get the job done.

As for the defense…my first instinct is to say “let’s hope we get a lead and they stop running the ball.” I’m probably selling them short. They’ve been reasonably okay all year. If the offense does its job, that should be okay Sunday.

(Also, I refuse to believe a once washed-up QB who backstabbed an entire fan base and made no effort whatsoever to say thank you is going to the Super Bowl)

Go Saints. Let’s do this

Gauntlet picked up: still shots

2010-01-15T10:31:00.000-08:00

(yes, these are all post-it notes)

The culprits

Gauntlet picked up

2010-01-14T07:02:00.000-08:00

Life moves pretty fast when --

Wait, that's not true. Let's try again:

Life moves pretty slowly when you've ruined your own surprise party. There I was, in my room, midnight last Thursday night, sitting, waiting for my friends to start on the dreaded birthday song. Moments earlier I had walked in on the first ever surprise party for me.

Funny thing was, my actions were completely unintentional. Poor sleep from the night before left me doubting my coveted "fall asleep in under three minutes regardless of circumstance" ability. I walked to the kitchen to take some cough syrup. I ran into my roommate Will, conspicuously dressed in jeans and puffy coat circa 12:15 at night.

"What are you doing up? Go back to your room"

In the back of the kitchen I saw my friend Shannon lighting what appeared to be candles for a birthday cake. Holy smokes. A surprise party for me. Back to my bedroom I went.

* * *

I've been in many an awkward situation in my life, to the point where my friend Cait calls me "awkward Mike" (it's nice to be loved). Sitting in your bedroom, waiting to be summoned for a surprise party you busted up three minutes before ranks right near the top. I started laughing. Cackling. I didn't know what else to do. Pretend to read? Plan my outfit for the next day? Turn the light off because I'm "asleep"?

My roommates trip the electricity. I walk out my bedroom door, take a left and I'm in the dining room. The guitar strums and...there are 20 of my friends, all with candles, all singing an acoustic "Like a Prayer." This is all taking place at 12:30 on a school night, by the way. Sweet mercy what a great moment.

I do the thing where you collapse on the dining room table, head resting on crossed arms. My body heaves, half in laughter, half in legit appreciation for how loved I feel. I raise myself and look around the room. It's friends from all different groups, people who don't know each other but around whom they are apparently comfortable trying to hit high notes (just think of the chorus part of that song).

The song moves towards its end. I start thinking. Who am I supposed to hug first?

That question never needs an answer because -- and this is my favorite part -- the song ends, there's a pause and, with nary a word spoken, everyone blows out their candle and runs out the front door. It's a thing of beauty.

Later...
I can't sleep. Way too much adrenaline. Every once in a while I'll hear my roommate Chris (whose bedroom is directly above mine) walk around or laugh. When this happens I spring out of bed. Were they coming back for more? Never happened. But I would have been ready for it.

The next morning...
I thank my roommates. This was great. We run through the whole plan and how I foiled it not just with walking into the kitchen, but by staying up so late reading. Apparently they were waiting for my bedroom light to go off. Sorry about that. I tend to dawdle.

My roommate Josh tells me they "had to do something" after I'd thrown down the gauntlet with my last blog post. As usual, I had no idea what I was provoking with my silly, silly words.

Later that night...
I tell my friend Karyn how great the party was and how especially great it was to hear "Like a Prayer" instead of the birthday song. "I think everyone should have their favorite song sung to them instead of 'the birthday song'," I tell her.

"Of course you do," she says, "don't you remember writing that before? This was all your idea."

What can I say? I had literally no recollection of having written that. I'm an idiot...but a loved one

Epilogue:
Walking to work the next day, I receive several texts saying something along the lines of "have a colorful birthday." The reason why is soon revealed --

Yup, those are all post-it notes.

Only in Portland, part 7000

2010-01-13T09:40:00.000-08:00

Surprise parties

2010-01-02T10:53:00.000-08:00

You've probably picked up on how I get bored with normalcy. Sometimes I want to give up on life because I realize I have to do another 30-50 more New Year's eves before I get out of here.

As such, I'm motivated to find a different, better way of doing things. Take surprise parties as an example. Anyone can put together the standard "come home from dinner, have everyone yell 'surprise' when you walk in the door" version. If you're Mike Pacchione, though, you up the ante. Here's how:

The Catherine Bryan "A Few Months Late" Memorial:
Birthdays are a big deal at the workplace. Anything to get away from the office and regurgitate the same "so what are you doing for your big day?" type questions. In 2004, Catherine threw us all for a loop, scheduling a two week vacation for the time immediately surrounding her August birthday. Not to be deterred, I organized a celebration for her...in November. The best part? Her birthday was such a distant memory at this point that she started singing along to blend in, only to break into blush as we all moved from "dear" to "CATHERINE."

The Layered Surprise:
Came together this past September for my friend Amber. The idea here is to dull the birthdayer's senses to the point where they couldn't possibly expect a surprise. On Amber's birthday, her boyfriend Josh (my roommate) brought her back to our house. They open the door to find me watching TV with four of my friends, friends who are total strangers to her. No way there's a surprise party at this point, right? But just after she introduces herself to my friends, the back door to our house opens up and her friends run in yelling "surprise." It's a thing of beauty.

The "Is This a Dream":
My roommate Chris turned 30 this past November. Problem was, his birthday fell on the same weekend as all the Halloween parties. No way we can set something up for him at this point, right? Wrong. Simply invite 20 of his closest friends over for a 6:30 AM surprise party, make sure he's clothed as he comes down the stairs, and yell "YOU'RE 30" at him when he flips the lights on. I don't think the colloquial version of "surprised" can really explain the person's reaction.

More to come as I grow older and become more and more dissatisfied with the status quo...

First new song I heard in 2010 that I liked within the first five seconds

2010-01-01T00:10:00.000-08:00

"The Old Days" by Dr. Dog

Best of the decade

2009-12-31T16:46:00.000-08:00

Nah, I'll do this later. Btw, the decade should actually run from 2001 to 2010. Just saying.

Some things

2009-12-25T09:48:00.001-08:00

1. Every time I come back to Wyndmoor I feel this weird in-between stage where I wish I still lived here but also know I would forever feel like I shouldn't live here. Might not make sense to you, but it does to me.

2. Major upset of the week: I'm in my fourth day here and still haven't pulled a nap on my parents' legendarily comfortable couch

3. I have far too many friends to realistically remain in touch with and wish there was some way to move everyone to an island so we could all hang out and I could introduce friends from high school to friends from college to friends from Boston to friends who started as friends of friends.

(Note: this island would have showers. I can't handle not showering)

Lastly, I spent my formative years in a house without cable TV. Now my parents have something like 800 channels (not an exaggeration). So when you hear I'm watching Eagle Eye at 4 in the morning, it's not so much a demonstration of sloth as it is making up for lost time.

Hackage

2009-12-17T09:20:00.000-08:00

You'll see in the below post where I'm moving to Houston. This is actually not true.

It is, however, very funny.

I'm trying to figure out who is behind this. At first I assumed a legit hacker, someone who would link to a porn site or something similar. Instead it links to a Houston Area Dog Whisperer. I'm telling you, high comedy.

