THE DREAM.

My new job involves working on Nike's online advertising content, mostly for a project that is launching in August (stay tuned). But part of my responsibilities were supposed to involve working on the Nike Basketball and Nike Football websites, which is great since I love basketball and football. Here's the results of my first small basketball assignment--to write "Nike" summaries of the Pistons vs. Orlando and Golden State vs. Dallas playoff series.

GAME 3 & 4 PLAYOFF SUMMARIES

What I'm allowed to write is a little limiting. For example, I can't use team names, like the Pistons or Mavs or Warriors (some issue with the league). I'm also only allowed to mention Nike athletes, which isn't bad. And since they're summaries, they have to be short, so it's tough to get a lot of game action or personality into it. But hey, part of my job is getting paid to write about basketball. Can't argue with that.

Underused phrase that works good for kids:

You're not the boss of me.

No, you're not. Unless you're my boss and you're reading this. Then you are.

And here's a rule I learned today:

The Girls Never Tell Rule.

Thanks Brandy. You're a wealth of knowledge.

BRADY QUINN AND THE HUMMER DISASTER.

(AP) New York, NY - In this year's NFL draft, former Notre Dame quarterback Brady Quinn sat solemnly as he watched the Oakland Raiders pass on him with pick number one, the Lions at two, the Cleveland Browns at three, the Miami Dolphins at nine and so on and so forth. The college standout, at one time ranked as the number one quarterback in the draft fell all the way to the twenty-second pick, landing with the Cleveland Browns.

Teams unanimously cited one reason for passing on Quinn in the first round. "Did you see that Hummer commercial?" ex-Miami coach Nick Saban said, "the one that kept playing on the ESPN website during draft coverage? It was horrible. I need someone who can make good decisions; based on that abomination, I can't see anyone ever letting that kid on the field. I wouldn't even play him at Alabama, where I am now the head coach."

A Hummer spokesperson, in response to Quinn's demise, added that had they paid closer attention to their web advertising, they never would have released Brady's commercial. "It made him look like a complete jackass," an unknown source proclaimed, "and consequently made the Hummer organization look like fools for making him a spokesperson."

The Cleveland Browns, who traded up to get Brady at the end of the first round, seemed pleased. "We've had such success with our past draft picks--Tim Couch, Courtney Brown--that we felt safe ignoring the general Brady-Quinn-is-a-jackass consensus that had formed in response to the Hummer ad."

Brady Quinn studied under the heavily cheeseburger insulated Charlie Wiess at Notre Dame, where they both enjoyed numerous unwarranted blowjobs from the national media. The Browns are already looking forward to their next top five draft pick. "We'll probably take another quarterback," said team officials.

COACH MEATHEAD.

This spring I'm playing in a co-ed charity soccer league. Since I don't have a lot of friends who were interested in playing, I signed up solo and was placed on a team with a bunch of other individuals. The nice part of this is that you get to meet new people; the bad part is that some of these people suck. Not at soccer. They suck at being people.

I'm writing about this here as a substitute for sending out a super condescending e-mail to one of my teammates, who yesterday sent out this message, entitled No more losing on my watch:

"Greetings all... Just wanted to let everyone know that starting Tuesday I'm going to assume the role of "coach on the field"... This by no means will interfere with the fun factor or infringe on your preferences. It will just provide a little more structure in terms of positioning, substitutions, and strategy. I have a ton of previous experience and in the short time I've known all of you have gained some knowledge on your individual capabilities. Feel free to express your input at anytime."

My initial reaction, aside from laughter, was to ignore this e-mail. The guy who sent this is sort of a meathead, a good athlete, but by no means an exceptional soccer player. Not only was I going to ignore the e-mail, but I planned on ignoring him on the field. Another player informed Coach Meathead that his services would not be needed, to which he replied:

"Just thought I'd mention that my last e-mail believe it or not was in response to a consensus. I was addressed by several members on this team. I didn't come up with the idea on my own. I'm obviously a team player and will handle my own responsibilities and nothing more if you would prefer. I can tell you from past experience though and from what I heard last game that anarchy and indecision lead to sloppy play."

Whoa. First, several members is not a consensus. Second, who in the hell wrote to coach meathead saying, "I think we need you to coach the team?" I don't know if I'm angrier at coach meathead or the idiots who asked him to be coach meathead. Someone needs to remind these people that this is a co-ed charity team. We're playing FOR FUN. We have some players who are very good and some players who are terrible. The team has played together twice and never had a practice. There's going to be a learning curve and I can almost guarantee that there will always be sloppy play. If you want to be a coach, go find some twelve-year old kids.

Also, crybaby kneebrace guy who spends the entire post-game making excuses for why he played bad, I have news for you: it's because you are bad. Shut your mouth.

Ah, I feel better now.

WHAT MAKES PIGEONS HORNY?

It seems some pigeons live outside my bathroom window. Over the last few months I have learned that pigeons are very horny birds. Recently, I've started to notice that certain things will cause the pigeons to start making their horny noises. Here is a list of the things that seem to get them going:

1. The sound of my pee splashing in the toilet.

2. The sound of an electric shaver.

3. Me sitting quietly, going #2 and reading a magazine.

Granted, my study is limited. I don't even know if it's the same pigeon there all the time. Maybe some pigeons like the sound of my pee and others prefer the electric razor. Also, since the pigeons live outside the bathroom window, I have only been testing bathroom related things. Pigeons might like the sound of a blender or the smell of toast, but I can't confirm this.

