Adult Swim

No, not the Cartoon Network's finest line of programming (for those of us over the age of 7). I'm talking about the real deal, the original, the defining moment of adulthood - the public pool's lifeguard-sanctioned Adult Swim.

I realize this is quite the random topic to address. So what? Today, while visiting my sister and her two little ones, we embarked on an afternoon at the swimming pool in her neighborhood development. Along with my mom, who was also visiting from PA, the five of us strolled into the gated oasis with as the hot hot heat pouring down on us.

In between the screams and shouting of what appeared to be an endless number of toddlers, I heard the faint shrill of the lifeguard's whistle, followed by the two words that for a long time in my life brought chills to my insides, and tears to my eyes...

Adult Swim.

This was quite the moment. For the past 4 or 5 years, I have been lucky enough to enjoy the luxuries of private pools at friends' houses, or even the coveted guess past at the local country clubs. For these reasons, I imagine, I have been quite detached from the emotional distress caused by the party-pooping meanness of those lifeguards who - I assumed at the time - had the sole purpose of raining on the parade of every small child splish-splashing around in the pool, making us exit and sit alongside the deck with our feet in the water for 15, sometimes 20, minutes at a time. All so a bunch of old people could swim laps or stand waist- or chest-high and talk about things that they were most likely talking about just moments before in the comfort of their lawn chairs.

Didn't they know how much fun we were having? Of course they did, and that is why they were, as mentioned, a bunch of cold-hearted meanies. The lifeguards, that is.

Well that all changed today. With that whistle, I was instantly liberated from a pool filled with ball-wielding, diving ring-retrieving, foam noodle floating, Energizer-battery-using kids, as I found myself embracing the serenity of the overly-chlorinated pool water as it shimmered under the hot sun. It was glorious.

Instantly, it all made sense. The years of anguish and hatred for those red bathing-suit donning Baywatch-wannabe-lifeguards was immediately transformed into loving acceptance, and, commendation for their having the presence of mind to keep it real for us older crowd.

Yes, I am only 23. But dammit, I am an adult.

Confessions of a Mustacheer

As only someone who has been within 5 feet of me in the past month can tell you, I have been growing a mustache. In case you missed what should be a blatantly obvious hint, I use the term "growing" as a technicality, as this small garden on my upper lip has failed yet to become the amazonian rain forest that I had hoped for, if not expected.

So there. I've said it.

The criticism - as I am sure you can imagine - has been plentiful. Even at work, where this all started when I managed to challenge a sizable portion of my coworkers to a mustache growing competition. You would think they would commend the cultivation and encourage in order for a more competitive contest. (Note: Judging will take place tomorrow. I will update with the results.)

Also, I visited with some old college buddies over the weekend in New York, and even they were less-than-supportive of my ragged lip-warmer. "Not again, Mike," they warned. "Didn't you learn your lesson last time?"

Last time, you see, was what I still view as an almost-successful run at a quality mustache. Most did not share in my optimism. (It should be mentioned, however, that I did manage to garner the endorsement of my brother's band. But, as you can see, their opinions aren't exactly expected to be any different.)

So now, it's my turn to respond. I have heard your grumblings and criticisms and all around pessimistic jabberings, and instead of my usual "Oh just you wait, ha ha ha" sarcastic brush-off, I am just going to come right out with it.

Seriously. Do you think these things just happen? Did the Great Wall of China show up over night? Was Manute Bol born that tall? Was Michael Jackson always white?

No. These things take time. (Yes, I know I was given a week and a half handicap headstart at work, but you know what I mean.)

It's simple, really. Somehow my body got confused along the way and forgot that it was 23 years old. What am I supposed to do about that? I am powerless. Best I can do is just work with what I got. If I have to put up with these shenanigans, then you will too.

So please, realize that I am very much aware of the fact that the patch of hair camping out beneath my nose is a weak excuse for a mustache. I get it. In fact, I am faced with this every time I look in a mirror, store window, computer screen, extremely polished wooden tabletop, or upside down spoon.

Personally, I am dedicated to the fact that this could maybe, possibly, hopefully be a freakin' sweet mustache. I will continue to battle and push forward in cultivating it and helping it to achieve its fullest potential without hindrance or interference. After all, the Grow must go on.




