No Room For Humans.

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“This now concludes our broadcast day. Good night.”

When I was a kid, I had insomnia. After my parents would go to bed, I would sneak into the living room to watch television all night. We didn’t have cable, so at around 3am, most of the networks would go off the air for the day. The National Anthem would play, and the test pattern would show up, sounding a tone that would surely wake up the entire house had I not muted the TV just beforehand.

I hated the test pattern. Not because I wanted to watch more TV, but because it meant I was alone. I just wanted to sleep, and I was usually too afraid or too busy thinking about something to relax long enough for that to happen. I didn’t have a computer in the 80’s, so when TV finally bailed out on you at night, you were truly on your own. It probably doesn’t make much sense to anyone else, but that test pattern was a very frightening thing to me, because it symbolized loneliness and solitude. But eventually, the Home Shopping Network came along, and then I was free to watch television until the sun came back up for another bleary-eyed day.

Enough depressing nostalgia. I’m in the process of putting the finishing touches on my book review for Core Weekly. I will be covering “50 Things You’re Not Supposed To Know” (Volumes 1&2), released by the fine folks at the Disinformation Company. This review is a full page for me to say whatever I want, and I’m really looking forward to when it’s published. As always, I’ll steal a lot of newspapers to shell out to friends and family. They’re paying me so much money right now, I could quit my day job if I wanted to get a divorce and starve to death.

There’s only 2 more Boycott Unity cartoons left. Check it out!

By the way, I don’t want to talk about the NCAA tournament anymore. It didn’t hurt as much as 1992, but it was close enough to put it behind me as quickly as possible.

So, needless to say, I had (and still have) a lot of things to catch up on. I’ve been keeping my posts short, but I’ll be back into the old routine by the end of the week. March is shaping up to be the biggest month yet for the CDP in terms of site hits and visits, and I really appreciate that. Keep it up, and I’ll send you all a gold star.

Send me a picture of your eye first.

Weather’s Here, Wish You Were Beautiful.

Some quick things before we all head out for Easter:

1. Wisconsin & Kentucky will play for a spot in the Final 4 tomorrow, Duke lost last night and Louisville is already on the bus to St. Louis. This is shaping up to be the best tournament ever.

2. I’m headed home for Easter tomorrow, and to prepare for the drive I purchased 5 new CD’s. They were having a deal at Borders, so I picked up albums by Bright Eyes, Moving Units, Neutral Milk Hotel, Howie Day (for the Missus) and Broken Social Scene. I don’t really know what to expect from them (I haven’t really listened to any of these bands, save Bright Eyes & Howie Day, who are hit and miss at best), but it’s always nice to have something new to listen to for a 4 hour round trip.

3. When I get back on Monday, I’ll be working feverishly on my book review for Core Weekly. It should also be noted that Boycott Unity will come to a close next week, with the publishing of the final cartoons. Show up for the final unveiling.

4. Keep the eye pictures coming. I’ll have them all up in a week. If you haven’t done so yet, send a picture of your eye to

5. I’m still trying to train for my 5-mile run at the end of April, and my hair continues to grow out of control. New material and whatnot will grace the CDP starting Monday.

Happy Birthday, Jesus!

Wait a minute.

Mapless In The Open Sea.

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(If you lived here, you’d be home by now.)

A few quick things to share with you, then I’m going to bed:

1. The Boycott Unity Final 5 has officially begun.

2. UW-Milwaukee will pull off the greatest upset in NCAA Tournament history tomorrow night, when they knock off Illinois and waltz into the elite 8. Duke, Kentucky and Wisconsin play on Friday, and I’ll be shutting off my phone.

3. I’m working on a new article for Core Weekly. It’s a book review, and it should be published on Thursday, April 7. They’re working on getting the web page up, so keep checking that if you’re one of the 5.99 Billion people who does not live in Madison.

4. In “I Really Hope So” news, Jeopardy! auditions are coming to Madison by invitation only. I submitted my application, so here’s hoping they let me have a crack at taking their money.

5. In “Wild Fantasies Come True” news, I’m in the process of submitting an application to be a writer for the Onion A.V. Club. They’re looking for a part-time staff writer, so I decided to give it a shot. It’s probably not going to happen, but it’s always good to try anyways. Yes, I do consider writing for the Onion to be a “wild fantasy”. I also eat macaroni & cheese for lunch every single day, if that makes things more clear for you.

