Wednesday, July 30, 2014

"the family" funeral, part tres: the chica

"Do you remember
When we first met?
I sure do.
It was sometime, in early (October).

Well, you were lazy about it;
You made me wait around.
I was so crazy about you,
I didn't mind.

So, I was late for class,
I locked my bike to yours,
It wasn't hard to find;
You'd painted flowers on it.

I guess that I was afraid?
That if you rolled away?
You might not roll back my direction,
Really soon ..."

-- "Do You Remember" by Jack Johnson.

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Yes, I know I’m going slightly out of order, and I’m going to again early next week.  In the words of The Champ: “deal with it!”

Of all the members of The Family, I’ll probably miss The Chica the least.  

Which honestly, isn’t fair to her; that’s like saying that between Grey Goose, Polar Ice, and Smirnoff vodkas, I’ll miss Smirnoff the least, when I finally reach the “you must quit or die” moment in life I’m destined to someday face.

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Here, for better or worse, are the eleven most memorable (and in a lot of cases, favorite) moments of The Chica for me.  

Only number 10, was anything but at least semi-pleasurable.

For me anyway …

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The Line(s) In The Overall Theme Song ("Goodbye Yellow Brick Road") That Apply To The Chica (Note: May Have Missed One):

* "I should have stayed on the farm" -- she is a farm girl.  

* "I'm going back to my plough!" -- see previous reasoning.

* "Maybe you'll find a replacement" -- the final posting of this series, will bring this into focus, for all four members of this corpse of a friendship.

* Also, you can argue, being an employee of her, uuh, employer, that the whole "yellow brick road" thing, more than applies.

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11. (The Chica Voice) “So My Mom Found Your Site …”

I had made a point of noting on that trip to Nebraska (Part Uno / Part Dos / Part Tres / Part Quatro) that I was going to eventually post a recap of the trip, that was worthy of how fun, that trip was.  (Hey, smile folks – that was one of the rare times, this site delivers the goods -- all four days, recapped separately, in three days!  (Pause).  What?  (Pause).  You're damned right I wrote every word of those posts on the job!  Why?  Why is that surprising?) 

The Chica’s mom had nothing to go on, other than my name, and considering I go to great pains to try to leave last names off of every post that involves any of you (to protect the innocen – oh hell, who am I kidding, it’s to protect the guilty), and considering I have a reasonably obscure spelling of my last name (to say nothing of a rare last name to begin with), you have to search to find this place.

And I was still almost a year away from joining Twitter and tweeting out every post link, so The Chica’s mom had to really invest some time, effort and energy, into finding this site.

If you’re reading this, The Chica’s mom?

I don’t hate your daughter.  Intensely dislike?  Yes.  Because of the next moment to appear, in my remembrance of her.

But hate, no.

She's impossible to hate.

10. (The Chica Voice) “I Want To Talk.  Can I Come Over?”

I will tolerate damned near anything in life.

God knows I have to, coming from the extended family of blood relations and friends, I’m damned proud to call family.  

But there is one thing I really, really, really struggle to choke down.

The night this friendship died in my eyes, Easter Sunday 2013, is moment ten in my remembrances of The Chica.

The quote above, is The Chica’s text message to me, sent about 6pm that Easter Sunday evening.  

So allow me to give you all reading this a free PSA piece of advice.  And it's one you should take very good notes on.

If you are going to invite yourself over to a "friend"'s humble abode, and demand of them on ten minutes notice, what you have refused every request he's made of you for eight months, to do for him?  

That's cool, at least in my world.

But if you're going to use that opportunity to call me a liar, when the only way you could know I lied to you, was if you lied to me first?

Don't be surprised if that "friend", explodes at you, as this one did.

(And I should note, The Champ's thoughts of this encounter, will appear in my favorite memories of him ... because for once in his semi-charmed, semi-baked kind of life?  He got it.)

9. (The Chica Voice) “Bring The Lil’ Scoops!  I Love The Lil’ Scoops!”

I love learning certain personal details about a friend, that you never see coming.

This quote is from setting up the watching party for the Chiefs / Colts game in 2010, when the Chiefs were the last unbeaten team in the NFL … in week five.  (At least we made it to week eleven, last year.  Progress!)

I simply asked what to bring.  Most people, would probably say “bring some beer / bring the chips / bring yourself / bring whatever”.  You rarely get so specific, as “bring the Tostitos Lil’ Scoops!”

Those are the moments in life, that matter to me.

“The Family” had plenty of them.

Whatever else you think of what we’ve become?

Never forget that.

“The Family” had plenty of those little moments, that make life worth living.

Which is why I'm choosing to honor all of it, on my way out the door, of the county morgue the corpse of this friendship currently lies in.

8. (The Chica Voice) “I Haven’t Watched It Yet!  I Waited For You!”

I am abjectly embarrassed to admit this one.

(stevo sighing in disgust and shame at himself …)

I love “The Real Housewives of New Jersey”.

Or at least, I used to, when the loony tunes known as Danielle Staub was constantly fighting with one “real” housewife or another, when dumb-(bleep!) Albie couldn’t make it in the police academy, when Teresa and Joe were living the life of luxury they’re going to spend a decade or so in the federal slammer for.

Summer of 2010, The Family was in a Tuesday night bowling league.  By week two, we had the drill down.  Head over to The Champ’s apartment, watch “RHONJ” while waiting for him to get home, then head off and bowl and enjoy each other’s company for three hours or so.

Good times.  Especially the epic season finale that season.

7. (Stevo Voice) “Wait – You’re a NASCAR Fan?”

Yes, yes she is.  You don’t meet too many members of the opposite sex, who are.  So circle me pleasantly surprised (and happy) in getting to spend a few races at the Speedway, watching it with a girl who actually wanted to be there, as opposed to The Ex, who was only there because the other three of us were.

(And because there was beer.)

But as happy a development as (7) was, (6)?

(mean, angry grizzley bear ready to maul someone voice) GRRRRRRRRRRRR!

6. (Stevo Voice) “Wait – You’re a denver broncos Fan?”

Well, we all have our fatal flaws in life.  Hang on, let me reach for another glass of mine ...

And quite frankly, I think I was quite tolerable at every broncos game we tailgated together.  Especially given that the home team lost three of the four of them, one of them a defeat so horrific, such an epic woodshed beatdown by denver, that I not only wasn’t the most crushed and/or furious fan at the postgame tailgate ...

