Vegas!!

My job search continues...this time to Sin City! I sent in my resume and cover letter this morning for a recent General Manager opening at a course in Las Vegas. Now I absolutely know my boys will totally support this as this means 1) I'll be able to attend the annual baseball draft/spring training trip and 2) they'll have a place to stay when they are out there for weekend getaways/bachelor parties/etc. But let's not get too ahead of ourselves...

In regards to my other inquiries, I heard back from one management company that they had no openings at the time and the Santa Barbara job, as far as I know, is still up in the air. The job closed last Monday and interviews are scheduled in two weeks, so I'm thinking if I haven't heard by the middle of next week, I didn't advance to the interview stage. Again, keep them fingers crossed!

He Busted His Balls Out There

Arizona Diamondback's catcher Chris Snyder landed on the 15-day disabled list today. Reason?

"Left testicular fracture".

Jesus, my boys downstairs hurt just from reading that!

What's with the ridiculously abnormal injuries this year in baseball?

Felix Pie (Chicago Cubs - OF): "twisted testicle"

Carlos Guillen (Detroit Tigers - 1B): "hemorrhoids"

Kaz Matsui (Houston Astros - 2B): "anal fissures"

What's wrong with just disclosing you sprained your ankle and taking a few days off for your balls or ass to heal up?

"Book 'em, Dano!"

The old template for The Year of Joe used to show what music I was listening to and what book I was reading. I've burned through quite a few books in the last two or three months and I also have some recent purchases on deck and in-the-hole, so I thought I'd share them with you, as many make great summer reads, either on a roadtrip, lounging at the pool or just something to do before falling asleep. So without further ado (in chronological order):

I'm a Lebowski, You're a Lebowski by various authors
This is my current book right now. To be honest, I'm only 11 pages in and I can already tell it's gonna be a fun read. Looks like it's a must-own for any Little Lebowski Urban Achiever.

Love Is A Mix Tape by Rob Sheffield
I don't read Rolling Stone and there's no way I can consider myself a music junkie but the book's tagline ("Life and loss, one song at a time") was intriguing and I bought the book shortly after putting together a mix tape for someone. Let me just tell you, the last time I cried when reading a book was I think Flowers for Algernon. Sheffield's remarkably touching memoir about his deceased wife and interweaving their mix tapes within the story was just plain fantastic. I recommend this book for everyone, but if you love music and/or have a thing for mix tapes, this is a no-brainer.

I Love You, Beth Cooper by Larry Doyle
Doyle is a writer for "The Simpsons" and his style of writing isn't for everyone, but I found Beth Cooper to be extremely funny. The sharp dialogue and hilarious sidebars by the third-person narrator made it an enjoyable and easy read. A movie version is in production right now, starring Haden Panettiere.

Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs by Chuck Klosterman
My b.f.f. (yeah, I used it) recommended this to me and his taste in music, film and literature runs parallel with mine, so I bought the book one night at Barnes & Noble and the first day I opened her up, I didn't put the book down until 40 pages had gone by. What a great book! I love pop culture and when you add Klosterman's witty and irreverent humor to the mix, I fell in love with each turning page.

I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell by Tucker Max
A little part of me wishes my blog (and life) was like Tucker Max's book. But then again, I don't drink Absinthe, participate in orgies in Key West, disclose who's given me blowjobs, or start riots at hockey games. I'm a nice guy for cryin' outloud and Tucker Max, as the introduces himself, is "an asshole." He goes on to admit that he gets "excessively drunk at inappropriate times, disregard social norms, indulge every whim, ignore the consequences of my actions, mock idiots and posers, sleep with more women than is safe or reasonable, and just generally act like a raging dickhead." Then again, who wouldn't want to read the adventures of such a person?

Moneyball by Michael Lewis
Fifth year in a row I've read this book in March. I think I'm going to keep reading this book when spring training rolls around. Quite possibly my favorite baseball book of all-time.

My next two reads: Women by Charles Bukowski and A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers.

So what are y'all reading this summer?

My Date With The Homeless Chick

Ever since my car turned into Herbie and decided to open parts of it on it's own, resulting in ending up in the auto shop, I've been car-less for four weeks now. It's really affected my social life, as I've been pretty much stuck at home twittling my thumbs (and other body parts, but that's another blog entry for another day.)

Anywho, since I have no legit modes of getting around the city, I've presently halted my eHarmony matching capabilities. I mean, c'mon, "relies heavily on public transportation" isn't high on many women's preferences. And just when I thought I was going to take a little break from dating, I was set-up on a date last night with a girl through Boner, a mutual friend.

