Play Calvinball

A. With this new template, it doesn't list your name when you leave a comment. Therefore, sign your name to your comments so I know who the hell is saying what... and who to ridicule.

B. The batteries in our hallway fire alarm need to be changed. I found this out at 4:30am when said fire alarm informed me with it's "Hey, guess what homeowner? I need new batteries" signal, which sounded like a mix between a Power Wheels fire truck and a duck who swallowed a bike horn.

C. The night following a long car trip results in dreams in which I am falling asleep at the wheel. It goes something like this: I just drift off to sleep and am now behind the wheel. I start to nod off while driving, and have to swerve to avoid hitting the guardrail. This happens once or twice until I am about to plow into an 18-wheeler when I wake up. Rinse, and repeat for duration of sleep period.

D. Wildwood was awesome. Missed ya there, Mr. VanLeer. More to come on the weekend.

Before I begin, you may of noticed the new format. I was a dork and Googled Blogger templates and then altered it with the limited HTML that I knew. Whatever, I'm a nerd. I don't care. It looks good.

Anyway... for those who don't know, Wildwood is a coastal city at the bottom of New Jersey... so you know it's trashy. The boardwalk is littered with jailbait, dollar pizza and more Italian-Americans than you can shake a cannoli at. But, in this case, I am referring to the largest beach Ultimate tournament in the country.

Now, this tournament has been going on for a while and is sort of an alumni tournament, meeting up with old friends and throwing the disc around. Rules are a little different; shorter stall count, smaller field and two-point scores if throw end zone to end zone.

2003: Team GW

First year g-dub really had a team and my inaugural appearance. We stayed... somewhere. I don't really remember at all. Saw a lot of people from all over and had to go through the whole 'under-21' thing. But since a lot of people on my team as well as in town that week were underage, it wasn't a problem. Wait, did I have a fake this year? Someone please advise, cause I don't have a clue.

Highlight: All weekend we were getting killed. We went through like seven different offensive schemes and kept getting destroyed. Last game of the weekend, we accomplish the impossible. We have yet to score a two-pointer and that's all we wanted. So, we set it up that Lauren Epstein, Lil Ms. Epper, would throw it to me. She gets in the end zone and I take off. Epper tosses up a backhand and it's me a kid about my size. I misread it, have to go over him (probably foul the shit out of him), and fall to the sand, disc in hand. And the townspeople rejoiced!

2004: Hot Lunch

The GW team is getting bigger and bigger... so I decide to be a jerk and go play with Tim. Well, Tim actually invited/demanded I play, and you don't turn down a Naylor. We play in the competitive division and fare pretty well. This is my first real memory of Wylie, that crazy little bastard.

We manage to make it to the big boy bracket and end up going out in the quarters I believe. This was also one of the funnest car rides ever. Basically, a bunch of us cram into Willis' minivan (or was it Crowley's?) and he has to drive. Shiel, Shelf, Dre and I proceed to sit in the back of the van and get drunk. Like DRUNK. After about the third pee break in twenty minutes, Willis yells at us that we're pissing in bottles for now on and to shut the fuck up. Hilarious. (Sorry, Willis).

I think this is the year we stay in Julie's parents beach house which was baller. Also managed to get a keg in the house. And Willis allegedly walked 12 miles from Wildwood to the house around 3:00am.

2005: 99 Cent Pizza

The juggernaut. This was my doing. I asked a bunch of Truck Stop guys as well as GW brethern/sistern (not a word) to make a super-team and try and win the 2-2 division. Miyagi makes us super sweet jerseys with this badass graffiti pizza (WHO STOLE MINE?!?) and we think we're golden. Unfortunately, we have women bail on us (or I didn't get enough) so we are running them ragged. We lose in the pre-quarters and end up not doing so well on Sunday cause we are all hungover... which made Alexis homicidal. Which was actually pretty frightening.

Highlight: We are at some hotel room and people keep filing in, looking for beer and fun. Lampshade goes on my head ala Ruddiger and it's good times. Ed and Billy are hanging out in the room with me and Ed proposes a dare. (Sidenote: There is a six inch difference between the length of Billy's arms because he broke an arm twice while he was growing up. Not applicable, but gross). Ed's dare? Billy should jump off the room's balcony into the pool. He does. Then he goes to the room above it and jumps into the pool again.

