That's a pretty good representation of me at the moment. Well, except the baldness. And the beer (we'll get to that later). And the yellow skin (I'm practically albino). So ok, just the fatness, underwear and remote are a good representation. Whatever.Since the three of us obviously suck at getting any posts up here in a timely manner I figured I'd throw up a rambling post talking about random shit, mostly non-sports related. But since this is supposed to be a sports blog, let's start with sports!
1. The Olympics
By far and away this is the least I've watched of any Olympics in my entire life. I'm not exactly sure why, but I really just don't give a fuck. Part of the problem is that NBC is run by a bunch of fucking donkeys and insist on showing tape delayed crap that I already know the results of. Fuck that shit. I mean, yeah, I watched enough of the skiing last night just to see Lindsey Vonn eat shit, but for the most part, if I already know the results, I'm not watching. Another problem is that I'm fucking old and I just can't stay up that late anymore. Last week I got in bed right before the men's figure skating finals. I would have loved to see that Russian fuckhead lose to the American but I seriously couldn't stay awake. Getting old sucks. However, I WILL be watching the hockey game on Friday and the gold medal match (if the US makes it) on Sunday. And really, it's a shame that I haven't been watching more because the United States is fucking raping these Olympics. U-S-A! U-S-A!
2. I'm a fucking idiot
On Tuesday I got home from work and went to unload the dishwasher. I opened the dishwasher up...hey, these dishes are still dirty! I forgot to turn the fucking thing on the night before. I loaded all the dirty dishes, put the detergent packet in, locked the door, and then walked away like a jackass. I do this way more often than I care to admit. It's fucking embarrassing. I quickly started the dishwasher before Wifey got home to hide my idiocy, but then as soon as she got home, I told her. Her response? "Again?" But you see, there's a reason I told her...it keeps expectations low. As long as she thinks she married a barely functional moron who does stupid shit like forget to start the dishwasher, it makes my other, more respectable, qualities stand out even more! Cooked an awesome dinner? I rule! Took the trash out? I'm fucking awesome! Actually started the dishwasher and then unloaded the clean dishes? Best husband ever!
And if you needed more proof of my dumbass-ness, check this shit out...actually, first I need to rant for a few sentences. In my cube at work I have a mini-fridge and a microwave. The mini-fridge isn't really a problem. Yeah, it pisses me off that the raging douchebag in the next cube over occasionally uses it but that really has more to do with the kid being a fucking tool than being annoyed about sharing the fridge. Other people who I like use the fridge and I don't care. But the microwave? Only one other person uses the microwave, and this old dude likes to use it to make microwave popcorn late in the afternoon. This drives me fucking insane. I have no idea where this asshole's desk is, but it's nowhere even close to mine because I know everyone who sits around me. There are microwaves in the cafeteria and all over the fucking place in other cubes but this guy has to come to MY cube and use MY microwave to make his popcorn. And it smells so fucking good it fucking kills me. And I never get to eat any of it, and the smell lingers for fucking ever. Have a little respect for your co-workers, dickhead. You make that popcorn and make the entire room smell like delicious, buttery popcorn and productivity drops like a fucking rock. How can I be expected to work when I'm distracted by that shit? Dickwad.
ANYWAY, back to the whole point of this story. But first, a little background! Yeah, I know, I'm all over the fucking place here but just bear with me. I don't like to eat breakfast at home in the mornings. Just like I'd rather poop on company time, I'd also rather eat breakfast on company time. Because of this, I make scrambled eggs at night, toss them in a tupperware container, then nuke them for a minute at work, spray the shit out of them with I Can't Believe It's Not Butter spray butter, and enjoy them while I check emails and shit to start my day. Trust me, it tastes a lot better than it sounds.
So yesterday, at the end of the day, I was done with work and was gathering up my shit and getting ready to go home. Except, where the hell is my empty tupperware container? It's supposed to be sitting there on top of my computer bag like it always is! This location is also directly above my trash can so maybe I knocked it in the trash by accident? I look in the trash can: empty. The trash guys already came around and emptied it. Fuck. So I figured I had either put the tupperware where I usually do and then knocked it into the trash at some point, or I had simply thrown the tupperware into the trash like a fucking moron. Honestly, the latter option seemed more likely to me. And that's a little sad. I went home, told Wifey (Expectations? Lowered!), and went on with my life.
And then, this afternoon, that asshole with the microwave popcorn comes in, opens the microwave, and...
"Oh! Can I take this out of here?"
/holds up my eggs
"Um, yeah, I don't know who that belongs to."
Yup, I fucking microwaved my eggs, went to get coffee, and then forgot about the eggs entirely. Seems impossible, considering my fatness at this point, but apparently I'm more stupid than fat. Not the greatest self esteem boost I've ever had. Jesus Christ.