(Before we go any further, yes, his nickname is Boner...as in the character from "Growing Pains". I was introduced to him as "Boner" and yet to referred to him otherwise. His entry in my BlackBerry? Plain and simple "Boner." And if you can try and picture what kind of person goes by Boner...well, that's him. Anyway, Boner is the kind of guy who can set you up with either a really wacked-out girl or someone really cool, which makes sense given that he himself is wacked-out and really cool at the same time. I've seen the girls Boner associates with too. I think they are referred to as "hotties" in parts of the country. Maybe even "knockouts" or dare I suggest "drop dead gorgeous"? I don't know how a guy who gets introduced at social gatherings as "Boner Roback" has access to these women, but he does. And when he offers me a number, I take it...superficial bastard that I am.)

Anyway, Boner told this girl in advance that my car was out of commission currently but it didn't phase her and she told him if I call her, she'll pick me up. Nice!

Pick me up, she did. She had to fly out of town early today so she prefaced the date last night as "just dinner and drinks," which was totally cool with me. The date went really well, as a matter of fact, but my neurotic self did have a kinda weird gut feeling during this exchange over the harvest spring rolls:

Me: "So where do you live?"

Her: "I don't really live anywhere..."

Me: "What do you mean you don't 'live anywhere'?"

Her: "Well, I kinda stay with people, friends. Like now I'm staying with a friend in La Mesa right now."

Me: "I see."

Her: "I guess you could say I'm homeless."

Me: "Ummm, okay...do you have a shopping cart or something like that?"

Her: (laughs) "No. I'm really just in between places right now."

Me: "How long have you been looking?'

Her: "Six years."

Thanks a lot, Boner.

"...'cuz it's just another day in the life of a goddamn boss"

Went to a party last night thrown by a couple of co-workers...an "all-white" party to be exact. No, not some kind of Klan meeting; you had to wear all-white to the party and now I have a pair of J. Crew white jeans I don't know what I'll ever do with again (although I did get a lot of compliments...so fuck you, Jacoby!)

Anywho, with the music bumpin', Rick Ross' "The Boss" came on. No less than five co-workers in attendance came up to me and said "This is your song, Joe!"

That's right...I am the biggest boss that you've seen thus far.

Happy Birthday, Grandpa

Today would have been my grandfather George's 80th birthday. He died before I could even meet him but through photos, articles and family stories, it's almost like he's still here.

My dad wrote a fantastic and touching tribute to him today over at his website. Please take the time to read it...you won't regret it.

The Baseball Analysts: Happy 80th Birthday, Dad

AGM in SD to GM in SB?

Santa Barbara Golf Club

So today I sent off my resume (and accompanying awesome cover letter) for the General Manager job at Santa Barbara Golf Club. Sure, I fall short in a few areas of their "ideal candidate" (degree in business administration or agronomy; specialization in turf management; seven years of responsible golf operations and maintenance experience; two years of supervisory and lead experience) but I still think my resume, the qualifications detailed in my cover letter and my impressive work references more than make up for it. I'll admit it, I'm a long-shot but my goal is to reach the interview process because not only could I charm the hell out of them, but I know my strengths would shine in an interview. They'd get to see my vision, passion and dare I say "upside" that would make me just the guy they want.

I've always said that I could see myself living in three metropolitan areas: Southern California, Phoenix and Vegas. Great weather, lots to do, west coast, fantastic for golf industry...Santa Barbara is pretty much the same as San Diego as far as I'm concerned, just smaller and a little more intimate. I spent my freshman year living in Santa Barbara, so it's not all that foreign to me and I'd love to return with something to prove!

How confident am I that I'll get an interview next month? Well, today I scheduled my next hair appointment two days before the interview dates and I plan on heading up to play the course within the next three weeks (pending I get my car back.)

Santa Barbara, here I come!

The Birthday Party Mix-Up

On any given Friday or Saturday night, somewhere there's a girl throwing herself a birthday party at some overcrowded trendy bar in Downtown San Diego. Personally, I've always found throwing yourself a birthday party is a bit sad, but I'm the type of guy who forgets it's his birthday until he gets his mail, and sees a birthday card with a check in it for $20 from his grandmother...so maybe I'm the sad one?

Anywho, wheneve I've gone to parties like these where I only know the person who invited me, I wind up spending the night doing three things: 1) Talking only to the person who invited me, 2) spending the night being the most witty person in the entire joint but no one can appreciate my humor, or 3) pretending to be doing something very important on my cell phone but really I'm sending mass text messages crying for help. One time I even left a party, went home for a bathroom break, stopped off at Ralph's for a quick snack of almonds and yogurt then come back without anyone even noticing. Anti-social? Perhaps.

So a couple of weeks ago, I fell victim to a friend's false promises of good times and access to available women. "It'll be fun," he said when he called to convince me to come to some poor girl's self-thrown 30th birthday party. "No it won't," I responded, but went anyway because nothing was on TV that night, I was out of Newcastle in the fridge and I didn't have to get up early the next morning.