I’m staying plenty busy.

6. So, who wants to murder Toby Keith? I mean, we all thought about it a few years ago, but I think it’s all blown over by now. This would be the perfect time to strike. His guard is completely down, and we might actually get away with it. If we just ride the wave of recent bursts of violence our nation has seen recently, it might not even make headlines. If anyone’s with me, meet me by the mailbox at the end of my street tomorrow night, and wear black.

He’s really a patriot, isn’t he? Just give him a disaster, and he’ll write a song about it. He almost makes me want to buy a cowboy hat, just for the street cred. Forget everything I said about Texas and the South, Toby Keith is truly a shining spokesperson for your region.

Every night, I wish to the stars that he goes to Iraq for a USO show, and gets sent back home in pieces. But seriously, I love Toby (or “TK”, as I like to call him). I’d never do anything to hurt him, in case his lawyers or a representative from Ford Motors is reading this.

7. Send me a picture of your eye.

I’ll be watching basketball for pretty much the rest of the week, but I’ll be updating the CDP along with Boycott Unity before the weekend. I’ve got that book review to write, so that’s going to have to come first for a while (I’m working here, people!) I also need to find time to keep training for this 5-mile run so my heart doesn’t immediately explode once the starter’s pistol fires. First rule of business: only 3 sub sandwiches per week, no extra mayo. Still mayo, just no “extra” mayo. You have to take baby steps concerning these things.

Chinese Sky Candy.

(Note from Ryan: The following post is broken up into chapters. Try and keep up.)


From Friday afternoon to Sunday night, this was what I was doing.

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After 4 days and 48 basketball games, my bracket couldn’t be any more shot to hell. So what, though? I’m still happy. Kentucky, Wisconsin and UW-Milwaukee have all survived the weekend. Duke also remains, keeping the possibility alive of a Regional Final rematch with Kentucky. I’ve been waiting 13 years for that. At work, my picks are hovering right around last place, which is where I usually end up by the end of the tournament.

Even the Missus has been consumed with March Insanity. She cheers along with me, and swears at the TV when our teams do something stupid. I’ve never loved her more. I’m going to have to buy her a tennis bracelet when this is all over, just to say thank you.


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After some careful thought and consideration, I’ve decided to bring Boycott Unity to a close. It’s been fun, but I’m pulling it due to lack of public interest and it taking a lot longer to make than you might think. It’s not over yet, though. The final 5 cartoons have yet to be published (making an even 50, for those keeping track), so look for them over the next couple weeks. What will happen to them? You’ll have to head on over there to find out. Once the final cartoons are up, I will leave the page around for a week, then delete it from the Interweb forever. Please check them out while you still can.


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First off, I don’t know if you’ve been checking out my sidebar lately, but I’m urging people to send me close-up pictures of their eye. Close-up eye pictures are a Blog staple (as well as an introspective, snooty attempt at serious photography), so hook me up, and I’ll post the good ones.

Secondly, there was a question posted at work today about eyeballs in general. Suppose you were in an accident, in which your eye was popped out of the socket. Assuming that the nerves and whatnot were still attached, would you still be able to see out of it? Would you be able to turn it around, and look yourself right in the face? People were arguing as to if this was possible or not, so I decided to look into it.

To put it simply, you could still see out of it, but not very well. Not to mention, if your eye WERE popped out of the socket, you’d be too in shock to think of all the cool things you could to with it (look around corners, 2 directions at once, etc.). So, now you know. If you have any other questions like this that you want answered, ask me in the (oft broken) comments section. I’m here to help.


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I took on a stealth mission today at work over lunch. I wanted to head downtown to take a typing test, which would make me eligible for more higher paying jobs in the city. A week ago, I asked my supervisor if I could take a long lunch so I could pull this off, and she refused. I decided not to let this stop me, so I did everything I could to get there and back in the allotted 45 minutes (1:15-2:00). Keep in mind that there was no way I could get downtown, take the test and get back in any less than an hour, but I went anyways, thinking that I’d figure something out.

At 1:15, I ran out of the building and took off.

At 1:18, I ran a red light, and was instantly pulled over.

