My Blog

It has been pretty hot lately.  Even in Burlingame.  At 7 p.m., it was 72 degrees with nothing more than a faint breeze swirling by now and then.

Unable to cope with the heat, my wife persuaded me to get in the car and drive across the overpass, and go for a stroll while watching the planes take off and land.  The evening sky was remarkable as day turned into a crystal clear night.

We walked about two miles and decided to grab a nightcap… YUMI YOGURT on El Camino Real.  $6.60 for some f’en yogurt and a scoop of coffee ice cream (shoulda got my $1.09 hot fudge sundae next door at McDonald’s).  Yet, it didn’t matter… as we hopped in the car, rolled down the windows, turned up the music, and slowly drove home.

A perfect capper to a Thursday night.

After getting out of my slump with a 1 for 2 performance, with a double and two walks (one intentional), and helping the Demons cruise to a convincing 12-2 victory last night with a spectacular over the head, warning track snag, I went to Tasty Subs & Pizza with Savage, Sid, and Jesus to grab a celebratory pizza for dinner.

As usual, small talk led to deeper conversations…  Savage hung out for a bit, and told us the latest news about Francis’ romantic exploits and how he was Francis’ "muscles" in case a throw-down were to occur between the ex-lovah and Frank.  We all laughed, as Savage proceeded to make his way to work.

Sid and I exchanged a few thoughts about how Savage needs to get out of his current "G(ambling) & G(eary Bars)" environment as we both agreed that it would lead to nothing good.  While Savage has taken upon himself to drop a few lbs and start an exercise regimen, I feel he needs to take a bigger step towards improving his overall quality of life as he approaches 30.  Sid and Jesus agreed.

Very soon, the topic changed to becoming 30 and married.  I found out that Sid and I were the same age (30 years young, ;-D), and that he has been married for 5 years.  As Jesus listened on and struggled a bit to relate to the topic as he’s 28 and still single, I felt he understood the meaning of our conversation as we described how we viewed our relationships to our respective wives.  Jesus, who has known Sid much longer than I, claims he knew Sid was in for the "longhaul" when he met his current wife.  Sid agreed and said he wouldn’t really know what he would be doing now if he wasn’t married.  I thought about my current state, and couldn’t agree more to Sid’s statement. 

I joked about how Randall use to drag me out to the clubs once a week when I was 21 and 22, and how fruitless those times were.  Sure, we mingled and hung out, but what were we honestly expecting… to meet our future wives?!  I can’t speak for Randall, but I sure as hell knew that was not going to happen for me then, nor would it be the way to meet your future partner now.  Hell, I made it clear that, these days, I wouldn’t be against trying online dating sites like eHarmony and Match.com, nor would I find that ridiculous if any of my friends use those sites. 

You see, once you’re out of college, that network circle shrinks considerably fast.  If you’re not already with someone, your hopes lie on friends of friends or work associates.  If that fails, hopefully, there are opportunities in your hobbies.  Not sure softball is a nest for future love, but hey, you never know!  But taking up a salsa or ballroom dancing course may yield some good results!

Envisioning what we would do now brought up what we tend to value more these days in women.  Sid put it best when he said that, "Beauty only last so long" and at the end, "all we want is someone who can relate to us…"  I agreed and told him that my wife is attractive to me in a different way from the first day I met her.  Like everyone else, we’re all captured by each other’s physical attractiveness… but like everything else, it gets old, and we get old.  Well, unless you’re James Woods.  Girls, if you’re 19, watch out!  JW is on the prowl!

Jesus listened on as Sid and I rambled… I could sense that there is still a little hurt left from his broken engagement to his fiance.  He says watching sports and playing softball keeps him in good spirits until love calls again…

I say the hell with that!  Match.com and salsa classes all the way! 

QB: Tony Romo, John Kitna, Jay Cutler

RB: Reggie Bush, Willis McGahee, Marshawn Lynch, Michael Turner

WR: Marques Colston, Calvin Johnson, Braylon Edwards, Patrick Crayton, Dwayne Bowe

TE: Tony Gonzalez

K: Jason Elam

DL: Brian Urlacher, Karlos Dansby, Derrick Johnson, Jonathan Vilma

DB: Nate Clements, Donte Whitner

Last year, I finished dead last w/ a 2-14 record.  Hahahaha… Started off 2-1, got married, and went on my honeymoon.  Came back, and I was 2-7, and like the old lady in the LifeAlert infomercials, I had "fallen, and I can’t get up".