I get there, and there are maybe 15-20 people present with a surprising even mix of men and women, and as all us men know, anything better than a ratio of four dudes for every one chick is rare, let alone promising. Let me paint you all a picture: Drunk Birthday Girl has WAY too much makeup on and is acting like Lindsay Lohan after a four-day bender. She spends the whole party slurring her words, while greeting the incoming guests, and saying goodbye to the departing ones. I smile and give her my standard "Happy birthday, it's nice to meet you" line. She smiles back, and gives me a "Who the fuck invited you?" look.

I have a feeling it's going to be another shitty night, so I decide to go into "people watching mode" and what do you know? It's the same people as every night, just different faces. There's the section comprised couples with the guys talking to the guys, and their other halves talking to each other. In one corner, there's the three man tag team - a trio of guys talking to one woman, all hoping to be the one to get the digits. In another corner, there's the guy who hangs with Drunk Birthday Girl the whole night because he's in love with her, but to her, he's just a friend. The closest he'll come to physical contact with her is when he inevitably holds her hair back at 3 AM when she's puking her guts out.

Oh, and then there's me! The charming fellow playing Brick Breaker on my BlackBerry with such determination so it appears as if I'm genuinely busy conducting some sort of important business, like wiring $4 million to my off-shore account.

My friend leaves me to go talk to some girl he secretly hoped would be there. I know he only invited me so he'd have someone to hang with in case she wasn't there. But alas, she was, so there I stood. I made some polite conversation with a few people, and even got a phone number from a girl. But by 1:00, I was done. I left my shamelessly left my wingman and by 1:45, I was asleep.

A few days later, my friend calls and tells me that Drunk Birthday Girl was asking about me. In what seemed like a scene from Ferris Bueller, he heard this from the chick he was hitting on who is friends with someone with whom the birthday girl works....or something like that. Anyway, he wanted to know if I was interested because he could give me her number, if I was. "We barely said hello to each other and to be honest, she was a drunk mess. But what the hell, give me her number." So he did.

The next night I called Drunk Birthday Girl, and let's just say my call wasn't received with the enthusiasm I would expect from a woman who was supposedly interested in me.

"Wait, you're who? How do I know you?"

"Um, Joe? Sean's friend? We met at your party last week? Sean said you might be interested in going out or something."

"Oh, wow, this is kind of awkward," she explained. "There was another Sean at the party, and I was interested in his friend. So sorry!"

We made small talk for the next twenty seconds and she apologized again before saying good night, and was actually pretty sweet about the whole thing. Sober Birthday Girl is actually pretty cool. But it's not to be. She wants the other Sean's friend.

Good news is that night I set a new all-time record for Brick Breaker.

Guess Who's Back, Back Again...

Man, 26 days since my last post? Time flies when you're not having fun!

I did get a few emails, texts and MySpace comments from you guys asking when I'll be back blogging and I really appreciate all the readership, I do!

Well, to get ya all caught up on what's been going on in the last four weeks, here's a not-so-short rundown:

*Returned to work with administrative nightmares in almost all departments. Apparently work doesn't get done (or done right) if I'm not there 24/7. So for the last month or so since I got back from vacation, I've been working overdrive getting stuff fixed.

*In addition to my huge workload, we've added a new department head, another key co-worker and had another co-worker get a promotion. What's that all mean, you ask? Well, I've had to train everyone on odds and ends, help get them situated at work and basically do their jobs while holding their hands until they were fully ready to do their roles on their own.

*Got into a gnarly car accident. Remember this scene from Tommy Boy?:

Yeah...I re-enacted it. On the 5 freeway. During morning rush hour. From the fast lane.

I case you never saw the movie, while going about 50 MPH, my hood decided to unlatch itself, fly open and smash my windshield. Oh, it gets worse. Because of the on-coming wind current, the hood stayed pressed against the windshield. So picture me spitting tempered glass out of my mouth, blind as a Kung-Fu master, trying to get me and my Honda to safety. I know getting over to the right side of the highway was out of question unless I wanted to try and start a demolition derby, so I figured the shoulder on the left was my only option. I think I panicked and punched it to quickly get out of harm's way, and in doing so, I clipped the car (truck?) in front of me, causing even MORE damage.

It's a packed freeway, so imagine you just witnessed this whole ordeal...got it? Now imagine being INSIDE THAT CAR! So there I am, side of the road on the way to a GM meeting in Oceanside next to my Japanese death machine. I call a friend to pick me up, which takes 45 minutes. Whomever I hit never came back, so either: 1) the driver never knew what hit him (literally), 2) the driver had no insurance or 3) the driver exited the freeway and noticed no considerable damage. I'm freaking out because I think I've just been involved in a Hit and Stay.

