My story begins the afternoon of Thursday, June 11th, 2009.

During a phone conversation, my good friend Mario said to me “Hey man, you’ve got all that cardboard in your garage, why don’t you make a Stanley Cup for the game tomorrow night?”

“I’ll look into it.” I responded.

Now, typically when I say something like that, I mean I will think about it but eventually do nothing. A bit of a procrastinating perfectionist, I rarely carry out these ideas due to general laziness and the irritating
complexity of whatever I conjure up.

I’m not sure what convinced me to start building the Cup on Friday afternoon. Whatever fateful event transpired, I ended up at Wal-Mart, actual dimensions and a sketch of the Stanley Cup scribbled in the notebook in my back pocket, looking at mixing bowls and aluminum foil tape. I left the store satisfied that I would have the necessary materials to make a pretty decent Stanley Cup.

I arrived home and began measuring cardboard, only to realize that my initial design would require FAR more than I was willing to cut. It was time for a new idea. That is when I spotted the trash can. It was in a corner of the garage, out of sight and forgotten, trash long vacant from its interior space. I grabbed a tape measure and found the can to be almost perfect in size. A few seconds with the hacksaw and I was back in business.

An hour and a half, a bowl, a trash can, two rolls of duct tape, a ton of cardboard, some twine, and a roll of aluminum tape later, I was finished. I was now the proud owner of an actual sized, slightly underweight replica of Lord Stanley’s Cup.

It was beautiful.

Standing back and admiring my work, I realized it was nearly time to leave. I grabbed my Pens jersey, and carried the Cup to my car. Much to my dismay, it would not fit when I tried to stand it vertically in the passenger seat. The Cup would have to lay on its side in the back seat for the trip into the city.

After picking up Mario, who was more than impressed with the final design, we headed to the South Side to watch the game at The Library. Those of you not familiar with this particular establishment will need me to clarify by saying that it is a bar/ restaurant with a great selection of good beers and awesome food, not to mention a great place to watch a Penguins game.

Also, I had only watched one game there that the Penguins did not win. Superstition is a powerful force.

I parked the car in my secret South Side spot that is as yet largely undiscovered by the general public. As soon as we took the Cup out of the car and began to walk the three blocks to the bar, it began.

By the time we reached the sidewalk on the far side of the street, we were already getting used to the honks of passing cars, the shouts of “Let’s Go Pens!” from people on the street. We were stopped by people wanting to take pictures with their camera phones, to give out high-fives, and by people who just wanted to touch the Cup.

Rounding the corner onto East Carson Street, the intensity of the excitement began to build. More honks. Screams. Woooo. We decided to take a walk with the Cup before going to the bar. After a few blocks of stopping in front of bar and restaurant windows and open doors to share the Cup, we turned and headed back to the Library to watch the game.

Walking into the bar, we were greeted with rowdy cheers and an enthusiastic round of applause. I handed the cup to the bartender and he placed it behind the bar where it would remain until it was ours to savor.

I don’t think I need to write anything about the game itself. Every Penguin fan knows the cycle of emotions they experienced during those sixty minutes. We all remember how long those last six took. But when that clock hit zero, I grabbed that Cup and was out the door, the Cup raised high above my head, screaming as I ran down Carson Street.

The scene was indescribable. Jubilant chaos and joyous pandemonium.

Absolutely surreal.

A quick pause for a few picture requests from people I’ve never met but who were instantly friends.

In those minutes after the game, as bars emptied and fans poured into the streets, the crowd grew exponentially. I was getting mobbed for the Cup.

Everyone wanted to raise it. I couldn’t blame them. They all deserved this as much as anyone else. I decided to let the Cup go and just follow it with my camera.

While the Cup surfed above the crowd, you could literally see the excitement sweep from face to face as the Cup changed hands. Anyone who was there and was a part of this will remember that scene forever. I am confident in that.

It was then that I began to realize just how truly awesome this was. What an incredible feeling it was to see and be part of such a huge group of people all celebrating together. I can’t help but think my Cup was responsible for just a little bit of that happiness.

The Cup continued its journey west down East Carson.  The crowd continued to grow.

The distance between me and the Cup increased, and so did the craziness of the celebration. It was getting more difficult to take pictures. Most of my shots for the night ended up looking like this. Chaos + Beer + Stanley Cup must always = automatic camera settings. Must remember that for next time.