Obviously, the expectations are low seeing as how I didn’t do multiple mock drafts and extensive research like the rest of those fools in the league.  That is why… each week I get a victory will be that much sweeter.

The only research I did was talk to my friend, co-worker, and softball teammate, Jesus "Chuy" Pena after my Wednesday night softball games.  He told me who to avoid, and who to take a chance on.  I had nothing to lose listening to him seeing as how he was a fantasy football whore and that there was no reason not to trust a man named "Jesus".

So here goes another season of Fantasy Football excitement.  May the stars align for a "Hulkamaniacs" (my team name) victory a few weeks this year.

My projection: 5-12

It is official.  My softball hitting has gone to sh*t. 

Last night’s 0-4 with a reach on error was embarassing.  And it came at a night when the team needed me to do something, anything, to win a tight game.  I feel bad for letting my teammates down.

But the only bright spot is that I know what I am doing wrong, but I am not sure it is fixable.  You see, I’ve been having trouble seeing the ball as my vision has deteriorated from "Pilot Vision" (20/15) to now requiring spectacles.  While I have tried to play with glasses on, I have found it harder with adjusting to the disparity of looking through the lenses than just looking at a round, white, fuzzy object flying into my hitting zone.  As such, I play without my glasses and try to compensate by recognizing the projection of the ball and getting a faster jump on it.  The problem now is that my timing is all off, and the contact point is not where it should be.

To wear or not to wear my specs… that is the question… 

Last night was the final day in our 10 week summer bowling league.  It just so happens that after beating Fat Jerry’s team and posting a 20-16 record, we (me and the children) accomplished two things:

1. We knocked Fat Jerry’s team out of contention for the championship.

2. We earn another matchup against Fat Jerry.

Things looked bleaked from the get-go.  The children were stunned that we had to bowl Fat Jerry again, as all I heard when I got to the alley was, "Wha…, we have to bowl them again?"

Bowling Fat Jerry again did not bother me much as no one in the league scares or bothers me at the moment.  The only thing that could ruin my night was soreness from working out the night before.  But that was not going to stop me.  As long as I stayed fired up and kept my body warm, I would be able to manage the pain.

1st game - I shoot a 254.  Fat Jerry, with his sand-bagging average of 189, shoots a 276.  We lose by over 50+ pins as the children struggle once again.

2nd game - I become dejected with the children’s performance, but still manage a 194 despite some really bad breaks.  I keep it light and tell Ryan that Mr. Consistency ("Muscle Bones") who had 4 strikes to start was going to shoot his usual 190-200 game.  Muscle Bones overhears my conversation and pulls out 8 straight strikes, and "muscles" his way to a 256 game.  "You got me Muscles!"  Fat Jerry follows with a 226 game.  Me and the children get reminded to respect our elders as we’re pummelled by 150+ pins.

3rd game - Fat Jerry is eyeing the prize at the finish line.  It is the last week of bowling, also known as "Sweepers Week".  Everyone is pitted against everyone else in the league with the highest bowler (w/ handicap) winning the top prize of a nice, crisp $100 bill.  Fat Jerry had already positioned himself well through sand-bagging the entire season to lower his average to 189.  And after his first two games (276 and 226), he was sure to lead to the masses with the extra 18 point handicap to slap on top of the combined two game score.

But kharma finally caught up to that sand-bagging fat ass as he struggled to make his spares.  The guy lost his cool, and crawled to a 160 game, losing any hope of the coveted grand prize.

Fat Jerry’s performance also left an opening for me and the children to sneak in a win.  After 9 frames, we were up by 6 pins and had an extra spare on our side (giving us a 14-16 pin lead) as we entered the 10th.  We were in good shape… until the youngest member of the team, Grantland, throws two consecutive balls into the gutter!  I fell to my knees as I sensed that Fat Jerry and Muscle Bones were going to sweep us back after we swept them last week.  All poor Grantland said as we trudged back to us was, "I am… sooo… sorry."

Ryan was up next.  He told Grantland to not worry about it, and that he’ll take care of it… which he did, as he was able to salvage a 6-pin lead for me to go up against Fat Jerry, one on one.  Both of us had a spare coming into the 10th, so it came down to who could bowl the best 10th frame.