*** Update - due to a combination of the fierceness of my mustache, and the fact that everyone else dropped out and shaved prior to judging (Sallies, all of them!), I was crowned victor of the first annual - and likely last ever - office mustache-growing contest! Huzzah! ***

Habits - the Good kind

Yesterday, I came across a recent New York Times headline that peaked my interest. There it was, number 15 on the NYT's Most-Emailed articles top 25. Unboxed: Can You Become a Creature of New Habits? This topic hit somewhat home to me. As someone who has darn-near mastered the art of "I want to do this, but I'll start later", fostering new habits has been a goal for me for some time now. (I swear I've been doing my push-ups in the morning).

Written by Janet Rae-Dupree, the article dives immediately into it, citing research and studies that have "discovered that when we consciously develop new habits, we create parallel synaptic paths, and even entirely new brain cells, that can jump our trains of thought onto new, innovative tracks." Long story short, thinking outside of our daily routine can stimulate creativity. How cool is that?

Rather than fight to suppress what we may deem "bad" habits, the article contends that creating new habits will result in the creation of new thought tracks in your brain which will oftentimes run parallel with the more procedural and subconscious routines that are ingrained in our psyche and ultimately bypass them.

Quoting M.J. Ryan, author of the 2006 book "This Year I Will...", the article states: “This breaks the major rule in the American belief system — that anyone can do anything. That’s a lie that we have perpetuated, and it fosters mediocrity. Knowing what you’re good at and doing even more of it creates excellence.”

Further, Ryan describes the positive effects that creating new habits has on our mental and physical health: "It turns out that unless we continue to learn new things, which challenges our brains to create new pathways, they literally begin to atrophy, which may result in dementia, Alzheimer’s and other brain diseases. Continuously stretching ourselves will even help us lose weight, according to one study. Researchers who asked folks to do something different every day — listen to a new radio station, for instance — found that they lost and kept off weight. No one is sure why, but scientists speculate that getting out of routines makes us more aware in general."

While I have never taken one psychology class in my life, I have always found the human psyche vastly intriguing. This just furthers this opinion.

I recommend not only checking this article out, but also that you challenge yourself to do what it says. Identify that thing in your life you wish you did more, or at all. Truly dedicate yourself to following through with it. And best of all, enjoy it!

Comments welcome: Got a suggestion of a new habit or activity to adopt? Any personal reaction to the article? Let's hear it...

Tall Former NBA Basketball Players that Have Oddly Come Up in Conversation Recently

I do not think it is humanly possible to explain the content of this post any further than the title of the post has done already.

So.

....

#00 - Robert Parrish


#11 - Manute Bol
(ironically standing with Mugsy Bogues, and inexplicably wearing a suave fedora and holding quite possibly the boxiest bass guitar ever, connected to an amp 1/2 the size of dear ol' Mugsy, and, is that a small cartoon hippopotamus playing the drums in the corner?)

(added bonus - Funniest Song I've ever heard - Ballad of Manute Bol)


#76 - Shawn Bradley


#55 - Dikembe Mutombo

(hmm, lots of Sixers...)


#11 - Yao Ming


#77 - George Muresan

Finally, I somehow stumbled upon this, kindness of the folks at NBA Giants :

It should be pointed out that over 90 percent of all NBA players in the modern league era are listed by their heights with shoes on. However, all NBA players have the option of being listed by either their height with shoes, or without shoes. In the cases of all 5 NBA giants above, they were listed by height without shoes.

Chuck Nevitt, Yao Ming, and Shawn Bradley, all chose to be listed by their barefoot heights. Nevitt would have been listed at 7'6" with shoes, Yao at 7'7" with shoes, and Bradley at 7'7" with shoes, had they opted to be listed by the NBA at their height with shoes on.

Bol and Muresan chose to be listed at their heights with shoes on. So Bol, who measured at 7'6 3/4" barefoot when he entered the NBA was listed at 7'7", his height with shoes, rounded down. Muresan was 7'6 1/2" when he entered the NBA, so he was then listed at 7'7", his height with shoes, rounded down. Bol grew another 1/4" to 7'7" even barefoot, and Muresan grew another 1/2" to 7'7" even barefoot as well.

Thus, their heights with shoes on, then should have been updated to 7'8" by the NBA. However, their heights were simply never updated by the NBA. So they too ended up being listed at their barefoot heights. Many people incorrectly believe that the heights for these 5 above players are their heights with shoes on, since that is how the vast majority of NBA players are listed. But in the cases of the 5 NBA giants above, they actually were/are listed by their barefoot heights.