... for the first time, I ceded control of this site, to someone else, because I couldn't find the words to describe, just how (insert string of obsenities here) awful, that game was.

5. (The Chica Voice) “Now, Since Your Mom Clearly Didn’t Teach You Certain Things …”

This one never fails to make me laugh.  The week after the Cowboys game in 2009 (when it was unbearable cold, drizzly, and miserable for the first Sunday in October), I spent in bed with the worst bout of the flu I’ve ever had.  My body hurt so much, I couldn’t sleep, it hurt to simply breathe. 

I tried that first day, to gut it out.  I showed up at work that Monday, and Lucy (my boss at the time) took one look at me, and ordered me to get out, and don’t come back until you look alive.  Which was a week later. 

The Chiefs were on the road that week – the first win of the Coach Hobo era, at the Redskins, then came home to face the San Diego “Super” Chargers.

That Friday morning before the game, I got an email from The Chica, asking if I had a few minutes to talk.  I said sure, because when a friend asks me to talk?  I talk.

So she sent me this lengthy email in response, opening with the quote above, detailing everything I need to do, to ensure I don’t get sick again (since the forecast was the same as that Dallas game – mid 40s and rain) ... and then urging me to do my part, to "send philip rivers' ass home with a loss!"

(Wow, were 2009 Josh McDaniels led-donkey fans as delusional as I was, last year?  Apparently!)

How can I put this delicately … I almost never wear a coat to a game.  The Monsoon against the Chargers to open the 2010 season?  T-shirt and shorts.  Didn’t get sick.  The Snow Game, the Immaculate Fourfecta Game against the Jaguars to end the 2006 season?  I wore a coat … but took it off as bad things kept happening for the Red and Gold.

If I’d been in town for the real Monsoon Game, the Sunday nighter against the Seahawks back in 1998, I guarantee you I’d have been in either shorts and a t-shirt, or a long sleeve shirt and shorts.  (I stayed in Dallas that weekend to catch the Rangers / Yankees divisional series instead.  That Game Three, which finally broke the string of days over 100 at 68?  Four hour rain delay, because of the mess that hit Kansas City two days later.  My attire at first pitch?  Pair of shorts and sandals.)

Even my parents know better than to caution me on what to wear to a game, because they know I’m sorta, kinda bat sh*t certified crazy, when it comes to the Chiefs, and my superstitions once the season gets underway.  (For example, if the Chiefs win?  I mark the boxers and undershirt, to ensure I wear the same ones, until they lose.  Ditto if socks are involved.  I’m telling you, the case for Two Rivers just keeps getting stronger …)

So for The Chica to give me fashion advice, and how to deal with the weather advice?  You have to admire it.

But in the words of Stevo’s Site Numero Dos’ Official Color Commentator (Emeritus) Dan Dierdorf: “nice try”.

4. The Last Moment I Believed “The Family” Was Capable of Being Saved, The Chica edition.

Katie and Josh's reception.

I will freely grant you, I have never hated Dustin more in my life, than I did at that reception.  We'll get to that eventually.

But the Chica?  For one final time, I actually believed you still gave a sh*t, about this friendship, about me, about simply for once in these last two years being who you used to be, but sadly haven't been in a very long time.  Either it was the con job of a decade ... or you did genuinely care.  I choose to believe the latter, if only for my own sanity, because it's been so long since you two were who you used to be, I just don't recognize you anymore.  Hence the reason for these posts: (christian shepard in "lost" voice) "to let go, and move on".

Then again, none of us have been who we used to be, in a very long time.

I'm just the only one of the four of us, apparently willing to admit it, and own it, and do something about it.

Well, that's not entirely fair.  

This wasn't the "Battle of the Bulge", that I risked total and utter annihilation and ruin two years earlier than would be expected on, as the Germans did in the Ardennes, seventy years ago this December.

There was one final blown, golden opportunity, where I left the gates, wide, wide open, to salvage something out of this once great friendship.  To forge, as that horrific corporal seventy years ago sought, a "decent, separate peace" from the other combatants ...

3. (Stevie Wonder Voice) “Someday At Christmas …”

To be honest, I would have done for the Lil’ Champ the things I did, even if this feud hadn’t occurred, because it was fun shopping for that guy.  Seeing your reaction (as well as your teammate's) to the "offensive" I launched, was the highlight of my 2013.  (Which I will grant you, is pretty pathetic.  It only took my favorite sitcom leaving the air -- and four months -- to post "The Annual Column", it was that awful.)

My favorite moment was seeing you hold the little bootie Chiefs socks, for what it's worth.  I would like to think, for one final moment, there was a glitter of hope.  

It just wasn't meant to be.

And to those of you reading this who assisted me in trying to make that one last gasp effort -- and you know who you are, and trust me Chica, I leaned on a lot of people to get even a shred of information, about what you guys were having, what you were planning, right down to hearing third hand that one of you was (I believe) a bear theme, and one was the owl theme, and I gambled you were the owl, in putting that candy stuffed animal in the Lil' Champ's sack -- to all of you, thanks for your help.  

All this for a kid, I'll never meet?

That is what you mean to me.

Nobody can denied I tried.

I can only be sorry, I never meant, the same to you, as you do to me.

2. (Stevo Voice) “Oh Come On!  It’s Not Like I Haven’t Ever Seen Them Before!”

Let’s just say, I may have walked in on The Chica getting ready one day by accident*, and ever since, that’s my favorite running gag for her.  I always found it funny.  From day one, she never has.

And my favorite moment with her ...

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(*: we're coming back to this day ... sorta ... in the final part of this series, which will go up no later than Friday, August 15.  The main body of work is written; I'm down to parsing and (semi) editing into the six sections at this point.  Or to put this series in sports terms: it's 18 hours until CBS announces the brackets; we're down to squabbling with seeding, and ensuring BYU is on Thursday / Saturday sites only, at this point in the process.)

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1. The Interview.

It was sometime in early January, 2009.  And I’m guessing it was on a Wednesday.  The beginnings of this, will be addressed when I get to The Champ’s section over the next two weeks.

The company he (at the time) and I (still) work was having one final winter formal, which was known as The Midwinter Blues.  I had asked The Ex to be my date that night, and she said yes.  The Champ finally mustered up the courage to ask The Chica to be his date for the event … and she said maybe.

Because she wanted to learn more about him first.  

Which meant interviewing someone about him.