The cop was cool, told me to slow down, and sent me on my way. I found a parking spot right outside of the building, and made it to the office at 1:25.

I took a 45 minute test in 8 minutes. I typed 55 words per minute with no errors, and knocked out a grammar test. I ran to the elevator, ran down the street, and made it back to work with 5 minutes to spare. The perfect crime, I suppose. Let that be a lesson to the kids. Play by the rules, but still get what you want. Playing by the rules isn’t usually necessary.

By the way, I will not stop growing my hair until I’ve captured the collective fashion statement that is the Gadjits.


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I have an idea that already exists. What?

I heard about this movie theater in New York City. It’s just like any other theater. Same food, same movies, same seats and same capacity. The only difference between this theater and any other one is that the tickets cost twice as much. What?

Consider the following. Who would go to a theater that charged double for tickets?



Because it keeps the assholes out!

This is a genius idea. I go to maybe 2 movies a year because I hate the general public so much. If a theater like this were in Madison, I’d be there every week with well-behaved film lovers. No cell phones, no teenagers and no showing up late for movies. I’m going to invest, and it’s going to work. Would YOU go? If one more fool sitting behind me starts talking to the screen, I’m going to start swinging. Last year I read a story about an off-duty cop who was in a theater next to a group of rude inbreds. He tased them, and got fired from the force. I thought it was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

Okay, we’re done talking for tonight. I’ll see you in a day or so. Keep an eye out for the Boycott Unity Final 5.

Duke Sucks/Adventures In Broadcasting.

(Note from Ryan: If you want to skip all my sports talk and just get right to my story, scroll down to where it says STORY. This is just another way the CDP helps to shorten your attention span. Blogger has been up in arms the last few days, which explains the delay in posting. This was intended to be published on Sunday evening. Enjoy!)

I have always wanted to be an announcer.

This comes as no surprise to people who know me. When other kids were dreaming of making the last second shot that wins the NBA Championship, I was dreaming of what I would say on the air shortly thereafter. I quickly put all thoughts of becoming an actual athlete behind me once I turned 13 and still wasn’t tall enough to ride the Gravitron at the county fair. I play to my advantages. In the case of broadcasting, I have an encyclopedic knowledge of trivia and statistics, along with a leathery-smooth radio voice. I think I like sports, too.

I bring this up because of the time of year. I’m currently in the process of filling out my NCAA tournament bracket, and I’m pulling my hair out. This is without question the most competitive bracket ever, and I’m just getting over a terrible weekend of college basketball. I achieved the Holy Trinity of basketball depression on Sunday:

A Kentucky loss, a Wisconsin loss, and a Duke win.

The Kentucky wildcats almost rival the Green Bay Packers as my most treasured sports franchise. If I could marry a basketball team, I would marry the Kentucky Wildcats. In fact, I think that sort of thing is legal in Kentucky, so more power to me.

I cheer on the Wisconsin Badgers for obvious reasons. And then there’s Duke.

Every time I close my eyes in anger, I can see Christian Laettner making that turnaround jumper to beat the Wildcats in overtime of the 1992 Regional Final. It’s burned into the insides of my eyelids, permanently scarring me for all eternity. It makes me sick just thinking about it. For me, Duke goes beyond a college basketball team that I dislike. They rate right up there with Hitler and the Black Death as the most repulsive thing to ever grace this planet. To this day, I cannot watch the replay of that game.

I picked them to lose to Syracuse in the regional semis. I put Kentucky in the Final 4, but I don’t know if they can make it past UNC/UCONN (I haven’t filled it all the way in yet). Enough sports talk, I have a story to share with you.

STORY! When I was a Sophomore in High School, me and my friend Dale were offered the job of announcing the Winneconne Wolves basketball games. This was a big deal to me, as previously mentioned. Me and Dale worked on our routine and rehearsed for a week before the big game, learning how to pronounce names and carefully selecting music for time outs.

I forgot to mention that this particular game was basically the biggest of the year. This was the game in which we hosted our cross-town rivals, the Omro Foxes. The place would be packed, and the game would be huge.

True to thought, the seats were packed just as we finished setting everything up for the evening. The sound was just right, the music was cued up, and we took our places behind the scorer’s table for the first of many nights behind the microphone. Little did I know that in less than 2 hours, I would be right in the middle of the biggest Winneconne sports controversy in years.

