B(ridge) and T(unnel) Crowd

A 26.2-Mile Sibling Rivalry at the Marine Corps Marathon

2009-10-26T22:26:00.002-04:00

I finished. Long ago, when I accepted that I wasn't going to keep pace with my sister after the first step, my goal was to finish and I reached that goal. 26.2 miles is a long way to go, no matter that my sister finished an hour ahead of me. Only in the last few hours have I started to understand the magnitude of this accomplishment.

A great bonus for completing this marathon was the full acquittal for all those things I quit when I was younger. Had I known I'd get a free pass for a marathon I would have ran one sooner! My father and mother told me I was forgiven for the following:

quitting karate in 3rd grade after two weeks because the Cosby show aired at the same time (yes, there was a time before Tivo);
quitting the trombone after three weeks because my buddy got a shiny new one;
after my dad asked me why I didn't tackle someone in a 5th grade football rec league game, I said, "well, I'll just wait for them to come to me";
overly dramatic tales of woe at three sleep away camps due to spectacular homesickness;
never playing a game of little league baseball because I always thought the ball was going to hit me and I have trouble following fast moving objects (even those going 40 MPH);
only raking Fall leaves when my dad was looking my way, otherwise laying low; and
quitting an etiquette class because I wasn't winning the "random" prizes.

Notice a quitting trend here? It ended on Sunday.

Pre-Race Morning
After three bananas, three egg whites, and 40 ounces of the water, I joined my sister and a friend we made the night before as we made our way to the Eisenhower Metro station. Everyone around me had run at least four marathons and were quite encouraging that the hardest part was done, meaning the training. Easy for them to say.

We made our way to the starting corrals in total darkness and waited in the cold for two hours until it was race time. Because we had arrived so early we got to enjoy unused porta-pottys that actually had toilet paper and hand sanitizer. Such a luxury! As the sun rose, so did our excitement as a member of the "Jersey Boys" show sang the national anthem. I took the NJ connection as a good sign. I was looking for all the positive earmarks I could find.

And We're Off!
With the blasting of a howitzer the race started; about 10 minutes later we finally crossed the start line. One step over the line I was tied with my sister, one step later she was gone in a flash; not to be seen until the family linkup after the finish. I was on my own. It was up to me to run this race, control my pace, and listen to my body. I kept telling myself, "you've trained for long runs so this is just another long run," albeit with water stations every two miles and closed roads for my route."

No turning back at the start!

Miles 0 - 2: Everyone, pee on the side of the road!
As I started my run, it felt like a roller coaster with the seat belt arm already down. I knew it was going to be a great ride despite my worries and I couldn't quit now. After leaving Rosslyn, we ran through some wooded areas which allowed several runners to turn them into their own bathrooms. Even a few female runners found some hidden places; I was certainly impressed with their ingenuity. 1.5 miles in I was ready to ditch my long sleeve shirt and conveniently found a charity collecting such clothes and tossed it their way.

According to this, I am a runner.

Miles 3 - 4: I Flashed Women and They Laughed
These were the prettiest miles of the course because of the peak color changing in the trees. Is there a better drive in the DC area than the GW Parkway in the Fall? More wooded areas meant more pit stops for runners who thought nothing of leaving their marks. At mile 4 we would turn left onto the Key Bridge. 50 yards before I figured this was the last spectator-free wooded area and decided to become one of those runners.

I went off-road and took care of things with no runners around me. Only after I was finishing my business did I notice two female runners farther up the hillside doing the same and giggling. I thought it was in my direction and I wanted to yell, "It's shrinkage! It's 40 degrees in the morning!"

Shrinkage is not just for laundry.

Miles 5 - 9: Yep, Georgetown was Built on a Hill
A little after mile 5, I began my intervals of five minutes of running and one minute of walking that would carry me throughout the race. This Georgetown portion of the race went along Canal Road which only reminded me of how crazy it was for me to drive a 22' Penske moving truck along the way. Around mile 9 we were offered orange slices. I wanted no part of them as I wasn't about to mess with my racing diet at this point. Running through a road of orange peels left our shoes with super traction. I'm just happy I didn't have to worry about banana peels.

Miles 10-11: Familiar Faces and Tears of Joy

I was really hitting my stride (haha!) at this point. The crowds were great and I was so very familiar with this part of the course. Around mile 10 The Wife cheered me on from the steps of the Lincoln along the Potomac among a massive crowd waiting on the steps. I saw my parents just before hitting Hains Point. After running 50 feet from them I turned around and saw my dad hugging my mom with tears in his eyes. For the first time all race, at least one drop on my face wasn't from sweat.

Cue the inspirational music.

Miles 12 - 15: Like Pulling a Thorn From the Lion's Paw
I was warned that Hains Point would suck thanks to the lowest amount of spectators on the course and lots of wind. While there were few spectators, there was no wind. It was a tight fit along the road, but we managed. Just after mile 13 and the water station, I felt a pebble in my right shoe. I tried running with it, hoping that it would move out of the way, but it didn't. I briefly step aside and tried taking my shoe off, but figured it wasn't worth the trouble. A 1/4 mile later the pebble wasn't an issue. I saw my parents and the Wife shortly thereafter.

The crowds were on top of us as we approached the mall. It felt like a Tour de France mountain climb.

Miles 16 - 18: What Happened to My Left Nip Guard?
I got nervous when I saw the mile 16 marker. It was at mile 16 in my last long run that I hit the wall, hard. I limped my way to reach 20 miles that time when my goal was actually 22. I busted through mile 16 with surprising ease. I did a nip guard check. Right one, yep. Left one, nope! Uh oh.

Somehow at some point somewhere my left one came off. Without any backups I had to move forward. Only later did I find out that it fell to my belly button, surely doing a better job of stopping any minor friction cuts down there. Thankfully I was wearing a blue shirt that hid any, umm, bloody evidence that I wasn't protected on my left side.

Miles 19 - 21: I Fought the Wall and I Won
After completing the route up and down the mall, that took the shape of a male body part definitely not suffering from shrinkage, I saw my parents and sister's boyfriend as I made way over 395. My quads were on fire. They weren't too bad when I ran, but my one-minute walks had me checking to see if my quads really were smoking.

A first-time marathoner's movie of choice.

At mile 21, my calves tightened or gave out, maybe that's one and the same. I tried walking only to stumble a bit as my calves didn't want me running anymore. If I ran a certain way I felt a shot of pain through my groin. Yep, my lower half wasn't having any fun this day. I pushed forward and made myself run. Mind over matter in the truest sense.

Miles 22 - 23: The Longest Mile
I reached Crystal City knowing my pain threshold would be tested all the way to the finish line. I turned onto Crystal Drive and began the longest mile of the race. With runners running on the other side of the road I knew the turnaround point had to be soon, but it never came. The street was lined with colored flags that were nice at the start, but an annoyance at the end.

I kept seeing a flag over a hill thinking that it had to be our U-turn only to be disappointed time and time again. It was tough not knowing how far I had to go before I could run on the other side of the road. Eventually I made the turn, through a driveway no less, and had two miles left to go.

Miles 24 - 26: I Won't Quit on Myself
I really wanted to walk for longer than one minute, but I kept telling myself I'd be wasting the great running I had done earlier in the race. And quit for what purpose? Because I'm mentally fatigued? This was no time to quit in what might be my only marathon. I dug deep and pushed forward, thinking of a few select folks who are in worse shape then me and could only dream of having "quads on fire" as their biggest issue.

Mile 26.2: A Goal Realized
I turned up the Iwo Jima Memorial hill, ran by the grandstand, and put my arms up at the finish line. It was awesome. Two blood blisters were well earned this day.

Post Race: Wobbling Like a Wobble Toy
I swayed a few times as I reached the finisher medal line. With the medal around my neck, I sought out water and any food within reach. Cheerios and more water gave me balance after 10 minutes of leaning on a pallet of boxes. I waited as the massive crowd made its way up and over to Wilson Boulevard. In what seemed like miles away, but was only a few blocks, I found my cheering section in the Family Linkup as planned.

Oh I know this feeling now. Walking downstairs backward helps.

Hugs and kisses were given, more great pictures were taken by my sister's boyfriend, and tears were shed. I ate a Chipotle burrito and we waited in a fast moving line to enter to the Rosslyn Metro station. My sister received a Marine Corps music CD, we got our finisher coins, and my face was covered in salt, glorious marathon salt.

14 Hours Until the Marine Corps Marathon

2009-10-24T18:48:00.004-04:00

So here I am, less than 14 hours from the start of the Marine Corps Marathon and my stomach's doing somersaults full of butterflies. I'd love to have some great thoughts about all of the training and support I've gotten. How do I capture my thoughts about training for six months for something that will take me six hours to run. Errr, more like walk.

Maybe something about how it's all about the journey, or "it's about the climb" (thanks Miley Cyrus), but really it is about finishing. How I got back in shape and lost more than 20 pounds. How it's gotten me to exercise when I didn't want to. How it's given me massive amounts of self confidence that I can do what I want when I set my mind to it. Dare I say it, I have discipline.

How I can't believe I'm even at this point, on the cusp of running 26.2 miles. It seems like just last week when I was happy to run 40 minutes without stopping. I'm still flummoxed to think the Army 10-miler was a warmup run for me. I still remember calling my parents announcing I had broken double digit mileage, peaking too early, for the first time back in the Spring.

At first, I wanted to run this race because of sibling rivalry, but I quickly learned this was about me. I'll never match my sister's time (Vegas odds have her finishing 90 minutes earlier) nor her race count (this'll be #6), but I will match her will to finish. I want to do this for myself, I need to do it for myself, and I will do it for myself.

I've learned about motivation when the running gets tough. I know who I'll think of to keep me going when I hit the wall and curse ever signing up for this event. I know what they went through, still go through, and will go through long after I cross the finish line. What ails them makes my complaints weak in comparison. As if running is so tough to deal with.

