I can't be held responsible for the things I say or write...


Say my name biotch

So I've been advocating traveling by train these past few weeks. Honestly, it's the easiest way to travel. No security lines, you don't have to check bags unless you want to and there are not traffic jams to deal with. I think I'm completely sold now because I just called up Amtrak to check on my sister's train and was greeted by an automated teller named Julie.

They named their automated teller. And they gave her a normal name like Julie. That's like naming your dog Rich. What's that all about? I named my snake (pet not trouser) Doyle because I wanted him to have a name that wasn't quite common but could still pass as a name that someone wouldn't mind having. To me, this gave him a sense of uniqueness. But Julie? Come on.

I've always changed around my friends names to give them random names that are not obscure in anyway, but rather just a name that any other person could have that I'm using to identify someone I know in a way that no one else around me would understand. My earliest example is my friend Alex, who I generally call Brent. His middle name is Brent and most of his family calls him that, so one day it just started coming out. It was fun a lacrosse practice when people would ask me who I was talking about and why do I have a random name for someone when everyone else knows that person as something different.

Then there was Frank. His real name was Ramien (rah-mean) but one day at soccer practice I decided his name was Frank. For some reason, the soccer league we played in during high school declared that saying "I got it" was unsportsmanlike, so we would have to say our name and then ball to alert our teammates who was going to make a play on the ball. For example, "QP Live's ball (bitches)". So one day at practice good old Frank goes up for a header and declares, "Ramien's ball". Well Ramien's ball sounded funny to me and since he was a sophomore and I was a mighty senior who was also captain, I picked up the ball and stopped practice for a second. I declared that Ramien's ball wasn't going to fly and that he needed a new name and that name was Frank. Not really sure why Frank was that new name but it was. Many people could get upset at me for what could be perceived as an affront on an innocent kid with an international background, but not Frank. Frank fucking rolled with the name. From then on, at soccer practice, he referred to himself as Frank as did the coaches and the rest of the players.

Of course, name changes didn't always get taken as well as Frank took to it. There was this time when I was a camp counselor you see. I was only a sophomore in high school and I was pretty much a fucking moron...more so than now. I started to give all of the kids nicknames and I decided one kid would be Stephanie because the camper looked like my friends sister Stephanie. Well this kid didn't like it too much, either because he was a boy and didn't want to go by a girls name or because the kid was a fucking psycho and needed the slightest push to flip the fuck out. So he flipped the fuck out. Anyone who knows me knows that I like to throw dry leaves on fires, so naturally I pushed and prodded this kid for most of the summer. Most of the time, it was subconsciously too. I really didn't even realize I was doing it most of the time.

So good old Stephanie and I had a few show downs over the summer. One ended in him biting my hand just before the end of the day. I went home and he went to the head counselors. I was told that it wasn't the best situation but I had nothing to worry about because the kid bit me in response to seemingly nothing. I think I blocked his shot in basketball or something. Anyway, round 2 was the decisive round. We were doing something random near the end of the day and I think he threw a rock at my head. Because, as mentioned above, of my moronic nature, I decided I was going to kill this kid. Fortunately my sister was there and cut me off and used her nails of death to make me realize that wrecking a 9 year old was not the smartest move but at this point, the damage was done. Later that day I was told by the bosses that I would get the next 2 days off to rest my foot (I had a broken foot at the time) while the kid finished his last 2 days of camp. What a swell time I'm sure he had.

That was the second time my sister got in the way of my battles. Another time I crashed my parents car for the 2nd or 3rd time in what seemed like 5 minutes but was really 1 month. My buddy Kornfeld came over to the house and called me a fucking moron and told me I shouldn't be driving. I thought that was really considerate of him since he came to my house 30 seconds after I had gotten off the phone with my dad who had pretty much told me not only was I not driving again but I was also being castrated so his grandchildren didn't inherit my stupidity. Anyway, Kornfeld comes in all high and mighty so I try to kick him out of my house. He felt naturally rejected and said a bunch of shit. So I threw a citronella candle at him....one of those big ones that are like 5 pounds.

So Kornfeld used to be a lot bigger than he is now. But I never saw his as intimidating until he took the candle off the back shoulder, turned and charged. Thank God my sister stepped in front of him when she did and then locked me in the house. I would not have won. Kornfeld and I still laugh about that to this day but he still reminds me I was a bitch for throwing the candle at his back. I can't deny it was the wrong move but I will deny that it wasn't hilarious to me then and now.

But there is always my man and your Charles Jamal Bach. Of course the kids real name is John Christopher Bach, but he goes by Chris. One day I up and started calling him Charles and it pretty much stuck.

Then there is Otis. His name is David. Thanks to dangerous hall game, he got the name Otis as a way of distracting him when dominate said hall game.

There are probably a lot others but I have to be productive now...


Sean Taylor

My alarm went off at 8:20 this morning and the first sound out of the radio was "Sean Taylor has died". About 10 seconds later, my phone vibrated with a text message saying the same. That's a terrible way to start your day.

When I first heard the news yesterday, I was upset. I like Sean Taylor the football player. I like the way he plays the game. He flies around the field, he appears on the screen out of nowhere and levels people, he plays hard and he had been improving himself as a person in the last few years. That much was evident from me just by only hearing his name for the positive things he did on the field as opposed to the beginning of his career when you would only hear about the negatives he did off the field.

Sean Taylor was not an angel. Sean Taylor was a player who would get in your face and do whatever he had to to throw you off your game. Unfortunately, this included spitting in opponents faces from time to time. That is a disgusting act and should/was not condoned.

I got to watch Sean Taylor play live twice last football season and in both games, he was the most fun player to watch on the field at all times. This season I've watched a fair share of Redskins games and seen him limp off the field on special teams only to be right back out there on defense. To me, it symbolized that he enjoyed playing football. He didn't have to play on special teams. He was the most feared safety in the game and with that rep, I don't think he necessarily had anything left to prove. But he did it to help his team.