Because Dale managed to get the job for us, we made the deal that I would announce the Junior game, and he would do the big Varsity game. (Is that what they’re called? Junior and Varsity? I can’t remember anymore. Feel free to correct me.) It was a good call for me to do the first game. People were still filing in, and nobody seemed to care all that much. I did a flawless, professional job, and I got nothing but compliments as I exited the gym in between games.

I began to help Dale set up for the big headlining event, and I realized something a bit disturbing. You see, Dale is somewhat of a showman. More accurately, he loves attention. I love the guy, but he loves to chew the scenery when he can. I instantly realized that he was going to attempt to put the focus on him that night, instead of the big game. (Any professional broadcaster will tell you that’s the cardinal sin of the job; always know your place.) It looked like he was getting ready for a stint on a wacky morning radio show. I was afraid, yet too compelled to turn away.

The gym got crazy, and the game was underway. I was working sound for the game (done perfectly, may I add), and Dale immediately went into his shtick. He introduced himself with some wacky nickname, much to the anger of the Winneconne head coach. After the introductions, he settled into game mode, and things went pretty well up to halftime. The music was supposed to cue for the cheerleading squad, but through no fault of my own, something went wrong. The cheerleaders stood in the middle of the court amongst silence and tumbleweeds, waiting for something, anything to bail them out.

Where most professional broadcasters would scramble for stats or something relating to the game, Dale had someone from the audience tell a story. I’m almost positive this person was Ben. Thinking that this was somehow part of the act, the raucous crowd got collectively quiet, listening intently to what this person (Ben) had to say. Of course, he had nothing to say, and stumbled through a story about a cat, or something to that effect. The downward spiral was careening out of control at this point, and people were starting to get upset.

The second half was a tightly contested match. Dale got mostly back to business, and when the game got right down to the wire, knew better than to do something stupid. Unfortunately, the Wolves lost to the Foxes at the very last second. I cued the exit music, the mostly depressed and angry crowd started to leave, and Dale started an impromptu speech into the microphone.

Never one to keep his opinions and feelings to himself, he said “To you Omro fans, I hope you get into a car accident on your way home”.

Or something to that effect. You see, I was a few rows up from the scoring table, messing with the stereo. What I DID hear was the collective gasp from about a thousand people.

That’s when all hell broke loose.

All at once, about 50 screaming people started heading right towards me, pointing fingers and flinging accusations left and right. I had no idea what was going on, all I knew was that I had to say something. I’ve done a lot of nice things for Dale in the past, and blindly sticking up for him was something I was good at. Had I known what he said, I would have been the first one down there to kick his ass. Instead, I waded into the unruly mob, playing mediator so he wouldn’t be murdered.

So, there I was. This was supposed to be the coolest moment of my High School career, and all at once I was surrounded by a lot of parents and students that wanted to hurt me.

What did I do?

I started fighting.

Frankly, I didn’t know what else to do. “Take it up with the school!” I said, pushing and shoving. “Apologize!” They fired back, as Dale snuck his way out of the gym. “For what?!” I replied to the mob. I got right back in their faces, a collective uncorking of 16 years of hatred for PTA parents and jackasses on the school board. I didn’t really care what the reason was at this point, I just wanted a reason to yell back. “I hope your happy!”, some old guy yelled. “You’re gunna get expelled!”

“Take it up with the school!” This was the only comeback I could muster.

I did this for a few more minutes, then I managed to escape just before people started getting escorted out. Nobody got hit, but I’m really surprised that I didn’t. Only much later, did I catch up with some friendly faces, who told me what had happened, and what I put my ass on the line for.

I wanted to kill Dale. Not only was I going to get suspended, I was going to be banned from Wolves games for life. I fought in the bleachers with 50 people because of a single foolish comment that I didn’t even make. Unbelievable.

A few days later, Winneconne’s principal issued a formal apology in the local paper, and I was thankfully cleared of all charges. Dale was hit with a suspension, and had to write a lengthy paper on broadcasting.

The kicker?

He got the announcing job back. I didn’t.

The Search Is Over.