Anywho, I get home (not before texting the Regional Director "umm, won't make it to the meeting...car accident. i'm okay...i'll be at work if you need me.") and call two local Honda dealers who both recommend me to the same collision repair specialist (which will remain nameless, but for the sake of the story, let's call it Penske Automotive Collision Center...which is NOT the Penske Automotive Collision Center located at 7860 Balboa Avenue in San Diego. I stress, it's most definitely NOT that place...)

More on my (still on-going) experience with them later...

*Dealt with a serious health scare. I was supposed to have a melanoma, or a carcinoma, some kind of noma. So Alan Stanwyk does not I don't have cancer. I was so relieved.

*Spent a few days in a downward spiral after getting the initial news of the aforementioned medical situation...it involved a lot of drinking, a lot of dancing, a night that ended up with me waking up in a bed I don't remember getting into at a house I don't remember ending up at next to a girl I'd never seen, my shoes missing but finding two $100 bills in my pockets that I didn't start with (jury is still out if I was a jigalo that evening.) Soon the wildness turned into depression until I got the great news I was okay. So that happened...

*Got denied a salary increase.

*The nation's championship came into town (U.S. Open at Torrey Pines) and I may have been the only person working in the golf industry in San Diego who DIDN'T attend. Oh, it's not like I didn't have tickets. I was going to take Saturday off and go, but apparently I can't take any days off and had to give away my ticket and end up working from 7 AM until 10 PM. Not only did I not go, I caught only four holes for the entire five days. I did work 73 hours last week and the course made $80,000 more than last year during the same week. Did I forget to mention I got denied a salary increase?

*Cool thing is I did get my name in print...

*The Birthday Party Incident. (This will be detailed in greater detail tomorrow.)

So that's about it. Not much has happened since we last spoke...

You Gouda Be Kidding Me!

So tonight's date went okay...except for one itty, bitty part: the girl was cheesy.

Not in the Hallmark Movie of the Week kinda way either. I mean she -- honest to blog -- literally smelled like cheese. The good news (?) was that it wasn't really all that overwhelming of a smell. In fact, I couldn't smell her when we were sitting across from each other over coffee. It was only when she walked by me, as I opened the door for her when we entered and left Starbucks and when I hugged her goodbye. It was one of those smells where you're not initially sure of its source. When she walked past me the first time, I started to smell myself thinking maybe it was me or something. But then I remembered I was wearing Gillette Clear Gel "Fresh," not Gillette Clear Gel "Cheddar." It was definitely her.

I spent the first half of the date trying to figure out the exact smell. I wasn't sure if it was old cheese, or the smell of heated cheese (like nachos or something) or the smell of fresh cheese when you open or unwrap it at the deli. I finally figured out it most resembled the smell of individually packaged string cheese, like the kind Mom used to put in the brown bag for lunch. "Cool, sharp and earthy" would be the most accurate way I guess you could describe the aroma.

After figuring out that quandary, I spent part two of the date wondering if she was aware of the smell or if it's one of those things that you can't smell on yourself. Surely she must have friends or family that would say something to her, I thought. Who knows? Maybe they smell like cheese too. I'm not about to find out, though. We had our little date, went our separate ways, and I got home in time to catch the end of American Idol. (I watched 30 minutes of it, which was 29 minutes more than I had spent watching all year.) Luckily a friend cooked me chicken and rice casserole for dinner because that box of mac and cheese back in the apartment never sounded more unappetizing.

Action: Missing In & Can't Get None

Jesus, has it been a week since I posted? Yikes!

It's not like I haven't been writing...I've been putting in some serious time on the laptop working on my way too many, way too unfocused, way too incomplete pieces of work (one screenplay, one stageplay and one novel.) Last night I wrote from 7 PM until 1 AM. I woulda kept on typing but I realized I had to be up in four hours for work.

Looking back to last night, I clearly have some form of OCD (although I was tested a few years ago at my mother's request because she just knew I had some mental disorder that had prevented me from becoming some great scholar or something...I blazed thru all the tests they threw at me and in the end, the shrink said "Sorry, no OCD but wow...you are really, really smart. You should be a professor at Stanford or something. What's your deal?" to which I said "I have no fucking idea, doc.") On my laptop I had four windows open: the screenplay on FinalDraft, the stageplay on another FinalDraft screen, the novel on Microsoft Word and finally, iTunes. I dunno why, but I've become utterly obsessed with Death Cab For Cutie's "I Will Possess Your Heart" (which is sorta ironic, since the song is about a guy obsessed with a girl) and I played it on a continuous loop...for 6 hours. And I'm not talking about the radio edit either. I mean the 8:30 long album version!