If I was asked last week who my favorite player in the NFL was right now, I probably wouldn't say Sean Taylor. I really don't know who that player is. But I can say with full confidence that my favorite player to watch was Sean Taylor. Countless times I'd watch games only to see this person flash on the screen and make a huge play. I never saw him coming but I was always thinking, "where is Sean Taylor right now." I never had to wait long to get my answer. The guy was everywhere. Just an amazing talent.

I tend to root for professional athletes like Sean Taylor. Guys who make stupid mistakes but get a chance to turn their lives around. He was arrested for either threatening a man with a gun or beating a man with a gun who stole his ATVs. For that, he got probation. What he did was not commendable and was downright stupid, but he was given another chance. Since then, he had no run ins with the law. People around him say he had changed his life, especially since the birth of his daughter. I root for players like Sean Taylor because they serve as inspirations to millions of people around them. They were young and dumb, but they learned and improved themselves and could be role models for people in similar situations down the road.

Athletes have privileges that others do not but this does not make them immune to acts of stupidity.

I kept checking the sports stations and websites yesterday for whatever updates would come. I continued to expect the news to changed from him being in critical condition to having passed away. I was not shocked when I heard the news this morning. When people explained that getting shot in the femoral artery usually leads to death, I hoped that due to his peak physical condition, he would be able to pull through. Unfortunately, that was not the case. This is a terrible tragedy for his family, for his football family and all of us.

But what was Sean Taylor into, right? What got him killed? It's reported that a week ago, someone broke into his house, went through some drawers and left a knife on one of his pillows. Why? It makes you wonder what he may have gotten himself into. Selfishly, I hope all of the details come out one day so we can confirm all of the positive things his friends and family have said about the improvements in his life the past few years. I want to know just how necessary it was for his murderer to do what he did. Was it necessary?

When I first heard he was shot in an apparent burglary, I thought that maybe Sean Taylor came out of nowhere and tried to blindside the robber like some many of his opponents and took a bullet for that. There are reports he took out a machete to defend himself. I guess he didn't have a gun and why would he? He was on probation for a gun charge and he didn't want to run the risk of getting in trouble.

Lots of people have their own thoughts and feelings about this situation. An espn.com article reminds us that Sean Taylor is just another number for the worst statistic in America ("The leading cause of death for black men age 15-24 in America is homicide.") It's not often that a professional athlete falls into that category so the author also reminds us, "it's even more important that we remember there are thousands just like...."

It's hard to think anything will change as a result of this murder. It's likely that there will be some awareness about it for a few weeks, maybe months, but then he will be nothing more than a memory. Darrent Williams, a former Denver Bronco, was murdered last January. There was outcry then as well as raised awareness, but here we are again.

People are never going to stop fighting with each other but we can all get smarter. You don't have to murder someone to prove a point.

I'm no expert on street life, never even shot a gun before in my life and definitely am not from a tough neighborhood, so maybe writing this makes me a hypocrite or just plain ignorant. But I do know what a sense of community, of family, is and I have sympathy for anyone who has lost a piece of that...especially in such a violent way. A man ripped from his fiancé, his daughter, his parents but being shot in the leg, bleeding profusely and eventually succumbing to it all. What kind of last image is that for them?

A man who worked to improve himself for the sake of his family is taken down. To me, that is the biggest tragedy here. He was just starting to live a productive, meaningful life and it was all destroyed in a senseless act.

So as the news stations, websites, message boards and gchats all remember Sean Taylor today, let's not forget him tomorrow, next month, next year or next decade. Let's remember our sadness for him and his family today and forever so that the way we live our lives can influence everyone we come in contact with in the hope that it trickles down from person to person.


debate amongst yourselves

some things are not worth arguing over. some things are not worth bringing up at all. for example, when all you want is another pitcher of amstel light (because it was on special...generally it's a disgusting beer) try not to let your kobe bryant loving friend get into a debate with an over matched bartender who apparently hasn't watched a pro basketball game since 2004 over who is the best player in the league. A) cleary it's Kobe and B) it adds 5 minutes to getting your refill.

but let's go over a few debates and analyze what they mean.

first debate:

Sheetz v. Wawa.

For those that don't know, the great Commonwealth of Pennsyltucky is famous of their Wawa's (east side of the state) and Sheetz (west side of the state). People from either side of the state will tell you one is better than the other. that means half of these fucks are fucks. can you guess which ones are which? if you said those in favor of Sheetz, congratulations! For Sheetz provides a clearly inferior product.

At no point in this debate does one need to consider anything other than the food and beverage side of the argument. For the most part, at least in my experience, both of these are gas stations that provide above average (like me!!) food selections. Both have push button sandwich technology made with fresh ingredients and that's pretty much where it stops.

Wawa just does it all better except for one thing. It's a big one thing. Sheetz only has the fact that they sell Mac and Cheese as a side dish and Wawa does not do this. I've never tried it before and even if it was the most disgusting mac and cheese in the world, I'd still give it props for having it to begin with. But that is where the positive stops.

Wawa has better sandwiches. Wawa has great ice-t and Wawa also has a make your own milkshake option. They have their amazing pretzels, amazing breakfast sandwiches and their all around awesomeness.

Sheetz does not. Go into a sheetz and order a turkey sandwich with cheese, bacon, lettuce, tomato and pickles. The bread will be crispy to the point where the crust flakes off, there will be two thin slices of turkey (assuming they remember to put it on the sandwich to begin with) the bacon will be cold and you will leave with the feeling that the leper who made your sandwich had a finger fall off whilst combining your ingredients for an all around subpar sandwich.