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“I was living for a dream, loving for a moment. Taking on the world, that was just my style. Now I look into your eyes, I can see forever. The search is over, you were with me all the while.”

God bless you, Survivor. First, you inspired us with “Eye of the Tiger”, then you made us cry with this masterful power ballad. I always swore that I would sing this song should I ever work up the nerve (or blood alcohol content) to do Karaoke. If not this tune, then certainly “Careless Whisper” by Wham(!).

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And with those 2 faded musical references from 1984, I’ve managed to alienate most of my audience, and permanently retard any musical credibility I once had. (Notice that I used the word “retard” as a verb, putting the accent on the second syllable. Don’t send me any e-mail.)

This pointless bickering will get us nowhere.

I obviously didn’t dedicate an entire post just to the band Survivor (although I’m not saying they don’t deserve it). This is about search terms, or more specifically, the things that people search for to get here. I get to keep track of what people search for that winds them up at the CDP, and I’ve got to tell you, I wouldn’t allow most of these people into my own home.

The Missus did a little experiment on her old page, and put up fake links strictly to lure filthy people. It worked. Some of the things that people were looking for when they ended up there were illegal, awful, and illegal. I’m not going to repeat them, but if you’re not busy, head on over there, and take a peek. My terms were much less filthy, but strange nonetheless. I wanted to share some of them with you, and provide some of my insight along the way. Let’s begin.

Search Term: “Funny stuff about Martin Van Buren

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First, some background on Mr. Van Buren. He was our nation’s 8th President, and was born and raised in Kinderhook, New York. I learned that from MST3K, and that’s all I know about him. Why was this particular person looking for “funny stuff” about him? He doesn’t look like a very funny guy, and I would bet that you’re not going to find any watercolor paintings of him spinning plates or breakdancing. If you’re looking for a witty world leader, look no further than Stalin. He could deliver a joke about airline food that would really make you think, you know?

Search Term: “Four feet of hair”

It’s not so much the concept that worries me, it’s the wording. This person isn’t looking for someone who has a head of hair that measures four feet in length. This person words it as if they’re looking to purchase. Which leads me to my next question: What are you going to do with four feet of hair? What would you do with four feet of hair? I’d french braid it for a really long time.

Search Term: “Scariest/Goriest movies ever”

A while back, I produced my very controversial list of the scariest movie moments of all time. In all actuality, the list was flawed and one-dimensional. I don’t really want to talk about it, but it offers me no shortage of people stopping by to see what I have to say about it. In my own personal opinion, the scariest movie ever is “Fahrenheit 9/11”, and the goriest movie ever is “The Snuff Film I Made Last Year In My Basement With That One Hitchhiker”. Don’t bother looking for that last one at your local Blockbuster.

Search Term: “Spirits leave pennies”

They do? Well, thank you for telling me! You’re not really “searching” for anything, you’re just looking around for people to verify what you already believe. Congrats.

Search Term: “Mythbusters gay”

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For the last time, the Mythbusters are not gay. They worked through a brief-but-bitter affair during the first season, but they’re back on track now. Seriously, their show is great.

Search Term: “Polybius”

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Ahh, yes. The infamous Polybius legend. If you are a fan of urban legends or video game lore, I strongly suggest staying up late one night looking up stuff on this rare and experimental game. Did it exist? I’ll never tell.

No. It never existed. It’s a helluva story, though.

Search Term: “UWGB sex”

I have no idea what this is all about. The only person who I know that goes to UW-Green Bay is Sherry…wait a minute…

Search Term: “Wheelchair access options”

After several written complaints by handicapped visitors of the CDP, I’ve installed entrance ramps and extra-wide bathroom stalls with hand rails.

Search Term: “I’ll mess with Texas”

I’ve been saying it from the start, and I still will. This is by far my most popular search term.

Search Term: “Cd collection”

I was confused by this term, because I didn’t know what the person was searching for. Was he looking for my CD collection? Did he want to compare CD collections? In the spirit of fairness, I snapped a picture of my CD collection for public view.

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That is why I have to eat macaroni and cheese for lunch every single day.

Search Term: “Rave party clips”

Honestly, I have no rave party clips, mainly because I’ve never been to a rave. I never will attend a rave, either. If I wanted to swim in a smoke-filled sea of strangers and sweat, I’d throw a party and set my house on fire. Notice the alliteration.