So between the repeating song and the seemingly endless supply of Fiji water I was consuming, I was writing at a manic pace, flipping from one project to another when inspiration hit. I slept like a baby last night and I know it was being drained of all possible creativity.

But other than that, I aplogize for being M.I.A. As detailed before, I spent over a week on the East Coast then took a few days off last week to go up north to San Jose/Santa Clara. That's more vacation time than I've used in my entire life (not including those two years I spent retired, using only online-poker as my source of income.)

Work's been nuts, as always. I've been training new department heads since I returned and unfortunately, my property is not only one of the biggest and most important, but the nuances and procedures it takes to run this place is crazy and so not easy to train, let alone learn.

Alas, I will find time to go on some dates this week. Here's how my personal life looks a few days out:

Wednesday: A guy from church wants to set me up with his "little" sister (he's 38, so her being 27 isn't really all that "little".)

Thursday: Going to a birthday party for a girl who's a friend of a friend. Apparently her and I have been matched-up to meet be the friend (or is it the friend of a friend?)

Saturday: Another eHarmony date. Actually really looking forward to this one. She digs on sushi and I've got us reserved a table at the best sushi spot in San Diego with some additional perks...it pays to know people, right? (Thanks, P.J.!)

Yes, the docket is chock-full of potential disaster (I'm kidding, I'm kidding...I'm sure all three dates will be stellar!) so I'm sure this blog will be quite entertaining in the up-coming days!

Cooperstown, NY

So after a couple of great days in Beantown, Pops and I rented a nice lil' midsize for our trek to upstate New York...Cooperstown, to be exact. The drive took us downtown Boston, through Springfield, Mass. (home of the Basketball Hall of Fame), across Albany and then about one hour of back roads and tiny county routes until getting to beautiful, picturesque Cooperstown, home of the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Main Street, Cooperstown. Seriously, that's it. If you look closely, you can see the lone traffic light the town has to offer!

All these years of being die-hard baseball fans and neither myself or my dad had gone to Cooperstown until then. Hell, we didn't even know why the place was called Cooperstown. (Answers: famed American author James Fenimore Cooper's father founded the town, hence Cooper's town. Fenimore's presense is still evident in the town, including the local country club, Leatherstocking Country Club. If you remember back in high school literature classes, Fenimore Cooper wrote Leatherstocking Tales, a collection of stories about the American frontier, similar to his classic The Last of the Mohicans.)

After returning home from the trip, my dad and I both mentioned how wrong each of our visions of Cooperstown were before setting foot in the town. Both of us knew it was a small town, but had no idea just how small it really was. We both also expect the town to be overrun with baseball fans for the Hall of Fame and expected the Hall itself to be some huge mecca of a building. Wrong again!

When we got to Cooperstown, we only had two hours to check out the Hall of Fame before it closed for the day. We knew we had the entire next day to see it so we just planned on a quick two-hour run-thru of the joint. Our plan was to leave the gallery -- you know, all those cool bronze plaques you think of when you hear "Hall of Fame" -- for the full day so we decided to visit the exhibits and displays, perfect for baseball historians and memorabilia junkies like us.

The historical displays were not only amazing and awe-inspiring, but really well done for all scopes of baseball fans to enjoy, from the casual visitor to baseball-starved SABR members like my dad and I.

It was cool to see displays and game-used historical memorabilia of our favorite players. I'm sure everyone who goes to the Hall gets something different out of it. For me, it was merely creating another connection or bridge from my era of baseball to those greats I idolize.

My all-time favorite athlete, Ted Williams, had an entire wall dedicated to him at the Hall. Here's the famous Science of Hitting strike-zone that caused a seven-year-old version of me to make The Splendid Splinter my favorite player.

After the Hall of Fame staff had to kick us out, we walked a few steps to the near-by Doubleday Field, an almost-Major League sized field. The exhibition "Hall of Fame Game" is played there every year (Friars v. Cubbies this year!) and it's also used for amateur and junior-level leagues.


After a long day of driving and touring, we decided to call it an early night and get ready for the full day the next morning...

Day Two of Cooperstown started off with a private tour of the Hall of Fame Library, given to just me and my dad by Tim Wiles, the Director of Research for the Library. It was very cool to be given such special treatment. We were able to be taken to the climate-controlled rooms like their massive book collection (seriously, they had THOUSANDS of books...anything and everything about baseball) and their audio/visual room (tons of film reels, VHS and DVDs of baseball footage, highlights, clips, etc.) At the end, Tim took us to the main research room were they have more books and a few dozen very large room-length filing cabinets. Within the cabinets were files of just about every person who has been associated with baseball. Tim had a very cool surprise for us...in preparing for our visit, he checked to see if there was anything on my grandfather and sure enough, he had a file...Grandpa George is in the Hall of Fame! They had the original press release from the California Angels announcing his hiring to Director of Public Relations and Promotions plus very clippings from The Sporting News mentioning him, including his obituary. It was very special to see it all and quite a treat for my dad. What a great start to a day at the Hall!