As best I can tell, whoever did this must have either
A) Known my password;
B) Known how to hack into my account; or
C) Been using a computer where I'd left my gmail open

Let's break this down:
To my knowledge the only person with whom I've shared my password is my friend Jean. I just felt like someone should have access to my email in case something happened to me. Alas, I don't think Jean really stored that info; every once in a while I'll text the password to her (just to check in) only to receive a "what does this mean?" reply. So I think she's out. Lesson learned: don't make your password holder a mother with a six month old.

I don't know much about computer hacking (though it did look really cool in Swordfish) but imagine it's difficult to hack into someone's computer when it ceases to function altogether. Mine hasn't worked in a month. You can't get all my stored passwords and cookies when the computer doesn't work, right?

This leaves us with only the third possibility: I left my gmail up and running on someone else's computer. Using someone else's computer wouldn't be enough, though; the person would have to know that you log into your blog using your gmail account. Other than my work computer, the only one I can recall using of late is that of my roommate Josh. On paper, Josh is not a likely candidate. He's polite, he has a servant's heart and I've never known him to be a prankster (though I do think he's invincible).

Honestly, my list of suspects would point elsewhere: Karyn Serface. Joy. Shannon Hannon. Winona the Famous Fashion Blogger. But a good detective doesn't just blindly shoot bullets into the dark. He looks at the evidence, draws up what a suspect should look like, and proceeds from there. Trust me: I read Batman comics for years. I know these things.

Josh Chang, fess up.

A new dawn

2009-12-16T20:52:00.000-08:00

If you already didn't know, I'm moving to Houston for a little bit.
Mostly for a mentorship program.
New career can be found here.

Evites: A How-To Guide

2009-12-16T17:29:00.000-08:00

My roommates and I are having a Christmas party this Friday. As per Generation X rules we sent an invitation out via evite.

As usual, many a potential guest has chosen to be non-responsive. This always amazes me. Evite actually has a "maybe" option and people can't even commit to that?

Anyway, I was in an obnoxious mood so I sent out the following to everyone on the "not yet replied" list...oh, and by the way, yes, it's true the party organizer can see if you have viewed the invitation or not.

Friends,
It would help us to know how many people will be in attendance for Friday’s party. If you’re receiving this email it’s because you’re in the “not yet replied” category. As one who used to set up residence in that camp, I know what you’re going through. You’re likely falling into one of three categories:

1. The “this way I can pretend I never received the evite” category. Problem here is that evite actually allows the organizer (me) to see when you looked at the invitation. So I know that Molly Pearl viewed it on Monday and Cassidy Levy did so on Saturday, November 28th. Shake down, break down, you’re busted.

2. The “I won’t reply to evites” category. Listen, no one is more versed at taking pointless principled stands than I am (note my view on exclamation points, tucking in my shirt, never eating at mall chain Italian restaurants without vowels between the S and b). With that said, all we’re asking you to do is click “yes”, “no” or “maybe.” Let the hatred die, man. When you don’t forgive, you’re allowing the person/evite to cling to your heart for the rest of your life. Is that the battle you wish to fight?

3. The “truly uncommitted” category. Okay, here’s the deal: we’re two days before the party. At this point, you should have a pretty good idea if the cool people are going. If you’re still hemming and hawing, please email Trevor O'Neal (tro800@gmail.com) for a rundown on who the cool kids are.

Of course, there’s one more possibility: you’re in the “I don’t know what to write” category. Being a savvy evite respondent myself I can lend some advice.

Option 1: Simply reply sans comment. Boring but still better than writing “I’ll be there!!!!!!!!!!!!” or “Save a drink for meeeeeee!!!!”

Option 2: Go with a movie quote. It’s fairly nonsensical but popular at the same time. A timely placed “Rodents of unusual size? I don’t believe they exist” can go a long way

Option 3: Delegate responsibility for your decision. A personal favorite. Instead of committing, simply put someone else in charge for deciding if you’ll be in attendance. Should take the form of “only if Todd Hammer goes” or something similar.

Um…regardless of what your situation is, let us know if you’re coming so we can plan accordingly. Thanks.

2010

2009-12-13T16:10:00.000-08:00

Is going to be my year. I'm so excited for this.

More semi-famous Mike friends

2009-12-11T13:09:00.001-08:00

Czech it -- my old friend (and Springfield High School alumnus) Bruce featured in a holiday commercial. Honestly, it took a few seconds for it to register that this was a commercial -- Bruce and I used to Christmas Carol back in the day and I guess I subconsciously flashed back to knocking on the front doors of South Fairview Road before realizing the true nature of what I was seeing: commerical for a mega-corporation.

Anyway, he's the curly blonde-haired kid with the beard. And yes, I did used to yell "Peeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrmmm" at him in middle school before we became friends

My students are baiting me

2009-12-09T09:53:00.000-08:00

Actual end of term email from Student X:

Hi Prof. Pacchione,
I talked to you after class yesterday about possibly sending my grades in early, however I talked to the school of business, and they said that it doesn't matter until the final grades are posted, so don't worry about sending anything in early.
Thank you for the term!!!!!!!! <-that means that there is 8x enthusiasm

I Never Stopped Believing

2009-12-06T14:06:00.000-08:00

If you go on espn.com right now, the headline will tell you the Saints "needed overtime" to beat the Redskins. Needed overtime? How about "miraculously found a way to win in a game where their secondary was exposed, they couldn't tackle anyone, couldn't generate a pass rush, couldn't run the ball, and were totally outplayed"?

I don't even know where to start. With my collapse at the bar after the GW field goal? With the number of typos in my texts because my hand was shaking too much to properly press buttons? With the amount of wind-up high fives between me and my friend Jason (two of the more controlled sports fans around)? Should I flashback to all the years of inept QBs, coaches and general teams that would have been on the other end of this game?

I think I've settled on this:
Even when "we" were down seven, the Redskins about to kick a chip shot field goal to wrap up the game...I believed. It wasn't false belief either -- the kind where you're saying "anything can happen" but inside you know you're toast. This was a genuine belief in my team. God, it felt good. The greatest moments in my life have been those where I believed despite the laws of probability fighting against me. Might be something to remember.

Thanks, Saints, for giving me something to believe in

(and thanks, refs, for that questionable OT fumble ruling)

Giddyup

2009-12-01T00:18:00.001-08:00

The gushing, the "these guys are the real deal" articles, the #1 ranking in those silly sports writer power polls...I'll take all of it. 11-0, my friends

The Thanksgiving post

2009-11-26T08:57:00.000-08:00

Every year at this time I think of how different my life would be had the pilgrims dined on peanut M&Ms instead of turkey. Ponder that for a moment: peanut M&Ms for dinner, leftover peanut M&Ms for lunch the next day; peanut M&M soup...and the best part, when the President has to pardon a pack of hard shell candy instead of turkey.

(note: is this the dumbest tradition ever? it's gotta be right up there)

Yup, these are the things you think about when your Thanksgiving trip to Montana has been canceled and you are 2862 miles from home.

For the 5th straight year, I'm away from Wyndmoor for Thanksgiving. It's always a little weird waking up -- it's the silence of a house where no one can sleep, only times 1000 -- but then you move into the day, and you're sitting at a friend's house eating and you think about just how blessed you are. I'm thankful for all of it: the friends, the food, the past 12 months, the holes in my favorite socks, the pneumonia that cut off my breathing and showed me how weak I am, the fact that people actually read these inane thoughts of mine, the fact that I'm 31 years old and still have roommates who will play video games with me...