Wawa will give you a nice, fresh, soft roll with plenty of turkey to fill up the bread and the rest of the ingredients will overflow into a pile of deliciousness. There is no comparison.

So eff U western Pa.

Debate number 2:

When is she your girlfriend?

It's fun to give your friend shit when they think their casual relationship is taking a turn for the serious. It's even more to watch him writhe in agony as he tries to defend himself against the accusations.

He claims she is not his girlfriend. Others say she is. Let's examine the facts:

-They spend most nights together
-On some of these nights, they don't bone. They just sleep next to each other. Usually a dead give away in my book.
-She is enjoying Thanksgiving dinner with his family. This will be the first time she meets any of his family.

Pretty much, there is a strong case for why this is his girlfriend. These are all convincing situations where one could generally jump to the conclusion that she is a girlfriend...

But she isn't for one simple reason.

The talk.

Unless you've had the talk, you are not the girlfriend. I don't care if you've been boning for months, years, whatever. Without the talk, you're not the girlfriend. In fact, the doctor and I never had the talk. We went from casual hook up to engaged. true story. but don't ask her, she's in denial.

But in reality, I have to defend my two pump friend. Since the talk has never happened, she is not the gf. A relationship is entirely based on communication but without the talk, are you really communicating? Relationship experts, aka guys who've been dating the same girl for almost 8 years, will tell you that having the talk is the first serious conversation two people should have before they start officially boning. Without it, you're not committed...and that pretty much makes you a whore.

However should you decide to have the talk, you should pat yourself on the back. Along with the talk comes all the wonderful benefits of sitting out singles night, not grinding on the slutty hot chick at chief ikkies who won't remember any of it in the morning, or the bouquet tosses at weddings. You miss out on all that horrible shit.


Long Awaited Much Anticipated....


Wow. No kickball. I feel so naked. So exposed. So little to do. What should I do?

Here's a list of things I've contemplated buying tonight with my new found free time:

Sirius satellite radio boom box for the office
stuff crust pizza
porn - preferably midget porn for safety sake
Virginia Tech Yankees hat
duct tape, rope and whatever chemical breaks down human flesh - to get vengeance on M2SAYD for blowing up QP Live's spot on the kickball message board
Lawyer to help with previous thought

So that's about where I'm at...but do you know where Michael Scofield is?

He's in Panama...outside of Sona. What's Sona? Well:

So at the end of season 2, Michael gets put into Sona, a Panamanian jail, by the Company. The Company has some plan for him there, but we have no idea what that is. We find out from the opening credits that this season has a bunch of new faces. Joining Michael in Sona is T-Bag, Mahone and Bellick. Sucre is presumed off looking for his lady and Linc is free, trying to figure out how the hell roles just got reversed.

Moving through all of the bs, it turns out that Michael is in Sona to break this random dude James Whistler out. However, Sona is not like any other prison. Well, it's actually based on what I was told turned out to be a real scenario. Sona is patrolled on the outside by military but on the inside by El Lochero. He's a drug kingpin serving 4 life sentences. The background is that the inmates killed so many guards that they just pulled out and let the inmates run the place themselves. They have a system in place where no ones kills another without then being killed himself by Lochero. To settle a beef, you pull out a chicken leg on someone. It's exactly what it sounds like...it's a chicken leg attached to a string that you pull out in some over dramatic way. This means a 1 on 1 fight to the death. It's pretty brutal but I'm watching this show and basically finding that so long as you're not a total pussy/idiot, you can survive in that place just by not getting in anyone's way. Or at least this is what television teaches me.

So that is the basic system and like I said before, this is actually based on an actual prison I think in Mexico. My friend works in that area and told me about it but I obviously have no memory.

So while all that is going on in Sona, Sarah (Michael's load station) and LJ (Linc's kid) have been kidnapped by The Company to make sure that everyone plays ball. Due to the difficulty of breaking out of there, Michael tells Linc that it pretty much can't be done and Linc has to break out Sarah and LJ. Linc finds them but The Company escapes with the two of them. Ala "Seven", Linc gets a call from his Company contact who informs him that nothing like that will ever happen again and to be sure that he knows they are serious, to go look in the box in the basement of the hotel. Sure enough, it's a dome piece...but of who? Of Sarah. The show did a terrible job of building the suspense around that, so I felt it was only right for me to do the same.

So Sarah is dead. Linc won't tell Michael because he thinks Michael won't break out Whistler and therefore LJ will die too.

Not much happens after a few episodes until we find out that they have a plan and that they are going to make a break for it during the day. There are a bunch of holes in the plan as well as the show but they simply cover that up by getting you excited that something is going to happen after so many episodes of nothing. But it all comes down to the final 3 episodes.

In one, the plan is set, they're getting out in an hour and everyone gets ready...but then someone is killed in Sona and Whistler is the suspect. Lochero is about to kill him for doing it until Michael finds the knife that was used in Mahone's room. Of course, this happens as Mahone is being removed from the prison by the FBI (whole other story, not worth your time quite yet - long story short, to find out what he knows about The Company). Lochero thinks it's convenient that Michael comes forward as Mahone is leaving and decides Whistler is going to die...or so we think. While Lochero's men are holding Whistler, Lochero stabs one of his men instead thinking that was the killer..also, this dude smoked a cigar that Lochero thought dude stole from the big L (way too many pronouns going on here) and yada yada yada, the two douche bags look like their plan is going to work out.

Nope. The afternoon diversion they planned (soccer game) is cancelled due to the solemn mood of Lochero...This is also the time when Linc finally tells Michael about Sarah being headless. He says he loved her and this and that and it's pretty much just the worst writing ever/the reason I love this shows. It's just awful. Michael claims it's all Whistler's fault and chicken foots this mofuka. The breakout is supposed to happen at 3:13. The fight is supposed to be at 3:15. Michael gets his diversion.