After the private tour, we decided to check out the gallery. Again, our expectations were way off...the room is big, but just different than both of us expected.

The Hall of Fame Gallery room. Behind me is "The First Class" of 1936: Christy Mathewson, Honus Wagner, Ty Cobb, Babe Ruth, and Walter Johnson.

We spent about two hours looking at each and every Hall of Famer's plaque, really taking in all the history the place exuded. Much like the exhibits from the previous day, we each got a kick checking out our favorite players and baseball dignitaries.

After visiting all the plaques, we checked out the extensive art gallery then made our way outside, where the grounds had more baseball influence.

No surprise this former catcher took a liking to the Roy Campanella statue outside.

Before we knew it, it was 5 PM and our trip to Cooperstown was over! But no time to rest...it was off to the big city to catch up on the Yankees, Mets and friends!

"I'm not blogging today,"...

...posted the man on his blog.

* * * * *

Back from the East but it's right back to work for me this morning.

This week I'll put up two posts about my trip then back to bloggin' 'bout my crazy life.

See ya on the flip side!

Another Quote of the Year submission

"I was so excited to bring my donkey home." --Natalie

(I won't even bother to bring up the context of the quote because no amount of backstory can even explain how profound and odd a quote it truly is.)

friday morning new york rain

empty hotel room
in new york city
three walls bare
cut off from the world
lazy day as rain glazes windows
wet dripping sidewalk
safe from reality
secure in the rain
no need
no cares
no one
wake up slow

* * * * *

Both the photo and poem are originals created by me today...it's amazing how much New York, the rain and a cup of coffee can inspire.

What's My Thing?

So I've done a lot of walking in New York the last few days and I've done some serious people watching. Maybe my senses are heightened, maybe I'm just neurotic and the meds are wearing off, I dunno, but I've noticed a lot of people here have "things." Now it's an extreme characterization since I'm seeing these people for the first time and for a mere 0.2 seconds at that, but I like to think these people do indeed have "things." You know, a niche, a nuance..."a thing."

For instance:

*Deck of Cards Guy: This guy was doing sleight-of-hand tricks -- by himself, mind you -- on the subway. I'd like to think this guy carries a deck of cards with him wherever he goes. That deck of cards is his "thing."

*Mix-Matched Sneakers Girl

*Chew On Cigar But Don't Smoke It Man

*Fresh Boutonnière Man: There was this old man was walking down the street in a suit and a fresh blue carnation pinned to his lapel. I really like the thought that he dresses like that everyday, no matter the occassion, and gets a new flower each and every morning.

*"Fo sho, fo sho" Kid: I heard this little 11 or 12 year old kid say in his great NY accent "fo sho, fo sho" about ten times in within ten blocks of travel.

So what's my thing? And no, I'm not prepared to be "Thinks Up Random Useless Shit and Blogs About It Guy" just yet.

I've narrowed it down to two options. And before you call me out, I totally realize that it's probably damn disingenuous to self-fabricate one's "thing" for the sake of having a "thing," well, fuck off, okay?

So it's either one of the two:

1) Tic-Tac Guy: For some ungodly reason, instead of gum, I bought Tic-Tacs today and ya know what? Those winterfresh sons of bitches really came in handy! Maybe I'll stock pile a shit-load (sidenote: what's the metric conversion of one "shit-load"?) of different flavors and always carry a pack with me. That way, whenever anyone needs gum or something along those lines, I reach in my pocket and pull out the itty-bitty clear container, give it a little shake and offer my minty one-calorie services. It'd be my effort to better serve society and people would always associate the sound of a pack of Tic-Tacs with me.

2) Yo-Yo Dude: Now I absolutely understand that if I, at 29, start playing with a yo-yo, that toy ain't the only thing I'll be stuck playing with cuz no woman in her right mind is gonna want a man who is known for carrying around a yo-yo. Then again, what I've been doing now hasn't really worked either, has it? Anywho, imagine the odd looks I'd get from people if they saw me pulling off an around-the-world in the middle of a crowded bar ("That dude has a yo-yo...and he just did around-the-world! I'm buying him a shot!") or walking-the-dog at Trader Joe's ("Honey, how much Two Buck Chuck do you want and why is that guy walking his yo-yo down the organic hummus aisle?") or rocking-the-cradle at a bar mitzvah ("Oy gevalt! Ira, look at this meshuggener...he's doing tricks with a yo-yo!").