Here are things that don't seem to turn pigeons on:

1. Brushing my teeth.

2. Taking a shower.

3. Filling up a cup with water.

WHAT DO YOU KNOW?

Here are two questions that were heavily debated Saturday night while watching the Pistons game:

1. How many oceans are there?

2. What is a fiddle?

The good news is that with my new Blackberry Pearl phone I could look up the answers on the internet. Thank god. The answers to those questions are below.








further below.












further.











here.

1. There are five oceans. Everyone agreed, but then when we tried to name them, we could only name four. Pacific, Atlantic, Indian, Arctic. Ten college graduates could not name the fifth ocean. My brother, a geography professor, could not name the fifth ocean. And here's why: Up until 2000 there were only four recognized oceans. Then the International Hydrographic Organization established the Southern Ocean, and determined its limits. Those limits include all water below 60 degrees south, and some of it, like the Arctic Ocean, is frozen. I do not officially recognize the Southern Ocean.

2. A fiddle is a violin; a violin is a fiddle. There are no differentiating features period--despite my confidence to the contrary. The only reason you'd call one instrument a violin and the other a fiddle is the approach. Someone who plays fiddle tunes, a fiddler, will address their violin as a fiddle. I'm not sure where the term "fit as a fiddle" comes from.

PROOF OF IDIOCY.

I love Netflix. On par with laundry service, it's one of the best services I've discovered since moving to New York. Today I was browsing around, adding movies to my queue and I found proof that most of America is dumb. In the Netflix Top 100 movies I found these gems:

14. Click

I like Adam Sandler as much as the next guy, but even I could see this was going to be garbage. I credit it's #14 ranking to the fact that it's still a relatively new release on DVD.

31. The Lake House

Holy crap, this looks awful. A movie "exploring a mysterious mailbox that somehow bridges time." Whoa. That sounds like a dynamite premise. Get Keanu Reeves to sign on and you've got yourself a classic.

And the crown jewel of stupidity:

38. Must Love Dogs

The reason I find this to be the ultimate proof of retardation among American consumers is this: average user rating, 2 stars; release date, 2005. 2005! That means two years later it's still in the top 50 most popular movies rented by people. That's two years of bad reviews. Two years for the "new release" lure to wear off. Here's the main point of conflict in this cinematic train wreck: "...there's just one problem: While this second eligible bachelor's ad states that his dream woman 'Must Love Dogs,' neither he nor Sarah actually owns one." Oh no! What will happen when they find out? I might rent this just to see how horrible it is.

No, I won't.

Honorable idiot mention:

11. National Treasure

15. Hitch

44. Just Like Heaven

78. RV

GETTING STARTED AGAIN.

For some reason I go through some serious lulls in writing here. It can be as little as two weeks or as long as a month. I usually think it's because I don't have anything to write about, but there's always stuff happening in the world, so that's a poor excuse. In an attempt to get rolling again, here are some things:

- Lately I have been wanting to eat more and more candy.

- Yesterday in the grocery story there was an altercation when an ESL shopper got into the express lane with OVER TWENTY items in his basket. At first I was pissed, since I only had eight. I felt vindicated when the cashier reprimanded him for trying to cheat the system. Then I felt bad when I realized that he had no idea what she was talking about. His face turned red and he kept looking at the sign above the register, then at other signs, trying to figure out what "10 items or less" meant. Hopefully he learned a lesson.

- I started a new job at an agency called R/GA. I'll be working on some of Nike's websites and interactive advertising. It should be cool, but right now I just spend most of my day staring at the computer, trying to figure out what I should be doing. My free shoes have not yet arrived.

- This morning they were filming an American Airlines commercial near my office. It's amazing how many people will stop and stare, waiting for something to happen. I watched nothing happen while I waited for my breakfast sandwich.

- There is a giant crane outside of my building. Giant cranes are pretty cool.

- Last night an older Korean man kept touching his wife's butt as they were walking down the street. She would giggle and move away, only to have him do it again when she got close enough.

- I don't know what the equivalent is for hate, but I hate people saying "I heart that," when they mean "I love that."

Pistons and Red Wings in the playoffs. Go Detroit.

THE DOG DOUCHE

You’ll find them in parks, walking down streets and sometimes in bars: The Dog Douche. A human who lacks a definable personality or likable characteristic and therefore has acquired a Substitute Personality Dog. This dog, a lovable, adorable animal, helps the human define himself in terms that other people will not find repulsive. By associating with these noble animals, Dog Douchebags assume people will think they’re also friendly, energetic and cute. After all, why would the dog be friends with some uninteresting loser?

I’m not talking about people who just love their dogs. Those people are great, their dogs are great, great great great. But you know that guy, the guy who takes his dog to the park and you can tell he’s not playing fetch for the dog’s sake. He wants someone to come pet his dog and talk to him. He’s a lonely fellow and that dog is like a person trap. He’s the guy who brings his pooch to the bar, not as a companion, but as a conversation starter. If you want to pet the dog, you have to talk to the human.

Last night I saw the biggest Dog Douche I’ve ever seen. He brought his Substitute Personality Dog (some sort of black lab/retriever mutt?) to the bar. He then began throwing popcorn in the air, causing the dog to jump up and down and run around the bar. Every time the dog would go near another human to get the popcorn, the Dog Douche would engage that person in conversation about the dog. The poor dog had no idea that it was being used as a tool, by a tool. He basically dog-raped people into having conversations with him about his dog. I don’t know if I felt more sorry for him, his dog or the people who were tricked into talking to him.

Conclusion: Dogs are better than humans.