For all the people from my past who stumble upon this blog because they get really, really bored at work and wind up googling me: I'm doing well as far as I can tell. Correct me if I'm wrong.

Delays and Popping Noises

2009-11-16T22:20:00.000-08:00

My computer broke down a week ago, which has rendered the greater blogging format somewhat impossible. This will likely continue for another week (or longer depending on whether or not my friend Scott can resuscitate it).

In the meantime, you'll be happy to know that, with the right side of my jaw suddenly popping at an alarming rate, my dentist has recommended chewing a piece of gum on each side. This is actually far more difficult than it sounds; after 31 years of instinctively alternating sides it's difficult to create a Berlin Wall of the mouth. Try it sometime. I dare ya.

Stunning realization of the day

2009-11-02T12:27:00.000-08:00

It's quite possible that my entire dancing career has been leading to the 41 second stretch from the 3:11 mark to 3:52 in the MGMT song "Kids."

Happy wedding day Bruce Wexler

2009-10-31T09:43:00.001-07:00

My man Bruce is getting married tonight to a wonderful girl named Corey. About this I could not be more pleased. Alas, the logistics of traveling across the country when money isn't plentiful and all vacation days have been allocated are...well, let's just say it became very difficult for me to justify. Such is life, I suppose.

On pretty much every wedding day I grow nostalgic. I think of my first memories with the person, what they meant to me, deeper conversations, that sort of thing. Bruce has a special place in my heart because of the depth to which we once knew each other. There's just something special about sharing the teenage years, when you're scared of life and think no one else feels that way.

Whatever photos I have with him are someone in my parents' house, 3000+ miles away*. I my head I've got a whole montage building though -- the days where I tormented him and his curly hair by yelling "peeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrmmmm" down the Enfield Middle School hallway; the high school years when we became friends and spent hours memorizing people's senior quotes (newsflash: I've never been cool); time spent watching Eagles games and Rocky movies and making amateur clown films (again, never been cool); times where I got to non-challantly brag that "oh yeah, my friend Bruce is in a Miller Lite commercial."

That kid is getting married today. Congrats my man. Here's hoping we can catch up down the road.

*Google maps tells me it's actually 2862 miles away if you take I-80, 2894 if you take I-94. I think I'd opt for the latter. Because what's the rush?

The truth about sports

2009-10-27T19:04:00.000-07:00

Five years ago today -- Kalemba and Fifer take note of the date (10/27) -- the Red Sox won the World Series. While I was living in Boston. With season tickets. I'm not afraid to say that this was one of the best days of my life (though not nearly as wonderful as beating the Yankees. Short of having a family member make the big leagues, I don't think that will ever be topped). I remember walking out of work with this kid Jeff Mitchell and saying "next time I see you, we'll be World Champions" as we parted ways.

(Note: of all the funny things people do in associating with sports teams, my favorite one has to be referring to yourselves as champions along with the team. Yet it also makes sense. Any sports fan knows that)

It was awesome. It was the best thing ever. I still describe the victory parade as the closest I will come to heaven on earth. And it changed my opinion on the importance of being a champion.

A funny thing happens when a team you love wins the World Series (or Super Bowl, or whatever): you realize winning isn't nearly as important as you thought. I mean, that's still the goal and it's really freaking awesome when it happens. Still...

I guess my theory goes like this:
You come to a point in the season where you legitimately love your team. I don't mean "love" in the sense of loving ice cream; I mean "love" as in viewing players as family members. You call them by their first names. You know their habits. You can turn on the TV for a half second and ID players just by the way they swing the bat.

Somewhere along the way I think you stop rooting so much to benefit yourself and start rooting for the benefit of others. You root for slumping players to break out of it not just because it helps your team, but because you legitimately care for them.

Then, just like that, it's over. Win or lose the series, it just ends. As a fan you're left with this strange feeling of "now what?" I just spent six months with this family. Now they're...gone? That's why it's so important to enjoy the ride -- enjoy your family members' ride -- along the way. Winning a championship is fleeting. Sure, you can enjoy it for a couple weeks and it makes for great nostalgia. In the end, though, it's more about the time you spent watching, the time you spent building a friendship with people who don't even know your name.

Of course, there's a catch: you don't realize this until the season is over. All you can think to do is root for them to win because...I mean, what else would you do as a sports fan? On some level I think when you're doing this, you're rooting for them not so much for the feeling it gives you, but the feeling it gives them. They are like family, after all.

Songs about whose impetus I'd like to know

2009-10-27T10:56:00.000-07:00

Van Halen "Why Can't This Be Love"

It's got what it takes
So tell me why can't this be love

To me this song sounds like it's about computer dating. I picture Eddy VH sitting there saying "well, you two match up in categories X, Y and Z...yeah, I'd say it's got what it takes," before the gal politely corrects him. But since this song took place prior to the computer dating era, I doubt if that's what they were talking about.

Is it meant to be a persuasive argument? Is the singer trying to prove the point -- that they are in love -- to a far more skeptical female companion. I wish there was some way to know.

Best text of the week winner

2009-10-26T23:16:00.001-07:00

This award goes to my friend Hood, who responded to my "if you don't think I assigned a reading on the Dixie Chicks to my class tonight you don't know me very well" text with this gem:

Is it possible for someone to be predictably unpredictable? Because if so, you are

Thank you my friend exclamation point. I take that as a compliment

Just asking

2009-10-26T22:44:00.000-07:00

So if someone throws an exclamation point at the end of "lol"...does that mean a heartier laugh? When you're just at "lol" with a period...does that mean your heart really isn't in it? Like it's an obligatory laugh?

...and honestly, how is "lol!" different than lmao? Can you casually lmao?

Yup, we ask the hard hitting questions at sevenminusfour

On BCCing

2009-10-25T19:01:00.000-07:00

I wonder how BCCing came about. Was this invented by a wily and devious person? Is the point of this to let someone in on inside jokes? Or to do what we humans always wanted to do -- observe conversations without actually being in the room?

Personally, I wish we could BCC in real life. Things would be much easier if I could just plead "BCC" in uncomfortable moments -- like if I could be "BCC'd" on one of my friends telling someone off, or BCC'd on a fight between couples?

Is this where the idea for Harry Potter's invisibility cloak came from?

Yup, this is what I've been thinking about.

Pearl Jam

2009-09-27T00:48:00.000-07:00

Right after I graduated college I made a list of "things I have to do before my life is over." Apparently this is now called a Bucket List but I didn't know that at the time. Anyway, my list was rather ridiculous -- I remember one item being "hop into a cab and yell 'follow that car!' " -- and most of it is lost somewhere deep in my memory.

One bit always stood out, though: see Pearl Jam live in concert. For a while this seemed impossible; they used to sell out in like 9 seconds and charge $80 for it. Things have changed over the years and finally tonight I was able to see them.

And...it was awesome. So awesome. I'm too tired and cold to go into much detail (Clark County Amphitheater is what I'd affectionately call "sneaky freezing") but I'll just try to give you this image: lawn seats, a crisp clear sky overhead, stars out, the moon shining brightly as the first few notes of "Black" (one of my all-time favorite songs) are strummed. And Eddie's singing out about all five horizons revolving around the sun, and in that crisp clear sky I see a shooting star. No joke. It was that kind of night. Awesome, awesome show. Only way it could have been better would have been if I had worn a warm pair of socks.