Search Term: “Dry hump movies”

I’m actually going to take this idea and run with it. Expect to see it up on Ryan’s Ween sometime soon. That damn page is getting a thousand hits a day.

Well, that’s enough search terms for now. I have a reclusive weekend planned, as the snow continues to fall outside. The broken comments will be fixed ASAP, so don’t stop talking on me.

5 Miles In 52 Days.

(Note from Ryan: If you’d rather hear what my picks are for American Idol tonight than a story about me getting back into shape, just scroll down to the part that says “IDOL“. Then come back and read this story, because it’s really interesting.)

Back in High School, I was quite the physical specimen.

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Apparently, I was also gay.

The point is, I could sprint. When it came to the mile run, I always had one of the top 10 times in the school year after year. I didn’t train and I didn’t work out, I was just skinny and had strong legs. I never signed up for things like track and cross country, because I hated High School sports, and was already hanging with the Student Congress crowd. Besides, I didn’t like anyone that participated in sports, and there were more girls in Forensics. The concept of acting out a scene with friends was always more appealing to me than getting tackled by dudes night after night. It was all the same blurb in the yearbook, as far as I was concerned.

Shortly after graduation from High School, I began the slow process of gaining 40 extra pounds. Granted, I only weighed a shade over 100 lbs. When I was a Senior, but when you suddenly increase your weight mass by 40% in a couple years, you tend to notice. I owed this body change to a few factors:

1. I stopped consuming caffeine, which put my OCD back to a more tolerable level. My twitching and nail-chewing were reduced to the level of “moderately annoying”.

2. I changed my diet, and my metabolism screeched to a halt. I became a vegetarian, and I put on weight. What the hell is that all about? Well, I replaced all the meat I used to eat with pasta and carbs, which funneled millions of extra calories into my system.

3. By 2001, I was 100% heroin free.

At the very least, I looked better. I went from a brittle looking boy, to a more filled-out, sexy looking man. No girl likes guys that are that frail looking, no matter how much emo they listen to. My love for mayonnaise increased to almost deadly levels, and the weight kept coming.

Oh yeah, I also stopped running for 5 years. When you reach a certain age, you have no reason to run anymore. After the age of 21, unless you’re being chased by a mugger or a runaway bus, there’s no reason whatsoever to sprint. Besides my morning and afternoon walk from the parking lot to the office (appx. 12 feet), I don’t even go outside anymore.

I wasn’t healthy anymore, and I was desperately looking for an excuse to get back into shape. For a while, I was just going to wait until I had a heart attack, but I found out that those hurt like hell, and I don’t like the hospital. I needed to do something rash to whip myself back into running mode.

So I signed up for a 5-mile run.

It’s on the last day of April, so I have a little over 50 days to shake off 5 years of dust and Subway wrappers. For the last 3 weeks, I’ve been slowly getting myself into a routine. Mainly, I’ve been running a mile or so on the treadmill after work. Some days I don’t, but most days I do. As soon as the weather gets better, I’ll take my training outside, and finally have an excuse to buy an I-Pod.

So, here’s my goal. First and foremost, I want to complete the race. I’m sure there’s a lot of people reading this who run 5 miles every day or week, but this is a huge change for me, so screw you! Secondly, I’d like to complete the race in under an hour. So far, so good. I ran 2.5 miles in 30 minutes last week, and I have nothing but time to expand on my endurance and shave off some more precious seconds. Once I get something like this in my head, I won’t be happy until I’ve completed it. That’s a little of that OCD that the caffeine didn’t take with it.

I’ll keep you abreast of my progress as the weeks…well…progress. Keep in mind, all I want to do is run this race. I’m not headed towards any sort of lifestyle change. No weight lifting, no Pilates, no health food. I just want to make sure that the best shape of my life isn’t already behind me. Once I find out that it’s not, I’ll make sure that it IS. It’s literally the best I care to do.

IDOL! Tonight on American Idol, the top 12 will be decided, which means that 4 people are going to get cut. So far, my male and female favorites are holding strong, and the people who I picked to get cut have been cut. I’m batting 1.000 so far, and here are my picks for tonight, in case you’re making any bets:

Janay Castine: Cut for sure.
Travis Tucker: Cut for sure.
Amanda Avila: Probable.
Mikalah Gordon: Possible.
Constantine Maroulis: Probable.
Scott Savol: Possible, although it would piss off a lot of people, including myself.