And go figure – that someone was me.

So allow me to say this:

I have always thought it was beyond cool, and beyond respectable, and beyond admirable, that she was interested enough in him at that point, that she was ready to see beyond the “yeah, we have fun every Wednesday, but …” point the friendship was at, at that point. 

Chica, you had a level of class, I'd never seen in anyone The Champ had dated, or even had a casual encounter with.  And you all know how I feel about The Crush.

That's?  Who you were to me.

You were the only girl I ever saw him with (and I've known way too many of them ... and all the long-term ones), who drug him UP to your level, rather than DOWN to ours.

I must have done something right that night; she told The Champ yes, they were engaged a little over a year later, married a little less than a year after that.

With the precious Lil' Champ, arriving barely three months ago.

If I brought nothing else to the table?  At the end of the day, at least I got the most important thing, right.  

You’re welcome.

There's more funny, memorable, and in one case, frustrating, moments with the affectionately named Chica to come, over the next few posts ... but these were the ones that involved (for the most part) just her and I.  Whatever else, at least in the words of Metallica: "the memory remains" ...

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I guess that's what I'm sorriest you've lost with me, Chica, is that level of respect you once commanded out of me -- and I'd guess, damned near everyone else -- the moment you entered the room.

You were BETTER than all of us ... and didn't have to flaunt it, hype it, or sell it.

We KNEW it.

No one who truly knows of how you've handled the last two years?

Thinks those things now.

They just laugh, at what you claim to stand for, because your actions, no longer honor your words.

The look back at The Ex is up next; I hope to get it up by Friday evening …

Monday, July 28, 2014

"the family" funeral, part uno: the preview.

“When are you gonna come down?
When are you going to land?
I should have stayed on the farm;
I should have listened to my old man!

You know you can’t hold me forever –
I didn’t sign up with you.
I’m not a present for your friends to open;
This boy’s too young to be singing the

Blues …

So goodbye yellow brick road!
Where the dogs of society howl.
You can’t put me in your penthouse!
I’m going back to my plough!

Back to the hallowed old owl in the woods,
Hunting the horny back toad.
Oh, I’ve finally decided?  My future lies?
Beyond the yellow brick

Road …

What do you think you’ll do then?
I bet they shoot down the plane!
It’ll take you a couple vodka and tonics,
To set you on your feet again!

Maybe you’ll get a replacement –
There’s plenty like me to be found.
Mongrels who ain’t got a penny,
Sniffing for tidbits like you on the

Ground …

So goodbye yellow brick road!
Where the dogs of society howl!
You can’t plant me in your penthouse –
I’m going back to my plough!

Back to the hallowed old owl in the woods,
Hunting the horny back toad.
Oh, I’ve finally decided?  My future lies?
Beyond the yellow brick

Road!!!!!! …”

-- “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” by Elton John.  It’s not only my favorite song by Mr. John … but if you read the lyrics, there’s a specific reference to all four members of “The Family” in there.  And there's one line, that perfectly describes, how I feel at this point … and it’s not the one you’d think, on first glance … or even the second one you'd think, on first glance ...

--------------------

August 15th.

Five years ago that weekend?  “The Family” was truly forged (and I’d argued saved), by the 300,001st Ounce Tailgate.

Three years ago on that weekend, a collection of four friends known as “The Family”, enjoyed their last truly great moment, of that relationship. 

Two years ago on that (exact) day, the “Text Heard Round the World” set off the events that eventually murdered the friendship, even if it limped along for a few more months, until it was all but utterly massacred on Easter Sunday 2013. 

Massacred, via the ultimate disclosure – the admission by one member of the friendship, that everything they’d pledged to do, to save it? 

Had all been a lie.

A betrayal at Easter time that results in "death"? 

Remind me again – who is the one person you’ll ever know, who does not believe in coincidence?

--------------------

I believe in honoring the past – both the good, and the ugly – because it happened.  If it was great?  No wonder I’d want to honor it.  If it was ugly?  Then remember if only to learn from the mistakes.  And if it was some of both? 

Well, isn’t that what life is all about?  I believe a horrific television show noted that years ago:

“You take the good!
You take the bad!
You take ‘em both,
And then you have

The Facts of Life!”

(Pause).  Allow me to offer my profound apologizes, for putting that theme song, in your head … and also allow myself the opportunity to point out, to those of you who believe there are people who never, no matter what, make mistakes in life?

George (bleeping!) Clooney?


--------------------

I choose to look back, and honor what was, I have no doubt, the greatest friendship I will ever enter into in my lifetime, in these six posts:

* Part Uno (this post) sets the scene to come.





* And Part Ocho, is my final comments, regarding this once-great friendship.  Which most people would call, a "eulogy".  

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Most of these moments will be funny, or emotional.  A few won’t be pretty, but because I’m me, they mattered to me*.

And because all of them mattered to me?

That makes them memorable.

--------------------

(*: I know, I know – I’m just building the case against me, before the state steps in, and assigns me to my new home at Two Rivers Psychiatric.)

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The forty-four(ish) moments** to be fondly (or at least semi-fondly …) remembered, are as follows.  

And like ESPN Insider?  I'll give you a free look, into six moments, to be shared, via this neat little deal known as a "link", in the moments mentioned below ...

“The Chica”:

11: (The Chica Voice) “So My Mom Found Your Site …”
10: (The Chica Voice) “I Want To Talk.  Can I Come Over?”
9: (The Chica Voice) “Bring The Lil’ Scoops.  I Love The Lil’ Scoops!”
8: (The Chica Voice) “I Haven’t Watched It Yet!  I Waited For You!”
7: (Stevo Voice) “Wait – You’re a NASCAR Fan!?!?!?”
6: (Stevo Voice) “Wait – You’re a denver broncos Fan!?!?!?”
5: (The Chica Voice) “Now, Since Your Mom Clearly Didn’t Teach You Certain Things …” 
4: The Last Moment I Believed “The Family” Was Capable Of Being Saved, The Chica Edition.
3: (Stevie Wonder Voice) “Someday At Christmas …”
2: (Stevo Voice) “Oh Come On!  It’s Not Like I Haven’t Ever Seen Them Before!”
1: The Interview.