Phrases I find slightly confusing, part II

2009-09-26T13:11:00.000-07:00

"Cruel and unusual punishment" -- It sounds like this is a big deal only because it's irregular. Like, if torture were more normalized it would be acceptable, despite its cruelty

Phrases I find slightly confusing, part I

2009-09-26T12:30:00.000-07:00

"For all intents and purposes" -- Only because I spent the first 21 years of my life thinking it was "for all intensive purposes." Personally, I like my version better.

Things I learned today, September 20th, 2009 version

2009-09-20T23:18:00.000-07:00

If you're ever stuck in an avalanche, and can't tell up from down, left from right, a 45 degree angle from a 72 degree angle, the best thing to do is spit. Dig out in the opposite direction your spit goes (so if it goes up, dig behind you).

I'm not the only one who has "go to" t-shirts

Maurice Jones Drew is untacklable in Madden '10. He is decidedly more tacklable in real life

My skill in mediating conversations can help couples settle major relational issues. As in, husband and wife debating whether Marvel or DC are the better comic company

I do not feel comfortable in nice clothes, houses or restaurants

Things that confused me growing up

2009-09-17T11:40:00.000-07:00

If, as everyone always says, hindsight is 20/20, did that mean my 20/15 vision was better than hindsight? Why did "20/20" become the symbol of perfection when you can do better than that?

Maybe I should have titled this "things that still confuse me."

In other news, I'm still waiting for someone to explain to me
a) how you know a pit is bottomless; and
b) if you die of starvation, de-hydration, shock or lack of sleep. I think you could make a compelling case for each.

Keep Portland weird

2009-09-11T16:22:00.000-07:00

Photo courtesy Jason Carnahan

Stages of packing

2009-09-05T16:46:00.000-07:00

1. I'll do it tomorrow
2. This shouldn't take that long
3. I'm impressed with my progress
4. Making cuts
5. This is taking longer than it seems like it should
6. I don't care how much it originally cost me, throw it out, this is taking too long
7. I'm definitely hiring movers next time

Pack it up, pack it in

2009-09-05T10:25:00.000-07:00

For the first time in two years (a new Pacchione record for longevity), I'm moving houses. I wish I had learned something from my past experience, but here it is 10:27 AM and I'm looking around the room thinking "this shouldn't take too long." How is it possible to be this aware of my impending folly?

And...we're back

2009-09-05T10:20:00.000-07:00

The Apple store had my computer for ten days straight. Sorry about that. In the meantime, I've learned some things:

1. The Van Halen song which I always knew to be "Animal" is actually called "Panama." I worked with a guy in Wyoming named Dan who we called "Danimal," which I of course turned into the Van Halen song (or more accurately, what I thought to be the Van Halen song). Guess I was wrong about that one.

2. Much like an NBA player who has trouble going on back-to-back days, I suffer on the second day of back-to-back weddings. Sorry for those of you who wanted to see my A dance game last Sunday. I gave it what I had.

3. I like chocolate milk a lot more than I probably should at this age

It kills me when...

2009-08-22T20:23:00.000-07:00

...I'm going to a themed party and I haven't put the proper effort into my costume. Now I'm going to have to answer three hours of "What Office character are you supposed to be?" questions. Dah.

Leisha, I promise this does not reflect how I feel about you as a person

What I've learned this week

2009-08-20T21:05:00.000-07:00

A disproportionate amount of my self-esteem rests on how my fantasy baseball team is doing.
Everyone else closes their mouth while brushing. Who knew?
Most people like when the syrup from their pancakes find its way onto their eggs. I am not one of these people.
I really miss Sydney Bristow

In the mind of blogspot, no one spells their name "Sidney"

An increasing number of people think I look like Michael Phelps. Thanks but no thanks. Though I did go to college with his sister.
Instead of writing Matt, I can be more efficient and go with with M@

Weddings! Weddings!

2009-08-09T07:48:00.000-07:00

After last night we're now halfway through our six wedding summer. I believe this blog post will be about the 11th time I've mentioned how blessed I feel to have introduced Mark and Jen. It may seem a little excessive to continue thanking them, but two things are worth mentioning here:

1. I want to; and

2. That number pales in comparison to the number of times the Slikes and Fifers thanked me for making this union possible

In fact, Mrs. Slike even thanked me in her mother of the bride speech. True story. I felt embarrassed for a moment before realizing I could spend the remainder of the night walking up to people with an exaggerated "you're only here because of me" sense of self-importance. Should you ever successfully play matchmaker I highly recommend you do the same.

Congrats Jen and Mark (exclamation point)

I have a theory

2009-08-03T23:00:00.001-07:00

I think that every music fan secretly wants to be a stockbroker -- buy low ("I knew these guys before anyone else did") and sell high. Problem is "selling high" in the music world doesn't actually give any return on investment; realistically it provides the opposite -- expensive tickets.

And that, my friends, is why so few stockbrokers are found at Berbati's on Thursday nights. They'd rather buy and sell for money, thank you very much

Confession

2009-08-02T23:31:00.000-07:00

If ever all my clothes were clean at once, I wouldn't have enough space for them in my room. I'm reliant upon having stuff in the dirty wash. It's a necessary evil. You know, like the government.

Happy Sugarland Day '09!

2009-07-31T00:11:00.001-07:00

If you don't think I'm celebrating the one year anniversary of JN day by going to their show tonight at the Edgefield, and if you don't think this youtube clip is my music utopia and if you don't think my friend Jess and I will be dressed as cowboy and cowgirl tonight...well, you just don't know me very well

Why I love country music, part 1000

2009-07-30T23:30:00.000-07:00

Even against the backdrop of a personality that's largely contradictory and enigmatic, people are surprised by my love for country music. Don't I know it sucks, makes me a republican, etc. I always appreciate those comments. Thanks for making them.

Look, I know it's cooler to like Radiohead or Band of Horses of whatever hipster band the tight cut off jeans (seriously, why is this look in style?) crowd is watching down at the Doug Fir. I get that. Thing is, I tend to like those bands when I'm in what I call "pit of despair" type moods -- I get judgmental, desperately seeking knowledge just so I can throw it in everyone else's faces; I notice the "fakeness" in others and desperately want to show everyone how above that I am. How silly.

My country music mood is a much better Mike. My knowledge of things isn't so important. I'm content with it being a sunny day and don't need to explain why. The world moves slower and I'm not worried about others or their opinions. It's like how Jesus said His yoke is easy and His burden is light. That's the best way to put it: when I'm in a country music mood -- and thankfully, I usually am -- I feel lighter. I like feeling lighter. I don't need answers or knowledge anymore. That's just how I am.

The underrated part of being a Transformer

2009-07-17T11:54:00.000-07:00

As realized by my friend Katherine and I en route to seeing Dave Chapelle in Pioneer Square on Tuesday night --

If we were transformers, we could just self-drive to Pioneer Square without worrying about parking. And this is in Portland, Oregon! I'd imagine transforming abilities would be even more advantageous in New York and Boston

Flashback

2009-07-17T00:14:00.000-07:00

In case you were thinking to yourself "you know what a good trick would be? Dress up in Harry Potter costumes but NOT see the movie," I'm very sorry: that idea has been taken.