It is comforting to know that someone else has taken the time to think about and discuss this topic. As I had said in the title, the above tall former NBA players (and one current, I now realize..) have all come up in conversations that I have had with several different people over the past week or so.

Hope you enjoyed this as much as I did.

Stick it to me

I love this time of year.

Why now?

Here’s an extended metaphor:

It’s January. Two days ago, the temperature was in the 20’s. Yesterday was just as bad. Then, all of a sudden, you wake up to a beautifully sunny day. Clear skies. 70 degrees. Sun is shining. Birds are chirping. Bees are trying to have sex with them (at least as my understanding goes).

In that moment, all you can think about is summer. No matter how far away it might be, it is all that is on your mind. You smell the beach air. Taste the lemonade. Feel the sun warm on your face. For all intents and purposes, at that moment, it is summer.

Alright. Metaphor ended. So why am I loving this time of year?

Because it is primary season.

Now, to be honest, I am not any sort of political pundit. Hell, I’ve really only voted once in my life. (Stupid Green Party registration, can’t vote in the stupid primaries.)

What cracks me up is the lengths to which people go in campaigning for their candidate of choice. The annoying, all-up-in-your-grill pamphleteering. The “deep”, oftentimes alcohol-induced late night political debates that result in someone’s feelings getting hurt. The buttons, shirts, headbands, dog leashes, hot-air balloons, billboards, beer-coozies, candidate-shaped cookies, etc. etc. etc.

It’s nuts.

What I want to focus on here, though, is the bumper sticker. (Here is where the metaphor comes into play)

All of this campaigning and candidate touting (or defaming), it is primetime season for political bumper stickers. And as far as my senses are concerned, all I can smell, taste, hear and feel is the hilarity I am bound to experience come next year, when all of the electioneering is complete, and that ’98 Accord drives past, covered in Ron Paul or Rudy Giuliani stickers.

It’s great. Really. I cannot wait.

The best part is that even after their fave candidate loses, they keep those babies up. Sure, they could cover that Kerry sticker up with one bragging about their child's academic or athletic achievements, or maybe a Phish decal. But no, he sticks to his guns. And his sticker.

Yes, few things amaze me as much as the phenomenon of the bumper sticker. Not just political ones either. Music groups. Social thoughts. Sports teams. Calvin peeing on (more) things (than R. Kelly).

The bumper sticker is just so timeless. So genuine.

“Wearing your heart on your sleeve” for motor vehicles?

You bet.

An Epiphany

I have amazing news.

Like, this totally put so many questions - and fears - to rest.

Years of uncertainty were instantly forgotten, as I slowly took a virtual step into an Era of Elluminescence. I don't know if that is a word, but it should be, for it is the only word that can fully describe the joyousness and life that now rushes through my entire inner being.

For today I relay to you, the black veil of confusion and the fog of doubt have been lifted and dispersed, respectively.

Yesterday, while in the middle of one of what I like to call my internet "blackouts" (during which I aimlessly, and quite inexplicably, wander through the twisted halls of the interweb and eventually find myself in some corner so weird and impossible to understand, that I wonder in sheer amazement how many hyperlinks I fell victim to in order to arrive at this bizarre location.)

Alright. So this has been quite dramatic so far. I'll just cut to the chase.

According to YoJoe.com (G.I. Joe enthusiast website):

In the G.I.Joe episode Sins of Our Fathers, Cobra Commander evokes a monster that dwelled in the ruins beneath Destro's ancestral home. Destro and G.I.Joe team-up and Destro uses an ancient chant to lure the monster away. Destro is voiced by actor Arthur Burghardt, Dialtone is voiced by Hank Garrett.

• Listen to it normally (.MP3) [103K]

One of the scares of the 1980s was the "subliminal message" scare - where individuals were convinced that there were occult messages hidden in rock music, commercials, etc. Even cartoons. This subliminal message can be found when listening to Destro's chant backwards.

• Listen to it Backwards (.MP3) [103K]

You put it so plain and elegantly.

"Anybody listening to this backwards for a secret occult message is a big... Dweeb."

Wow. Talk about a HUGE weight being lifted off your mind. I mean, seriously. The man speaks the truth here. You hear that, all you dweebs out there, conspiring to make us do things that we otherwise wouldn't do? Stop messing with our routines.