I've learned the ways of those crazy running people who think nothing of long runs on a weekend instead of staying in bed for a few more hours. I've learned the rules of running and how to wave to other runners because we both know what we're going through. I've learned the value of nip guards, body glide, a GPS-enabled watch, and replacing shoes every few hundred miles. I've learned how to manage blood blisters, busted toenails, and shin splints.

I've learned how to be a runner and in 19 hours I'll join 0.1% of the population and learn what it takes to be a marathoner. I guess those are my thoughts the night before the race.

Field of Screams (Olney) Got No Screams Out Of Me

2009-10-15T21:45:00.000-04:00

Ever wanted to go on a scary hayride that was neither scary nor on bales of hay? Then checkout Field of Screams in Olney! Seriously. This $10 experience was beyond atrocious. I must have been spoiled going to Markoff's Haunted Forrest a few years ago. Markoff's was spectacular, Field of Screams was craptacular. Sure a trail should be scarier than a hayride, but shouldn't a scary hayride be scary?

Let's breakdown how this Haunted Hayride of Hemlock Hill stole my money.

I should have known this wasn't going to be so great when there seemed to be chaos just signing waivers and buying our tickets. Could they be any more disorganized? After waiting in line for a bit, we came to this corral of sorts where we had to work our way to the waiver table and then make eye contact with one of the ticket sellers. Just poorly designed all around. Again, Markoff's was nice and orderly.

We walked across a lacrosse field to get to the hayride line, nevermind we were told the wrong direction to walk. FYI, telling us to walk toward the concessions area does not put us toward the hayride. We waited in line for about 15 minutes, during which only one hayride came by. I thought it was odd that only one hayride would be running, but chalked it up to being only 8 PM.

We began to board and take our seats, not on bales of hay as you would, you know, do on a hayride. Nope. We sat on wood benches whose lumbar support felt like a nun hitting me with a wide ruler, over and over again in the small of my back. Sure, I've never spoken to a nun, let alone been hit by a nun's ruler, but this night made up for that. The floor of the sitting area had hay on the floor about 4 needles deep. I was lucky to have any hay under my feet. I chalked this up to having a lot of kids at that hour pushing hay off the cart.

I grew up nowhere near a farm, but even I know a hayride equation requires 1 part John Deere tractor, 1 part cart, and many parts hay. We're not talking nuclear algorithms here yet Field of Screams got this wrong.

We finally get rolling and enter a dark trail with trees on either side making for a dark ride. Oh boy...time to get scared! Unfortunately, as you enter this trail you can already see the end 20 feet away. While we bounced through the "scary" scene a guy in camo fatigues was apparently getting attacked by someone or something. Bad character choice. My defenses were up for the rest of this ride.

Who the hell has a solider-like person getting attacked these days? What the F are these people thinking? That's not scary; it's stupid, messed up, and asinine. Scary events are meant to use people and semi-human stuff so there's zero connection to that zombie getting its head taken off or seeing Freddy Krueger lose his arm. Having a soldier get attacked is really poor taste.

Peeved by that decision, we exited the 40-foot, not-so scary trail and made our way along the baseball outfield fence. It's an odd choice for a hayride path, but I thought maybe something scary would come from the other side of the fence or maybe people would jump at us from the dumpsters on our right. Nope. All that happened was brighter and brighter lighting as we traveled toward the parking lot.

That's right, our hayride was interrupted with a parking lot crossing.

I couldn't believe we really were crossing the parking lot. Maybe we're being taken to a scarier part of the ride and that trail was a teaser? Sure, I'll chalk it up (again) to that, but whatever sense of scariness buzz we had going was squashed when we dealt with cars and people in full light. Why have us queue on the other side if the action happens on the other side of the property?

A REAL haunted hayride in Philly is where we needed to go.

We made our way around some old looking house that's dark. Here we go, time to get scared! Maybe someone was going to run out of the house and scare us. Maybe there'll be scenes in the windows. Nope. Nothing. We continued up a small incline and turned around trailers and a barn. On the way a 9-year-old girl saw someone hiding next to a tree and said, "You're not scaring us because we can see you." If you can't scare her, then get out of the haunting business.

Our hayride parked itself in front of the barn where some strobe lights showed someone cutting someone or something with a chainsaw. It was a decent effect. Not scary, but something interesting. The bar had been set so low I was looking for something to hang my hat on.

We kept looking around for people and saw characters approach from the field...in white shirts! Hello! The easiest color to see in the dark is white so why are they wearing them? I smiled and laughed instead of being scared. Other people came out of the trailers being chased while two people came aboard with chainsaws blaring. Nobody was about to wet their pants.

A scary hayride that's never completely in the dark? Epic failure. There are even videos telling you how to make a hayride.

Thankfully we moved on. It has to get better, it just does. I'm looking for one good moment where I'm scared. I get scared easily so it's not asking for the moon. We turned beyond the barn and headed back across the parking lot for the second scary buzzkill of the night. We went back along the baseball outfield and through the trail. Nothing scary to be seen, heard, or felt. What a letdown.

I kept thinking it was the end, but there was one more stop in the cornfield. Ok, maybe this is it. There might be people jumping from all over that we actually can't see beforehand. I'll finally get a jolt of excitement. Nope. We pull up to four or five people on crosses (offensive, no?). Some master animatronics thing pretends to tell us a story about them living again. The trouble was the system sounded like a Metro station announcement or the Muppets' teacher, take your pick.

Of course the people came off of the crosses and tried to spook us. Others did come from the cornfield, but because the hayride uses this to make U-turn and needed a lot of room, we saw them between the corn and the hayride. We left the cornfield and returned to the start. The line was now 5x as long as before and I felt bad knowing they'll be really disappointed.

I won't speak for the haunted house, haunted trail, and haunted corn maze, but if Field of Screams can make a scary hayride a complete waste and disaster, I see no reason to be confident of those other attractions. The hayride didn't follow a "tree line of haunted woods." It followed a blueprint for the worst hayride ever. Scary hayrides can be scary. This one wasn't so don't go.

Markoff's is MoCo's choice for scary times forever and for always.

Breaking News: I didn't set the men's record at the Army 10-Miler

2009-10-04T20:52:00.001-04:00

It's not that I didn't want to set a record. I ran at a moderate pace to ensure I'd finish and be able to walk tomorrow, but it wasn't enough. The men's record is now 46:59! 47 minutes into the race, I was coming up on mile marker #5. Even if I had a 5-mile head start he'd still blow by me. The women's winner also set a record taking 55:25 to complete the course. Just incredible.

A record registration of 30,000 runners with 23,000 of them finishing makes this the largest 10-miler in the country. Take that Philly's Broad Street Run!

This was the first race that I felt confident that I'd finish. Normally I start ultra slow because I fear that I won't have enough in the tank to cross the finish line, but with my marathon training, I sheepishly saw today as an easy run. I can't believe I would ever think of a 10-mile run as an easy run. I feel fine now and don't anticipate any soreness tomorrow. Go me!

Just a walk in the park in perfect race weather.

For the first time I felt like a legitimate runner. As if I belonged in races beyond 5 kilometers. I wasn't the newbie running 9-minute miles for the first 3 splits and burning out by mile 4. I was in complete control of my pace. I only walked for 2 minutes while I downed a Cliff Shot Block pack. The rest of the time I zigged, zagged, and enjoyed the scenery.

All hail black cherry chewy electrolytes and caffeine.

The route was great, as any DC race is guaranteed to be. Organizers had plenty of water and Gatorade on the course; however, the food selection was weak at the finish line. A Kashi trail mix bar that parched my throat, cinnamon raisin bagels that had all of 6 raisins, and muffins that were far to sweet for a post-race snack. I just downed a few bananas and. One Army tent offered pulled pork sandwiches, but I wasn't about to eat that after the race. Plus the line was very long.

Speaking of lines, there needs to be a better way to place the porta-potties. The portable johns faced each other meaning their lines backed into each other resulting in plenty of chaos figuring out where one line started and another one ended. It didn't help that we were all downwind of them.

I've come a long way since my longest run was on an NES Power Pad.

The only other issue with today's race was the great whiffs I took from cigarettes along the course as we came down Independence Avenue. People, when you're watching a bunch of oxygen-deprived runners, please don't throw your smoke in our faces. Just stand a few feet from the curb and we'll get along just fine.

Being sponsored by the Army, starting and finishing at the Pentagon, and having the race lead by wounded warriors, I felt weak complaining about a sore ankle when I walked around in my running shoes. It was empowering to run among double amputees and a blind veteran (Lt. Castro (sp) finishing in 84 minutes!). I was simultaneously saddened by the challenges in their lives, but also in awe of their wills to move forward.

I dare you to not be inspired.

Running by the Kennedy Center and cheering an amputee as he called out marching steps with his guide brought goosebumps. Seeing wheelchair-bound veterans hand pedal with the same grit and determination that they brought to the Army was just awesome. The constant "HOOAHs," bands playing the Army fight song, and cheering crowds willed all us to the finish.

A Fine Time On The Left Coast (Part 3 of 3)

2009-09-22T21:46:00.001-04:00

I awoke Sunday morning realizing that I only had about 24 hours left in this vacation of no rest. Though I wanted to sleep in, I just couldn't. The schedule didn't allow for it and this whole working as an adult thing the last 7 years hasn't allowed me to sleep in on days off.

We made our way to Marina Del Rey so I could rent a bicycle for exercise and 20 miles of sightseeing. Nothing says I'm a tourist more than renting a cruising or comfort bike, but I didn't care.

We made our way from Marina Del Rey to Manhattan Beach and onto Hermosa Beach.

The bike shop owner told me that riding the strand would be easy, but I needed to be careful that I not strain my neck because of the other bikers, boarders, and runners. He's a sage.

How can anyone in southern California not exercise everyday with this weather and this bike path?

We stopped at Wahoo's Fish Taco. Of course none of us ordered the fish taco, but the burrito was good and the table service was even better. I thought that this was a special locals-only spot, but it's part of an area franchise.

Living near the beach means having a bike that can haul your boards. Dude.

A Labor Day volleyball tournament action shot. Nobody was any good though.

At least when compared to the best doubles team in the world. Extra points to me for finding their plaque in cement pier. Minus points for actually taking the picture.