“The Ex”:

HM: (Simon Cowell Voice) Pauler Abdul Night.
10: (“Seinfeld” Voice) “They Aren't Real … But They Are Spectacular!”
9: (The Ex Voice) “Yeah, Right.  Another Overtime?  Worst!  Excuse!  Ever!”
8: (The Ex Voice) “Wait – Are Those I Heart Beer Boxers You're Wearing?"
7: The First – And Only – Time In My Life, I Decide It’s Too Hot, To Be Outside.
6: The (Nearly) Fatal Conversation.
5: The (Totally) Perfect Saturday.  (Editors note: the link?  Is maybe my fifth favorite memory, of that day, at best.  The day was so damned perfect, the link, is at best, the fifth best part of it ... and those of you who know me even remotely, know how much seeing the performance I linked, meant to me, as I recorded it ...)
3: A Birthday Party Where the Guest of Honor Was Gavin DeGraw.
2: (Stevo Voice) “There!  It’s (Bleeping!) Done!  Are You Two (Bleeping!) Happy Now!”
1: (Maureen McGovern Voice) “There Has To Be A Morning After …”

 “The Champ”:

(Editors note: this might get updated, and elongated.  In the words of “The Champ”: “deal with it!”)

HM6: (The Champ Voice) “We Need Brown Sugar.”
HM5: (The Champ Voice) “Do You Think You Can Clear The Bar Out?”
HM4: Good Friday 2005.
HM3: (The Crush Voice) “I’m Going As The Office Slut!”
HM2: (The Champ’s Mom Voice) “You Can Drive A Stick!?!?!? / (Stevo Voice) Sure!”
11: (The Champ Voice) “Why Don’t We Meet Up At Hooters?”
10: (Stevo Voice) “Hey, Are The Royals Playing Today?”
9: (Matt Saracen Voice) “My Eyes Were Open Coach!  They Were Wide Open!”
8: (Mary Felix Voice) “You Have To Hire Him!”
7: The Last Moment I Believed “The Family” Was Capable Of Being Saved, The Champ Edition.
6: (Stevo Voice) “So, What Are You Doing Friday Night?”
5: (The Champ Voice) “So It Says To Freeze Overnight, Then On Your Drive In, To Crank The Defroster Until The Temperature Reaches …”
4. Projekt Revolution.
3: The Best Weekend Of My Life, That Didn’t Involve A Member Of The Opposite Sex.
2: The Blackout.
1: Friday, November 20, 2009.

The (Meatloaf Voice) “Two Out Of Three Ain’t Bad” Honorable Mention:


The (Don MacLean Voice) "Day The Music Died" Honorable Mention:

1. December 14, 2012.

“The Family”:

11: (Advertisement Voice) “Asian Massages!  On (The) Second Floor!”
10: (The Champ Voice) “I Need You!  Now!  They’re Driving Me Insane!”
9: (NSYNC Voice) “It Ain’t No Lie!  Baby, Bye Bye …”
8: One Last Bonfire At The OK Corral Known As Stubbs …
7: (Stevo Voice) “Why Do We Need A Kid’s Chair?” / (The Champ’s Mom Voice) “She Has My Permission To Use (His) Full Name!”.
6: (The Ex Voice) “Really?” / (The Chica Voice) “Why Am I Not Surprised?”
5: (The Chica Voice) “I Thought He Wanted To Give Me The Business!”
4: The Actual First “Date”.
3: The First “Official” Date.
2: The Last New Year’s Eve, Of Life As It Was.

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(**: there's only one serial killer(s) I've ever been fascinated by, in my life.  David Berkowitz.  The Son of Sam.  The .44 Caliber Killer.  No, I do not believe in coincidence, in picking 44 specific moments, in this murdered friendship, to fondly recall.  Oh, and go figure, that figure of 44, checks in at closer to 60, than 44.  Uum, you're welcome?)

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Part Dos, my favorite memories of “The Chica”, will be up mid-week.  As Mr. Hoduski would note: “stay tuned” …

Thursday, July 24, 2014

big brother 16 power poll version 3.0

“Mirrors on the ceiling,
The pink champagne on ice,
And she said “we are all just prisoners here,
Of our own device.”

And in the master’s chambers,
They gathered for the feast.
They stab it with their steely knives,
But they just can’t kill the beast.

Last thing I remember,
I was running for the door.
I had to find the passage back,
To the place I was before.

Relax, said the nightman,
We are programmed to receive.
You can check out anytime you like,
But you can never leave …”


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(the chenbot voice) Welcome, to the Big Brother 16 Power Poll Version 3.0!

But first ...

Not really gonna be a theme this week, and I apologize for no poll last week.  But football season is almost here, and you all know the posting picks up significantly once the Red and Gold take the field.

--------------------

Big Brother 16 Power Poll Version 3.0
Key: Rank.  Houseguest (2.0 Ranking, 1.0 Ranking).  Thoughts and comments.

16. Joey (16, 8).  Does anybody actually miss her?  I didn't think so.

15. Paola (15, 15).  Does anybody actually miss her?  I didn't think so.

14. Devin (14, 3).  This just in -- dude has a daughter.  Oh, and I don't even have to ask the question for this tito -- nobody misses him.  Well, other than maybe his daughter.  Which he has one.  Who's, like, one year old and stuff.  God, this guy just annoyed the crap out of me for some reason. 

13. Victoria (12, 7).  There are many, many things in life that irritate me.  Rank hypocrisy.  Anything and anyone affiliated in any way with the organization known as the denver broncos*.  The rapidly rising cost of decent liquor.  Utter and total incompetence that you try to pass off as success. 

But few things irritate me more than people who think they're attractive, and go out of their way to play up their looks, when reality requires me to inform that person, that you're not attractive.  Honey?  You're not attractive.  Maybe to some slack-jawed yokel you're the prize at the state fair, but not to me.  

Oh, and the facial cream is NOT helping the acne problem.  You're welcome.

(*: I may hate the denver broncos, and take every opportunity life presents me to degrade satan's squad ... but a genuine and sincere Stevo's Site Numero Dos' best wishes to broncos owner pat bowlen.  My grandma died of Alzheimer's.  I wouldn't wish that disease on my worst enemy ... who it just so happens, is a broncos fan.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I do not believe in coincidence.  Back to the poll!)

12. Christine (13, 11).  I am solidly convinced that if I was to throw down with this chick in a dark alley, I would not emerge alive**.  She's grizzley bear level scary.

(**: yes, Captain Oats, I am fully aware that if I got into a donnybrook in a dark alley with damned near any member of the opposite sex, I would not emerge alive.  I am not what the kids call "buff" or "physically threatening".)