Oh, now what was that? Why was I on a G.I. Joe website? Oh that's not important. And it has nothing to do with my G.I. Joe P.J.'s or Sergeant Slaughter Wrestling Buddy. And of course nothing to do with my vintage figurines collection, most of which are still contained in their original packaging. (EBay, here I come...)

What is important is this: we no longer need to worry about our multimedia sources piggy-backing occult, hidden messages anymore. (Hooray!) Cold War be damned.

Thank you, "Arthur Burghardt" for your bravery and thought leadership on this issue that has plagued us for over 25 years.

Can I get a slow clap?

Why I hate Tom Cruise

So this has bothered me for a long time now.  Loonngggg time.

I think it's safe to say that I am not the only person who - while growing up - had a laundry list of ambitions, goals, dreams.  You know, some kids wanted to be firefighters.  Others rockstars.  

As for me, well, I had what my mom called an "imagination" (and what most doctors today called "A.D.D").  Since adolescence, I have had more ideas of what I could be than Bob Dylan has had albums.

How then, you might be wondering, does any of this have anything to do with why I hate Tom Cruise?

Well, it's quite simple actually.  You see, on that list of aspirations, I would venture to say that at least a good 87% of them (+/- 3.5%) have been actualized in a movie by a character played by none other than Mr. Scientology himself, Tom F-ing Cruise.

With the help of one of my favorite websites, the Internet Movie Database, I have reviewed Mr. Cruise's resume and will share with you all now just how thwarted I have been (note: I am as of yet not sure who exactly the "you" I just referred to really is, but, in the longshot chance that someone actually does read this, then, I mean "Youuuuuu").

Drum roll please....

A Chronological Listing of How Many Times Tom Cruise has beat me to the Punch:

• 1983 - Street Tough  -  The Outsiders - Tom played Greaser Steve Randle in this film adaptation of S.E. Hinton's masterpiece.  Me loves to rumble...
• 1983 - Amateur Pimp  -  Risky Business - who wouldn't want to be a 19-yr-old P.I.M.P.?
• 1986 - Air Force pilot  -  Top Gun  -  Maverick is a hero of mine.  I own this on DVD.  (Added bonus - busting out "You've Lost that Loving Feeling" in the middle of a bar.  I would kill for that kind of self-confidence.)
• 1986 - Pool Shark  -  The Color of Money -  Not only does Vince kick ass on the pool table, but he's cool enough to wear a shirt with only his name on it in plain white lettering.  Arrogance is Awesomeness.
• 1988 - Hip Bartender  -  Cocktail -  Gotta love the bottle-tossing, womanizing charm of this bartender.
• 1992 - First generation Irish-American  - Far and Away -  This is just a shout out to my Mc heritage.  Potatoes and beer are two favorites.
• 1992 - Someone who yells at Jack Nicholson -  A Few Good Men -  This also is a mesh of a couple dreams - to be in the military, to be a lawyer (which is obviously coming next on the list), and to be in a starring role alongside Kevin Bacon
• 1993 - Lawyer  -  The Firm  -  Realizing the law school will never happen for me, I am representing myself in a speeding ticket challenge in the next few weeks.  I'm studying Mitch McDeere's courtroom suavity all week in preparation.
• 1994 - Vampire  -  Interview with a Vampire  - C'mon...  No one can convince me that sleeping all day and slurpin' down some type AB by night isn't an attractive lifestyle.
• 1996, 2000, & 2006 -  Secret Agent Man  -  Mission: Impossible 1, 2, & 3 - Ethan Hunt had me at the opening rock climbing sequence of the original.  Who is James Bond?
• 1996 -  Sports Agent  -  Jerry Maguire -  Show me the money.  Period.
• 2001 -  Involved with Penelope Cruz - Vanilla Sky  -  Minus the whole facial disfigurement part.  And near-fatal car accident.  But as weird as this movie is at times, I will always and forever be in love with Penelope Cruz.
• 2003 - Samurai Ninja -  The Last Samurai - Alright, so maybe Tom wasn't an actual ninja in this, but he was closer than I will ever be.  
• 2007 - Politician  -  Lions for Lambs -  I'll be honest, I have not seen this one yet.  However, politician was a goal of mine for a while.  I think it ended somewhere around the time I realized that it was the tobacco industry, and not politicians, that ran the government.  

So there you have it.  16 reasons why I hate Tom Cruise.  