Eventually, the Cup reversed directions and began to head back toward the Library. I followed from a distance, at the edge of the civilized mosh pit beneath the cup.

As the festivities at that end of the South Side began to die down, more and more people posed for photos next to the cup.

After an hour or so, it was time to head back to the bar with the Cup, which by now, was showing the wear and tear endured during its travels.

Finishing our beers and contemplating the sheer awesomeness of the evening that had just transpired, it was mentioned to us by the owner of the bar that, if I didn’t mind, he would like to have the Cup for a week.

“Of course.”

Why not display the trophy in the bar where the Cup sat for the game? I would return it to the Library on Monday evening.

Now, my story could end right here and still be decent. I feel like I did a pretty great thing and got to make an incredible number of people happy, not to mention took some cool pictures. Awesome. But, that’s not quite the end of this epic.

The Cup spent the weekend sitting at the end of driveways and on porches, receiving countless honks and cheers. But on Monday night, it was time to take the Cup back to the place where it was won. After work, I met Mario at the Library. Once again, the trophy evoked cheers and applause as we carried it in the bar. We handed the Cup to the owner and he placed it where it had stood for the game. All was right with the universe.

I ordered some food and began to enjoy a beverage. Now The Library isn’t a real crazy place. It’s maybe a more mature or sophisticated crowd that hangs out there. By that I mean, it’s not a club, and it’s not some place where frat boys come to get trashed and watch skanks dance on bars. So when this group of people walks into the bar, clearly hammered and very loud, I did what everyone else did and just kind of ignored them.

Then it happened. One of the guys sees the Cup.

“Gimme it! I wanna hold it!”

The owner obliges and hands him the Cup.

At this point, I’m a little uncertain how I feel about this drunk jackass holding my Stanley Cup, but I say nothing and go about my business. Then I hear him say “This is heavier than the real one.”

At this point, I’m thinking, “Who the hell is this clown? What does he know about how much the real Stanley Cup weighs?”

I decide to take a look.  My perspective on this situation changed instantly.

Max fucking Talbot.

Game Seven Superstar.

MY Stanley Cup raised above his head.

Unreal.

He is with Jordan Staal, Kris Letang, and Hal Gill. They get a round of beers, on the house of course, and carry on with their well deserved celebrating.

Along with everyone else, I congratulated them and shared some quick conversation. Before they left, however, I decided to ask a couple of the guys if they would pose for a photo with the cup.

Staal with the Cup.

Talbot with the Cup.

After all of that, I don’t really even know what to say. It’s already been a couple of days but I don’t know that it has all digested yet. I can say with certainty that I won’t be forgetting this anytime soon. I hope maybe you can take a little something from the story as well.

And I almost forgot, if you were part of the festivities on Friday night and you got to share this with me, I would love to hear from you. Same goes if you see yourself in any of the photos. I have much higher quality larger copies that I would be happy to share with you. And if you have any pictures, I’d love to see them as well.

In the meantime, go to the Library sometime this week and check out the Cup. Remember, just one more time, how you felt on Friday night. Thanks for reading.

http://soytuaire.labuat.com/

www.youtube.com/watch?v=xatZgEZ62fU

So, on what would have been his birthday, take a minute to remember Mr. Rogers.  Odds are you watched him as a kid.  His show ran 33 seasons (he was from Latrobe… coincidence?)  During that time, he wore 24 different sweaters.  Why not wear one yourself on this chilly first day of spring.

If you are not using Cooliris to view images on the web, you are really missing out.  I have enabled my site to support this application.  At any time while visiting my site, you can click the Cooliris button to the right of your address bar.  This will take you to the slideshow/gallery.  For those of you who really don’t want to download it, I also created a gallery page with PicLensLite support.  This will be the main image repository for this site.

Go to PicLens Gallery Page

Click the slideshow link at the bottom of the gallery

A simple short film about communication.

Created by Publicis Mojo and @RadicalMedia

Join the Facebook Fan Page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/SIGNS#/…

If you like the soundtrack, you can check out @ http://www.internetdj.com/signs-music

I haven’t added any new content in over a week.  My most sincere apologies to you, my faithful and statistically insignificant readership.  I’ve been working on this new design for some time now.  Feel free to tell me how much it sucks.  I will be adding tons of stuff in the coming days, assuming the new design doesn’t cause the site to spontaneously combust.  We’ll see how it goes.  Also, let me apologize in advance for the scientology ads.  Apparently, when you write “Tom Cruise” on your blog, Google sees an invitation to advertise this crap.