The plan is to climb out of a cell, run across the yard, through a fence that has been compromised and to the beach where Linc has supplies. The run was to be possible because the guard would be unable to look in that direction due to the sun and the other guard was slipped something in his coffee by Whistler's chick whose been helping Linc. So all of this is working and Michael and Whistler get onto the yard until the clouds come out and block the sun. They get back inside before the guard notices but this means they have to go fight. They can't get the rope ladder untied before Lochero's boys find them roaming around the cells as if trying to avoid the fight, so Whistler stashes the ladder on the window sill.

Now they have to fight and one has to die. They try the whole "we settled our differences" stuff but the rules are clear that once you drop the chicken foot, you fight. So they fight like chicks until finally Whistler has had enough and is going to kill Michael with a rock to the head when.....the guard notices a ladder that has fallen out of a window. The alarms sound and the guards come in. When the guards come in, everyone kneels with their hands on their heads. One of Lochero's boys gets blamed for it and is murdered by the guards.

Now is a good time to tell you that there is something mysterious about Whistler. It's been asked all season but no one really knows. Is he Company? Is he just a fisherman like he claims? He says The Company want him to show them where he took this random dude on a fishing trip and that's why they want him out. Riiiiiiiight. So the episode ends with him talking to the chick who has been Linc's contact and we get the idea that he is in fact company.

The last episode dictates that The Company is going to take the prison by storm and get Whistler out themselves. Due to the latest escape attempt, Lochero has lost all of his respect in the prison and tells Michael that he will break both of them out of the prison. Of course, the original plan is shit now and what are they going to do. Lochero takes them (Michael and Whistler) to an underground tunnel where they can dig their way up and out..perhaps.

Michael is obviously in the dark about Whistler's plan. Whistler is supposed to kill Michael before he leaves, per the Company chick orders, but he ends up getting rid of the knife he was going to do it with...true love after all.

Anyway, Whistler pulls some sort of claustrophobia act and leaves the tunnel. When the helicopters fly overhead, Michael figures it out and runs after Whistler...who is now on the roof of a building. As a ladder drops down from the chopper and Whistler jumps on, Michael grabs a hold of him. Eventually, they both drop down to the roof from the ladder. The sirens are going again and everyone is totally fucked now. Some of the Company are dead. Lots of guards are dead...and most inmates are really confused. Whistler takes his shirt off to avoid being easily identified/show his rock hard abs...no homo. Michael also changes his shirt...into a shirt that looks exactly the same. COME ON DUDE. YOU'RE A FUCKING GENIUS AND THIS IS THE BEST YOU CAN DO? Christ.

Anyway, they get brought out and everyone is lined up on their knees with their hands on their heads. The guards come in, but it's not the same guard as usual. This guy is a little older and dressed in more of a secret ops kind of uni. They open fire on all of the inmates and kill everyone...except for Michael and Whistler. Pretty gruesome.

and totally false.

Well, the secret ops guy is true, but they don't kill anyone. The dude comes up to Michael and says that he is leaving Sona because there have been 2 escape attempts in the 2 weeks he's been there and that can't be a coincidence....and this is where our season ends, with Michael being escorted out.

Scenes from the next have you believe that Michael is simply chained up outside Sona, so we don't really know where we stand. Here's a quick rundown on where people are at this point:

Lochero is alive and losing power
T-Bag is now in Lochero's crew but clearly setting himself up for something - and he only has 1 real hand
Sucre is helping out Linc
Whistler's girl pulled a gun on Linc so he bailed on her, but now they are back plotting stuff again
LJ is still captive
The chick from the Company is now drinking because the plan didn't work and assumes she is going to be killed by her boss.
Bellick is still in Sona and no one likes him
Mahone was not viewed as a credible witness (due to a drug problem) and is on his way back to Sona

So there you have it. Prison Break fall season is over. The show is so good and yet awful due to it's terrible writing. Those writers should not be allowed to strike.

That was really long and took an hour. I hope you liked it Timmy.

Lastly, I just don't get the love thing between Michael and Sarah. They never on screen boned, they've spent a collective few days together tops...so I guess they boned...but they're just on their "honeymoon" per se. I bet they can't even poop in front of each other comfortably yet. I also bet that she still made him wear condoms. Can you trust a person that makes you do that? Honestly, can you?

I guess that had some really amazing bond built by their ability to understand the codes each other communicated in while they were separated and communicating through the media and all that good stuff.

But still, love? really? If he had never been locked up he could have been boning all sorts of random hoes and she would have been just another one. So don't give me this whole "I was rehabilitated in prison because of you" crap because it just wasn't true. She was new pussy and everyone loves that.

I apologize to the doctor for the above sentence. Obviously, I didn't mean it. I have an obligation to the readers to write stuff like this otherwise people will think I've gone soft.

What's it matter. No one has read this far down anyway.


Kickball Champions of the World!

Sort of. First off, we tied for the division title. Secondly, we have to win in Vegas to be the champions of the world and even that is pushing it since who knows what kinds of kickball leagues they have going in North Korea and China. They could be genetically mutating their kickball teams right now to ensure that they dominate in the 2016 Olympics. True story. Well not so much the doping of kickball players, but that kickball will be in the 2016 Olympics. It's pretty crazy I know, but you can read all about it here.

Well, that was fun for me.

So we had a radtactular day on the kickball pitch. It was kind of chilly but nothing too unbearable. Our first game started off well with our team putting up 7 runs in the first. The game plan for the first two games was score runs early so I only have to pitch the first inning so my arm won't fall off. This worked great in the first game. 7 run lead immediately meant that I got to play center field, where nothing traveled all year. So I ran around and tried to distract as many participants as possible. As our pitcher would wind up, I'd spring into the infield on the off chance that a bunt was laid down. Basically all this did was ensure that I got in the way of every fielder, including the one time where I took the ball from the catcher, spun to throw a runner out at 3rd but just ended up pegging him in the head in the end. It almost led to a run because I thought there were two outs but there was really only one. Oops. No run would score that inning. phew.