If I had to sum it all up and choose one, I think that it would have to be Pool Shark. Once I am super good at pool, I'll have enough street credit to be a street tough; bartenders will reward me for my stellar games with free rounds; Penelope Cruz will flock to me; Jack Nicholson will call me, begging for me to yell at him; I'll still be Irish; and, by default, I will be a Secret Agent-Samurai-Vampire-Air Force Pilot-Senator who is busy cutting deals for sports stars, all the while proving that Pimpin' IS easy.  

Obviously.

The economics of victory

Over the Christmas holiday, I found myself with some extra time on my hands - a fact my family would strongly argue with due to my overall lack of presence in the house with them. Regardless, there I was. Bored even.  

As I aimlessly surfed the interweb, as I prefer to call it, I stumbled upon - believe it or not - an embedded advertisement that I actually clicked on!  (Damn you Facebook ads)

It was a link to a the International Open Amateur Photography Contest sponsored by Picture.com.

Hmm, I thought.  I like to take pictures.

So it was settled. I'd enter.  And enter I did.  My submission:

"Virtuoso"

So there I am, taking down my daily dose of self-indulgence, and expecting absolutely nothing to come from it (aside from the probability of having just signed myself up for a host of unsolicited emails).

With that, I closed up the macbook and headed out the door to do who knows what.

A week goes by.

Just last week, then, I receive an email while at work alerting me that, and I quote:

After thoroughly reviewing and discussing your photograph, I am pleased to inform you that our 

Selection Committee has advanced your contest entry, "Virtuoso," to semi-finalist in the 

International Open Amateur Photography Contest.

Now how a-bout that...  Just when I had decided to expect nothing in return, the kind folks at Picture.com blow me out of the water with this.

My first inclination, obviously, is what can I win?

(And here's where it gets fun)

After a few bolded statements, throwing all sorts of numbers with ridiculous odds to actually win them, comes the steak and potatoes of the whole email:

And that’s not all! In celebration of your unique talent, we also wish to publish your photograph in our forthcoming anthology series . . .

Endless Journeys

Endless Journeys will be a classic, coffee-table quality hardbound volume that is printed on fine-milled paper specifically selected to faithfully reproduce the unique texture and character of your photograph.

In short, I was being awarded with the opportunity of a liftetime, to purchase a large book with lots of pictures that somehow equates into the euphoric-sounding world of Endless Journeys, where, as Jay Farrar from Son Volt puts it, "It's the search, not the find."

Right.

A couple of paragraphs and one click on a hyperlink later, and I'm seeing dollar signs.  $69.99.

After reading this, I promptly closed the email up.  I was going to wait it out.  See what's next.  After all, they did boast that "no purchase was necessary".

A couple days later, and I receive another email from the Picture.com crew.  Turns out, I was being nominated by the International Society of Photographers to be a "Distinguished Member."

AKA, Basic Membership = $60, 1-year Distinguished Membership = $149, 2-year Distinguished Membership = $249.

Did I mention:

So, now, let's say I'm a sucker for 24-karat gold pins and special members-only decals, yet have unresolved commitment issues, so I choose the 1-year Distinguished Member option.

That's $149, + the $69.99 for the 'coffee-table quality hardbound volume', featuring my photo, a small fish in a large pond.  

$149.00 + $69.99 = $218.99

Whoa.

Then, two days later, with the same resilience as the mustache, they were back. And the offerings got shinier:

Now what man can turn down all that glitz and exclamation-pointed phrases starting with the word "New"?

This guy. Right here. He can, and did.

2007 Published Photographer Award Pin - $19.95

Commemorative Bronze Editor's Choice Medallion - $49.95  (pin free if you buy this)

2007 Editor's Choice Commemorative Silver Watch - $119.00  (pin and medallion free if you buy this)

"Just saying No" - priceless

So, to recap my savings.:

$149.00 + $69.99 + $119.00 (best value) = $337.99 (plus shipping & handling, duh.)

Did I mention, "no purchase necessary"?

And there you have it.  The economics of victory are this: In order to get the shiny, glitzy, flashy, and otherwise useless things in this world, all you gotta do is submit something to an online contest.  Poetry, photography, origami, whatever the case is.  They'll be knocking on your virtual door in no time.

[As a side note, here is the url for the pin/medallion/watch combo package. It doesn't appear to be applicant-specific. Do me a favor, and wear all three "Editor's Choice"-emblazoned decorations proudly. For both of us. For all of us.]