Photo by Colin Purrington

On what would have been the two-hundredth birthday of a man who is one of the most important scientists in history, let’s take a minute to thank Charles Darwin for finally making some sense of things.

The Theory of Evolution by Natural Selection is also a fact.  If you disagree with that, you’re not smart enough to be here in the first place.

It’s amazing to see just how out of touch with reality most Americans are.  Four out of every ten people in this country do not believe in evolution.  That’s like saying 4 out of 10 people don’t believe in gravity.  Europe is clearly intellectually leaps and bounds ahead of us.  Evolution is part of the required curriculum in Great Britain.  In the US, conservatives continue to argue for the teaching of a fairy tale in biology classes, regardless of the fact that it clearly violates the Constitution our country was founded on.  Ugh.

I digress…

In celebration of Darwin’s birthday, I wanted to share some awesome evolution stuff.

Upload your picture and devolve yourself to see what you would have looked like as a human ancestor at Nat Geo

This is what Tom Cruise would look like if he didn’t believe he came from aliens:

Nat Geo also has a really cool gallery of the seven major “missing links” that have been discovered since Darwin published On the Origin of the Species nearly 150 years ago.

Richard Dawkins on Darwin’s Importance:

The Science Channel has a tricky evolution game here :

1847 – Milan, Ohio

On the morning of February 11th, Samuel Ogden “The Iron Shovel” Edison, Junior (left) awoke feeling particularly uninspired.  This fateful lack of creativity would leave an indelible mark on history, as he was unable to furnish his newborn son with an equally incredible moniker; the boy was given the comparatively dull name of Thomas Alva.

It would be many years before little Tommy reached the level of nickname greatness achieved by his father.  Understandably, as a young scarf-wearing fancy-pants, Edison had little success with traditional public education and was forced to begin home-schooling after only three months at school.  Edison also suffered a hearing loss as the result of scarlet fever and recurring ear infections.  Perhaps the future genius should have experimented with more insulating headgear.  Edison would attribute his hearing loss to being struck on the ears by a train conductor when his chemical laboratory in a boxcar caught fire and he was thrown off the train in Smiths Creek, Michigan, along with his apparatus and chemicals.  He later modified the story again to say the injury occurred when the conductor, in helping him onto a moving train, lifted him by the ears.

In a ridiculously desperate self marketing strategy, Edison would save the three year old son of station agent from a runaway train.  This bold career move would land him his first real job, as the man offered to train Edison as a telegraph operator.  Edison would eventually gain employment with Western Union, only to be fired for fiddling with a battery and spilling sulfuric acid onto the floor.  The caustic substance ran down through the floor and on to his boss’ desk.

Broke and unemployed, Edison ended up in the Armpit of America, Elizabeth, NJ.  There, he lived and worked in the basement of a fellow telegraph operator.  It was in this basement that he would create his first inventions, including the stock ticker, an electric vote recorder, and other improvements to the telegraph.  Edison had finally begun his journey toward his own nickname.

In a delicious irony, Edison sold one of his inventions, the quadruplex telegraph, to Western Union.  He then used the funds to construct his industrial research lab in Menlo Park, NJ.  While there, he used the principles of mass production when inventing, eventually coming to hold over 1,000 patents in the United States alone.

When you hear the name, Thomas “The Wizard of Menlo Park” Edison, you probably think “That’s the guy who invented the lightbulb!,” but you’re an idiot.  The incandescent light bulb had already been in development for nearly 30 years by the time Edison was able to  to effectively mass produce an inexpensive, long lasting bulb in 1879.  What you may not know, is that Edison is also credited with a great deal of work on early motion picture technology, particularly the projecting kinetoscope.

The video that follows is a collection of Edison’s early films.  You may recognize the first segment, “The Kiss,” where some guy with an unreal mustache makes out with  a woman who I will generously refer to as one of the ugliest I have ever seen.

First off, a couple of links:
A better way to pay bills.  Worth a try at least?
Hot Chicks with Douchebags -Maybe you’ll see someone you know
Most Bizarre Yearbook Photos and Portraits -Reminds me of highschool

And now some videos

wow. maybe call centers should start requiring their employees to have IQ’s above 85

everything you ever wanted to know about water.  learn some science

are you a skank with feelings of inadequacy?  nsfw

In The Know: Are Reality Shows Setting Unrealistic Standards For Skanks?