3. Holy shit Baby Mark Show is due in 10 weeks!
That's right, 10 weeks from TODAY Baby Mark Show is due to grace the world with his/her presence. And honestly, I can't fucking wait. I mean, yeah, I CAN wait because the apartment is a disaster right now as we rearrange things in preparation for The Chosen One, but other than that I'm fucking ready. People are asking if I'm scared, and seriously, I'm not. I feel almost the same way as I did before my wedding. Just ready to do the damn thing. Of course, the baby is more than just a whirlwind of a day so I suppose it's a little different, but still, I'm ready.
On Tuesday night we went to a meet and greet with the doctors at the hospital where Wifey is delivering. I was under the impression that it would be a fairly small number of people and we'd actually get to talk to the doctors and all that shit. I was wrong. Holy fucking pregnant women, Batman! There were about 150 people there, so 75 pregos, it was fucking packed. What followed was a Q&A with the 7 doctors in the "Gold" group.
The way this hospital works is that there is a rotation of doctors who are on call, for 24-hour shifts, throughout the week. So we don't exactly know which doctor will be delivering our baby. So this was a chance to at least get a look at the possible delivery doctors and ask them any questions we had. Now, right before going to this session I had the pleasure of reading Drew Magary's Funbag over at Deadspin. Obviously the first question and answer had an effect on me. As we were waiting for the session to start, I showed it to Wifey...
W: Haha, that's pretty funny.
M: I think he's exaggerating a little. Blood won't really get on the ceiling, right?
W (fucking with me, I think): Hey, you never know!
Doctor: Ok, let's get started, who has questions?
M (under my breath): Will there be blood on the ceiling?
W: /smacks me
Seriously though, blood on the ceiling??? Holy fucking shit! Because of the size of the crowd, they weren't able to give us a tour of the labor rooms and maternity ward as advertised, but they said we will get a tour when we come back for our Child Birth and Infant Care class later on. And let me tell you, I'm bringing my black light and CSI goggles and inspecting the SHIT out of the ceilings in the delivery rooms. Jesus.
One final note: When/if you go to one of these Q&A sessions, do NOT repeat questions that have already been asked. It will make everyone in the room, especially me, hate your fucking guts. And if it's a dipshit question like "How do I know when to come to the hospital?" that's even worse. Fucking listen the first time the question is answered!
By the way, the answer to that question is: "After your water breaks, call your doctor and they will tell if you need to come in or if you've got some time to chill out and have contractions for a while." It's not rocket science, people!
4. Lent and church in general
For the second straight year, I've given up alcohol for Lent. Some people think I'm crazy, but it's really not that hard. I mean, I'm old as shit so I don't really go out on the weekends anymore so it's not like that's an issue. Wifey's obviously pregnant, so I've lost my drinking partner for random wine nights where we pound a double barrel of shiraz and play Mario Party on the Wii all night. I'm not allowed (and rightfully so) to drink scotch anymore except for on special occasions so that's not a problem. So really, it's a pretty easy sacrifice. The only problem is the random times where I'm all set to have a beer and then remember at the last second that I'm not drinking during Lent.
For example, last weekend Wifey and I went to Ikea to buy a bunch of shit to start transforming the apartment in preparation for the baby. We bought 600 pounds of bookshelves and other storage units. I just about had a heart attack carrying all of that shit up the stairs to the apartment. But the real problem came on Sunday when I started building everything. I enjoy building shit. It makes me feel like a fucking man and Wifey is amazed that I can put this shit together with such ease. But I like drinking while I build stuff. It's a much better time when multiple beers are involved. Except this time I was stuck soberly watching the Celtics lose to the Nuggets. Bur. The no drinking thing also reared its ugly head yesterday when we took a co-worker out to lunch because it was his last day. Everyone ordered beers and I was about to order my own when I remembered I wasn't supposed to drink. Fuck. So other than these small annoyances, it's really no big deal. Plus it should help me shed some of this weight. It fucking better.
As far as church goes, I'm not an overly religious person but I don't mind going to Mass every Sunday. It's kind of peaceful and relaxing and I have a certain amount of faith. I just don't buy in to all of the bullshit that the Catholic church preaches, but we'll leave that alone. The thing with Mass is that it absolutely HAS to be the 9am service. The 9am service is nice. It's not very crowded, it usually ends in well less than an hour, and it's a nice start to the day. I don't sleep past 8am on the weekends anymore anyway, so we might as well get up and go to church. Plus we head to the in-laws' house right after it and my father-in-law makes us breakfast and we can do our laundry for free. But if we don't go in the morning? The 5pm service hangs over my head like a fucking guillotine. It just looms all day, ready to chop my head off and steal one of the last hours of my weekend. And I don't stop thinking about it all day. It's fucking terrible. 9am Mass? Good. 5pm Mass? Horrific.
5. Shut Up, Dorn!
We're doing away with Dorn of the Week over here. It was annoying waiting until after the weekend to do the Dorn post so instead of nominating Dorns during the week and choosing a winner we're just going to do full posts as warranted. It'll generate more posts in a timely manner and just make things run more smoothly. So starting now, look for more Dorn posts from this site.