Click here for details. One of my favorite gags as well as the reason why I'm posing in a picture with R2D2 in the above

Life changing conversations, part deux

2009-07-14T08:31:00.000-07:00

DJ Kari Kar: Mike, what's your type?
Me: Tall with brown hair, smart, funny, likes to work out...
DJ Kari Kar: You just described yourself

I believe that concludes the "state the problem" portion of today's exercise

Life changing conversations, part one

2009-07-14T08:29:00.000-07:00

Angie from work: Mike, what's your type?
Me: Tall, brown hair, smart, funny...
Angie: Have you ever actually dated someone like that?
Me: No

2009-07-13T23:10:00.000-07:00

Until it snapped in mid-May, I'd worn a cross necklace for the past seven and a half years. Shortly thereafter, I came down with pneumonia.

Today, after a weekend spent driving all over the place and sleeping in no under the place, I noticed my cross was gone again...which means...what does this mean? Please please please not anymore pneumonia. Please?

"Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not really after you."
- Liz Killeen's senior quote, Springfield High School, Erdenheim PA 1996

The advantage of corporate discounts

2009-07-10T08:41:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure if I live in Portland long enough, I'll allow my standard clothes to erode and will one day have a closet filled only with products from Adidas, Columbia, Nike and The North Face

Cramming

2009-07-10T08:14:00.001-07:00

So* I'm headed to see Coldplay at Clark County Amphitheater tonight. For a long time I declared Coldplay the most boring band in music -- every song sounded the same, not enough energy in songs and blah blah blah. I maintain that "God Put a Smile on Your Face" is a top three "most likely to have me drooling on my pillow" song along with Jamie Johnson's "In Color" (our runaway winner) and Jack Johnson's "Flake."

Sometime in the past year or tuesday, I started to like the band. Maybe it's because my old roommate Scott loved Liva La Vida so much. I dunno. The point is, I'm one of those fair weather fans. Ever the blender-inner, though, I've had my friend Nerg burn me copies of their first three albums, which I am listening to again and again in an effort to seem like a real fan. It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it.

*I'm guessing at least 38% of my posts start with this word, at least initially

Thoughts, questions and suggestions

2009-06-29T16:51:00.000-07:00

Between housesitting, SFO, SEA and Vancouver, I've slept in five different beds over the past eight days, none of them my own. If you're like me, this makes you daydream about certain unnecessary things.

(Of course if you're like me you once sent your ENG 299 Great Novels syllabus to the Cliff Notes corporation, asking them for a special order on The French Lieutenant's Woman, If on a Winter's Night a Traveler and others. Can't fault me for trying)

"Definitely" constantly crosses up even a master speller like myself. I always want to insert an 'a' in there somewhere. Spelling it "definately" is kinda better because it allows for a typo like "defiantly", i.e. "I'm defiantly coming to the party", "I will defiantly listen to that album" and so on.
As much as I've played out the whole "dream girl sits next to me on my plane" scenario, it's occured to me that, in order for that to happen on Southwest, the girl would have to sit in the middle seat...which means she's either late to confirm her seat or she likes the middle...which means she's no longer my dream girl. (kidding, kidding...mostly)
I think you're best served to be at the end of the "A" group on Southwest. That way you can make informed decisions as to who to sit behind. Board too early and who sits in front of you is probably out of your control.

And finally...
You know how Batman has a "night vision" option in his bat suit? And how US soldiers have that same feature, at least in movies? I was thinking about how, if we were all equipped with said vision, we would probably avoid highway hypnosis, which would make it much safer to drive at night.

Can someone get on that?

Paradigm shift

2009-06-26T12:19:00.000-07:00

Not sure when this happened, but at some point there was a paradigm shift in action movies wherein the protagonist ceased hopping into taxis and yelling “follow that car” and started instead commandeering cars from civilians.

Does anyone know when or why this happened? I blame the government.

Keeping Portland weird...again

2009-06-25T17:05:00.000-07:00

Can't imagine too many other cities respond like this

The pact: revisited

2009-06-25T15:44:00.000-07:00

If there was any doubt that Ted and I would honor our "Smooth Criminal" pact, it's out the window now. Rest in peace, MJ

Off to SFO!

2009-06-20T08:03:00.000-07:00

I can't think of a single reason why I need to bring my computer with me, except for the time I'll be sitting in PDX airport. I love PDX airport. Clean, open, and free WiFi. Why other airports charge $8 is beyond me.

Anyway, I can't think of a single reason I'll need this computer in San Francisco, so I'm leaving it at home. I'm excited to see how this blows up in my face.

See you relatively soon (shift plus one)

Text message exchange of the day

2009-06-18T20:47:00.000-07:00

Three days ago I made my friend Katherine an intro to country music CD. At 6:36 this morning, she sent me the following text:

It's early, for that I'm sorry. Just wanted to say how much I'm enjoying the CD. The Dixie Chicks song is currently blowing my mind.

To which I would (did) respond, it doesn't matter what time of day it is: you can always tell me you're loving country music.

Speaking of which, there's an amazing Billy Currington song playing on country music these days. Actual chorus lyrics: God is great, Beer is good, And people are crazy

Who said country music isn't thoughtful?

A pact has been made

2009-06-17T21:35:00.001-07:00

Between myself and my new roommate, Ted "Theodore" Grigsby --

Should either of us ever get married, the song "Smooth Criminal" WILL be played at the reception. Start practicing your interpretive dance now.

Addendum:
Ted and I were just talking about Michael Jackson. He was my first hero after all (granted this was based on having the same first name; my second hero was Michael Knight). I remember telling my best elementary school best friend Matt Guvenatso that I loved Michael Jackson. He told me he hated him because he hated black people.

My solution to this problem? Going to the beach, trying to get as tan as possible so that I could walk up to Matt and tell him I was black. True story.

Is there...

2009-06-16T15:09:00.000-07:00

...a bigger discrepancy in enjoyment between a) being the person trying to spell their name into the stupid automated phone system; and b) being the person listening as the system repeatedly didn't understand what the other person was saying? Cause from that standpoint, it's high comedy

On selective burglary

2009-06-12T22:57:00.000-07:00

Saturday night my car was broken into. I say "broken into" but the truth is there's a fair amount of evidence suggesting I left the door unlocked (note to self: make sure next car has power locks).

That first moment after you realize your car has been broken into is always an interesting one. How did they get in? What did they take? The door is ajar, you open up, look around...no money stolen. Blender is still in the car. Nothing taken from the glove compartment. The only things missing are...your country music CDs. They leave U2 behind. They leave Mogwai behind. They just run off with Sugarland, Rascal Flatts and the Dixie Chicks live CD. True story.

Random? Yeah. I mean, who besides me even owns CDs anymore? But to whoever stole those CDs -- and left everything else -- I wish you the best. I loved those discs and hope you will too.

(and that would really suck if you thought you were getting something cool)

Joe Girardi can continue managing the Yankees for as long as he wants to

2009-06-11T22:08:00.000-07:00

Hello all.

Tis been a while and especially on the baseball front. I do have things I'd like to write and from time to time I may even make time.

(By the way, "Time" is also the name of my favorite Hootie and the Blowfish song. It's much better than "Hold My Hand." True story)

Um...I haven't written much about beisbol this year but was inspired tonight by the terrible, awful managering by the Yankees own Joe Girardi. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, as I kinda sorta wanted the Red Sox to win and I kinda sorta never want the Yankees to win. Nonetheless, let's examine the situation:

The Sox have beaten the Yankees seven straight times, which isn't nearly as big a deal as the media makes of it but is still significant. It's the bottom of the 8th inning, they've finally taken their first lead of the entire series and they simply need to get six more outs.