2006: Puddle of Merc

Team Pay Attention to Me. Julia or Jenee made the astute observation that the majority of our team always wants to be the center of attention, which made for interesting schemes and ploys to obtain said attention. I originally wasn't going to Wildwood because I was gonna drive a trailer to carry motorcycles as my dad and a few of his friends biked out to Sturgis, a huge motorcycle rally out in South Dakota. With a month to go, Ferd ixnay's that idea and I throw together a team.

Yeah, we kinda sandbagged. We went 2-2 and had some really good people (Men: Me, Ed, Faust, Josh, Simon, Mike D / Women: Erin, Julia, Jenee, Alexis, random lady) and went non-competitive. I remember our last game on Saturday the cap went on and our opponent needed to score a two-pointer to stay alive. All I remember is I would mark the guy and Faust would play Prevent D Free Safety and clean up garbage. We eventually pulled it out.
Made it to the finals... but lost to a team of UDel sandbaggers. F- you, Raj and Purificio.

Highlight to Watch, Not Experience: Watching Julia chug lime vodka for 10-15 seconds. And the resulting after-effects.

Not Highlight: Talking to Corey who went to Salisbury U and telling me all about the sorrid underbelly of the Ocean City, MD scene during the summer... the place I took family vacations since I was six.

2007: We're Very Glad You Exist

Team: Lazy. No one wanted to organize anything, but it'll work out. Or I'll beat up all these goddamn kids.

*NOTE: I am well aware of the fact that I missed a lot of stuff and that I probably screwed up on what year what happened. Please correct at will.*

Background: Friday, I check out the weather for the weekend and see it's gonna be perfect: 80 degrees, sunny, not very windy, 75% chance of awesome. I know I need to take advantage of this situation and e-mail Kerry, my saving grace for Ultimate in upstate New York and see if she can find me a team to play on for Oww My Knee, an open and mixed tournament up near Albany.

Day goes by and I am driving home from work when low and behold, good ole Goldy starts ringing (PS I don't call my cell phone Goldy but it made sense here). Kerry says I should call up Lucas and plead my case to play with their team, Bashing Pinatas, the defending champs. Score.

Saturday: Show up a little early to the fields (after getting temporarily lost driving there) and eventually find the team... who are awesome. I can't reiterate that fact enough. Funnest team I have ever picked up with, ever.

Anyway, we come out slow and squeak by our first game with a win after a "Wait, we're losing?" moment early on and the most anti-climatic Callahan that I could of scored. Here comes the good part...

Game #2. I play a couple points and then look across the field and see Ferd (aka Pops) across the field. He took the Harley up to see some Ultimate as well as just enjoy the day. I go over and say hello and give him the skinny of the day so far. Couple points go by and I'm back in.

We have the disc about 10 yards outside our own endzone, 10 yards in from the flick sideline and I'm setting up an in-cut. A teammate is clearing out up the sideline and the guy with the disc (Squeege maybe?) is seeing me getting open and throws it. The defender of the guy who was clearing out turns around to see the disc up in the air to me. He spins to make a play on it, goes out to grab it and the second he grabs it... WHAM.

I thought I could get it and kept going full tilt for the disc. In the end, when the rubber met the road, my left side blind-sides his right side (and maybe his jaw) and we collide. I bounce off, staying on my feet, disappointed I couldn't get it. I look around and see everyone looking behind me... Yeah, I laid the kid out. He's on the ground, NOT too bad but still needing a moment.

Now, Bashing knew pretty much every team at this tournament and were friends with them so already, just the second game in, I am that guy, the one who everyone thinks is reckless and wild. And, the little cherry top? Turns out the guy was the boyfriend of someone on my team. AWESOME...

In the end, he was fine, I apologized like five times over the course of the weekend to him and he was really cool about it. The funniest part of the situation is right after it happened I looked over at Ferd and he gave me this "Yup... That's my son" sort of look, not like he was expecting it, but not surprised that it happened either.

PS Oh yeah, Bashing Pinatas won the whole tournament.
PPS If you're ever in a bar and Kerry Beyrer sits down next to you, prepare to do shots until you can't stand. Forewarned is forearmed.

I don't agree with this at all...

On the farm lived a chicken and a horse, both of whom loved to play together. One day the two were playing, when the horse fell into a bog and began to sink. Scared for his life, the horse whinnied for the chicken to go get the farmer for help!

Off the chicken ran, back to the farm. Arriving at the farm, he searched and searched for the farmer, but to no avail, for he had gone to town with the only tractor. Running around, the chicken spied the farmer's new Harley. Finding the keys in the ignition, the chicken sped off with a length of rope hoping he still had time to save his friend's life.