It's clear all beach patrons were under the watchful eye Michael Knight.

Ummm, I mean Mitch Buchannon and C.J. Parker!

Folks living by the beach have it really good.

After a dip in the pool we got ready for dinner in the Valley at Cafe Bizou. Somehow I saw no signs of Valley girl stereotypes. I was disappointed. The food was great though.

Monday brought a final meal of chicken cutlet curry at Hurry Curry that left me with a new found love for Japanese curry.

For my final food of the trip I needed one more cup from YogurtLand. My belly was full for the one-stop 2:15p flight that landed at BWI at 11:30p. The jet lag was totally worth it.

Living It Up in the City of Angels (Part 2 of 3)

2009-09-14T21:02:00.001-04:00

I went to sleep around 1 AM Pacific time and tried claiming hardship over being awake for over 23 straight hours since getting up at 4:15 AM Eastern time. Always on the ball, my sister immediately shot that down reminding me of my naps on the plane and on her couch.

Whatever.

I was more or less awake for a long time and wasn't about to reclaim my lost sleep on Saturday.

We began the day driving to Santa Monica for an 8-mile run. I agreed to this to prove to my sister that I had in fact been training for the marathon (off and on) all these weeks. She agreed to this to remind me how much faster she runs. She was kind enough to run at my snail's pace for 7.5 miles until she said, "can we run at my pace now?" That was a low blow.

After noticing so many LA roadrunning groups on our path, I decided there must be ~~gang~~ turf wars between them. There has to be some bad blood between the LA Roadrunners (her group), LA Leggers, Santa Monica Running Group, and LA Roadrunning club. It's a sign that so many people in California can't help, but be healthy that they need many, many running groups.

We ran by muscle beach, but were fortunate to pass there before the meatheads arrived.

On the way back we apparently ran by Victor Jih, winner of the latest Amazing Race season. I guess that counts as my first celebrity run-in? How sad that he'd be considered a celebrity and it's all I've seen so far.

The multi-level Barney's in Beverly Hills was as nice as you'd expect.

And the brunch upstairs at Barney Greengrass was as great as you'd expect.

But the breadsticks were the stars of the meal, as you wouldn't expect. We had my sister, ahem, "grab" an extra bag and cream cheese. It was a great recovery after she stumbled asking the waiter for our 5th refill.

I bought my this dri-fit blue shirt as part of my official marathon clothing. I even purchased it at retail price in Beverly Hills no less! Actually, Niketown's prices were the same as the rest of the country.

We walked around the Grove before settling on dinner at the Farmer's Market. I destroyed a bowl of gumbo, though my sister's Brazilian meat dish was tasty too.

While lamenting that SoCal has open air malls while the left coast couldn't, we passed Daniel Dae Kim, aka Jin-Soo Kwon, from Lost. Too bad I couldn't appreciate the sight having never watched the show.

Nighttime entertainment came in the form of John Williams conducting the LA Symphony Orchestra at the Hollywood as it performed his great movie scores. A real LA moment. The Bowl's stack parking method is stupid, but I was with locals so we used our secret lot to get out quickly.

There was far too much Harry Potter and he didn't play Indiana Jones, the Olympics theme, or Jurassic Park, but listening to the full E.T. theme performed live, conducted by the composer, and watching the in sync film brought goosebumps. Sorry, but I cried at that movie.

Of course Superman and a few Star Wars songs were very cool. We didn't care for songs from Casablanca and Catch me if You Can. I didn't appreciate him coming out for four encore ovations only to have him come out the last time to say he was tired. Okay, enough complaining. The compilation of his and the music of others was nice.

The level of geekdom, dorkism, and nerd-alert went through the roof during every Star Wars song with way too many light sabers; however, they did make for a cool effect as Williams encouraged them. I thought he should have conducted with a light saber, but he is 77 after all. Note they move to the beat 40 seconds into the song.

Until the next day's recap. Same blog address. Possibly the same posting time.

They've Got It Nice Out in Los Angeles (Part 1 of 3)

2009-09-13T17:30:00.000-04:00

Last weekend I visited my sister and her boyfriend in LA. Unlike the visit two years ago, this wasn't filled with tourist traps, studio tours, and requisite souvenir purchases. Nope. This time I tried to hold on as they whisked me around town going for jogs along Santa Monica, bike rides along the strand to Hermosa Beach, multiple locals-only eateries, a Dodger game, and a Hollywood Bowl concert.

Still with me? Good.

There was also marathon "outfit shopping" in Beverly Hills, eating at Barney Greengrass, dinner in the Valley, walking around the Grove, eating at the Farmer's Market, lunch at a Wahoo's Fish Taco, lounging at the pool, walking the beach, and enjoying the 3-hour time difference to watch football games during breakfast.

I had had a long week and was plenty tired, but this wasn't time to sleep-in. It was time to always be on the move and see how they do things on the left coast. Here we go with Friday.

Friday

For a moment I thought I'd get a real meal of seafood for my Southwest flight. Of course the box went into cargo and I only got drinks, peanuts, and animal crackers for my cross-country flight.

Clear skies meant great mountain pictures, even with my 3.1 MP brick.

There it is...smoggy, wildfire smoke-filled Los Angeles. I felt like I needed my passport to visit. It's a different world.

We stuffed ourselves with sushi at SugarFish. A guy next to our table was talking about being "the head writer for a multi-generational Fox comedy." He was in a sad pissing contest with a younger writer about knowledge of ABC's skycams and Mad Men character development. Doesn't everyone in LA have some bogus project in development?

YogurtLand rocked! I went with the vanilla wafer topped with kiwi, strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, and Cap'n Crunch. My sugar level spiked to dangerously tasteful levels.

There's some wildfire smoke over the hills.

The stadium is showing its age, but the view of palm trees sure is nice.

I'm not sure why any Dodger fan would wear anything, but the royal blue caps.

Unlimited condiment station +

Foot-long Dodger Dog =

A mouthwatering meal. I ate two of them.

Look, it's Tommy Lasorda's bald head! A kinda-celebrity sighting. Also saw Larry King and Alyssa Milano.

Some Wetzel's Pretzels pretzels provided late-game stomach heroics.

Though they're nothing compared to these heroics.

Kids, if you look closely, this is the outfield grass where Manny didn't give 100% to catch a ball.

Lots of beach balls in the stadium; all the easier for LA fans to enforce their reputation and not watch the game despite the pennant race.

Fireworks after the show were great! We waited out traffic by throwing frisbees and footballs in the parking lot.

I was surprised the Dodgers allowed people in the outfield with so many of these divots from kids sliding on the grass.

Saturday's fun times are coming in the next post. What an exciting tease!

An Apology to Reagan, Obama, and Ted Kennedy

2009-08-30T19:35:00.001-04:00

I've lived in the DC area for 11 years. During this time I've run a few 5Ks, visited monuments, and played ultimate (that's frisbee) on the Mall and Polo Grounds. I've enjoyed cheap eats, cheap drinks, and cheap souvenirs. I've also been supremely disappointed with expensive eats (I'm looking at you 1789), enjoyed many a ride on the Metro, and gotten lost because L'Enfant used the Masonic symbol for major thruways.

The only new things left to enjoy DC are special patriotic events. The kind of events that cause people travel from far away to be a part of. Often they may only catch a short glimpse of a tinted limousine, but just being there is worth it. It's a once in a lifetime pilgrimage that should not be missed.

All of DC's Heavy-hitting politicos said their goodbyes to Kennedy except for me.

In the last few years DC mourned Ronald Reagan's funeral, handled the human onslaught of Barak Obama's inaguration, and mourned again for Ted Kennedy's funeral procession yesterday. These events have a common thread that links them across party lines.

I've missed all of them.

I've lived within an hour of these historic, once in a lifetime, never to be repeated experiences and never as much tried to attend them. Maybe that makes me a bad American. Maybe I'm just a lazy DC metro resident. Or maybe none of my excuses are valid.

Reagan's Funeral - A procession for a president is the grandest of all DC affairs. Inaugurations happen every 4 or 8 years, but dying presidents are rare. Reagan passed away in 2004 and I thought it was more pressing to save my vacation leave and work in my Shirlington cubicle instead of viewing Reagan lie in state.

I dropped the ball on attending this one.

Obama's Inauguration - I viewed the entire proceedings, but chose to avoid the sea of people and cold toes by watching it at home. One of these years I'll catch the inauguration of a new president.

Kennedy's Funeral - Yesterday's procession wasn't as hyped as Reagan's, but I was well aware of the planning. Instead I chose to go food shopping and get a haircut. The weather was plenty warm and the route was Metro accessible, but I needed my chocolate-vanilla Jell-o pudding.

So I'm 0 for 3 for rare DC experiences. I already struck out, but maybe, just maybe, I won't have an excuse to miss the next one. Unless I'm working, the weather is bad, or it requires taking the Metro.

Arrow Sign Spinning - The Next Great Sport

2009-08-19T21:48:00.001-04:00

Where can you see Olympic level baton twirling, but not feel ashamed for enjoying it? Drive on Wisconsin Avenue/355/Rockville Pike/Frederick Road and look for the impressive moves of arrow sign flippers. It's the best in retail rhythmic gymnastics.

A 7-minute YouTube documentary must mean it's legit.

Because there are so many competitors with basic flipping skills, little separates the talent. You've seen one flipper you've seen'em all. All sign flippers are males, between 16 and 24 years old, getting paid $15-20/hour to burn in the sun and show their sleights of hand. It's a scene repeated every other traffic light and I can't stop watching.

Arrow sign spinning needs a Tony Hawk 900 move to advance the profession and artistry.
The spinners hawk signs for mattress stores, condominiums for sale, and furniture stores forever claiming they're going out business. Not only are the businesses repetitive, but so are the moves. I will never appreciate the more intricate moves, but I do notice people who do more than just spin the sign around their bodies.

The song may not be great, but spinner Matt Doolan keeps it interesting.