So, who’s going to win? It’s still early to make predictions, but it should be a guy. The guys are so much better than the girls this year, it’s almost embarrassing. When the top 12 start to perform together, I think the first 3 cuts will be women. Again, I’m not gay. I could go on, but I’ve already damaged my heterosexuality enough already.

I’m running 5 miles! Whaddya think?

Smarch!/My Mini-Vacation. (Part 2 of 2)

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Trying hard to shake off the bitter defeat of the Native American Gaming Establishment, me and the Missus headed up nort’ to visit Benjamin and Sherry Jenkel. We talked, stories were exchanged and flutes were played. Nothing too special, just me making a typical ass of myself for yet another weekend. The best part about it was that I wasn’t at work.

I’m getting really sick of apologizing to people week after week for being such a knob, but this happens to be the case again. So, to everyone I talked to this weekend, I’m sorry I was such a knob. I had a lot of things on my mind (fireworks, cheese sandwiches and worry), but it’s no excuse. All in all, this was almost the worst mini-vacation ever. The thing about vacations is, no matter where you go, there you are. Distancing yourself from your problems means nothing when your biggest problem is looking at you in the mirror, and wearing your pants.

Damn Smarch weather. This weekend it was 50 degrees, and now it’s going to snow for 4 straight days, and peak at 25 degrees if we’re lucky. The funny thing about Wisconsinites is that, at some point in late winter, we become completely defiant of the temperature and season. After being jerked around one too many times by Mother Nature, we collectively throw our winter coats into the backseat, and proclaim the start of spring. Sure, it may be just as cold as it was in January, but we get to the point where we just have to believe what we tell ourselves, so we don’t chop our family up in the attic. It’s a collective statewide temper tantrum, and I’m usually the first one to fall on my back and kick wildly into the air.

Today, I had an incredibly surreal experience at work. I overheard our Executive Assistant humming a song by The Arcade Fire. I flagged him down and asked him just what the hell he thought he was doing, and we discussed them for a few minutes (he said that “Funeral” changed his life, as it did mine). It may not sound like much, but it was a conversation I never in a million years thought I’d be having with this guy. BUY FUNERAL NOW!

Back to Smarch. This is my least favorite month. First off, it’s completely endless. Towards the last couple days of Smarch, you become convinced that it may never end. The weather is going through a miserable transitional period, and you’re never comfortable in your clothing. I bet there are more suicides in Smarch than in any other month. Makes total sense, because it totally sucks. I don’t need scientific data when I start dropping the “it sucks” argument around.

The best part about Smarch is the end. The sun peeks through the clouds, and everyone finally knows that winter is truly over. People emerge from their cocoons, roll the windows down and listen to that one CD that really makes them happy. It’s the closest I’ll ever come to being reborn, and it happens every year.

Soon enough, Boycott Unity will be back for the attack. I know you’re excited.

My First Job. (Part V)
5 Miles in 65 Days.
Tom & I. (Part II)

My Mini-Vacation. (Part 1 of 2)

I’m back from part 1 of my mini-vacation already.


Because I suck, that’s why. Someday, I’ll realize that my luck is awful, and I’ll never win a single thing at a Native American Gaming Establishment (NAGE). I hope the above picture captured my loneliness and frustration, because I was sure feeling it at around that time.

We arrived with stars in our eyes and shuffled around in bewilderment for a while, before settling down and getting into a mindset for robbing these fools blind. I had brought along a fist full of $20’s, and I wasn’t leaving until I had at least doubled my money.

My first stop was the “Mariachi Madness” machine, where I loaded it up with cash and swung for the fences.

19 seconds later…

That’s a cash printout for 1 cent, and it was pretty much time to go home.

I cashed in my penny, and headed over to the arcade. There, I vented my frustration the only way I knew how.


I rocked the DDR machine like it’s never been rocked before. I was so dope, the dancefloor gots’ blisters. The J-Pop was flooding my ears with full force, and I became lord of the Dance Dance Revolution! (The Missus may tell you that this wasn’t the case. In fact, she might tell you that I looked embarrassing and sad. This is her opinion only, and should be taken with a grain of salt.)

