Christmas Recap - Part 1

Christmas has come and gone and here's how things went down in our neighborhood.

In my last post I detailed the Friday the 17th where Gwen and I went out and gorged ourselves on delicious beast flesh. The following night was our annual "Holiday Party" with our local group of San Diego friends. But as the term 'Holiday Party' is so generic, and at the risk of being labeled un-PC jerks, we went ahead and claimed our party as our own, naming it what we really felt:

The Mon Mothma Kwanzaa Blowout Celebration 2010.

"Many Bothans died to bring you the best damn holiday party of 2010!"

Many Bothans died to bring us that party - hell we killed a few just naming the event come to think of it. In fact turns out whole multitudes of Bothans were slaughtered again and again in the planning, execution, and clean-up phases. So high was the body count that eventually even that joke was killed. Barely. But it was worth it, to get together with friends and celebrate our deeply rooted African heritage.

The party was as usual a blast. Gwen and I hosted for the first time seeing as how Eryn and Trisha conveniently skipped town permanently to London to avoid hosting. There was no trash-talking Crossbows and Catapults sessions, as in years past, but there was the annual Secret Santa gift exchange complete with international web-cam Skype sessions straight to London. Iwan turned out to be my Secret Santa, and he got me the Predator "Ultimate Hunter" Blu Ray DVD with the didn't-really-need-to-be-said caveat that "When something comes in an "Ultimate Hunter" edition, I buy it for my friends because that's my policy" - a proper sentiment by all accounts. I also got a "Big Cheese Pizza" T-shirt deservedly making fun of my pescatarian ways, and a Best Buy gift certificate which I intend to use to purchase something to help me waste more time, because I need that.

The majority of the party was a delightful affair characterized by delicious, if too much, food, good conversation and warm company. It was, as it is every year, a marvelous time. By the time most decent people left it was down to Iwan, Little Buhr, and myself, and the real drinking began. We ended up playing the Wii until all hours of the night after doing shots for Gwen's official birthday which arrived at midnight. We played Super Mario Bros. Wii on the cooperative setting, though the the term 'cooperative' was misleading as we were quick to flagellate one another when someone screwed up. At some point a "shots for failure" policy was initiated, which eventually took its toll on all of us.

The night ended when we decided to switch up games and play some NBA Jam, only I couldn't quite exchange the discs because it was frankly too hard at that point in my alcohol consumption and fatigue cycle and I preferred to simply pass out with the process half-way finished. I collapsed onto the rug with the NBA Jam disc still in my hand as if I had been shot by a sniper while trying to make the switch. Iwan likewise clocked out on the couch, and Justin, left awake and staring at the lifeless bodies of his two friends, quickly followed suit. It was perhaps 4 am.

I woke up at maybe 6 am with a face full of carpet and hauled myself upstairs to bed. When I awoke again at 7:45 am, freaking out because it was my morning to walk the dog, I was still fairly intoxicated. I ran downstairs but Gwen was already up and out with the dog - she had, bless her, sensed my imminent uselessness that morning. I trudged back upstairs and went back to bed.

The next time I awoke it was 11 o'clock and all I could think was, "Oh God, I'm missing football - I'm missing Giants vs. Eagles!". I ran downstairs, slightly less drunk but infinitely more hungover and assumed the position in front of multiple TVs.

The Giants were up 24-3 or something, late second quarter. Hey, this wasn't going to be half-bad. Nice work boys, let's wrap up the NFC East! Well, it didn't turn out like that, and over the next few hours the second half evolved into one of the three worst losses I have ever experienced with my G-Men (thank God we had the 2000 Super Bowl as a buffer), as Michael Vick "activated" like a Tecmo Bowl player and went ape all over the field, amassing 21 points in 6 minutes or something ridiculous. Neither the dog (on principle), my dad (Tom Coughlin is expressly forbidden from ever entering our house) or I were happy with the result.

By the time DeSean Fuckface Jackson returned that dreaded punt for the final touchdown, my hangover had reached its apex and as he crested the goal line, skirting near it but not crossing it, and as he pumped his fist in celebration, each pump hit me like a hammer to the temple and a dagger to the heart.