I went first, as I always like to apply the pressure.  This was it… The last bowlers, on their last frame, in the last game, of the last week of the league.  Our winning record hung in the balance.  If we lose, we’ll end with a 20-20 record.  If we win, we’ll be 21-19, a winning record despite the season long struggles. 

My first shot: BAM!  STRIKE! 

I turned around and gave my trademark MHMICBC snort.

Fat Jerry’s first shot: BAM! 9 pins.  He walked back with disgust written all over his face.  He proceeds to spare it up and shakes my hand to congratulate us stealing one from him.

My second shot: BAM! STRIKE!

I look back and see the children smiling and pumpin’ their fists.  Muscle Bones looks disgusted and walks away.  Amy, their third bowler, sits and watches intently, as my next throw will cap an amazing season in which my improvement has garnered the respect from the top-tier bowlers in the league.

Thoughts raced through my head… as I just whispered to myself, "One more f"en time… for the Children!"

Last shot: BAM!  STRIKE!  TURKEY!

The MHMICBC was done.  His season long challenge of establishing a 200 average, accomplished (205.3).  4 "500-series," 5 "600-series," and 1 "700-series".  15 of my 30 games were 200+, 8 of the 15 were 225+.  Me and the children posted a 21-19 record. 

It was a really fun season considering I was going to take the whole summer off.  I enjoyed bowling with the children considering their inconsistency.  The one thing I hoped they got out of this, that they can apply later on in life or in bowling is that "Going through the motions is not enough… and that focus, determination, and effort all play important roles in how you measure up to everyone else."  Sure, it was all for fun.  But fun only goes so far when you get your asses whooped week in and week out (Just ask Ali, Will & Judge). 

On a side note: Fat Jerry was not the "Grand Puba" of the night.  He was 6th place and won $60.  Judge, on the other hand, who has sucked the entire league (despite his usual defeatus comeback, "Uh, I bowled my average") got 4th place with a 621-series (w/ 87 pins in handicap) and won $80.  Knowing him, he doesn’t possess the "know-how" to at least take this teammates out after failing to carry them the entire season.  I, on the other hand, ended with a 644-series (w/ 15 pins in handicap) and won $0.  My 737-series the week before would of made me the "Grand Puba".  Too bad I was off by one week.

Some stats for everyone to digest:

My winnings this season:

Will - $36 (swept all 9 weeks he bowled).

Judge - $36 (swept 8 weeks, and won $2 the other two weeks).

As the Savage says about the Judge, "USED and ABUSED…!"

The Fienish Union…

Congratulations to the Fiend and Ellaine for putting on a wonderful wedding celebration over the weekend.  Saturday comprised of a Catholic ceremony in a church, followed by a reception, dinner, and dancing at the Marriott in Santa Clara.  Sunday featured a banquet dinner at Gold Mountain in San Francisco.  The wedding was packed with fun and excitement, as well as, heartfelt and sincere moments.  They’re terrific people, and I wish them all the best.

Now that the Fiend’s married, that leaves the question of who is next.  I have an idea, but instead of announcing it to the world, or at the very least, the Friendster community, I’ll keep it to myself, and wait and see.

Suckball…

Man, I’ve been struggling as of late with softball.  Sans a few good hits, most of my shots are directly at people.  My performance on Sunday exemplifies my frustration as I went 1 for 4 with no confidence over which bat to use.  At least Randall has been on a tear this season.  He’s going to need to keep it going until I can get my head out of my ass and lend a hand.

One thing I noticed this season is that softball has been secondary in my priorities.  I handed off the managerial duties to Egg and have been relishing the fact that I don’t have to "think" and concern myself with defensive and lineup placements and finding subs every week.  I’ve just been going up to bat and swinging… albeit, not very well, and at first pitch crap.  As the Savage yelled after my triple barely sailed over the right field defender on Sunday, "Hey T, at least you’re seeing more than just the first pitch…!"  Perhaps a little "thinking" wouldn’t hurt.

The Dog-Killer

Mike Vick has agreed to plea guilty in the dog-fighting case.  I hope he gets 2 years, althought I have a strong suspicion it will only be one.  The jerk has not shown a single shred of remorse for what he has done.  Oh well, one more dog-killer off the street. 