The Missus was beginning to feel the weight of my failure, wrapped tightly around her pretty neck.

We managed to scrap enough money together to get a pizza. There, I contemplated jumping off the terrace. The Missus contemplated throwing me off herself.

I did some deep thinking. I mean, how stupid am I? I work hard for my money, and I was so willing to waste it on something that I knew wouldn’t reciprocate. I looked forward to going to the casino for a week, and I knew damn well that I would just lose money and go home. I could have paid my power bill for the amount of money that I blew today. Then it hit me.

I had a responsible thought.

Why does responsibility always hit me after the fact? Why do I realize the error of my ways seconds after the mistake is made, and not seconds before? Most people think of me, and assume that I would be a compulsive and dangerous gambler. After this experience, I never want to gamble ever again. (Let’s not forget my first gambling experience in Minnesota, where I lost more money in an hour than I make in a week.)

Screw you, Ho-Chunk Casino and Convention Center!

I wanted to get back at them. I wanted to do something to them that would hurt their heritage as much as they had hurt me. I wanted to disrespect them.

So I stood in front of their “heritage” mural, and had a picture of me taken making a call on my cell phone. If you don’t understand why that’s funny and offensive, that’s probably a good thing. They may have my money, but I have their land.

Holy crap, that’s really uncool. I’m just in a bad mood, don’t send me hate mail or scalp me. See, the responsible thoughts always come a little too late.

It is pretty funny, though.

I was invited to a gathering on Friday, but I’m going to have to respectfully pass and lick my wounds until Saturday. Then, part 2 of my mini-vacation will start, and I’ll spend Saturday and Sunday in Green Bay with the Jenkel twins. (See here for what transpired on our last trip there.) Of course, I’ll take pictures and be in a better mood. Stay tuned.

Let’s Go Away For A While.

At 4:30 tomorrow, my mini-vacation officially begins.

I opted to take a couple days off of work before our main receptionist gives birth to her third child. Once little “Ethan” comes out of the womb, yours truly will be manning the phones for 6 straight weeks. That’s at least 30 days of me talking to people that shouldn’t be the recipients of any sort of license whatsoever. Not only that, but my workplace has recently been the subject of some national news headlines and backlash. The next few weeks are sure to bring the media circus and protesters, and I’ll be the first one they’ll run into.

In case you’re wondering what we did to deserve the attention, punch “Neil Noesen” into your favorite search engine, and form your own conclusions. I’m sick of hearing about it every day.

And with that, I’ll never talk about work again. For a while. I’ve got a vacation to look forward to!

Here’s the plan. On Wednesday night, we shall pay all our current bills and relax. On Thursday, we’re heading out to the nearest Native American gaming establishment, where Celia will win money, and I will lose enough to balance it all out. Fun will be had. We may or may not spend the evening at the Native American gaming establishment hotel. I’m leaning towards no, considering how much money I plan to lose.

Friday will bring more relaxing and packing, for we’re off to Green Bay again! On Saturday and Sunday, we’ll be visiting Benjamin and Sherry for a weekend of whimsy. Pasta will be eaten, hearts will be broken. We’ll come home Sunday evening, and I will call in sick until mid-April.

You can bet on tons of pictures and stories. I’ll still be keeping in touch over the next 4 days, so don’t go anywhere. I’ll know.

Before I leave you tonight, I have some amazing news for MST3K nerds like myself. This comes straight from the source, Satellite News:

For the first time since 1999, Mike Nelson, Tom Servo and Crow T. Robot will make a new appearance on television, riffing the March 14th episode of ESPN Classic’s “Cheap Seats” with Randy and Jason Sklar. The episode will air at 10 p.m. Eastern Time. Get those recording devices ready!

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been waiting 6 years for something like this to happen. I know that “Cheap Seats” isn’t really that great of a show, but I’d watch anything that had Mike and the ‘Bots in a cameo appearance. I’m allowing Tom Servo to leave my home during the taping of this show, but he has to return immediately thereafter. I’m going to excuse myself to the kitchen now, I’ve got chocolate milk in the fridge that’s calling my name.

My Mini-Vacation.
My First Job. (Part V)
5 Miles In 65 Days.