So we won the first game something like 11-1. We were pretty happy but I got out twice so I was excited to get to the next game. We had a 1 hour bye with highlights including Chaz showing up near the end of the bye and declaring himself our coach. He proceeded to hang out the rest of the day and provide moral support as well as inform us how pathetic our league is because we don't pitch underhand and people bunt. He's right...but, since it is how the game is played, why not excel at it as best as you can, right? right.

So the next game started with an easy top of the inning and I was looking forward to scoring a few runs and playing around in the outfield. I come up with bases loaded, no outs and sure enough Mister Anti Clutch rolls up and pops into a double play. Nice work. I missed him so much. 3 innings later, the score is still tied 0-0. In the bottom of the 4th we finally break through with 4 runs, no thanks to me, and that means I get out of pitching 1 inning. We win that game about 4-0.

At this point, I am pissed off. I haven't been on base all day and I just fucked over the strategy by having to pitch most of the 2nd game. Naturally, there is only one solution...to the bar! and off we go. I decide that it's time to get back to some roots. I must be getting too kickball cocky I determine and decide it's time to take a page out of season two of The Wire: shot and a beer Delores. So I order up a shot of Jack and a King and we're off to a better place. As the bye comes to an end, I pound another half beer and start to feel like a kickballer should.

The next game is against SAYD Libre, who we beat 3-0 earlier in the year but was sure to be ready to battle us today. Our team is happy, excited and definitely just enough drunk to play well. As the higher seed, we pitch first and I was throwing flames. I felt no lingering affects from pitching the game before and was throwing better than I had at any point in the year in the first inning. They get a runner or 2 on but no runs score. We come up and I think there is one out, maybe 2 when I come up but I drill a shot on the ground to short and make it safely to first. It felt nice but it was great to hear my team support me with a chant of "1 for 5! 1 for 5!". I get moved over to second at some point and there are two outs. Timmy comes up and drills another shot where I put mine and I round 3rd and score...only to be told I left early and am out and the run does not count. I did not agree with the call, but I was not about to argue because who can be sure/who really wants to argue with a kickball ref?

Yelling at a kickball ref is like feeding a 300 pound teenager a salad. It's not going to help anything. The fat kid is just going to eat 4 Twix bars after the salad and remain fat and the kickball ref is just going to make a wiseass comment and make you feel stupid. Why waste your time, right?

Why do I know so much about this? Well, last Wednesday when I was watching kickball, I had to ref the first inning of a game due to another game going into extra innings. Big George got to ref first base too. It was frisbee crossing over with kickball and it was the greatest thing that had happened in my life between the time of 8:01 pm and 8:02 pm of that particular night. So this dude rounds 3rd and slides into home only to be pegged. I call him out and he gets up and screams at me, "No way! I was safe" to which I get to say loud enough for all to hear, "I entirely disagree with you". It's the perfect forum to make a douche feel like a douche...and I took it.

So I didn't want to look like a douche in front of everyone, so I just went back out to the mound....and SAYD scores to tie it a 1.

As the game goes on, we manage to score a second run somehow, I think on an error, and we are able to shut them down the rest of the game. QP Live qualifies for Vegas!

So we're going to play Scoregasm in the finals. We beat them 8-0 earlier in the year and we knew that it was not going to be that way this time....in fact, we didn't get a runner on base until the 4th inning. The got someone most innings but were never able to make a serious threat until late. Once we got runners on, we made some threats. In the bottom of the 5th inning, which is typically the last inning, they intentionally walked our leadoff hitter to load the bases with 2 outs to pitch to one of our girls. She got the ball in play, but the runner was thrown out at home and into extras we went tied 0-0.

At this point, I was about done. It was cold, both pitchers were dominating and my arm was about ready to fall off. During the SAYD game I strained my lats (which are still killing me Jack, thanks for asking). After that inning ended, I ran to my bag, took some Advil and dropped bunch of Icy Hot on the spot. It burned oh so badly but felt pretty good after the burning went away.

So entering the 6th inning, it's getting dark out and neither team really feels confident that they will score a run. We all decide that it's best to just play this game until it gets too dark and hopefully someone will have scored a run by then. Usual kickball rules state that you play 1 extra inning and then go to a rock, paper, scissor to determine the winner. Neither team wanted to do this at all as it is a stupid way to determine a champion.

In the top of the 7th, Scoregasm got some runners on and managed to get a runner to 3rd with 2 outs. We were able to get out of that jam but couldn't really do much in the bottom of the inning. As the 8th inning started, it was getting noticeable darker by the second but we went on. We got a quick out but then they managed to load the bases with 1 out. The next batter I think fouled out but I can't remember. So we're almost out of the jam and one of their ladies comes up. So it's cold out, we're in the 8th inning, you can't really see and I've lost the ability to squeeze the ball due to my hand and arm killing. So I pitch the ball and am lucky enough to get a grounder back to me. I charge it as our catcher covers home and go to throw him the ball...only the ball goes about a foot further to the right than I meant for it. Thanks to a game saving play by our catcher who stretches to make the catch while remaining on the plate, I don't blow the game for us.

We come up in the bottom of the 8th and I'm pretty sure nothing of value comes out of it. So it's too dark to continue, neither team wants to continue and no one wants to come back and do it another time. We decide to split the championship and everyone seemed pretty damn happy about it. I know I was.

So then it's time to pack up...the only problem with this is that I could get my cleats off. I couldn't undo my laces on my cleats due to a lack of any strength whatsoever in my arm. Once again, Coach Chaz comes through and helps undo the double knot on the cleats.