Zany, I know...but it just might be worth it.

"Oh, I love that dirty water..."

Now that's how you start off a trip!

We woke up to cold, wet Boston morning but no amount of chill or precipitation could damper our spirits...this was going to be a great vacation and today was going to be a perfect outset.

We walked to the adjoining restaurant to our hotel, where my dad and I met up first with Jared Porter, Director of Professional Scouting for the Red Sox and his cousin, our host, Patrick "Sully" Sullivan, who is a co-author on my dad's website. (Classic story: Pat took a cab from his apartment to the restaurant. Moving past Commonwealth Avenue that morning was a Walk for Hunger...apparently Pat's cabbie not only didn't know what the mass of people were, but what they were doing, as he complained that all the marchers, who caused the street to be closed therefore screwing up cab routes, "don't care about anyone but themselves." How funny is that!) We sat down for breakfast and were soon joined by Bill James, Senior Adviser for the Red Sox. I don't know if you can appreciate what it meant for me to not only meet Bill James, but talk with him over breakfast. It'd be a like a professional dancer spending two hours with Fred Astaire. An aspiring singer hanging out with Michael Jackson. A stripper getting a bikini wax with Jenna Jameson. Bill James is the forefront leader in new era statistical analysis for baseball and had single-handedly changed the way baseball is studied, watched, analyzed, etc. It'll be one of those moments I will never, ever forget.

After spending a two hours with two of the leading minds in the Red Sox front office, we walked down the street to Fenway Park -- to which we said goodbye to Jared and Bill, because, well, they were off to work! (Whatta life!) Jared was nice enough to comp us four tickets on the field level. Joining me, my dad and Sully was Johanna, Sully's wife. Johanna and I go way back...fifteen years to be exact, where we went to middle school together and shared social circles. Johanna went from Long Beach to the Ivy League where she met Sully at Penn. The two married last year and now live in Sully's hometown of Boston.

Anywho, we caught Scott Kazmir's season debut, where he showed some signs of brilliance, but he still wasn't 100%, only maxing at 93 MPH. Unfortunately against the lefty Kazmir, David Ortiz sat to rest his knee but the rest of the Red Sox team didn't disappoint...Manny Ramirez had a double off the Green Monster, Kevin Youkilis went deep to dead center, Jacoby Ellsbury and Dustin Pedroia looked great at the plate and on the field and in the end, saw Jonathan Papelbon record four straight outs to preserve the 7-3 Red Sox win.

After the game, we got some drinks at The Baseball Tavern, then took a cab to Union Park, the quaint neighborhood Pat and Jo live near downtown Boston. We took a quick tour of their apartment (gotta love the brownstones!) then took a cab to the north end, were we walked a bit down The Freedom Trail, seeing Paul Revere's home and the famous "One if by land, two if by sea" church. We had a delicious dinner at Cantina Italiana and spent a great three hours drinking, dining and discussing. It was a great day from start to finish and quite a fantastic start to our trip.

Tomorrow we head on out to Cooperstown in upstate New York to partake in the Baseball Hall of Fame. Cheers!

East Coastin'

Well, Southern California's had it about up to here with me, so I'm heading to the East Coast with dear ol' dad on a once-in-a-lifetime baseball excursion taking us from Boston to New York and finally in Philly.

Here's the complete itinerary:

Saturday, May 3
Arrive in Boston around 4:00 PM. Check into the Hotel Commonwealth, which is right across the highway from Fenway. (Should I want to, I could open up the window to our room and peg -- okay, not peg...maybe have the ball eventually roll to a stop against -- bottom back-end of the Green Monster.)

Don't believe me? Here's a photo I just took from said window:


Sunday, May 4
This morning is what I'm calling "Breakfast with the BoSox Brass"...my dad and I will be joining our host Patrick "Sully" Sullivan along with his cousin Jared Porter (Director of Professional Scouting for the Red Sox) and Bill James (Senior Advisor of Baseball Operations for the Red Sox) at the Eastern Standard Kitchen & Drinks in Kenmore Square. What better to start off a trip than with sausages and sabermetrics!

After breakfast, there's a 1:35 PM tilt between the Rays of Tampa Bay (Scott Kazmir's season debut!) and my Red Sox, who have young Jon Lester on the mound. Joining us will be Patrick and his wife Johanna (whom I went to middle school with back in Long Beach...it's a small world after all!)

Monday, May 5th
At the butt-crack of dawn, we're heading by way of rental car from Boston to upstate New York...Cooperstown, to be exact; home of the Baseball Hall of Fame. It's a four hour drive, so most of the morning will be spent traveling but we'll still be able to spend half a day on Monday at the Hall. Using my dad's insider connections to the baseball world, we'll be receiving a private behind-the-scenes tour of Cooperstown, making the trip all that more exciting.