We've reached the pinnacle of signage performance. The tricks are the same including rotating the sign clockwise and counter clockwise, 360 degree sign rotation, flipping a horizontal sign, sliding the sign around the torso, and a horizontal flip high enough to pirouette and catch it again. To differentiate spinners, I need to see more non-flipping moves like dancing with the sign and creative ways to catch the sign.

Ah, who I am kidding, I have no idea what I'm talking about.

I wouldn't want something that sharp that close to my nether regions.

What the sport needs is an innovation or move that transcends the generations of sign flippers that have come before them. I think it'll come when the first vertical sign is flipped a few times on the vertical axis. Perhaps a vert-vert-flip is beyond the physics, aerodynamics, and wind resistance of gigantic arrow signs.

One of the top spinners in all the land.

While the signage gymnastics never fail to impress, the sign is never held still long enough to actually get the message out. All motorists learn is something is for sale somewhere, but they do get a good sign spinning show.

It could be worse, 355 could be lined with wacky waiving inflatable arm flailing tube men.

It's the 2009 Howard County Fair!

2009-08-08T18:17:00.001-04:00

With the mother-in-law in town, we made our way to the land of manure, farm equipment, over-tanned people, carnival rides, carnies, and animal shows...also know as the Howard County Fair. County fairs are smaller than the state fair and that's just fine with me. Everyone reaches their limit of animal stalls to see and the county fair has just enough. Offering twice as many cows, rides, and games is a waste when half that amount is all I'm looking for.

Even if the animals on display are always the same, this year's fair had the best looking bunch yet. We did play one fair, fair game as a carny guessed the MIL's age. He was off by 20 years so she won a stuffed cow. At the football toss, the carny gave me a free throw that I made through the tire, but none of the prizes were worthwhile so I walked away.

Two suggestions for next year...offer cotton candy without yellow coloring to appease the Wife and offer fried dumplings. Apparently it's impossible for a Maryland fair, at any level, to offer the best carnival snack. Think malasadas or funnel cake balls doused in powdered sugar.

Onto the pictures!

Another August means another HoCo Fair.

Nothing says you're not a superstar yet like being advertised on a HoCo Fair barricade...it's Richie Fields, Nashville recording artist!

I now control you, rabbit. Soon the world!

What I'd look like reincarnated as a rooster.

Like the military...all haircuts are high and tight.

When your animal's on display, hairdryers are just the beginning.

Just like the scene from...

....Lady and the Tramp. Or close enough.

I dare thee to find a cuter animal.

I'd buy this pony for the Wife, but it requires more than the 0.03 acres of land we have.

Not exactly what Ludacris meant when he talked about milking the cow.

The Wife would rather not have you "send in the clowns."

The Mountain Dew souvenir cup doubles as a bong.

The best chicken fingers anywhere!

Ride this if you'd like to see those chicken fingers again.

Her magic cooking produced fried Oreos.

A fried Twinkie is much better than a fried oreo, but it was worth a shot.

At least they used double stuff oreos.

You are such a horse's @$$!

The horse world's NFL combine. Checkout the pretty horse's vertical.

Last place becomes bacon!

Pig racing at a 4-H fair is sooooo Maryland, but I can't help myself.

Does a dunk tank ever get boring? I think not.

Jacob's Ladder...the key is to keep moving.

Or else you fail.

13 MPG means this baby will easily receive the maximum Cash for Clunkers rebate.

The Pro Football Hall of Fame - An Underwhelming Experience

2009-08-02T19:51:00.001-04:00

I visited the Pro Football Hall of Fame (PFHOF) the other day and and was wholly unimpressed. These 3,000 words touch the surface of that feeling.

Even after I lowered my expectations from my dad's experience a few years ago, telling me that I wouldn't like it as much as Cooperstown, I still came away bothered by a colossal missed opportunity. This HOF could be, should be, and needs to be so much better than it is. I am not a museum curator (shocking I know) but if I can think of at least a dozen improvements then something must be wrong. I can't imagine how bad the PFHOF was before the addition of two rooms in the last few years.

Perhaps I was spoiled when I visited the baseball HOF (BHOF) with my dad some 15 years ago (wow, has it been that long?). That HOF was designed well and touches on all aspects of the sport; you can't help, but come away learning many new things. I have heard awful things about the basketball HOF in Springfield, MA, that it's just about shooting hoops on wacky baskets and not much else, but I bet that it can't rival the PFHOF for being an utter disaster to America's #1 sport.

The PFHOF is like building a monument to America and forgetting the noses. As a country we deserve better than an inadequate center for all things football.

In what should be a shrine for all football fans is nothing more than a poorly laid out building offering out-of-date displays that fails to touch on many aspects of the sport, all the while located in a very unromantic part of Canton, OH, off a highway. Visit the PFHOF only (and that's a big only) if you are in central Ohio and have nothing better to do than waste $17, 4 hours of your time (hour drive there, 2 hours to walk around if you go really really slow, and an hour drive back).

I should have gone to the Rock n' Roll HOF instead.

It's never good when your shrine to football is dwarfed by the underbelly of a stadium's seats in the background.

The biggest issue I have with this place is that it lacked many subjects that should have been touched on, at least with more than a passing sentence. All too often exhibits looked old. Some were haphazardly pieced together and just thrown out there before they were ready. I want to be wowed at a HOF. I want to be overwhelmed by the amount of material. I guess I asked for too much.

Instead of "Drop-off and Pick-up" how about saying, "Fumble and Hand-off." Regular delivery guys would understand.

To keep myself awake driving home, as I actually felt more tired after going through the building, I came up with some exhibits that would have been nice to include in some form. Now, free of charge, I present things to make the PFHOF better, in no particular order of course.

If only the 1869 game between Rutgers and Princeton made NJ push to host the PFHOF. And no, it wouldn't smell.

The NFL (because that's what attracts people to this place) is full of great teams, often noted as the team of the decade: Colts -1950s, Packers - 1960s, Steelers - 1970s, 49ers - 1980s, Cowboys - 1990s, and the Patriots - 2000s. How about a section on these great teams? They represent what the league was about in easily marked periods of time. The PFHOF only offers a hallway alcove using displays about each franchise of today. Only there will you find any mention of a team's history. Decade dynasties are worth their own area, even if it's an equivalent hallway alcove.

Learn about great Redskins of the past...or not.

Along the same lines as league dynasties, there should be an area about the great team unit nicknames of the past. The nicknames, though not always deserving relative to their ability, are what make it easy to recall the best team units of the past. Most of the deserving nicknames are for defensive units like the Steel Curtain and Monsters of the Midway. Other nicknames that wouldn't earn as much real estate to celebrate include the New York Sack Exchange, Purple People Eaters, and the Orange Crush. Still, it'd be nice to have an explanation as to why these units ever deserved to be remembered.

There should have been more locker room displays, like this one for Terry Bradshaw.

Football has always been about the characters of the game, some were able to backup their charisma while others you just wanted to shut up. There should be an area about the league's more colorful players and what made them famous. If you want to only include the more positive, less annoying people, that's fine with me. Why did players get their nicknames in the first place? Visitors should learn that Billy "white shoes" Johnson did more than just wear white shoes and why people still fondly recall the Icky Shuffle.

Inside the PFHOF's football roof. I will give the PFHOF credit for incorporating a football into the design; just about the only good thing about the architecture.

The PFHOF needs a multimedia upgrade infusion (its redundant because it has to be). Far too many displays were at least 15 years old with old highlights, computer graphics, and monitors with burnt-in displays. There was no display that simply showed you the best plays in NFL history. How about an area with multiple stations that let's you call up any of 100 great plays in history? From Super Bowls to the regular season, it's the great play that folks recall vividly. Want to see Adam Viniateri's game-winning field goal in Super Bowl 38? Bam! It's there in an instant.

The PFHOF's football players looked like...

...Marvel superhero the Thing.

While I crushed the PFHOF's trivia game, it was an agonizing experience, akin to running Madden 2009 on a Commodore 64. Delayed acknowledgement of an answer and more importantly for a trivia game, there were no questions about the NFL from even the 1990s. Think about it. Visitors have just walked through (a weak) display of the league's history so when it's time to test what they learned, the experience is unattractive. Please upgrade the trivia game.

There were many pieces of old equipment on display, but it seemed disorganized.

There was a You Make the Call activity that was cool, but again this had really old technology making for a really old experience. I think that a game that makes you think like a QB and read a defense would be cool. This would show just how hard it is to determine the right move with 21 other people moving around you. Certainly possible with today's computers, you could decide what the QB should do and the video would adjust, reminding the visitor why these guys are so good.

The NFC conference title was cool to see.

Along with interactivity improvements, there must be space devoted to the NFL and TV. This would have been great to unveil last year with the 50th anniversary of the 1958 NFL Championship between the Baltimore Colts and NY Giants. It wasn't the best game played, but it was the most important as it ushered in the marriage of the league and TV, yet very little mention relative to its significance.

The TV broadcast has changed mightily from that black and white display. From the cameras to the TVs to the broadcast booth, a retrospective would encapsulate the history of how 99% of each week's fans get their NFL fix. The only mention of TV was a 5 x 10-foot collage about Monday Night Football that you almost missed coming off the elevator to the first floor. It shows no big picture (pun intended?) thinking by the PFHOF to ignore the medium people use to experience the sport.

Jim Parker, long regarded as the best lineman to ever play only gets a bust of his head? Where's the love?

I did not experience the NFL Films' Gameday theater because it was under some sort of repair. The theater, as explained to me, shows highlights from the NFL season and then turns your chair so you can view the Super Bowl highlights. Kinda cheesy, but it's what cheesy museums do. When I asked about the repairs I was told by many folks that they were updating the season video. Puzzled, I asked for a clarification, to which I was told the PFHOF had been showing the video following the 2005 season! That's 3 years old! How does the center for all things football not update its season recap video, oh I don't know, every season? Come on. At least update your season recaps each season!

A display about player cleats and no mention of Johnny Unitas' hightops??? How does that happen at THE football HOF?