My personal message to Vick: F*ck you!  I hope they send you to the most vile and crummiest prison possible, and best of luck staying alive or keeping your pants on you punkb*tch!

http://www.glumbert.com/media/dolphin

What the hell is wrong with mankind?  Kill each other, but not defenseless animals. 

I don’t know if there is an afterlife for each of us where we get judged for our actions.  But I sincerely hope each of us get our just dues.

758 and Barry Bonds are synonymous at the moment.  737 and the MHMICBC is also that as well.

Last night, I was really tired.  Work has been draining me mentally.  And I was pretty wiped physically from working out for the first time in 4 months.  Combine those elements along with left arm pain from softball, and I sensed I was in store for a ass-whoopin’ in bowling.

Ali and I arrived at the alley at 8:20 p.m.  Since the lanes weren’t turned on for practice yet, I proceeded to the cafe for a hot chocolate to ignite the "competitive juices," or at the very least, warm up my achey body in the cold, damp Daly City night.  To my disappointment, there was no server, only a cook.  No one took my order. 

As such, I proceeded across the driveway to Tapioca Express where the incompetent juveniles running the place concerned themselves more with what song was playing in their store than completing customers orders.  I got in line behind Robert Lim (my opponent from last week).  He claims he has arthritis in his legs, and if he doesn’t take his meds, he does not bowl well.  I just told him I was sorry to hear that and wished him well for tonite. Uh huh… another excuse.

I ordered my hot milk tea with little tapioca from the 14 year old behind the counter.  He seemed lost, and I had no patience for anyone who could not execute such a rudimentary order on a POSITOUCH register.  $2.71.  He asked me for a penny, which I told him I did not have.  As he struggled to open his new stick of pennies, I just told him, keep the change (and go buy your ass a brain). 

15 minutes later…

3 people are working on my drink like a laboratory assignment.  One fool put big tapioca in a cup with cold milk tea.  His little friend, Guido, caught it, and heated the milk tea.  The third idiot said, no, it is small tapioca.  As the three figured out the hypotenuse of making a hot milk tea with small tapioca, on the counter stood three cups with three different things in them.  I was expecting one of them to whip out a fourth cup to piece it all together.  But they stood there, looked at each other then looked at me.  As I stood up and applied the pressure with displeasure all over my face, I thought of "Die Hard w/ a Vengeance," when Samuel Jackson and Bruce Willis had that puzzle with the water bottles.  At the end, Bruce, Sam, and Guido figured it out and spared the world another empty cup for landfill.

Finally, I made my way back to the bowling alley, and thanks to the three brainiacs, I missed most of my practice session.  I threw two warm up balls and the league began. 

Our opponents this week was Fat Jerry, some skinny guy who tried to act buff (I’ll call him "Muscle Bones" for now), and a girl named Amy.  It was an odd looking team, even more so than myself and the two lads.

Fat Jerry was given his 1st place trophy for winning the league last season.  He was proud of it as he boasted and compared it to Tylon (David’s brother) Leung’s, last season high scratch game winner, trophy. 

The young lads looked a little bewildered and intimidated with the notion of the competition we were facing.  Muscle Bones did not speak a word, and looked determined with his 201 average to destroy us.  Amy had a 143 average, but that looked to be a little low for someone who hung out with big time bowlers.  Fat Jerry had a 190 average, which was low for someone who bowled consecutive perfect games last season.

Notable conversations in the first game… after I hit 4 strikes in the first 4 frames…

MHMICBC: You two keep doing what you’re doing… I’m going to break their f’en spirits!

Ryan: (laughs)

I shoot a 266, made 11 strikes w/ a split on the 9th to ruin my perfect game.  We win by 63 pins.

Fat Jerry (to me): Man, you are good!  (To his team) We are on for a long night!

Muscle Bones (dirty look directed at MHMICBC): …

MHMICBC: Thanks Jerry.  I’m just trying to bowl as good as you (NOT! I plan to be better!)…

Notable conversations in the second game… after Muscles Bones bowls a 199 to go along with a 194 in the first game.

Ryan: Man, he is consistent.

MHMICBC: F*ck consistency.  He consistently sucks!  He is going to consistently get his ass whooped by me!

Ryan: (laughs)

MHMICBC: Watch Ryan, since this is the second to the last week, I’m going to put on a f’en show!