Tuesday, May 6th
A full day at the Hall of Fame. Honestly, the place is like the Smithsonian...you could spend a week there and not see everything you wanted to.

Wednesday, May 7
We arrive at the New York Helmsley (not quite the prestigious Welshly Arms, but hey...) in midtown/Times Square. That night we take in the Indians-Yankees game. In all actuality, THIS is the game this trip was built around. You see, storied Yankee Stadium is closing down after this season and neither my dad or myself had seen a game there, so we just HAD to make the trip out east.

Thursday, May 8
A nice relaxing day...my dad is visiting a family friend then meeting up with baseball author and blogger Alex Belth for some sight-seeing and a game of catch in Central Park. I, on the other hand, will also be visiting a friend, new New York-transplant Natalie, who has the most-unenviable task of entertaining me. Hopefully we'll be able to meet up with friend and former classmate Becky, also a Long Beach-to-New Yorker.

Friday, May 9
Back to baseball! Dad and I head this time to Queens and check out a match-up featuring two young studs, Edinson Volquez of the Cincinnati Reds and Mike Pelfrey of the New York Mets. Like Yankee Stadium, Shea Stadium is closing after this year. While it doesn't exactly have the same aura of Yankee Stadium, Shea is still a great ballpark...the homerun apple, the '86 World Series ("It gets by Buckner!"), the residue of cocaine left behind by Daryl Strawberry and Doc Gooden, the smell of piss embedded in the concrete...okay, I'll stop there. Joining us is Alex and another baseball internet luminary, Darren "Repoz" Viola of Baseball Think Factory. (I'm really geeked about meeting Repoz...I think in another life, I could have been him. I'm looking forward to matching wit and banter with him...he's got me by a longshot, sure, but I'll still be excited.)

After the game concludes, we pick up a rental and head west to Philadelphia.

Saturday, May 10
On Saturday morning, we meet up with family friend Dave O’Brien, former Athletic Director at Long Beach State, Temple University and Northeastern University. Dave’s now works with a few schools in recruiting athletic directors. We’ll be playing golf with Dave and one of his sons at their Philadelphia country club in Philadelphia. Drinks and dinner with the O’Brien family will concluded the week.

Sunday, May 11
Back in New York, we head home on good ol’ Jet Blue, leaving JFK at noon. Thanks to the time difference, we’ll touchdown at Long Beach just before 3 PM, enough time to spend Mother’s Day with Mom.


Not a bad trip, eh?

The Ol' Dead Aunt Line

This is an actual screen shot off my laptop from eHarmony (click image for larger view):


Maybe she's telling the truth, maybe not. But either she used the oldest line in the book or my life is actually a page ripped right of that very book.

"One and done, man."

Now I honestly don't want to sound like my life is the sequel to Swingers, but I do have a rule when it comes to the opposite sex, sorta like Trent and Sue's "six day rule." "What is this rule, Joe?" you ask...I call it the "one and done rule" in regards to calling women. Call her. Talk, leave a message, whatever. If she's truly interested -- and I mean truly interested -- she'll eventually call back. No need to call again, right? I know people will think this is absolutely ridiculous, but I'm passive-aggressive and non-confrontational by nature, so that one attempt at contact is enough for me. If that's a major stumbling block for my relationship growth, so be it...I can't really change who I am. I mea n, I knew a guy who called a girl so much that she seriously was forced to change her number. That just ain't me.

So this little background information leads me to last week, when I called a girl whose digits were given to me by a mutual friend. I called her, actually spoke to her but she asked me to call her later that night. So I did (there's the "one call") but she never called me back. Henceforth, I was done. Other than some brief self-loathing, the thought of her very existence was eventually wiped from the portion of my brain responsible for remembering random women who don't call me back. You know, kinda like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

Last night, this said-mutual friend called me to find out how it all went down.

"Oh, it went down, alright. I called and she never called back."

"So you aren't going to call her again?"

"One and done, man. No offense, it's just a rule I have."

"Joe, why do I bother helping if you aren't going to call her?"

"Um, I did call her! She's the one that didn't call!"

"She likes the pursuit."

"Dude, I'm not Dog the Bounty Hunter. I don't chase people. I don't have the time nor the patience nor the game to do that shit."

"Maybe she never got the message, did you ever think of that?"

"I know she got the message."

"And how do you know this?"

"Well, when was the last time you spoke to her?"

"Monday."

"And did you ask her if I called?"

"Yes."

(If you are laughing right, don't feel bad. So was I at this point of the conversation.)

"Looks like my job here is done. Alright man, "Saved By The Bell" is on and I've only seen this episode 130 times. Gotta go!"

We hung up and then A.C. Slater made me laugh.