Desean Jackson - Talented Receiver, Full-Fledged Asshole

The Eagles won, and the rest is history. The next few days, despite being in the middle of what is classically known as "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year", I was in a funk. As bad as my gameday hangover was during the game, it actually protected me in some bizarro fashion by limiting my ability to process what I had seen. The next few days things got worse. I couldn't believe the collapse - it literally depressed me - and I had to tune out all football.

My normal routine of NFL blogs, websites, and podcasts was shunned and I just sort of went through the week in a fog wishing that the football season would just be over. But alas, it wasn't, and frankly the Giants weren't yet done sucking.

The week dragged, but I slowly climbed out of it, and then Christmas arrived.


Continued in Part 2 Coming Soon!

Beef - It's what for Dinner, well just this one night

For those of you who actually continue to refresh this site, please know that I do, too.

And for the record, I remain overwhelmed at the concept of bring this blog back online full time. As each week passes it seems like six new bloggable events happen, and I swear each time a week does go by I feel like I'm going to sit down and slap up one giant monster post to encompass it all.. And guess what? It hasn't happened.

Seeing as that plan has consistently failed, I've decided to start smaller, with one event at a time. Like the following...

Last Friday night I took Gwen out for her birthday dinner, and the two of us decided that this would be our grand occasion to have steak. It had been over a year and a half since I had last eaten any "meat" of any kind that wasn't fish. Oh sure, I'd found a bacon bit or two in the "corn chowder" at work once (which was probably derived from chicken stock come to think of it), but on the the whole I had seriously avoided any significant chunk of non-aquatic meat of any kind for a fairly long time.

I became a "Pescatarian" for health reasons, mostly, and I'm pretty sure Gwen followed suit with the same intentions. Given my job and the amount of obesity and poor overall health I'm exposed to, I became interested in and started researching more about nutrition. I still don't know what the perfect diet is, but from research I can tell you it's mostly vegetables, fruits, and natural foods. It does not exclude meat, I think, but it does limit it, and I do think that fish is best, followed by lean meats (fowl/pork), followed lastly by dairy and beef. And the biggest thing anyone can do is to reduce refined, processed sugars. That stuff is the devil, and it's everywhere, and though I try to cut down I still eat too much, but I digress. Back to meat.

As a personality type, I'm not a great moderator. Meaning that I couldn't just give up meat partially. If I did that, I would start strong, then lapse a little, then a little more, and then finally I'd be having a flash fried buffalo off a spit every night of the week. It's not that I don't like meat, it's that I know I couldn't limit meat. So I gave it up.


And for the most part, I've been pretty happy with that decision. With the amount of fish options in Southern California, I barely even feel like a "vegetarian", which I guess I'm not. I don't miss chicken, turkey, pork, chuck, lamb or low grade meats. I don't miss any of it, actually. Except steak.

I do miss steak on occasion. Steak is tender. Steak is good. Me like steak.

And so, Gwen and I went last Friday, on a mission, to Cowboy Star, a relatively new steakhouse in downtown San Diego. The reviews on yelp were good, there was an acclaimed butcher shop attached to the restaurant, and the time had come. We sat down, spoke with the friendly wait staff, and proceeded to order steak.

We ordered a 40 oz. Porterhouse for two, and man was it good. Soft, tender, carnivor-ific. Halfway through the meal I found myself pushing the vegetables and potatoes - my new bread and butter at dinner - the hell out of the way to make more room for more meat.

I enjoyed every bite. We finished the meal stuffed, wrapped up a bottle wine, enjoyed Gwen's free birthday chocolate lava dessert, and headed home.

Until next year, steak.

New Look

I haven't been here in a while but have been thinking about firing this place up again. There's so much going on in the past year it seems almost foolish not to post every now and again.

The first step is to try a new look, and I've gotten that far. I view it like cleaning off an old work desk before starting a new project.

So now the desk is clear, and I suppose it's time to get down to work.

But first - a picture of a bear!