The center of any HOF is the actual of Hall of Fame. At the PFHOF, it's a cramped display of player heads at such varying heights and so close to each other that it's easy to overlook some of the honorees. Further, unlike the BHOF, below each bust only includes the player's name, teams played for, and position. Care to learn why Wilbur Henry is worthy of the HOF? You have to use one of four (?) interactive screens in the center of the round room.

In case you were curious, Wilbur Henry...Three-year Washington and Jefferson All-America. . .Signed with Bulldogs same day NFL organized, 1920. . .Largest player of his time, bulwark of Canton's championship lines, 1922-1923. . .60-minute performer, also punted, kicked field goals. . . Set NFL marks for longest punt (94 yards), longest dropkick field goal (50 yards). . . Born October 31, 1897, in Mansfield, Ohio. . .Died February 7, 1952, at age of 54.

I admit that these touch screen displays were nice, allowing you to view a bio of the player and short videos of what made them great. But who wants to make the effort to go back and forth and learn more about a player you hadn't heard of? At the BHOF the information is right there, greatly encouraging you to read about unknown stars of the game. It's a logistical touch that's a huge improvement. The PFHOF should emulate the BHOF Hall of Fame because it works better. Until then it's a busted room of busts.

Wow...back lit mono colored pictures for the most important game in the NFL's history...way to know your audience.

Those panels and this snapshot of Alan Ameche's TD were all I saw about the game. Ridiculous.

The PFHOF had a small area devoted to league coaches as wax figures. There needs to be more emphasis on the men who ran these teams. What made Lombardi so good? Why should Bill Walsh get credit for the 49ers' titles? Someone unfamiliar with football would not have a clue about the game's great coaches and why they are held in such high regard. One small display does not do enough.

How is the "Evolution of Football Helmet" relegated to a glorified vertical shoe rack?

I expected the PFHOF to have a voluminous section on changes in game equipment. Instead, all I saw were scattered items in unattractive displays that you could easily miss. Football requires so much more equipment to play than baseball, yet the BHOF dwarfs the PFHOF in equipment history viewing and that's inexcusable. From helmets, footballs, cleats, uniforms, and shoulder pads, a simple timeline display of equipment changes would do the trick.

While I'm at it, I'd add some things about how the playing field has changed. From dirt fields to natural grass to artificial turf to synthetic turf grown outside Arizona's stadium, there's a huge impact to gameplay. How was there nothing about the Baltimore Extension to field goal posts after Green Bay incorrectly won the 1965 NFL title with a ball that sailed outside the top of a post?

At least the PFHOF has enough sense to display a replica Lombardi trophy.

Football strategy has changed a lot, even in the modern era (1950s - present). The PFHOF could devote some real estate to explaining football strategy and how it has changed. This would be a real X's and O's discussion that could touch on fads or styles of the league from Buddy Ryan's 46 defense to Warren Moon and the run n' shoot offense. The exhibit would explain why they worked and why they didn't.

The PFHOF would do well to devote space for each of the game's positions and highlight the best. From guards and tackles on the offensive line to cornerbacks and safeties in the secondary, there could be text on what these positions deal with in a game. If we're upgrading video, it'd be great if you could watch a video showing what these guys see in a game so a visitor has a small idea of just how hard it is to cover a wide receiver. Let's not forget special teams players and their importance to field position and field goal kicking.

The PFHOF gave referees a display next to the snack bar that should have been much grander relative to their importance. I shouldn't be able to fit 3/4 of the display in one picture.

A section devoted to other professional football leagues was well done and on a scale commensurate with their importance in shaping the game; however, one good section does not make a good museum. This room was large and each display was packed with memorabilia from the leagues. Of course, it's only blemish was an old, randomly placed display from which you'd select an exciting game ending. The videos were old and the display was a clunker stuck in the room's corner for something designed to encapsulate the excitement of a close game.

Every hour a talk about some football artifacts took place. While this was a good idea with curators handling things with white gloves and curators giving stories behind the PFHOF's collection, it was done in this dinky room with classroom seats made for middle school. Again, an upgrade to the presentation classroom, maybe with some multimedia projector, would have really packed the room. Until then, it looks like an employee lunchbreak room with uncomfortable blue chairs.

A line of all Madden videogame covers was cool (it continued to the right). Of course it's only done well because this was an EA/Microsoft Xbox playing area and not solely the PFHOF. Offering an area to play Madden on Xbox was a good modern touch.

Missing from the PFHOF was full-fledged mention of NFL MVPs or other award winners. There should be a timeline of MVPs and what they were all about. Even the fluke, one-year winners deserve their moments in the sun. Today's game is full of players who shine for 2-3 years and quickly fall off the map, but I wouldn't know about them from visiting the shrine to the game.

Funny how the history of athletic training makes no mention of the PEDs, steroids, or painkillers needed to survive in the league today. A mention of the fact that gambling really seeds the league's money and popularity would have been honest, but not exactly a good public relations move. There's a reason people watch weak matchups on Monday Night Football.

Like any good museum, the gift shop was the last stop. Hey, the PFHOF got one right with layout! It was packed with current merchandise, but very little items from the past. And by the past I mean anything pre-2000.

How about I get a T-shirt of the great Steelers? No luck. Maybe there's a mug celebrating the Super Bowl titles of the 49ers? Ha! Outside of some replica jerseys, the gift shop offered little in the way of the game's history. Sure, kids of today want things representing today's players, but having just gone through a building that purports to act as the be-all end-all for football history, the gift shop fell short of selling that history.

The gift shop had plenty to sell except if you wanted something about players no longer playing.

The PFHOF is located less than a mile off I-76. Again, this is in central Ohio. It's not located in a sexy location. There's nothing romantic about it and there's nothing that just yells that this is the capital of football in America. The BHOF is in a quaint town in upstate New York that is the epitome of small town America from which the game thrives. Football comes across as a corporate giant having a much shorter history of about 50 years for the modern game compared to baseball's modern era beginning in 1900. Perhaps that's the part of the problem here.

I crushed the PFHOF trivia game, even if it was 15 years old. If it says that I won, why do I feel as though I lost $17 for admission?

Having one building represent the football-industrial complex that dominates the country is a tall order, but it can be done. Or maybe we're spoiled with the BHOF. How about we demolish the PFHOF and rebuild somewhere else that speaks to the football fan and to the common museum visitor. A tour of the shrine to America's most popular sport should not make you want to finish in under two hours.

This HOF is worth a trip from anywhere.

There's just so much opportunity to make a visitor feel the game, learn the game, and love the game that it's disheartening that doesn't happen here. It's not crazy to think that the NFL could give more money to turn this into something as grand as the league's TV contracts. One can only hope so.

When I visited last month, construction was taking place on a Lamar Hunt Super Bowl gallery, earning me a complimentary return pass to use before December 31. But really, why return when it'll fall in line with everything else the PFHOF has to offer.

Not enough.

Hitting For The Religious Wedding Cycle

2009-07-26T16:57:00.002-04:00

Over the last month I attended a Jewish wedding, a Christian wedding, a Hindu wedding, and a Muslim wedding (last night)...completing the 4-week religious wedding cycle. It helped that the Christian and Hindu weddings were for the same couple on the same day...a doubleheader if you will.

The only non-annoying bumper sticker I've ever seen.

Sure there are other religions and beliefs like Buddhism, Atheism, (the equivalent of a no-hitter?), and being Agnostic, but the fact that I haven't found any reference to a religious wedding cycle before, allows me to claim mine as the first. My cycle covers the 3 most populous religions in Christianity, Hindu, and Islam, as well as some of the oldest in Judaism and Hinduism (both BC).

No matter the religion...we all enjoy weddings and say congratulations with the same voice.

Ceremonies lasted as long as 30-45 minutes (Judaism, Christianity, and Hinduism) to not seeing the ceremony for the Muslim wedding. I was in the bridal party for one, corrected programs being handed out for another, and was a casual bystander for the finale. Dinners ranged from chicken to Indian buffet to lots of lamb. The weddings took me from Shaker Heights to the Dulles Hilton and to Princeton. Reception music ranged from 70s disco to DMX to traditional Muslim music from Egypt.

So yeah. The weddings differed quite a bit, but all had one bride and one groom in love and announcing it to the world. And that knows no religious difference.

Smyrna, DE...Ain't So Bad For A Saturday

2009-07-19T20:55:00.001-04:00

In event 4 of our series following the Wife's triathlons, we take you to Smyrna, DE, just outside of Dover. Smyrna is a quaint town of 7,500, long regarded for its 490 buildings in the National Register of Historic homes; birthplace of an international lawyer, a country singer, and the last person to be hung in the U.S.; and being 36 feet above sea level (strangely chosen as a fact on the town's web site). Let's go to the videotape (and pictures)!

Lake Como, part of Smyrna's 0.194 square kilometers of water, before the triathlon people take over.

I should've expected this license plate at a race.

I told you the triathlon people were coming.

Killing time while the Wife rode her bike, I snagged this gopher putting hole for $3 at a yard sale...what a steal! For some reason they paid $24.99 for it back in the day. It took all the cash I had on hand so I wasn't able to afford the $0.25 cup of lemonade on the side. The economy's rough, ya know.

The post race spread was a good faith effort for this inaugural event...including sandwiches left in the heat for a few hours...

...Warm watermelon...

...and sun-dried pizza.

We saved our hunger for Sonic down DuPont Highway, as there are none in Maryland.

But not before picking up my latest Manchild toy...a Playstation 3...thumbs up to Delaware's lack of a sales tax.

If I don't find myself playing much PS3 over the next 3 weeks...I'll either return it for a refund or turn it into a George Foreman grill (above).

Porn for foodies continues with onion rings...yum!

Checkout the Wife's hand modeling portfolio entry.

Rollerskating waiters increase efficiency, degree of difficulty, and level of awesomeness.

The Sonic burger with mayo tastes much like a whopper.

The strawberry-banana smoothie was tasty and refreshing!

Maybe we'll return next year and checkout the Smyrna opera house as long as the Sonic is still open of course.