So it's now 3 days since the end of the tournament, my lats are still killing me (Jack, thanks again for asking) and my arm hurts when I put anything in my right hand. Instead of pitching 2 games, I pitched what turned out to be 18 innings, so almost 4 games worth of pitching. 1 run allowed all day by me. Not too shabby...though my arm is very happy to be entering the off season.

After all this excitement the last few months, it's great to finally have everything over and done with. No frisbee, no softball, no kickball, just work and Law & Order: SVU/CI episodes with a little bit of Prison Break thrown in there.

A Prison Break season recap is on the horizon in the coming days. I didn't watch last night's episode yet, so when I do, I'll get back to you about it.

That and I bought Nintendo Wii with all the money I made off of this blog.



wow. what started as just another day has turned into 48 hours of pure misery and hell.

first, we lose to nWo 1-0.

then my work


crap. yes. yes we did. oops, i guess? QP Live and Me: Brought to you by the Faygo Nation has lost. I'm not sure what is more depressing, us losing or the Isotopes losing during the Dancin Homer days. I'm going to go with equally tragic since we're comparing a cartoon to kickball, which, if you think about it, are both similar in the way that they are great for kids to enjoy and kind of fun to laugh at adults who continue to enjoy them.

So we lost.

It was a pretty good game. I would say the reason they won was that their pitcher and catcher played great D, their first basemen never had that crucial error and their third baseman, while definitely the angriest man to ever walk the earth, was fast as hell, played amazing D and was fast as hell. Our leadoff hitter had started every game of the year by getting on base...but the 3rd basemen charged the ball perfectly and then pegged our guy out just before he hit the bag. It was intense...well, as intense as kickball gets anyway.

From there, it was just a battle. They scored their run on a base hit to the outfield with 2 outs after the same angry giant got to second on an "error". Our first basemen was upset for not letting a short pop up go foul. In the effort to catch it, the spin on the ball, plus how low it was made it really hard to catch and it popped out of his hands. He touched it while he was in fair territory, so it was a fair ball and the dude made it to second. In the end, we just couldn't make the plays that would have earned us a victory.

We had 2nd and 3rd with no outs and hit into double play. In the last inning, we had a guy on first with 1 out and on a bunt, he got thrown out at second. We ended up with 1st and 2nd, but we got called out on a close play at first on another bunt. If she had gotten on, I would have come up with the bases loaded and 2 out. It would have been scary. I'm getting nervous just thinking of that situation...but it would have been wonderful to come up in that and possibly kick in the winning run. Because that's what we do at QP Live and Me dot blogspot dot come. We kick things in places people can only watch and react to...usually it's something in the house and the doctor looks at me like I'm acting like a 3 year old, but it can translate to kickball.

So I wasn't too upset...but I was looking for a place to take out my anger. I've never masturbated harder in my life than last night. I drew so much blood and lost so much skin that it was just hand on exposed muscle by the end. Needless to say, I ended up at the ER last night with a bleeding crotch. I wasn't all that embarrassed though. I'm practically Opus Dei, so pain is how I atone for kickball sin.

None of that is true.

I did eat stuff crust pizza for dinner. I was riding my bike home and going over the list of usual dinner spots and was getting frustrated. Then I remembered the stuff crust pizza commercials I've been seeing while watching 20 episodes of Law & Order: CI / SVU in the last 2 weeks and said out loud while riding "OH HELL YES". It was good and all, but it's never like the commercial where the bitten cheese is holding onto the yet to be torn from the family cheese that remains in the crust...ya know? Like with mozzarella sticks. Man, those are good too. I like cheeeeeese.

So I was able to get over the loss after having trouble falling asleep and then waking up an hour early with it still on my mind by realizing that we can have vengeance so soon....and it is vengeance that I seek....because we get to play 4 games tomorrow. Our tournament, should anyone want to come and heckle/hang out/watch kickball? is at 18th and California on the fields at the Marie Reed Community Center. Our first game is at 11. If we win, the next is at 1. If we win, the next is at 3 and then the finals are at 4. Roll up bitches.

So I was moving on and the day was going slowly but then it came to a halt...because of my work.

Today is a bad day at work.

Today is the day at work that I lost streaming capabilities, so no more Howard Stern Show. Today is the day I lost gchat abilities, so no more seeing awesome gchat away message videos...and even if I find a way around that, today is the day where You Tube and all other video websites have been blocked by our IT. No facebook. No nothing fun. This has yet to be ripped from my cold dead fingers, but how far away can it really be?


Kickball Day

I almost don't know how it handle it. After last Thursday's post, I had text messages, e-mails and face to face questions wondering if we beat nWo.

At this point, everyone who cares would know that it was postponed. Until tonight.

It's cold. It's cold outside. It's cold in my office. It's cold in my heart when I question myself on taking this game easy. Unless we give up 12 runs or more, the worst we can be going into the playoffs is second place. We're not playing for that though. We're playing for #1. We're taking this game just as serious as we took the SAYD and Scoregasm games...just watch:

The team we're playing has been on our nuts all year. Well, maybe not the entire team, but their captain. In the beginning of the season, we laughed and enjoyed his hands cupping the collective balls of our team. It was warm, gentle and generally pleasant. Now, with the new cold weather, it's a nuisance. His hands are cold and that makes our balls shrivel. We don't want to play with him anymore and we'd rather quiet him up for good at this point. Essentially, we're taking our balls and going home...no homo.

On paper, it should be a good game. Both teams have won all their games (8-0), both teams have scored a bunch of runs (QP-72, nWo-57) and both teams have not been scored on that much (QP-2, nWo-13). On paper, it's a pretty good match up with QP Live the slight favorite based on runs scored and runs given up. But that's paper....paper always gets fucked by scissors and we're going to dice these mofukas up something lovely.

These guys have not played anyone all season. Combined wins of their opponents: 20. Combined wins of our opponents: 30.