Bad Day in the Stup/Brophy House

LT continues to destroy any childhood idolization I had of him. As if repeated crack offenses or leaving the scene of an accident weren't enough, now he's gone ahead and allegedly raped a 16 year old. I could care less if he uses drugs in his spare time. Leaving the scene of accident? That's pretty lame. But rape? Yikes.

That's it, I'm finally tearing my posters off the wall. Harry Carson, you're in.


And poor Gwen has yet to decide what to do with her Roethlisberger jersey. Check out this Sports Illustrated Article. Turns out Big Ben is more or less a Grade A Douche Bag. I've never been so happy we drafted Eli Manning instead.

"South Africans battle baboons in city streets"

This is a pretty typical headline these days, and it certainly piqued my interest while browsing cnn.com this afternoon. In fact, before I make fun of just how ridiculous and exaggerated this headline is, I really should give pause and think of how well it worked on me. Damn those marketing guys are good.

I read a lot of science/fantasy fiction, and so when I see a headline like this, I immediately think of an unchecked ARMY of baboons, led by a grizzled gray-haired elder baboon (presumably with an eye patch), brandishing makeshift clubs, charging into the city, breaking car windows, bashing the hell out of patio furniture, and frenzying en mass to pummel and fling feces at some poor villagers caught in the open, stopping their hellish cavalcade only briefly to let out loud whoops and bare fangs before diving in again.

That is what I imagine, and I don't know why, but I find it hilarious.

So when I watch the video attached to this link:

http://www.cnn.com/2010/WORLD/africa/04/26/baboons.south.africa/index.html?hpt=C2

I feel like I've been duped again by the headlines. It appears the baboon "war" has been slightly exaggerated.


Despite the letdown, I remain amused. What I find funny, even in this video, are the photos of baboons getting into stuff: Baboons running around on the roofs, baboons prying at car door handles as if mid-carjacking, and best of all, one random baboon trying to work a cell phone.

I'm sure some poor bastard left his cell phone lying around outside at some point, only to realize it a moment later after hearing a wild shriek from out on the patio. He probably ran outside, already too too late but just in time to see some red-assed baboon sprinting the other direction, whooping it up with his new toy.

Then, I imagine with glee, that same guy staring helplessly as the baboon sat down and tried to work the thing from the safety of a large rock it had just scampered up.

"Hey Joe, what's going on?"

Angry point...

"That baboon stole my phone!"

That is hilarious to me, and made no less comical by the fact that the word "baboon" is inherently amusing in itself. It seems to imply by its very phonetics an aggressive yet impish primate who loves to get in to shit and then promptly whoop it up.


I for one, greet this "battle with baboons", with open arms.






I can't believe much the owner of that phone was schooled by this baboon. And how awesome would it be if this baboon took a picture of its junk and texted it to all the contacts on the phone?

Unfortunately, Gandalf escaped....

Here are a couple of links detailing an especially ridiculous situation in our present day world.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/8598134.stm

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=121715788&ps=cprs


A TV personality in Saudi Arabia, daring to "predict the future", is accused of sorcery and sentenced to death.

It's almost as if Saudi Arabian authorities are doing The Onion's job for them.

When I read something like this, the cynical part of me is left wondering what sort of awful place Saudi Arabia (where God forbid you open a woman's fitness club) will devolve into once the world could care less about its oil, its main source of income dries up, and the its leaders become poor while its masses stay uneducated and become angry. Oh right, it will probably turn into most of the other parts of the middle east.

On the other hand, the slightly giddy part of me focuses on the concept that a country, in our world, today, in 2010, on earth, actually has a section in its law articles referring to "sorcery", and details it as a crime. In some ways, I must admit, this is actually kinda awesome. (As long as you don't actually live there I mean.)