AT&T National = Tony Romo + Jessica Simpson Relationship Killer

2009-07-14T22:07:00.001-04:00

Just a few days after I saw Tony Romo and Jessica Simpson doing the athlete-celebrity thing at the AT&T National, the couple is no more. This isn't such a surprise because they've broken up a million times before according to the Wife's US Weekly. What's bad news for them is good news for me because I can segue smoothly to a belated post about my time at the Pro-Am with my dad. The Wife bought me 2 tickets as a first anniversary (paper) present for him and I.

Onto the pictures!

We went to the pro-am because Tiger doesn't' allow cameras on the course during the tournament. One pro with three amateurs meant you could easily tell whose ball was whose...and in this case it's the one 5 feet from the flag.

Congressional's blue course sure doesn't look like the muni courses I play...the fairways were actually green!

Here's B and T Crowd in action...rocking the sunhat because his dermatologist said so.

Vijay Singh is one tall guy...

...who hits the ball a mile.

Bring your larger bills if you get hungry...$3 for a PB&J!!

Why do all amateurs insist on swinging harder when K.J. Choi's fluid swing shows you don't need to in order to hit it with a slight fade over 300 yards?

Tiger Woods was paired with Tony Romo. With Romo playing with a 2 handicap, he hit just as close as Tiger most of the time.

Tiger let his caddie, a military vet, take his putt for birdie, as did Romo.

Tiger's headcover...sweet! I wonder what it'd get on Ebay.

Tiger's upper back and shoulders looking trim. He was all of 5 feet from me, but somehow, despite sharing cubic centimeters of oxygen together, none of his ability transferred to me. That's right, I breathed his golfing carbon dioxide.

Tiger crushing the ball on #8 after I told him to hurry up with my battery running low. He makes it look so easy and hits the ball so hard and so far that it's just not fair. His tee shots sounded crisper than all the other pros.

Here's what it looks and sounds like from a real videocamera and not my 3.1 MP dinosaur.

Pick your next life...QB for the Cowboys and a great golfer...or the best golfer on the planet and married to a Swedish nanny. I'm taking door #2.

Tiger's event supports military veterans and their families. All members of the military got in for free and were given complimentary food, drinks, etc. in their own pavilion.

Behold, Bruce Boudreau, coach of the Washington Capitals...the only coach in DC whose job is safe.

Jason Campbell missing a putt like his team misses the playoffs...zing!

From a HUI came...

...the Screaming Eagles parachuting onto the first fairway. Replace those divots!

A real celebrity giving an autograph.

Tony, Tiger, and Jessica...Oh my...she's not arm in arm with Tony...gossip!

Jessica looked great and did a decent job singing the National Anthem.

If only I could steal a set of clubs from the putting green.

Putting together a care package for the troops.

I told you it's not fair how good these guys are.

In France It's Called Le Biggest Big Mac In The World

2009-07-07T22:11:00.002-04:00

With time to spare on my way to a wedding in Shaker Heights, OH, this weekend, I visited the only roadside attraction on the Pennsylvania Turnpike...the world's largest Big Mac (exit 67 off I-76).

Despite having eaten a Big Mac maybe once before, I can still appreciate its intrinsic artistic architecture. It's that whole combination of "two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun" with its 29 grams of fat and 1,040 mg of sodium that make it so American.

Yep, the Big Mac has it's own museum in the middle of Pennsylvania. How glorious!

I see something behind that window...could it be???

Yes! There it is...Fast food's version of Michelangelo's "David."

It was big alright, but I was disappointed to find out it wasn't edible.

Imagine my lactose intolerant self eating these cheese slices!

Bow before the great artery clogger.

The grand unveiling!

Just when this waste of 5 minutes of my life couldn't get any better...there were Playstation 1 games!

Is this really the top video on YouTube for "Big Mac?"

Probably not a good thing to make management into bobbleheads.

Sadly, the Big Mac museum was a much better experience than the Pro Football Hall of Fame a few days later.

Ya Gonna Eat Lightning and Crap Thunder

2009-06-28T21:53:00.001-04:00

As I stubbornly push myself too far too early in training for the Marine Corps Marathon, the Wife has decided she'd like to help me reach my goal. It's nice having a training buddy to offer me support and words of encouragement, except when she pretends that the slow bus is coming to pick me up.

Today we traveled along the Rock Creek Park trail that heads to DC. The first few miles we had a nice, casual conversation during which I talk about doing minor home repair jobs I've been putting off. When I'm feeling real ballsy, I talk about finally painting the kitchen and dining room. Never mind those never get done after a run, it's still fun to pretend.

I train like Rocky minus the medicine ball to the abs, one-handed push ups, and the punching. And I run much, much slower.

When we hit my halfway mark it's time for hell to pay a visit in the form of my tired legs. Basically the Wife motivates me out of fear. If you do not maintain a 14-minute pace by mile 19 in the marathon, you will not "beat the bridge" and will be driven to the finish line. As someone just looking to finish, I'm just looking not to be picked up.

Her reverse psychology of psyching me to run faster doesn't start immediately. As my legs become Jell-o, my answers become shorter. Eventually I tell her to only ask yes or no questions. This doesn't sit well with her so she drafts behind me singing, "the slow bus is gonna get you, the slow bus is gonna get you, the slow bus is gonna get you..." to Gloria Estefan's "The Rhythm is Gonna Get You." It's like a weird Al rewrite.

"The slow bus is gonna get you, the slow bus is gonna get you..."

The Wife to me is like Mickey to Rocky, minus the running in snow and throwing punches at frozen butcher cuts. The negative imagery continues as she mixes "slow bus" into other songs culling them from her immense song lyric knowledge, all the while tapping me on the shoulder that the slow bus just caught me. Nothing like not feeling your legs and being told you're too slow to finish the race.

Somehow all of this seems to work because now I run scared, better, and faster. Thanks to the Wife's relentless ~~pushing~~ encouragement, I run plenty fast to ensure no slow bus will ever catch me. I don't want her at the finish line telling me that the slow bus got me.

That's A Potomac River Burp

2009-06-21T17:32:00.005-04:00

The Wife continued her one triathlon per month schedule with today's feat (or is that feet?) through the heart of D.C. Unlike her first two events, this one had some super-ultra-uber-serious triathletes; as in Olympic champions (top 4 men finishers and gold and bronze winners among the women) and world renowned competitors. Today's event was the only North American stop for an 8-city international triathlon tour that brings out the best of the best.

I told you this was a serious competition. The tour's winner gets over $1M.

The Wife did the sprint distances (750M swim (in the Potomac!)/20K bike/5k run), but wants to train for the Olympic distances offered today (1.5K/40K/10K); unfortunately she doesn't have the time to compete in the Pro distances (3K/80K/40K). As usual, the Wife performed when the pressure was on and did really well despite having to nurse a leg injury since 300M into the swim. It's all mind over matter.

For your fun, here's what I saw:

We woke up at 3:30, left the house at 4, and were downtown well before sunrise. And before my camera had enough light for a decent shot.

It's never a positive sign when the debris cleaning boat comes out 30 minutes before the race.

The boat couldn't get to all of the debris.

Nothing like swimming with a water heater upstream.

Participating in the Men's Elite (Olympic distances), DC Mayor Adrian Fenty.

Ooooohhh.....Pretty fireboat rainbow.

The Potomac sure looked murky as usual.

Bacteria levels be damned!

You better run through the shower after swimming in the Potomac! The Wife swallowed enough water to burp it later. Good times.

Fast as fast can be, you'll never catch me!

After I tried and failed to photograph the Wife on the bike, I figured I might as well take a picture of this thing as long as I'm in town.

I'd like to thank the clouds for parting just enough for a few rays to peak through.

The world's greatest high-fiver at Mile 1.

An empty Independence Avenue was awesome.

Coming down the homestretch along Pennsylvania Avenue.

We left as the pros flew by on their bikes.

How Not to See Reese Witherspoon and Owen Wilson Film a Movie in DC

2009-06-17T22:04:00.001-04:00

Like any good worker in DC, I just had to try and catch a glimpse of Reese Witherspoon doing her thing in another chick flick/romantic comedy that I'll be dragged to; tentatively titled "How Do You Know" and directed by James L. Brooks of "Broadcast News" fame. This time Owen Wilson is a Nationals player who woos Reese (I think). Of course it takes a movie to make the Nationals look like winners and to fill the stadium with cheering Washington fans.

For a second, the Wife and I thought about singing "Jackson" at the wedding.

Unfortunately, I spent 15 minutes of my life standing across from the National Gallery to see either actor to no avail. So what follows are my celebrityless shots, mixed in with celebrity pictures taken by others with better lenses and more time to get better angles. Sorry, but I do have to get home to make dinner at a reasonable hour.

Somewhere, behind the tents, staff, and light sheets, Reese was there...I think.

Yep! There she is! (thanks to comingsoon)

Reese walks with purpose...like DC workers trying to clock in for the day.

Warning, you might be in the movie if you stand here...

...that is unless this bottom of the barrel production assistant has his way. Those shades made him look so Hollywood...his college English professor style and super power trip makes him so much awesomer than everything. At least the other PAs I spoke with were cool.

These extras must have done their walks 15 times while I was there. It isn't so glamorous.

The only acting I saw. Just breathtaking work on my part, I know.

Would Reese dare to wear anything from this rack?

Yesterday, Reese ran on the Mall just like me!

Reese (or her character) shows me that it's okay, even for beautiful people, to (fake) vomit from a tough run on the Mall. Nevermind that the Mall is totally flat.

And action!

Crime Reporters Look Sooooo Tough

2009-06-14T21:37:00.001-04:00

The latest media frivolity to irk me enough to waste Google's blogging space is how crime & punishment/crime & justice/law & order reporters pose like they're really tough. Making yourself seem like a bully dressed in business casual clothes isn't fooling anyone. How about you just, I don't know, report the story and let it stand on its own? This is found in the dying field that is newspaper reporting as well as news for lazy thinkers that is your local news broadcast.

Is it too much to ask these guys to just have their pictures taken without them trying be all tough? No study has shown a relation between taking an aggressive headshot and better writing. Looking strong doesn't mean you're taking a strong stance on crime. It doesn't validate your reporting or make you any more credible. It just makes you look like other crime & justice reporters who are scared.