Sure, the schedule maker didn't know they were going to be as talented as they turned out to be but enough is enough. Will their brute force be enough to match our brute force? Can they handle our finesse? After seeing some of the games last night, I can tell you the ball doesn't travel all that far when kicked. It's going to make for an interesting display. QP is an all around team. Is nWo? No one knows because they haven't played anyone.

So now they get what they want. A match up with the top team in the division. A team that has been at the top of the league since it's first ever season. A team that has won a title in it's second season ever and has not lost since the first game of season 2. We're riding pretty high and we're playing pretty focused. I'm calling this one for QP Live.


Abby and Steve at a B&B


They got married...recap time biotch! A little delayed and probably a lot forgotten. The good times.

For me, the wedding prep started at 3 pm on Friday as we tried to get to Potomac, MD for the 4 pm rehearsal. Being DC, this proved impossible. After an hour of traffic, going right when we should have gone left, no numbers on any signs and a church hidden behind construction and trees, we arrived at 4:35, just for the very end of the ceremony. In an effort to blend in in no way shape or form, I couldn't help but call one of the groomsman out for wearing jeans. Not that I cared he was wearing jeans, more than anything I was jealous, but it was just a knee-jerk reaction (#1 of the weekend). To add to this, it's not like I waited for a break in the rehearsing before blurting this out either. I just said it the second I felt in....asshole.

Moving on to the rehearsal dinner, of which we had no trouble getting to, we enjoyed a fine feast in the Admiral Room of Old Ebbit Grill. If you've never been there before, treat yourself one day. I recommend lunch, as there are plenty of affordable options there then. Typically, you can get a delicious meal for $15 or less. Much less for a burger or sandwich and around $15 for an entree type plate. I work right by the restaurant, so I've been there a bunch for lunch. This was my first dinner there and it was great. The room we were in had its own bar, fully stocked, and we had the choice of crab cakes or NY Strip steak. I stripped it up and it was big...and delicious.

After dinner, we all hit up one of the Old Ebbit bars where we took over fairly easily. Of course, this is a classy restaurant, so they do things like refuse to serve a person another beer who is working on a full beer...especially after the person with the full beer accuses the bartender of being racist for asking for id. oops. Also, they don't care if you're getting married the next night, you're still not allowed to engage in yelling contests. Damn classy establishments. The line of the night goes to one of the groomsman who said, after being bumped into and receiving a choice comment from another patron, "how about i jerk off all over your face." First of all, that's just an amazing line to come up with out of the clear blue. Secondly, that's a very simple way to escalate matters. Since I am always aware when troubles abrewing (my own spidey sense) I turned around to the guy yelling and pointing at the groomsman and say nothing more than, "Walk away, it's a wedding". I turn back to my conversation with Saint Balog who informs me she is shocked to see me playing the mediator. What can I say, I guess I'm growing up?

Of course I'm not. That night ended with an hour straight of MarioKart where I obviously dominated the competition....and we worked in a Mac & Cheese break.

Saturday started off pretty sweet. I woke up and played some MarioKart again with Bach and Milf. Off to breakfast we went and then off to the hotel I went to get to the church early. We arrived at the church about an hour and a half before the wedding so that we could relax, get pictures taken, eat a little and drink some champagne. We were told no men were allowed upstairs to ensure that no one would see the bride. Naturally, when the ladies went out in the garden to get their pictures taken, they were right outside our window. Immediately, I start yelling, Wurtzel jumps up into the window and bangs on it in an effort to scare the beJesus out of them and the others tell Steve not to look left as they close the blinds. Before the blinds closed, however, we got a wonderful show of 7 bridesmaids moving as one to completely surround the bride and make her invisible to even a spy satellite. Great job done by all.

So the wedding started late because one of the shuttles "got stuck in traffic" and was an hour late for a pick up. I've yet to be at a wedding where the shuttles knew what the fuck they were doing, so I'm going to go ahead and say they are liars and can go f themselves.

However, the wedding goes wonderfully and then people are off to the reception. The wedding party stayed behind to take some pictures. When the guys were done, one of the groomsman serenaded us with some music stylings on the piano...of RBI Baseball, Kid Icarus, Zelda and many more Nintendo games. Then he moved onto TV shows and I could have died happy then and there. Apparently, he can listen to a song and just be able to play it. It was an amazing performance not soon to be forgotten.

And off to the reception we go. It was at a nice French restaurant in Potomac and went extremely well. There were drinks, dinner, dancing and all the other D words you can think of that go with a wedding. I'd love to tell you about this story or that story that occurred at the wedding, but I don't think anything too hilarious happened. Everyone had a great time and generally I don't think a wedding could go any better...

The after party was at a wine bar at 22nd and P and I can say that we entered the gay ghetto and walked out without bleeding out of any of our orifices. Generally, a great night always happens when you don't leak blood.


Sunday meant brunch at 10:30, but also meant that the clocks fell back so we woke up way to early...no worries though, that left plenty of time for MarioKart.

The brunch was a good time. A bunch of people were there and it's always fun to catch up with all of the out of town guests before everyone leaves you and depresses you for 3 days. Knee-jerk reaction #2 of the weekend occurred when a girl came in wearing a black coat that had numerous pockets all outlined in white. To me, she looked like the skeleton costume used in the karate kid...however, due to my hungover/caffeine infested state, I blurted out "That's the ugliest coat I have ever seen."

It would have gone over a lot worse had my entire table not turned at once and stared at the girl. At first, she was unsure if it really happened, but then she saw everyone looking at her and we made eye contact for a few seconds. She left.

I felt bad because I didn't dislike the coat all that much, but it just came out...is that why it's called a knee-jerk reaction? Probably...but also probably not. Interesting.

That's pretty much where everyone said their goodbyes and hugged it out like champs.