To start the 8th, they trot out their $20+ million a year ace CC Sabathia. As he'd thrown more than 100 pitches, this decision is somewhat questionable but certainly defensible as well. He gives up a base hit to Nick Green. He walks Dustin Pedrioa. He gives up a base hit to JD Drew, scoring Green and moving the tieing run to second. Finally he is pulled with no one out, up a run, men on first and second.

Some loser named Alfredo Aceves comes in and promptly gives up a base hit to Kevin Youkilis. Still not sure how Pedroia doesn't score on the play, but the bases are now loaded, nobody out and you're up one run. Please please please, tell me why you wouldn't bring in Mariano Rivera at this point. He's no longer the best reliever in baseball but he's still pretty darned good and certainly THIS, not a hypothetical 9th inning save situation, is the most important part of the ball game. Instead, my man Girardi sticks with this Aceves guy, J. Bay slams a first pitch single. Game is tied.

Next up is Mike Lowell. Again, bases loaded, nobody out, only now it's a tie game. You need an absolute escape artist here. Personally, I'd bring in the greatest relief pitcher of all time, save situation or not. Apparently Joe Girardi thought he'd be okay with Alfredo Aceves. Not so much. Lowell hits a sac fly, Sox go up 4-3 and Papelbon closes the door in the 9th. Rivera never pitches.

And you know what the best part is? In the post-game wrap up, no one even questions the move (or lack thereof). Hopefully we can get Girardi maintaining this silly decision-making all season long.

What I told my friend Mason when I asked if I wanted to see GI Joe when it comes out

2009-06-09T22:53:00.000-07:00

"Yes, and if it's anything like the cartoon, I'll be rooting for Cobra."

Not sure why my rooting interests were so warped growing up, but they were

One more con

2009-05-27T10:31:00.001-07:00

Light breezes feel like arctic blasts coming off Lake Michigan

Pneumonia: Pros and Cons

2009-05-27T09:58:00.000-07:00

I somehow came down with pneumonia at the end of May. Who does that? As such, I'm on house arrest through at least Sunday.

For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of a 103.9 degree temperature, I thought I'd run down the pros and cons of the virus:

(Quick aside: how aloof am I? I went to work yesterday)

Pros:

Tremendous outpouring of support from your community. The number of texts and offers to do things for me...I mean, it's awesome
I have an answer for why I've been so cold and cough-y
Sounds much tougher than just having a fever
Life suddenly becomes simplified: Drink lots of water. Take medicine. Rest up.
Good excuse to watch five movies in a single day. It's not Al Bundy scoring four touchdowns for Polk High, but it's a start

Cons:

No exercise allowed
You feel like a disease walking through the supermarket
Even though it's not a very contagious virus, something feels very wrong about doing the whole touch test thing with fruit. Dinner peaches last night were rock hard
It would probably be easier to just set up shop in the bathroom

Kinda both:

I've been alternating between extremely hot and extremely cold, which makes bedtime wardrobe an interesting predicament. Do I bundle up in anticipation of the cold? Wear swim trunks in case I'm overheated? In the end, I do sort of like this guessing game. Hey, I've always been a gambler.

Misc. thoughts

2009-05-21T19:13:00.000-07:00

I'll admit it: I wish I'd learned piano. Or at least violin

Sometimes I wonder if my whole "ignore depressing movies" policy gives me an unrealistic picture of the world
It's easier to feel mature when your friends are all 26. Sigh
You know you've reached a weird stage of life when you're saying things like "Man, that DayQuil isn't half bad. I have to wait six hours before I can drink it again?"

Wolverine review

2009-05-12T20:06:00.001-07:00

This has taken me a while to get to; that's partially because I've been busier than ever and partially because I wanted to give others a chance to see it before I said anything.

Here's the deal:

A while back, I made the determination that I wouldn't allow others hatred (or love) of a movie affect my opinion. For this reason I have no problem admitting to liking The Godfather Part III, hating Juno or finding The Big Lebowski completely unfunny.

(Wait! Keep reading!)

I have been accused of purposely loving/hating a movie because it's the opposite of everyone else's opinion. Fact of the matter: my taste is probably a little different than the average bear's, but it's not like I ever listed Speed as a favorite or anything.

(oh wait...)

All of which is a long buildup to saying I really, really liked Wolverine. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I like it. Unless you're comparing it to The Dark Knight or something...I mean, was this worse than the last two X-Men? Daredevil? Spiderman 3?

I walked into the theater with the attitude of "well, this is probably going to suck." Reviews used phrases like "colossal disappointment" and "train wreck." As such, I kept watching and kept liking it. Scene after scene went by with me constantly wondering "okay, is this the part where it starts to suck?" Funny thing: it never started to suck.

Now don't get me wrong: if you're looking to dislike the movie, you'll have plenty of chances. It's not exactly true to the comic (though honestly, what comic movie is?), certain parts are unbelievable even by movie standards and the "after the credits" scenes...let's just say I'm having a tough time understanding why these were included. Also, I'm still trying to figure out why they chose to use CGI for a certain character rather than the actor. Makes no sense.

With that said...
I loved seeing Wolvy in action. I loved how they delved into his inner turmoil, loved the Wolverine - Sabretooth tension and was impressed how, in a movie filled with characters, they actually did a decent job of introducing you to each. Apparently a number of people found Wolverine's claws cartoonish. I didn't notice that at all.

As always, you can wonder why they included certain characters and excluded others. The misuse of Deadpool is especially troubling. Still, I think it's a good movie, certainly way better than what I was expecting. If you go in there with an attitude expecting less than the best, I think you'll like it too.

(Though I guess if I actually wanted you to have low expectations, I would have said the movie sucked. Kind of a paradox, isn't it?)

Question for ya

2009-05-12T12:21:00.000-07:00

When someone is a machine gun sneezer...I mean, are you supposed to bless them after every sneeze? Wait for the whole thing to end? What's protocol here?

Country music songs o' the moment

2009-05-07T00:05:00.000-07:00

My friend Elizabeth is headed to NashVegas and wanted some country music songs to listen to. That's an easy request. Here are some of my current faves:

Non-Sugarland division:

Montgomery Gentry “Roll With Me”

Rascal Flatts “Every Day”

Brad Paisley “When I Get Where I’m Going”

Dixie Chicks “Easy Silence”, "Top of the World" and “Taking the Long Way”

Dierks Bentley “Hope For Me Yet”, “Prodigal Son’s Prayer” and “Settle For a Slow Down”

Sara Evans “Roll Me Back in Time”

Love and Theft “Runaway”

George Strait “Troubadour”, “It Just Comes Natural” and “River of Love”

Kenny Chesney “Beer in Mexico” and “Never Wanted Nothing More”

Corey Temple “When I Hit San Antone”

Sugarland:

I mean, hard to choose here but I’ll give you the first five that come to mind

“Stand Back Up”

“Settlin’”

“Come on Get Higher”

“Baby Girl”

“Genevieve”

When your favorite character comes to the big screen

2009-04-30T22:41:00.000-07:00

Things are pretty busy in sevenminusfour land. I work my 40 hours, I teach two nights a week, I write about 24 into the wee hours on Monday nights and I'm training for the 200+ mile Seattle to Portland bike ride in July. Whenever you're this busy, you need things to look forward to. The problem is, sometimes the things you look forward to are also the things you dread. If that doesn't make sense to you, you've never had your favorite comic book character come to the big screen.