Crime and justice reporters have nothing on NKOTB when it comes to being the toughest. Are you tough enough?

For your amusement, I present an assortment of these tough guys and gals on crime who "are working for you," "are on your side," and "are taking on the big guys" so "you're not scammed." I'm not judging what they write (because I haven't read any of their work), but how they're presented.

Peter Hermann (Baltimore Sun) - Just about the most pensive crossed arm stance you can take. This actually makes him look scared instead of tough. Would it have killed him to iron his khakis? How about buying a pair that's the right length for your inseam? I don't iron mine, but for the one day when I'd have my picture taken I would have found one, damnit. Also, the Sun's art department did him no favors shrinking his head.

Amanda Lamb (WRAL-TV (North Carolina)) - An innocent picture because it lacks arm crossing, but a closer look reveals an aggressive facial contortion asking if you wanna fight. "Come on punk, just try me." Resting her head on the bent arm and fist says she means business. Of course she just had to be shot in front of a brick wall as if she's always on the street looking for stories. Excellent makeup foundation work though.

Freeman Klopott and Scott McCabe (Washington Examiner) - I love the dual crossed arms! It's so intense. And the way Freeman (I think he's on the left) rolled up his sleeves shows you how hard he's working...that's right, so hard he had to roll them up! They sure look pissed off and serious about reporting crime. No smiles here. If the Examiner was as serious about reporter posing as these guys show, it could at least increase their picture's resolution.

Carrie Petersen (Albany (Oregon) Democrat Herald) - Proof that not every crime beat reporter has to intimidate readers for visual validity. Oh my gosh, she's actually smiling in her profile picture! And what's that? She's in the newsroom! How will the Democrat Herald ever get people to read her crime reports? Oh that's right, they'll read it because of its quality.

Metro’s Dumb Rider of the Year Award Nominee

2009-06-12T22:53:00.001-04:00

On today’s red line trip toward Silver Spring, I saw the first nominee for Metro’s Dumb Rider of the Year Award. We stopped at Metro Center around 6:45 this morning. After the usual shuffling of people getting off, the wave of riders coming onboard made their way, being reminded to “use all available doors.” Despite that, they kept packing themselves through the middle door of my middle car. Nevermind they were also told repeatedly that a near empty train with available seats would follow a minute later.

I say let's replace doors with saws to teach people not to take their chances when doors are closing. And yes, that's my not-so-handy photoediting.

As I sat comfortably in my front row seat, I heard the warning “doo-doo doo-doo” chime that the doors were about to close. The conductor reminded those on the platform that the doors were closing. Finally, the automated announcement also warned folks that “the doors are about to close.” All of this means that the doors were about to close, got it?

Apparently not everyone did.

Coming to the car door was someone who I can only assume was not a tourist, as she lacked the fanny pack, camera, hat, shorts, and T-shirt that are only worn by tourists on the Metro during rush hour. Despite the closing door warnings, she lurched toward the opening only to have the doors close on her.

At 1:05 of this Metro advice video, you see what happens when your limbs are in the way of the closing doors.

As she leaned in like a sprinter at the finish line, the doors brushed her shoulders and began putting the squeeze on her. With the doors halfway closed (or opened depending on your outlook on life), the conductor reopened them to let her retain some limbs for the ride.

Remember, “Metro doors don’t work like elevator doors,” so says the lady from the speakers.

What makes her different from other stupid Metro riders?

She was pushing a baby in a stroller! The stroller made it on first with ease, meaning this mother was almost separated from her baby!

Come on people.

You know the doors don’t play around, yet you continue to push your luck. It’s stupid. I even sat there calling her stupid for trying. There’s nothing other riders can do to help a squeezed person until they want to risk losing a finger when the doors close quickly.

You deserve to lose that baby, ummm, I mean bag.

I know it’s wrong to criticize another parent, but in this case it’s fair to be wrong…don’t put yourself in a position that may sever you from your baby. After the umbilical cord’s cut, it’s up to you make sure you're together…don’t make it any harder than it needs to be.

Our First Anniversary: Cops, Crabs, and Cake

2009-06-04T22:00:00.009-04:00

“Hi, I’d like to report an unspent 9mm bullet in my parking lot,” said the Wife.

And so began our first anniversary celebration night.

Happy Anniversary!

Despite an abundance of choices for a romantic celebratory dinner, the Wife wanted good’ol Maryland crabs. I suggested the site of our engagement or some of our old favorites throughout MoCo and DC, but she wanted crabs. Ever the gentleman, I obliged for our first crab feast of the season.

It's time to admit it..just eating crabs for a meal is a waste so just order 3 for the "experience" and then get some real food off the menu.

We went to the Bethesda Crab House after our first choice, Steam N' Blues, apparently closed in the 5 years since we went there for dinner with my dedicated midwest reader and her husband. We did two all-you-can-eats and it was fine for $35/each, but nothing special considering they were the small crabs you’d expect with the our choice. The Dancing Crab a few miles south is a much better choice because its menu actually has other things to eat that will fill you up, but we were starving.

I nabbed flowers and vase thanks to a quick trip to Giant before dinner.

Not really stuffed from corn on the cob and a silo of sodium, I drove us home while the Wife called the cops. One of the younger, rookie-looking cops swung by and gave a good'ol police knock on our door. The Wife handed him the bullet, letting him know it's not hers nor does she know whose it could be. He simply said the police were just going to melt it down. I was hoping he'd say they'd do CSI forensics on it and match it up to a cold case. It'd be a sexier story at least.

The cake looked great until the Wife bit into it!

After our run-in with the law it was time to chowdown on our first anniversary cake thanks to Sugarbakers. By buying our wedding cake there we got a replica of our cake top a year later. It sure was good! The cake lasted us these last few nights before we had had our fill of buttercream and rasberry amarreto.

The first anniversary gift is paper so I renewed the Wife's Us Weekly subscription. How kind of me.

Oh yeah, I can't believe how fast time flew since the wedding...we're off to a great start...here's to many more anniversaries...and other cliches I'm supposed to say.

Another Weekend, Another Triathlon

2009-05-31T19:03:00.001-04:00

A 4 AM wakeup call, an hour of driving into BFE/the sticks/Carroll County, and 8 hard boiled eggs later, we had arrived for the Wife's 2nd sprint triathlon. It was held at Cascade Lake that offered her first taste of an open water swim. This event, now in its 2nd year, had a 500M swim, 15-mile bike ride, and 5k run. It was a step up from her first triathlon at Georgetown Prep and she was up to the challenge.

Thanks to the GPS, I found my way along pitch black back roads before enjoying a drive on Georgia Avenue for 25 miles as the sun rose. Meanwhile, the Wife fueled herself with eggs, coffee (to counteract Benadryl), and water before a 45-minute nap. We arrived on time and I, as her support team, got her ready to go with pre-race shenanigans. Her goal was to finish and that she did.

A photo gallery of the experience:

Race officials, having fallen short of volunteers, employed llamas to direct parking. Watch for the spit if you don't follow directions!

Upper 50s and occasional rain an hour before the start gave everyone a reason to complain and contemplate not racing, but the sky cleared and conditions were perfect for the race.

All racers were marked with Ocean City Henna tattoos or their bib numbers, I'm not quite sure.

How were times noted before timing chips existed?

The race started at 7; only problem was it wasn't supposed to start for another 5 minutes...

...so the first wave had to swim back to the start line; chalk it up to race growing pains.

My not-so-high-speed camera caught this arm, but not the body with it.

Wetsuits were key to surviving water temps in the upper 60s.

Bikers mounted and were on their way for a grueling 15-mile ride through rolling farmland hills. Scenic? Sure. Long, steep climbs? Absolutely.

Watch for that barbed wire on the bottom!

Carroll County...home to agriculture and whose most famous residents are ultra-patriot Francis Scott Key and communist spy Whittaker Chambers...who says the 96% white county has no diversity?

Carroll County was used in "Runaway Bride," not that that makes you want to watch a Julia Roberts movie.

Suggested improvement #1...make sure the fire trucks don't block the driveway for bikers as they temporarily did in backing them up. I'm pretty sure the lead racer didn't appreciate having to go around them.

There were some super-serious triathletes today, like the leader here, with ultralight frames, very thin tires, and aerodynamic helmets. The Wife saw many blown thin tires.

The 5k was flat except for the final 200 meters.

Part one of a sadistic uphill at the very end.

A final left for part two of the uphill to the finish. Suggested improvement #2...improve the marking for the first 1/4 mile of the run and make sure spectators stay out of the way. The Wife had to dropkick several people who walked on the unmarked downhill part.

Suggested improvement #3...The race should have competitors finish down a waterslide.

Suggested improvement #4...have enough water at the finish. The Wife looked for bottled water, but the ice coolers (really garbage cans) only offered ice and cans of Coca-cola. How about not offering soda at the finish line and buying more water? Soda's about the last thing you need after a race.

With the race over, the Wife and I avoided plenty of llama land mines in the parking field and were on our way home.

Off to the next triathlon for the Wife!

The Secret To Shopping At Victoria's Secret

2009-05-26T10:29:00.000-04:00

With the Wife fortunate enough to land herself a paid summer internship, we had to buy some suits so she'd look like, ya know, a lawyer. We went to Lakeforest Mall, a mall that'll never be confused with Montgomery Mall, to see what it offered. While perusing the stores (finding suits at The Limited), the Wife just had to visit Victoria's Secret. Ever full of bravado, ever hyper self-aware, and ever married, I ventured in with her.

I could have stayed outside and waited for her to buy what she needed. I could have stayed outside and looked at HDTVs. I could have stayed outside and stuffed my face with sample "chicken" or "beef" from the food court, nevermind they all taste the same.

But no. I went inside. Dead Man Walking.

Seems like Victoria's Secret has a new line of bras, for Heidi Klum to model, every 6 months that's always the softest, highest lifting one yet.