Back at the bog, the horse was surprised, but happy, to see the chicken arrive on the shiny Harley, and he managed to get a hold of the loop of rope the chicken tossed to him. After tying the other end to the rear bumper of the farmer's bike, the chicken then drove slowly forward and, with the aid of the powerful bike, rescued the horse!

Happy and proud, the chicken rode the Harley back to the farmhouse, and the farmer was none the wiser when he returned.

The friendship between the two animals was cemented: Best Buddies, Best Pals.

A few weeks later, the chicken fell into a mud pit, and soon, he too, began to sink and cried out to the horse to save his life! The horse thought a moment, walked over, and straddled the large puddle. Looking underneath, he told the chicken to grab his hangy-down thing and he would then lift him out of the pit. The chicken got a good grip, and the horse pulled him up and out, saving his life.

The moral of the story? (yep, you betcha, there IS a moral!)

"When You're Hung Like A Horse, You Don't Need A Harley To Pick Up Chicks"

PS I guess I could've titled this 'The Point of Office E-mails Part Two.'

If you don't know what that is, you are missing out.

Quentin P. Live = Ed Van Leer
Me = You

Together, they are an unstoppable force of Kickball dominance. But don't let me tell you about it... because Ed already did. And a lot more eloquently than I ever could.

http://qpliveandme.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-am-qp-live.html

Today is my little sister's birthday. She just turned twenty years old.

If you know her, send her an e-mail saying Happy Birthday. (Make sure to make the font bigger because she is blind as a bat).

PS So, Morgan works at Best Buy as part of a work/teaching program with the school. She works there like 9 hours a week during the school year and over the summer, three hours every other Saturday. Pretty easy schedule, huh?

Anyway, she was officially hired for the summer on Saturday and they had to do orientation. After that, they surprised her with a cake and a little party. THEN... the manager dropped six tickets to go see John Mayer in concert on her, about 15 rows back, in Hartford. Her reaction = priceless. It wasn't even like fanatic jumping up and down or running around. It... was... SHOCK. She has every album of his and posters covering her walls. It was the funniest thing I've seen in a while.

PPS Oh right, the best part. The Best Buy manager is trying to work out Morgan going back stage to meet Mr. Mayer. I'll try and get the video of that interaction up on YouTube and if you watch it, I guarantee it will make you smile or your money back.

Now I've had some bad ideas in the past, most notably the Price is Right symbol and NO, it's not gonna happen (sorry to disappoint). But this one has stuck around for longer than two days so it might be legitimate.

The idea came to fruition after playing a round of golf for the first time in two years with my dad and uncle. On the drive home, Ferd and I were rehashing the events of the day (we both shot triple digits). Now, when I was younger, age 11-14, I had a fluid swing and when I made contact, it would go straight as an arrow. Ages 15-18 I developed a snap slice where it would go straight for 200 yards and then make a hard 90 degree right turn into the woods.

Anyway, during the course of the day, I got ahold of some shots, mostly from the tee box. I broke out the mama jama (term courtesy of Ferd) and smacked that bitch (again, a Ferdism) - Translation: I used my driver and hit it very far, close to 300 yards.

Here's where I get to the point. In golf, there are hundreds of things to think about: breaking your wrists, weight transfer, feet alignment; not to mention all the physical conditions. Anyway, I've realized that when I just step up to the ball, line up and fucking hit it, I end up with a consistently better result than when I think about everything. And that usually applies to a lot of other things I do; if I just do and don't overthink, I'll be a lot more successful. Sort of like shooting from the hip...

Hence, my tattoo idea: I want to get a Wild West 19th century gunslinger revolver tattooed on my hip. If you need some sort of idea of what I mean, watch "The Quick and the Dead" (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0114214/) which is about a town that has quick-draw battles at noon everyday (and other stuff happens as well). Size would be about 4-5" long and about 2-3" wide, and placement would be right below my right hip bone.

So, while wandering through a Borders, I found the unofficial Big Book of Guns and saw some revolvers that could work out. Please comment with your votes.

PS The one reservation I have was made clear by a comment from my mother. "I like the idea... but you're gonna get a gun tattooed on your body? That's a bit... [silence]."

1. Lefaucheux Pinfire revolver


2. Allen & Wheelock second Type sidehammer revolver


3. Colt Richards conversion


4. Remington Model 1861 Army Revolver