11. Hayden (11, 9).  He's just there.  Which I guess is a good thing for him, if he intends to win the $500,000, but he doesn't really move the meter for me in any appreciable way.  Smells like your floater who gets tugged along, until it's time to head to port, and then they cut him loose and let, like, the dolphins and sharks and other fish-like creatures, eat him for dinner.

10. Brittany (5, 4).  She's extremely like to be sent packing tonight, and I won't be all that sorry to see her go.  Although it was funny watching her have to score 2,400 goals in 24 hours, as she b*tched, moaned, whined, and complained the whole time.  You know what?  She gets her own theme song this week:

"It was raining from the first,
And I was dying of thirst,
So I came in here.

And your long-time curse?  Hurts.
But what's worse?
Is this pain in here.

I can't stay in here!
Ain't it clear that

I just can't fit.
Yes, I believe it's time for us to quit.
And when we meet again?
Introduced as friends?
Please don't let on that you knew me when,
I was hungry, and it was your world.

Aah, you fake just like a woman!  Yes you do!
You make love just like a woman!  Yes you do!
Then you ache, just like a woman!
But you break?
Just like a little girl ..."


9. Jocasta (10, 16).  Rises slightly thanks to her reaction to winning the Block Party.  Because anytime you can have a solid five minute montage thanking every spirit known in the material world, you have to do it.  

And, we're at halftime.

--------------------

Which brings us to this week's "Klassy" Kevin Keitzman Tweet O' The Week!

This week, I choose not to use a Tweet.  I choose instead, to use a transcript, of the "Klassy" One, from his show on Tuesday.  And folks, you're gonna love this one.  I advise you not have any adult beverages in your mouth while reading said transcript, because you're gonna spit it out in laughter at the rank, stank hypocrisy, of what "K"KK is alleging:

Quote Uno:



Well, I guess it's time to add one to the rotation.  (frankie from "big brother 16" voice) Oh my God!  Oh my God!

"I've been called a shock jock, Jerry Springer, clueless about sports, an exaggerator ..."

What, pray tell, Oh Klassy One, is NOT true in that above listing?  Let's take these one at a time, shall we?

* Shock jock?  A shock jock tends to either use sensational material to rile up his or her audience, or just flat out make sh*t up, to spark a debate or manufacture a controversy.  *Cough Missouri Is Going To The Big Ten -- Official Cough*  *Cough The Walkout Against the Yankees Cough*. 

* Clueless About Sports?  You wanted the Chiefs to take Geno Smith number one overall.  You claimed Kansas State hoops couldn't survive Frank Martin's departure, or survive Bruce Weber's arrival.  You spent the day of Coach Hobo's hiring five years ago praising Coach Hobo and Mr. Pioli not for their football acumen, oh no.  You praised them for taking a flight on Southwest, and driving themselves to Arrowhead, instead of having a first class ride in and a limo waiting.  (Maybe if they hadn't wasted all that time in overstuffed airplanes and hauling themselves around town, they could have found the time, to, you know, actually do their job, and build a team that is a success.)

* An Exaggerator?  I mean, really?  Really?  Is this the Peter Griffin "Genital Warts!" Memorial Moment of the posting?  But my personal favorite:

* Jerry Springer.  Well, "Between The Lines" has become a three ring circus freak show.  To say nothing of the fact that fifteen years ago, you could have (allegedly) appeared as a guest on Mr. Springer's fine television production for (allegedly) doing what most of the guests, are on his show to admit.

But hey, you do have to admire his honesty -- it does pay to cheat.

Quote Dos:



Wow, where to begin.  "I'm not hammering on Bill Self.  Somewhere in there is a golden compliment."

Say wha?  Uuh, Ol' Klassy One?  Generally speaking, when you spend forty five seconds ripping a coach to pieces?  You're hammering on them.  I mean, I didn't launch into a few thousand word diatribes about Coach Baffoon two years ago on a weekly basis, because "somewhere in there is a golden compliment".  I ripped into Coach Baffoon because he's a God awful head coach!  You didn't rip into Bill Self to "find the golden compliment", you ripped into him because you think he's a cheater!

And even there -- offering up no proof, no evidence, no facts whatsoever, to back up your claim that Ol' Hairpiece is a serial violator of the rules -- that STILL isn't the most rank, stank hypocritial part of Quote Uno Dos.

Let what "Klassy" Kev is saying, sink in.

He's mad at someone for (allegedly) cheating.

(Pause).  Yeah, got to.  (frankie from "big brother 16" voice) Oh my God!  Oh my God!

Let's return to the action on the field ...

--------------------

8. Donny (8, 14).  He's up for eviction, but there's no way he's leaving tonight.  Circle me curious to see how Cody opting to put Donny up, instead of Caleb as planned, goes over with the lovable groundskeeper.

7. Caleb (4, 1).  Oh good gravy, where to begin.  His border-line pathological stalking of Amber is creepy.  He's turned into the biggest tool the house has to offer, and considering this is Big Brother, that's saying something -- there's a certain tool factor built in to every houseguest to begin with.  He blew, he freaking blew, an opportunity to not just gain an ally (and he's hemorrhaging them at this point) in Brittany by taking the HoH back from Victoria to save her, for someone who is clearly going through big-time "I ain't had sex in a month, y'all" pains right now, he blew a golden opportunity to stop the slump.  (Sidebar: we're in week five guys, and nobody's hooked up yet?  Really?  You put sixteen (mostly) attractive, horny (joe pesci voice) utes in a closed environment, cut off to everything in the world save for themselves, and NOBODY has taken advantage of it yet?  The moral side of me finds that refreshing.  The Big Brother fan side of me is disgusted and deeply, deeply disappointed.)

And yet, you can argue that Caleb not taking the HoH and saving Brittany, wasn't even the dumbest move involving him this week.  Cody not backdooring him, that was the dumbest move of the week.

6. Amber (9, 12).  Watching her shoot down every missive Caleb sends her way, is hysterical enough.  Watching her intentionally p*ss Caleb off by hitting on Cody, is just priceless.  Keep it up girl.  It's been fun to watch.

5. Zach (7,6).  This is not an indictment of Zach, as much as an endorsement of everyone rated above him.  This dude is every bit the remaining four's equal when it comes to delivering quality cheap-ass entertainment.  The pink hat is just awesome. 