We win by 61 pins.  I shoot a 226 for a two game total of 492.

Notable conversations in the third game…

MHMICBC: We need to elevate our games further cause they are going to unleash all they got to win one from us.

Ryan: Yeah!

Ryan proceeds to shoot a 229.  I shoot a 245 for a three game total of 737.  Muscle Bones (Mr. Consistency) shoots a 201.  We destroy them by 151 pins.  Fat Jerry was no where to be found, just took his first place trophy and left.

MHMICBC: Guys, you did very well tonite.  We actually have a winning record.  We’re 20-16.  If we didn’t have that lapse in the middle, we may have won the league.

Ryan: (feeling a little down) Yeah…

MHMICBC: No worries though.  Just goes to show you that you have to come here every week and put on a f’en show for everyone.

Grantland (listens intently and nods his head): Yeah…

MHMICBC (pleased that the children finally understands his message): Good job guys!

On a side note, my arm is dead…feels like jelly.  I don’t know how I’m going to play tonight at Twin Creeks but I’ll worry about it later.

For those that have not been following this sad case, let me update you on what has been happening.

Michael Vick (Quarterback of the Atlanta Falcons) and his band of cohorts (friends from way back), ran a dog-fighting ring in the back of his mansion.  Dogs were bred and trained to fight in events that brought in as much as $26,000 a wager.  Dogs that lost were shot, hung, beaten, or electrocuted to death.

Well, the Feds got wind of this, and obviously putted an end to it.  Vick and his cohorts all have their day in court.

Recent developments to this case:

While Vick has defied any accusations to being linked to this hideous crime and pled "not guilty," his "loyal" friends bargained with a "guilty" plea and promised to serve as witnesses for the Feds and implicate Vick for his participation and heading of these dog-fights.

The Feds had four potential witnesses prior to this abandonment.  Now, they have seven, leaving Vick to fend for himself.

What I think may happen:

62% - Vick will change his plea and serve a lesser sentence (1 year/6 mos. for good behavior)

27% - Vick will fight it out in court with the potential of a 5+ year sentence looming.

6% - Vick will pull an OJ and try to make a run for it

3% - Vick will call Greg Anderson (Barry Bond’s friend) and try to have him take the wrap for it for a couple of millions.

2% - Vick will pull a Cheung Shu-Hung (co-owner of Lee Der Industrial Co. Ltd, responsible for exporting the tainted Mattel/Fisher Price toys) and hang himself before the hearing.

Either way… Vick is F*%&’ed!  Good-bye Mikey!  You were an overrated quarterback, and now everyone knows you’re an overrated piece of sh*t who murdered dogs for amusement.  May the swift and mighty hand of justice strike you down as hard as you struck those poor dogs.

Last night, the Demons got mercied 19-9 in 5 innings.  While we missed the services of Savage and Jesus, the team managed to put up a bit of a fight against the Mexican team that destroyed us the first time.  While the highlight of the night was watching Sid dispatch of a ball into the center field scoreboard, the lowlight was not of us losing the game, but of us losing a member of the team.

Little Stu, who I have played with for the last 5 seasons atTwin Creeks has always brought a lot of energy and enthusiasm to the game.  While he has always had to dealt with being a small guy playing in the land of giants, he displayed the "never die" attitude that I have grown to respect and admire.

Well, last night, the "never die" attitude was finally exhausted.  Stu apparently had hinted to Garrett, our manager, that he wasn’t having fun, and that he felt he was a liability to the team.  While Stu did not possess the abililty to be a gamebreaker, I did find him to be the spirit and energy of this underdog team.  His decision and the abruptness of his abandonment took me by surprise.  I was rather disappointed, and had shared with my teammate, Frank, that I lost a lot of respect I had for him through the years of playing together with him just up and leaving.

But… everyone is their own person, and everyone has their reason(s) for doing what they do.  My friend and teammate, Eric, was on the dot when he said, "Perhaps he got scared off…"  Whatever his reasons are, I am sad he no longer enjoyed playing ball with us. 

However, I am rather pleased that the team has upgraded with his departure.  As my other friend and teammate, Will Fung (the Chairman), brilliantly eludes, "It’s like the slowest buffalo being eaten… the rest of the herd moves faster…" 

And it shall!