Tomorrow night I'm headed to see Wolverine with my friends Kyle and David Price (yes, he demands first and last name status). We've discussed this and pretty much have the same skeptical mindset. I'll probably spend most of tomorrow with but one thought running through my head: please don't let this movie suck.

There are plenty of reasons to be skeptical. For one thing, comic movies -- even ones involving heroes with plenty of backstory -- tend to suck. The emphasis is on Hollywood, special effects, etc and any effort to tell the hero's story goes out the window. I'll never forget how the disappointment on my brother's face when he learned Daredevil (his favorite character) would star Ben Affleck. Commercials and trailers have left me with a similar uneasy feeling...Wolvie getting launched from truck to helicopter, then sticking the landing? Sigh.

(Note: why was Iron Man -- unquestionably the most boring of major Marvel superheroes -- the only film where the writers bothered to develop a plot, character traits, etc? Still amazes me)

The other big thing, and the one which has me especially pessimistic, is the overwhelming number of characters. On no level does this make sense to me. Forget for a moment that more characters does nothing but clutter the plot -- we've seen this in Spider-Man 3, X-Men 2, X-Men 3, and the original run of Batman movies. Again, forget that. Think about this from a business perspective: how does it make any sense to introduce nine different characters for 45 seconds? Especially when you're going to inaccurately kill them all off? Don't you want to save them for sequels? How does this make any sense?

The characters included in this movie are especially troubling: Sabretooth, Deadpool, Gambit, Cyclops, Maverick...THESE GUYS OR HAVE HAD THEIR OWN COMICS OR HAVE LEAD THE X-MEN. How is there room for all of them in a two hour movie??? How??? Kills me. Kills me.

(and if you're going to include Gambit...That's what you want him to look like? Really? His outfit looks like something from a Ben Stiller movie)

With that said...
I'm headed into tomorrow night with hope. I remember the thrill of seeing Wolverine on-screen for the first time (in the original X-Men). I was like a giddy little kid. He has a fantastic origin story, he's been through more turmoil than anyone except possibly Batman and people can identify with him on so many levels: Orphaned child. Loner. Opposer of authority. Loyalist who doesn't want to admit he's loyal. Vagabond.

So yeah, they have plenty of material here. I mean, the guy was ranked the #1 comic book character of all time. Let's allow the general public to learn about him, not about how cool explosions are.

(Please don't let this movie suck)

Coolest play ever

2009-04-26T21:29:00.001-07:00

I'd actually forgotten it was possible to steal home. Love the Jon Miller call here

Best way yet to describe Portland

2009-04-19T22:23:00.000-07:00

"It's the kind of place where people are kind of looking around the room, trying to figure out if it's cool to bob their head or not."
- My friend Aaron, describing what Portland is like when he's playing at a show

Remembering Harry the K

2009-04-17T16:06:00.000-07:00

By now everyone in the Philadelphia sports world has shared their memories about Harry Kalas. Mine are mostly the same, but a little bit different since I worked with him (or at the same "company" anyway). All of the good things you've read about him are true. With that in mind, I thought I'd share three memories about Harry, ones you might not know or remember.

Memory #1: Scott Rolen
I worked for the Phillies during their disappointing 2002 season, back when management refused to spend money, 18,000 fans squeezed into an ugly 64,000 seat stadium and Eagles chants used to break out during games. Since people needed a scapegoat, they mostly blamed Scott Rolen (at the time an all-star 3B) for the situation. He wanted too much money, he didn't display emotion, was a cancer, etc. Let me tell you, that logic extended to employees as well. It was a frustrating season all around; once the team started slowly everyone took out their frustration on Scott.

The Phils dealt him away at the trade deadline at the end of July, which allowed every Philadelphian to fulfill their deepest need: the need to hate. The fans came from all over to boo Rolen during his return in August. A ballpark which usually stood 25% full suddenly had an extra 20,000 fans, all there to tell this man how much he sucked, was greedy and wasn't wanted here anyway. I will never, ever forget the long sign in the 700 level that said "welcome to hell" (a reference to how Rolen had called St. Louis "Heaven").

The third game in the series coincided with Harry Kalas appreciation day, meant to commemorate his induction into the Hall of Fame. The Phils put together this big ceremony, which I think included inviting back former players, a tribute from the current squad and so on. Anyway, the whole thing ended with Harry getting into a car...the door of which was opened by Scott Rolen (again, now on the Cardinals). The people of Philadelphia had fun with that one -- how could that traitor open the door? He doesn't even deserve to be on the same field with Harry, that sort of thing. After the game I saw one of the Phillies coaches berating a PR member for Rolen's involvement. As for Harry...he was a class act throughout. He had every chance to treat Rolen as the rest of the town did but instead opted to take the higher ground.

There's a life lesson there, folks. When everyone else chooses hate, that's your chance to make an even bigger difference. Extend the olive branch.

Memory #2: His eyes
Not to sound creepy, but the man had these captivating blue eyes. That much you could see on TV (at least to some degree). You know what stuck out to me, though? He had the wateriest eyes I have ever seen in my life. Entire rivers lived in the corner where eye and nose intersected. I don't have any great metaphor here. I just remember it.

Memory #3: Him walking into our office and announce a Cubs game
One of the major benefits of working for a sports team is that you don't have be clandestine about your sports following. At the Phillies, we had the MLB Extra Innings package and watched whenever a game was on. One day he walked into the PR office (where I worked) and just started announcing the game broadcast on the TV in the corner of the room. I heard him say "That Sammy Sosa steps up to the plate." It was hands down one of the most surreal moments of my life. When you're accustomed to hearing the voice on TV, in some way you kind of forget that it comes from a person...Suddenly this person, whose voice had narrated countless games I'd listened to, was standing five feet away giving me bonus coverage of a bottom of the ninth Sammy Sosa at bat. I don't know if he always narrated games or what; I do know I wish Sammy had gone yard in the bottom of the ninth instead of flying out to deep center. Hearing "outta hear" in person would have been beyond adjectives.

You know what I'll miss most, though? The silence. One of my favorite things about summer is how everyone knows not as much talking needs to take place. It's never talked about; everyone just kind of knows. You can just sit there with a friend in silence and be still. Harry was the only announcer who's ever understood that. Everyone else seems to need to constantly remind us of their presence. Not Harry. I always loved that about him.

Thanks for announcing, my friend. Thanks for staying positive in a city that's anything but. Thanks for being that calming voice. You will be (and are) missed.

Sleep/Tired/Bed/Etc

2009-04-16T22:31:00.000-07:00

On Mondays I work eight hours, teach four hours, come home, watch 24, write about it and go to bed somewhere in the 1 - 2 AM range (so, 15-16 hour workday)

On Tuesdays, I wake up on six hours sleep, work eight hours, drive to my church group and hit the sack circa 11

On Wednesdays, I wake up in the early 7s to make it to work by 800, work eight hours, drive to Woodburn (40 minutes away), teach three hours, then home to bed.

By Thursday I'm spent. Problem is, I still have two days of work left at that point. I'm as tired tonight as I can remember being. I'm very fortunate in that I have no work manana. So the question, dear friends, is: do I still have it in me to sleep more than eight hours? If it doesn't happen tonight, it may never happen again.