And while I'm at it, yo!  Mr. Chen!  Mr. Leslie Chen!  Zach, Cody, and Frankie gave you the sitcom pitch of a lifetime this week: a show focused on the three of them living their everyday lives.  "Two Frat Boys and a Gay Guy".  I guarantee you, that show will not only draw ratings?

It's better than "2 Broke Girls" (which (God forgive me) I watch and (please God, forgive me) actually makes me laugh), "Mom" (which I neither watch nor enjoy), or the carcass of "Two and a Half Men" (checked out a long time ago). 

4. Cody (6, 10).  Solid week as HoH, although worrying about having blood on your hands on Day 25 is a bit ridiculous.  Nobody will remember it come Day 46.  And you know it's a week, when I can't decide what moment made me laugh more.  Was it:

* Cody, first up in the Veto comp, noting "if I don't win this, I'm an idiot", then being the first booted ... in a soccer competition?  Or ...
* Cody's prize for playing in said Veto comp being that he had to literally kick himself in the ass ten times, every time the bell rung for a day?

I have to go with the latter, because the montage shown last night was that damned funny.  It was just cruel by the end.  Good job, powers that be!

(Don't believe me?)




3. Nicole (3, 2).  She's insanely hot, she's ridiculously funny, she doesn't take herself seriously, and she even rocks it in a frog costume.  You know what?  She's also getting her own theme this week:

"The way you look!  The way you laugh!
The way you love with all you have!
There ain't nothin' 'bout you?
That don't do somethin' for me!

The way you kiss, the way you cry,
The way you move when you walk by!
There ain't nothin' 'bout you?
That don't do somethin' for me!

Whoa oh oh oh oh oh! ..."


(Oh, and speaking of "there ain't NOTHIN' 'bout you, that don't do somethin' for me?  Anyone recognize the female star of this video?  She's only my favorite female district attorney on one of my ten favorite shows of all time.  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, peoples and peepettes, that is the lovely, the talent, ADA Connie Rubarosa!  God above, she is smoking hot!  Round of applause for Alana de la Garza everyone!!!)

2. Derrick (1, 5).  He's the best player in the game, bar none.  Somehow, his cop background hasn't slipped out yet.  If it does, it'll be interesting to see who turns on him (for their own good), and who decides to chance it against him.

1. Frankie (2, 13).  A Stevo's Site Numero Dos' official consolation and sympathy shout-out to Frankie, who lost his grandfather yesterday.  (And congrats to CBS for actually letting him know.)

Dude is laugh out loud funny.  He's likable.  That referee's shirt for the Veto comp is amongst the five funniest outfits I've ever seen on this show, and again, given that this is "Big Brother", where contestants have dressed as a banana for a week before, that's saying something.


(the ref's shirt.  oh, yeah: (brian griffin voice) gay.  Image: Morty's TV.)


And somehow, nobody's figured out yet who his sister is!  Unbelievable!

Although in the houseguests defense, I haven't figured out yet who his sister is, so I'll cut them some slack there ...

Saturday, July 19, 2014

to the greatest man i will ever know, for (irony voice) one four letter word ...

”And now?
All of a sudden,
It seemed to strange to me,

How we’ve gone,
From something’s missing,
To a family.

Lookin’ through the glass,
I think about the man,
That’s standing next to me.

And I hope I’m at least
Half the dad,
That he didn’t have to be.

Lookin’ back?
All I can say,
About all the things he
Did for me?

Is I hope I’m at least
Half the dad,
That he didn’t have to be.

Yeah I hope I’m at least
Half the dad?
That he didn’t have to be.

Because he didn’t have to be …”


--------------------

There are a lot of people who will read this -- most of them, my parents age -- who will think of July 20th, and think of an American hero.

I am among you -- I too, will think of an American hero.  

If only to me.

Because tomorrow, on July 20th, I will arrive at my parents’ house – for once in the summer months, not my Second Parents, but the real deal – and we will celebrate a day, that nine months ago, seemed unthinkable.

Because tomorrow, my dad turns 65.

My mom earlier this week, requested that various family members and close friends, submit what my dad means to them.  I wrote a pretty decent little blurb, but come on, y’all know me.  Limiting myself to a paragraph or two, is simply not my style.

That, and in thinking about what to write as my tribute to my dad, I couldn’t help it.  I kept coming back to my favorite moment of my dad.  

When dad had his issues back in October – when we lost him for three days, and nearly lost him forever – I was forced for a few days to think of what I would say, if the worst possible outcome, occurred.

And the only thing that came to mind?

Was one four-letter word.

--------------------

This week, I had two co-workers who lost someone meaningful to them.  One of my favorite IT people lost his mom, and my boss lost her husband.  For the former, I didn’t know until a card started circulating through the department on Thursday. 

For the latter?  We were in a meeting on Wednesday morning.  My back was to the door, but my boss’ wasn’t.  A little before 10am, she got up and said to me “I have to go”.  I figured she had another meeting that mattered more than the one we were in.  (That, or she was nearly falling asleep, as the rest of us were.)

God, I wish that either had been the case. 

I had plans months in the making for Wednesday night, and as a result, didn’t really think about real life, until I arrived at work the next day.  My department head, who I’m not exactly a fan of (and the feeling is mutual; deservedly so in both cases, if I’m being fair) and I arrived at the secured door on the 5th floor at the same time, albeit on different elevators.

My department head, is amongst my boss’ best friends in life.

I looked at him; he looked at me.

He didn’t have to say a word.

His face, gave reality away.

--------------------

Over the next three months, I will have to mark – because reality demands it – the deaths of three people who mattered tremendously to me, ten years ago.  August 20th will be the tenth anniversary of one of my best friends growing up, James, decision to check out of this life on his 27th birthday.  October 5th will mark the tenth anniversary of Randy opting to check out of this life voluntarily.  And October 16th will mark the tenth anniversary of my grandma’s passing.

And sadly?  None of those three remembrances, are the death I’ll mourn the most over the next few months.
  
Because August 15th will mark the two year anniversary, of the murder of “The Family”.

I suppose that as the year goes along, I’ll find my way to pay tribute to two amazing friends, and one amazing grandparent, in my own way, after ten years of living without them.

Tribute.  It’s a word that’s been around for thousands of years, dating back to the Roman Empire using it as a euphemism for “tax”.  But modern history has redefined the word.  Now?  We refer to “tribute” as “to honor”.  “To recognize”.  To simply say “thank you for who you are, for who you were, for what you did”. 