Here is a picture of Ali Hussain Sibat, a Lebanese man, host of a radio show where he "sometimes predicted the future", who currently stands accused of first degree sorcery:




According to the prosecution this is a photo of Sibat in the studio during a recording session:






It turns out the Saudi Arabians are very good at this sort of thing. According to the CSI Saudi Arabia show (Theme Song: Pinball Wizard) pilot, the crack team struck a deal with the finally captured Merlin - now he works FOR them. (The chemistry between Merlin and the cool-as-ice, besunglassed, one-line maestro team leader is reportedly AWESOME.) With Merlin's help, turns out CSI Saudi Arabia almost always get their man:





Captured at Orthanc








Caught but sacrificed himself rather than be taken alive





Crazy old man thought dead, but reportedly now more powerful than Arabian David Caruso can possibly imagine





Captured, let off on brilliantly played "Enchanter Technicality" defense, now at large





Evaded capture, last seen heading to Gray Havens. (Gwendolyn Brophy found nearby, crying.)

This guy and I could be friends

This quote, from a related article, was amusing to me:

"When asked about the inevitable "Grizzly Man" comparisons, Anderson is quick to point out differences between himself and the ill-fated Timothy Treadwell. "We are two men with the same passion," he told National Geographic. "But we practice that passion in a very different way. Wild bears are not particularly fond of humans, and for good reason. So imposing myself upon wild bears seems, to me, very foolish."


More importantly, I've longed to discover a piece of evidence to finally convince Gwendolyn just how realistic my dream of a bear-based home security system (four bears, two outside, one upstairs, one downstairs, on rotating shifts) actually is. Looks like I can finally rest my case.

Behold the Power of Unfettered Ignorance Seeking Attention

I'm pretty sure that if you sat down and really tried your hardest to come up with a group more antagonistic to just about everybody in the country, you still couldn't beat the Westboro Baptist Church group, which of course infamously protests at service members' funerals claiming they "deserved" to die because God hates homosexuals.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Westboro_Baptist_Church

Strong work fundamentalists, nice work on helping society along with your message.

In related news, I'm pretty sure this poor Marine's father must be pulling his hair out on a nightly basis.

http://www.cnn.com/2010/CRIME/03/30/westboro.baptist.snyder/index.html?hpt=Sbin


Can you imagine having an actual conversation with one of these Westboro folk'll that didn't involve you awkwardly backing away wide eyed and horrified?


Coming in a distant second is that awesome Michigan militia group, the one that decided that killing a single cop followed by killing a bunch of cops at the subsequent funeral might be a good idea to springboard their movement against the entire Federal Government.

http://www.cnn.com/2010/CRIME/03/31/michigan.militia.hutaree/index.html?iref=allsearch


Why do I feel like their basement meetings talking about their ideology played out like a creepy SNL sketch?

Here is that group's leader:



Why do I also feel like there is a barista at some Michigan Starbucks that has known this guy was crazy for months?

(To a manager) "Dude, that guy came in again today. He ain't right...."

I just know that happened.

Michael Doesn't Blog Here Anymore

I've been staring at this blog for a few weeks now trying to think of a way to dive back in. Not really knowing where to start, I decided to give myself ten good minutes and just type what comes to mind in the hopes of jump starting this thing. We'll see how it goes.

A lot has happened since my last post. A LOT. THAT post was written from the other side of the pond, in my now distant apartment in Kaiserslautern, Germany. THIS post comes to you live from Carlsbad, California. THAT post was written by a soldier. THIS post is being written by a civilian (though still a government worker - only more "DMV" than "Be all you can be".) THAT post, was written by a man about to undergo a lot of transition. THIS post is being written by a man who is living large in routine city. THAT post was written by a man who loved bears. THIS post, well, actually same thing. Bears rule.

And there it is. A lot has changed. A LOT. I'm not going to try and cover it in one fell swoop. Who says I have to? I don't. And I won't. (That's probably what has kept me away for so long - the thinking that I should.) But I will put a few words to the page again, just to get started. And see where things go from there. Hopefully just getting going will make it easier to type the next post, and the next and so on. We shall see.

And there it is - ten minutes is up. (Sad but true. I don't type slow, but I think, write, proofread, and edit slow when it comes to posting here.)

Stick around, maybe I'll surprise you.

(Does anyone still read this thing? I suppose the comments will be the judge of that.)




This guy still knows how to party! (After a Vegas Bachelor Party Summer 2010)