Godspeed, Mike, godspeed.

Tax day

2009-04-15T23:11:00.000-07:00

It's the one day of the year where I find myself thinking "darn I wish I was disabled," just because of the tax breaks it would provide.

Note:
This year there's also the option of deducting based on "housing a midwestern disaster victim." As my friend Jason notes, the whole midwest besides Chicago is a disaster...shouldn't you be able to deduct automatically based on that alone?

Best moment of my day

2009-04-07T15:57:00.001-07:00

Running to the sports bar across the street to catch the end of the Sox game, learning Blitz has turned from a sports bar to a dance club, getting back to my desk trying to log in to my friend Doug’s MLB TV account from work, blanking on the password and calling him.

Without even asking why I’m calling, he blurts out his password. Now that’s a good friend.

ACM Awards 2009

2009-04-06T12:05:00.000-07:00

This should probably just be an email to my friend Eileen (my country music soul mate) but I don’t get to post often enough anymore and am trying to scare people away from the site. This seems like the best way to do so.

I love country music. I’m comfortable with saying that. It took me a long time to reveal that to other people but now I do so proudly, to the point where I had nine of my closest country music friends over for the 44th annual ACM awards. I made some sweet tea, some BBQ chicken and was happy to have friends bring collared greens and cheese grits. Yum.

Some quick thoughts:

· I hate to violate my own “to each their own, different people like different things” rule but I really, really need someone to explain to me the appeal of this Jamey Johnson “In Color” song. I can’t ever remember a more boring song. I half-expected him to be asleep with drool spilling out of his mouth by the end.
· I’ll just say it: Jamie Foxx should be hosting every awards show for the rest of eternity (which sounds like a long time but it’s only another 2 ½ years if you go by the Mayan calendar)
· Things I didn’t see coming: David Copperfield wearing a cowboy hat, David Copperfield being at the ACMs, Kristian Bush’s perpetual fedora, and Jennifer Love Hewitt (?) as one of the presenters.
· Things I would have seen coming if someone had filled me in on things I should have seen coming: presenters resorting to a louder voice inflection to say the city name. “Hello LAS VEGAS.” Classic presenter move.
· I’m pretty much willing to offer a Pacchione money back guarantee on George Strait’s “Troubadour.”
· I can’t believe how far I’ve come with Trace Adkins. I pretty much resented the guy for that hideous “Honky Tonk Badonka Donk” song (which seemed like the sort of thing a horny inmate would sing in prison) but he has since presented himself as a sincere and caring person. Absolutely loved his acceptance speech and as always, I love a good redemptive story.

Now for the Nettles stuff –

I want to clarify that I’m not obsessed with her, don’t think I’m going to marry her, etc. I mean, I’m largely kidding with that stuff. I just happen to think she’s the coolest celeb out there. She carries herself with such confidence, such class and manages to do it in a kind, wholesome way.

There’s more, though. I was watching with my friend Michelle last night and pointing out the difference between someone who has to perform and a perfomer. Someone who has to perform will typically do little things where they raise their arms up to sing but will look somewhat tentative to wander around stage, really let loose, etc. A performer, though, owns the stage. That’s what I love about JN in concert: she owns the performance. She looks like she’s having fun. As she told the audience at a Seattle show a couple years back “it’s a show for me too, y’all.”

So yeah, I think she’s the best.

(Quick sidenote: Sugarland is coming to PDX this summer. Ticket cost? $77. By comparison, Coldplay and Death Cab, two bands that flourish in this area, are charging $50 a ticket. This price discrepancy is rather vexing)

Here’s the other thing:
Ever since I met her – not sure if you’d heard about that – people congratulate me when she wins. It’s amazing. It’s like she’s my sister or a legit friend or something. I cannot even imagine how many people must congratulate someone who, you know, actually knows the award winner.

Now this is what you call effective intimidation

2009-04-06T11:32:00.000-07:00

From an email my friend Kelly sent to me --

By the way, I am still scared to use an exclamation point in any correspondence with you.

I am now one step closer to purifying this language

Early morning, April 4

2009-04-04T11:29:00.000-07:00

Shout rings out in the Memphis sky-yyy
"Free at last"
They took your life
They could not take your pride

So yeah, that U2 song is about Martin Luther King. True story.

General Announcement

2009-03-29T23:06:00.001-07:00

One of my friends tonight labeled me as being somewhat intimidating because she "can never tell if [I'm] kidding or not."

Friends, unless noted otherwise, please assume I'm kidding. I'm not very good at speaking seriously.

Thanks.

Just wondering

2009-03-28T12:56:00.001-07:00

When did "to bust" become the official verb associated with "bracket"?

Has "talking about your bracket" supplanted "talking about your fantasy football league team" as the best way for corporate employees to feign interest in each others' lives?

Were the officials in the Kansas - Michigan State game paid off? Is it possible to communicate how fictitious those fouls were in the last minute? Seriously, imagine if MSU had lost that game.

Is there anything more boring than two seasons in a row where "picking all favorites" is the winning strategy?

If Buffalo Wild Wings is going to show a commercial where a bartender can decide to "send it into overtime", shouldn't they have a follow-up commercial with bodog or sportsinteraction where the bartender calls me and I bet the house on a "will the New York - Boston game go to overtime" prop bet? I mean, come on.

People who are going insane right now

2009-03-28T12:49:00.000-07:00

1. Me

I'm at Ristretto Coffee in NE Portland, listening to the guys next to me talking about all the misused imperialism in western culture, desperately trying to prepare my syllabuses (syllabii?) for the two public speaking classes I start teaching this week.

These classes, of course, use different textbooks and are each once a week. On top of that, I'm trying to figure out how to best time the ups and downs of teaching with my full-time job...and, on top of that, one of the classes meets Monday night (which is when I write about 24). So now, in late-March, I have to make sure my lesson plans properly allow me time to get home and watch the two hour season finale of 24 on May 18th.

So yeah, I wish I were more organized.

Dunkin Donuts commercial with Curt Schilling

2009-03-25T08:08:00.001-07:00

I'll write about his retirement one of these days. For now, a whimsical Dunkin Donuts commercial from before the 2004 season. This one always cracked me up

Random thoughts

2009-03-20T12:55:00.000-07:00

The announcer in the Missouri - Cornell game keeps saying things like "rocking the rim." Haven't heard that one in ages. I keep waiting for him to say he hasn't done something "in a month of Sundays."

This Buffalo Wild Wings commercial...So let me get this straight: it's fun at this bar to the point where the guy wearing a Boston uniform wants the bartender to "send it into overtime"? This is a Boston fan? Wouldn't he more realistically be talking to me about how great fluffahnuttah is?

Kinda disappointed CBS isn't cramming some lackluster TV show down my throat. What happened to the days of Baby Bob? Falcone? Even the apparently kinda funny New Adventures of Old Christine? At least give me a crummy TV movie like 2004's immortal Shark Attack.

Just wondering: do the announcers of Temple games have a brainstorming session ahead of time to jot down all possible puns involving Dionte Christmas?

This is the only time of year where guys walk into a room and sound depressed saying things like "can't believe Utah State lost."

Best text of the day so far

2009-03-20T10:30:00.001-07:00

"I just arrived at the bar and they literally had to unchain the door to let me in. I'm the only one here."
- my buddy Chris Hamman, live from San Francisco, 9:30 AM