That, peoples and peepettes?  Is the easy thing to do, for someone you care(d) about, for someone who has meaning to you.

The hard part?

Is one four letter word, in the opening lyrics, that defines my favorite moment with my dad.

And it’s those four letters, that explain why I’m going to break a promise I made last year, in what I acknowledge is my favorite post I’ve ever written.

--------------------

“1995.

Perhaps no year has been more eventful to me, in a positive way.  I graduated high school.  I moved away to college.  It’s also the year my favorite moment with my dad occurred, on a cold, snowy February Thursday night.  It’s a moment only he and I would know about, and he probably doesn’t even remember it, but it’s the one reason I keep struggling to keep going, to keep living.

It’s a story I’ll tell only once, and I am dreading the day, that story gets told.  We came way too damned close to that day arriving, six weeks ago.  WAY too damned close.”


--------------------

When my mom asked me to write a quick note to express and/or explain what my dad means to me, I tried to figure out how to work my favorite moment with my dad, into a paragraph or two. 

And I realized, I couldn’t do it.  I mean, I managed to … but it’s a pathetic representation, of what I think of my dad.

And I’m glad – hell, I’m PROUD – of that, because honestly folks?  If you can sum up someone who has unconditional value and meaning to you in a paragraph?

They don’t have unconditional value, and meaning, to you.

I couldn’t sum up “The Voice of Reason”, or Jasson, or my brother, or Vineet, or “The Ex”, in a paragraph.  I couldn’t sum up Penny and DeHart, my Second Parents, “The Perpetual Intern”, Donnie, Doc, in a paragraph or two.  I couldn’t sum up “The Crush”, Anthony and Jaimmie, Heath or Brett, in a paragraph. 

I am dreading the fact, I’m going to have to sum up Gusser in a paragraph or fifteen, in about six months, and hopefully, God gives him (and us) the over, in that bet on the timeline.

I couldn’t sum up “the Other Steve”, the guy I sit by at Chiefs games, in a paragraph or two, and I sure as hell couldn’t sum up my Springfield friends, in a paragraph.

Hell -- sadly, pathetically, even now?  I couldn’t sum up the Champ or the Chica in a paragraph.  I probably couldn’t sum them up in a month’s worth of posts, for what they’ve meant to me.

I couldn’t sum up my late buddy James, or Randy, or my grandma, or any grandparent of mine I knew – be it my mom’s folks, or my dad’s mom, or Delbert* – I couldn’t sum any of them up, in a paragraph or two.

I couldn’t sum up my mom in a paragraph or two, and God knows we don’t exactly see eye to eye on just about anything.

I mention those facts, because they raise one significant question:

What the hell was my mom thinking (or drinking), in expecting me, to sum up my dad, in a paragraph or two?

--------------------

(*: I never knew my dad’s dad.  I mean, I knew him, but he passed away when I was two, so I don’t remember him.  I always considered Delbert my other grandpa, and I’m damned proud of that.)

--------------------

I choose to make this post, the story I swore I would share only once, as I noted in my favorite post, I’ve ever, uuh, posted.

I choose to share it, because when you truly care for someone?  They should know about it, while they can still know about it.  Holding back how you feel about someone until they’re gone?  Is just so selfishly wrong, it’s embarrassing and pathetic.

If I can convey anything entering this weekend, entering the 45th anniversary of a man landing on the moon, and the 65th anniversary of the greatest man I've ever known entering this amazing gift from God we call life, please – don’t let petty sh*t destroy your relationship with others. 

If a friend asks you to talk?  Humble yourself, and talk. 

If you hurt someone?  Apologize to them, and own your failure.

Because if there is one lesson in life my dad has taught me?  It is this:

NOTHING in life is truly unforgivable …

… other than failing to express exactly how you feel about someone, while they’re still around, to hear it.

--------------------

It was the last Thursday of February 1995.  And it was cold.  I know it was cold, because Dad made me get out, and put gas in the car, under the “I’m not freezing out there to go to your deal, and I’m paying, so start pumping!” argument, that I couldn’t refute.

My “deal” that night, was a presentation by Baylor University, at the Leawood Baptist Church off of State Line and 83rd.   I pass by that church every day on my way to and from work. 

Those of you who know me best?

Know that I do not believe in coincidence.

I had narrowed down my choice of schools, to two: TCU and Baylor.  My dad and I had visited each the previous August – we visited TCU on August 11, and Baylor on August 12.  If you are a fan of Major League Baseball?  You know what happened on Friday, August 12, 1994. 

Again – I do NOT believe in coincidence.

The presentation itself was fine.  Baylor didn’t lose me that day, I’ll put it that way.  But the selfish side of me, had had its’ mind made up on August 11th, and the choice was TCU. 

But the practical side of me, was still giving Baylor every chance, to get me to change, the selfish side’s outcome.

We left the presentation about 8:30, and on the way home, Dad asked if I was hungry, and so we stopped in at where Tippins used to be at 435 and Metcalf.  It is another place I pass by every day, on my way to and from work.

Again – I do NOT believe in coincidence.

I ordered a burger and some kind of drink; my dad ordered about three pieces of pie, coffee, and “don’t you dare tell your mother about this!” words of threat to me.  Hey, pops wants me to keep my mouth shut?  I can do that.

Especially if he’s paying.

Not just for dinner … but for damned near everything in my life, up to that point.

--------------------

Baylor offered more in scholarship money.  Baylor was (pathetically enough) cheaper than TCU.  It was not in the heart of America’s fifth largest metropolitan area (which would make my mommy happy).  It was a very, very strict Baptist school (see previous parenthetical response – although considering my buddy Neeck went there, and called it “the best five years of my life”?  I actually think I missed out, in hindsight.)

Baylor had a comparable business school, and a better journalism school (I knew I wanted to major in one of those two fields) than TCU at the time, and from a sports perspective, it was a lock to merge with the Big 8, while TCU was definitely on the outside looking in.  (Funny how things change over twenty years, isn’t it?)

If you were doing a pro-con checklist?  Baylor probably would have the advantage in every column, save one.

I didn’t want to go there.

I wanted TCU.