Victoria's Secret is littered with relationship killing land mines. It just begs couples to enter together and leave alone. It dares you to guess at your SO's sizes...guess too small and she feels bad having to look for a larger size or guess too large and she's even more insulted you thought she was THAT size. If she asks you what you think of something on her and you don't like it, she'll ask you why. You don't want to go there. Deflect and move on like a politician.

I felt seedy being in the store when other women were shopping for their unmentionables. As far as I could tell none of them gave me the evil eye thanks to it being clear that I was with the Wife. But still. Other women were looking at underwear and here I was avoiding eye contact and looking at the floor. I'm sure they didn't want me looking at them then looking at the bras on the rack and putting two and two together.

There's implied X-ray vision when you're the lone guy in the store. Don't be that guy.

Then I started to wonder how Victoria's Secret workers (VSWs) feel at the store. When dealing with another woman it's quite professional and unawkward (if that word exists). Yet, if I went in alone, looking for something special, but didn't know the Wife's sizes, I'd have to use the VSW as a prop. It's not like you can use a half-torso mannequin.

It's like throwing yourself to the wolves...errrr...angels.

Just how do you do that without insulting the VSW or your wife? When you insult one, it's a left-handed compliment for the other. You say someone has a smaller/larger/thinner/curvier "insert what you want here" and the other receives a compliment or insult. Plus, it's awkward just talking to a stranger about what you're buying. 30 seconds ago you were just a random mall shopper; now you're buying something to get laid.

I suppose a conversation would go like this (having always visited with the Wife):

Average Joe (who's not B and T Crowd!): Hi, I'm looking to buy something nice for my wife.

VSW: Great, I'm happy to help. What are you looking for? (Nothing like helping a guy buy something so he can sex-up his wife. It's like buying condoms at Target. We all know what's going down (zing!) or up (double zing!).)

Joe: Thanks. I'm looking for, um, uh, some lingerie. ("Lingerie's" French origin makes it easier to say than "clothes the wife will use to tease me when we, ya know, bump uglies.")

NYC's flagship store opening did not employ everyday VSWs.

VSW: Ok, are you looking for a teddy, bra and panty set, something in lace? (Nothing like asking a stranger what his fetishes are. I love recapping my day at work, "oh honey it was great, I helped this one guy buy stuff so his fantasy would come to life.")

Joe: I don't know her sizes. I guess she likes two-piece things. (Actually, it's all about what I like on her.)

VSW: Ok, we have a lot to choose from. (And I know this purchase is about your happiness and not her's you selfish POS.) How large is her chest? (Cue immediate staring at my chest.)

Joe (pulling eyes up from VSW's chest): I don't know how to describe this. I guess it's kind of like that brunette VSW over there. (I won't make my VSW an object, I'll just objectify her fellow VSW. So slick.)

Even everyone's favorite non-prude, Barney, is uncomfortable with Victoria's Secret.

VSW: Um, ok, so your wife's about average. (Calling her average doesn't insult her nor me, but marrying this guy makes her stupid.)

Joe: I like this rack over here. (I'm so funny making that joke at Victoria's Secret!).

VSW: Let's see what's there (What a douche! Like he's the first to make that pun. I feel sorry for his wife.)

Joe: I really think she'd like this. (Forget her, it's my eyes that matter.)

VSW: Ok, this bra should support her well enough, but what about the bottom? (Cue immediate staring at my ass.)

Joe (pulling eyes up from VSW's butt): For the bottom, I guess I'd say it's like yours. (Who says guys don't compliment women enough?)

VSW: Well let's go with the average woman's size. (Thanks for objectifying me and measuring my bottom half with your wife's, assclown).

Joe: Thanks for your help today. (Because I'm so close to my wife that I don't know her sizes nor was I smart enough to look for them before leaving.)

VSW: My pleasure (I hope your wife leaves you tomorrow because those clothes won't fit her well enough, won't make her feel comfortable (i.e. sexy), and won't get you anywhere. May you have blue balls forever.)

Take that Rockettes!

It's a lose-lose proposition going to Victoria's Secret unless you're comfortable with your SO. Jerry Seinfeld claimed the ultimate relationship test was airport transportation. I disagree. Anybody can do the airport pickup and dropoff, but nobody can shop at Victoria's Secret with or without your SO and exit without internal bleeding.

The secret to Victoria's Secret shopping is to buy the SO a gift card. Just don't ask for advice on which one to choose.

Pizza Hut's Latest Ad Is A Crime Against Humanity

2009-05-24T19:00:00.002-04:00

Despite my best efforts with Tivo, sometimes I end up watching TV as it airs and catch a commercial or two. The experience is only made worse when I catch one of Pizza Hut's commercials for its line of, most assuredly, craptacular pasta meals. I take issue with its premise, legality, and ability to insult viewers.

Count your blessings if you haven't noticed this ad. Here's the plot: Pizza Hut takes a blindfolded family out to an Italian restaurant only to instead have them return home and eat Pizza Hut pasta meals at at their dining room table. It's so clever! After removing their blindfolds the family members are amazed they're eating Pizza Hut pasta and proceed to feign happiness for the taste.

Come to Pizza Huts in India for Bhangra dancing, not good food.

The entire premise is a hoax. No matter how dumb Americans are, no matter how desperate they are for money (appearance fees), and no matter how hungry they are for fame, nobody would agree to be in a Pizza Hut commercial after being fooled. Actually, those are all reasons why they'd agree to be in the commercial. That is, if they aren't the actors we know they are.

Anyway. Let's say they're ordinary people. Why would you agree to be blindfolded and taken out of your house to a restaurant? How would you know to trust the people to take you as promised? Hello! You're agreeing to be kidnapped out of your home for a free meal! WTF? Oh sure, just make sure you lock up when we leave into your unmarked van at night and don't forget to walk the dog.

This is how a real taste test of Pizza Hut's awful pasta would go.

Let's say the blindfoldees locked their house and then had their blindfolds placed over their eyes. The van they're taken in drives around the block only to return them to their home. In the ad they're taken back to their dining room table with blindfolds still on. Does this mean they let themselves back inside? That destroys the premise of any natural surprise of eating at home instead of the restaurant because they'd, well, know their at home. If they went to a restaurant, wouldn't they hear lots of people talking and noise from plates and silverware clanging?

Don't tell me they trusted their kidnappers with their keys. If you agree to be kidnapped to a restaurant you'd have no need to give them the keys because you're just taking the blindfold off before you leave the restaurant. Call me crazy (or pathetic for overthinking this commercial), but whenever I agree to be kidnapped for a restaurant taste test, I'm holding onto my keys and wallet, but I'm losing plenty of dignity. Pizza Hut crime #1: Kidnapping an entire ~~group of actors~~ middle class family.

Almost 65 years after this "pudding and gelatin dessert" taste test by Consumer Reports, Pizza Hut destroys the blindfold industry's reputation.

It's better if you suppose the "family" held onto its keys. This means the only way for Pizza Hut to get the family back inside with blindfolds on was to break into the house. It doesn't take being married to a second-year law student to know that this is breaking and entering (crime #2). I suppose Pizza Hut broke into the house while they family was in the van. Plausible? Not really, but let's go with it.

The family is then directed back up its walkway, something they'd recognize for sure. What restaurant has a generic suburbia stone path from a driveway? The family is now back at home at their dining room table. You'd think they'd recognize the chairs they're sitting on, maybe the table they're leaning on. How about the smell of the house and familiar floor creaks? Of course not, that would make too much sense.

Why order a meatlovers pizza when you can't identify the meat?

They sit down and try the processed pasta and what do you know, but they manage not to instantly regurgitate it back on their plates. It's a miracle! They say things like it tastes better than manure, has less flies in it than roadkill, and smells like milk left in the sun for a week. I can't wait to order.

Of course there's the big reveal when the blindfolds are raised and they're all shocked it's from Pizza Hut yet they're at home. I'd be pissed off that Pizza Hut kidnapped my family only to break and enter into my house and serve me "pasta" from a company whose pizza tastes like cardboard. How about instead of being "wowed" by the taste, you get angry that these strangers are you in your house and have placed several hidden cameras everywhere. Have you checked your bathrooms for video outputs?

Just perfect.

The commercial's entire premise is awful. Who are the advertising wizards who thought of this one? Who would even buy their pasta from Pizza Hut? A company competing in the pizza-tastes-like-cardboard category against the likes of Dominoes, Papa Johns, and Cici's (the best of the lame choices). Making your own pasta is cheaper, healthier, and an easy way to decrease criminal activity in your neighborhood.

I Use An F-16 Figher Jet For My Alarm Clock

2009-05-19T21:55:00.000-04:00

I'd like to thank the North American Aerospace Defense Command (NAADC) for waking me up this morning at 4:30. Sure, my alarm wasn't supposed to go off for another hour and 15 minutes, but it was soooooo cool to be awoken by the thunder of F-16s flying 5,000 feet above my bed!

The NAADC's newest lineup of alarm clocks come in one shape, one color, and plenty of bone rattling afterburners to wake you up out of fear.

Anybody can use a dinky little alarm or radio to get themselves out of bed, but I got two F-16s! And best of all, I had no idea it was going to happen...what a great surprise! I planned to rise at 4:30, but somehow the NAADC just knew I was better off without the extra sleep to start my day. The government sure knows me better than I know myself.

I'm gonna guess that the two Cessna Civil Air Patrol planes and single Coast Guard helicopter were a little overmatched flying with the F-16.

When I awoke I heard this great rumbling, but in my stupor I remembered it wasn't supposed to rain for a few more days so it wasn't thunder. Yet it kept getting louder. I thought it could have been practice F-16 flights, but didn't think they'd do them early enough to wake everyone along I-270. Alas, I was right and wrong. Best of all they're doing it again during the same midnight to 6 AM window tomorrow morning!

Living close to DC means the occasional 700 MPH F-16 flyby wakeup thunder.

I missed a lot of things about MoCo, but this was not one of them. So a big thank you goes out to the NAADC for giving me an involuntary wakeup call with fighter jets. It's so much awseomer than sleeping the entire night and waking up when I want to with my dinky alarm clock. I can't wait for it to happen again tomorrow.