I wanted to play Colonial (which I got to every Tuesday my sophomore year … and yes, that was a total and utter waste of $325 times three credit hours.  I couldn’t break 50 playing 9 holes to this day.)  I wanted the Metroplex.  I wanted to be closer to family (my dad’s brother and sister both lived there then, and now).  I wanted to be closer to a fun nightlife (which if you know me now, or over the last ten years, is a laugh out loud proposition – I’m that guy, who sits on the couch, raising a glass of champagne to whoever the hell replaced Strokey Dick Clark, on New Year’s Rockin’ Eve, on, uuh, New Year’s Eve). 

Mostly though, I wanted to go to where I felt the most comfortable.

Even if it was a staggering amount more expensive, than Baylor.

Cue the question, that sparked my favorite moment, with my dad.

--------------------

(my dad, about halfway through dinner) OK, kid, it’s decision time.  Where do you want to go?  (resumes eating one of his three pieces of pie.)

--------------------

I told my dad what I thought was the right response, and what I thought he wanted to hear.

I told him my choice …

… was Baylor.

“Dad, tonight was good.  I liked Baylor.  I liked the live bear,**  I liked the town, I liked the people we met, you know, Baylor’s fine.  I’m cool with Baylor.  Baylor’s my choice.”

You’d have thought I shot the President, based on my dad’s facial expression.

And you’d have thought I killed Jesus himself, based on his response, to those two simple little words.

“Baylor’s fine.”

--------------------

(**: yes, there is a live bear, in his own little bear cave, on the Baylor campus.)

--------------------

Those of you reading this that know my dad, know there are two things he rarely does:

(1) betray his emotions, and
(2) use a four-letter word that falls into the offensive category, of four-letter words..

My dad is as stoic as they come.  I try to emulate that – and honestly, I think I do a decent job, of letting the hurts of life, just roll off of me -- at least initially.

(Unfortunately?  That means I let them build, until I blow.)

But swearing?  Come on!  Read this site!  I’ve NEVER met a four letter word I didn’t love to say, write, or type!

My dad?  Argues if you resort to swearing, “you cheapen the conversation”.

Which is why, what happened after I said “Baylor’s fine”?

Is my favorite memory of my dad.

--------------------

He slammed the fork onto the plate, of whatever piece of pie, he was on.

That?  Was undeniable, because it made me set the half of my burger I was working through, down onto the plate, it so grabbed my attention.

He SLAMMED the fork, onto the plate, Dad was so angry at those two words.

“Baylor’s fine”.

Cue “The Moment”.

--------------------

And for those of you who object to language?  I’m going to quote my dad’s exact response, verbatim.  I will never forget these words, as long as I live. 

If you’re offended by foul language?

You still aren’t as offended, as my dad was on that February night, at the words “Baylor’s fine”.

--------------------

“God f*cking dammit*** Steven!  This is the last thing, I ever have to do for you!  You go where you want to go!”

-- my Dad, at that Tippins, on that night in late February 1995.

--------------------

(***: for those of you who have ever wondered where my favorite swear phrase came from?  Of COURSE I stole it, from my hero in life.)

--------------------

The first four words?  Aren’t why this is my favorite moment, with my dad.

And for the record, it’s not the last seven words either.

Because any parent worth a damn, would want their kid, to be granted what they desire.

It’s the middle twelve, that not only explain why I’m still here …

… but why my dad is the greatest man, you could ever have the high honor and privilege, of knowing.

And more to the point?

It’s one of those twelve words -- four letters in length -- that defines the greatest man, I’ve ever had the honor of knowing.

Let alone have the honor, of simply calling “Dad”.

It’s one four letter word.

And again – I don’t believe in coincidence.

--------------------
  
Dad will never admit it, but one of his favorite movies – probably because Mom made him watch it so much, he gave up fighting it and just enjoyed it, is "Love Story"

And the famous quote from that movie, courtesy of the amazing Ali MacGraw, is “love means never having to say you’re sorry”.

With all due respect to Jenny (Ms. MacGraw's character in the movie)?

I’ve always thought, that’s the most bullsh*t quote in Hollywood history.

Because it’s 100% ass backwards.

Love means always having to say you’re sorry.  You’re sorry that someone doesn’t care as much for you, as you do for them.  You’re sorry that you can forgive, when the other side won’t.  You’re sorry that you don’t deserve, the love and respect your friend or loved one shows you, when it isn’t earned.

You’re sorry you betray someone’s trust.  You’re sorry you screw up, you fail, you (insert dumb (bleep!) decision here).  

You're sorry you're not good enough, to be in the person you care about's presence.  That?  Is what true love, is.

Love means always saying you’re sorry, because the other party matters more to you, than you do.

Once you’re no longer capable of saying you’re sorry?  Once you lose the ability to admit you’re flawed, you failed?

Once you lose the ability to admit someone matters more to you, than you do?

That is the moment the love you have for that person? 

Dies.

--------------------

“This is the last thing, I ever have to do for you.”


 Have you figured out the four letter word yet?

(the late, great allen ludden voice) "the password is ... have".

"Have".

The last thing my dad felt he had to do for me, was get me into college.

That was twenty years ago.

I am thirty seven.

Which means, for over half of my life, my dad has had my back in every way imaginable -- financially, emotionally; as a parent, and as a friend.  As a fellow lover of libations ... and as a fellow lover of libations.  As a sounding board, and as a "Voice of Reason".  (Sorry Gregg; but someone had to be the initial one.)  As a fellow Chiefs fan; as a fellow raiders and broncos hater.  (Dad hates oakland more; I hate denver more.  "The Voice of Reason" is right -- it's a generational thing.)  

When someone else around me, I find forced to question their loyalty?

There's one man I know, I don't ever have to question. 

My Dad.

Which is why October 6th hurt me, as much as it did.

And why tomorrow?

I'm going to cry even more than I did, outside of Shawnee Mission, that painful Sunday nine months ago.

Because I get at least one final chance, to express to the greatest man I will ever know -- and I'd argue the greatest man anyone reading this could ever know?

I get one final chance, to simply express, that someday?

I hope I'm at least?
Half the man,
That he didn't have to be.

Because Dad didn't have to be.

God above, I love you Dad.  Happy 65th birthday.

And thank you, God above, for giving us this day, we did nothing to deserve.

Sometimes?

You're as amazing, as my Dad is ...

week twelve picks

The Statisticals. Last Week SU: 8-6-0. Season to Date SU: 98-62-1. Last Week ATS: 7-7-0. Season to Date ATS: 75-80-6. Last Week Upset / ...