I went up to Adams Mill a few hours later and watched football. Highlights included:

1. 30 seconds after I get there (at 2:30) a Redskins fan verbally assaults a Patriots fan. Then a friend of his who is a Cowboys fan says something in his ear and the Skins fan proceeds to pick up a stool in an attempt to chase him around the bar. The stool top breaks off, but the guy picks up the stool anyway but is restrained by the bartender...and fed a shot. Interesting philosophy/this is why I love this bar. This was the largest and loudest guy in the bar, so when he spoke, everyone listened/pissed themselves. He was pretty friendly...even when he told Chaz that he gets half of everything Chaz gets because they live in the same neighborhood and nothing happens without his consent...that includes women, money and apparently chicken wings. This guy was pretty awesome.

2. The aforementioned Pats fan decides during the Pats/Colts game that he is going to talk shit to Chaz because, apparently last week, Chaz said the Skins could beat the Pats. Because no one likes this kid, the entire bar turns on him (which, at this point, is 15 Skins fans, most in jerseys, and all wasted). He starts talking shit for the sake of talking shit and the bartender has to come over and settle the situation down...which he does until he starts calling the kid a bitch. But you can fight/argue with the bartender, so we all laugh at this end for about an hour straight. He gets the last laugh because the Pats won, but no one really cared about the game.

3. Abby's parents came to the bar for about 30 seconds. Abby's mom looked absolutely terrified and they left just as soon as they came. Either way, it was nice to seem them show up.

4. Chris Bach was at the bar and told me I should have warned him more about the situation we were walking into. Basically, this is a bar of alcoholics...I mean, who else gets hammered on a Sunday? And they are also big and loud, which makes this bar amazing. The only way I remember any of this is because I drove so I would not get wasted.

So that was the wedding recap. Over even sooner than the wedding itself.


Setting records one post at a time...

2 in 1 day! 3 in 2 days!

It's sensory overload.

I write only briefly. I wanted to share with you some pictures from Halloween present and Halloween past.

First off, shot out to Spud and his lady for getting in the Express in the costume section. They were dressed as K-Fed and Brittney in a custody dispute. It's funny because it's topical...though it is no Papa Smurf.

But here is a photo of my niece, Vivian Quick, as she celebrates her fourth Halloween.

Doesn't she look pretty awesome in her costume? I particularly like how happy she looks in her costume.

I say that because of this:

Halloween 2k5. That's probably one of my most favorite pictures of her.

I'm late on this but I wanted to write and say happy halloween. I think it's my most favorite holiday of the year. People are dressed funny, usually folks are in a good mood. The weather is always perfect around this time of year (not too hot or cold).

It's my favorite time of year by far. This year I didn't get to do anything. After the success of Papa Smurf, I refuse to put together shitty costumes. I have a great goal in mind, but it defintely requires construction and therefore, I was not about to put together a half assed costume.

But until next year. I'll leave you with an oldie but goodie:

We did not win

Second season in a row our games get canceled due to no light...meaning, no win.

It's tough because we showed up, were all ready to go (pumpkin lit and everything) and then as I am walking to the mound to throw a few warm up pitches, the lights go off. My first thought was to throw the kickball up into the lights and break them. After all, it's their fault that they went out, right? Then my second, and acted on, thought was to throw the kickball at the pumpkin. I missed, narrowly, but I think that is a good thing. I'm pretty sure we have better things in store for that pumpkin, so I'm glad I missed.

Last season, there was some issue with the people at the pool not being there or something, and that's why we had no lights. I heard that we had no lights this week because we physically didn't have the contract to show the pool people. The word is we re upped the contract this week and it has yet to be faxed over. As a result, I guess the pool people (keepers of the ever important light switch) just figured we were trying to screw them over...because we haven't been out there every Thursday since April.

Good old DC. Never underestimate the willingness of others to completely not give a fuck about you in time of need.

And this was a very worthy cause. It's for kickball dammit. It's to drop nWo on their ass. Oh well. It might have been a good thing though because I ate dinner before I rolled up and definitely felt pretty terrible going into the game. Not that it would have really affected my performance all that much. After all, showing up hammered isn't much different that showing up full from a delicious homemade meal of Indian food.

But I got to thinking about other kickball stuff yesterday. With all this talk about nationally ranked teams, teams getting stronger by picking up players from other teams and power matchups, why not put together a powerhouse league?

At this point, I'm looking at all of the random kickball people who read this and asking them to help pull this off.

We play on Thursday nights in the spring division DC Liberty. There is a rumor going around that one of the top teams from a Wednesday night league is playing in our division in the Spring. Our division already has 3 ranked teams plus 1 watch list team. If OIP comes into our division, that's 4 powerhouses...but why stop there? Why don't we get a powerhouse division together so we can all play top competition going into Vegas? It would prepare us all even better. It would give us an idea about how we all stack up together. On top of that, after 12 weeks of tough games and getting drunk together, it will make playing in Vegas all that much more fun.

So I'm looking at most of you pink fuckers who occasionally imbibe on this bitch and asking your opinions. Maybe get a k365 post going on some crazy ish.


Kickball weekly

This is the end.

My only friend, the end.


The end of the kickball regular season that is. Tonight, 8 pm, on the worst fields in America, QP Live and Me: The Untold Faygo Nation Story take on nWo in a battle of "Will nWo please shut the fuck up already". But in reality, we have our last regular season game and we play an undefeated team. Since they were an known team going into the season, the schedule makers only scheduled one tough game for them all year...us. Thanks.

It's no big deal though. They are a collection of experienced players but a brand new team, so no one really knew what they were capable of. They look more like the inmate team from the movie Necessary Roughness...meaning, they are not your average kickball finesse team. They are all much bigger than anyone on our team and most of their strategy seems to be based around brute force. I like that in a team because that's what my game is based around. This reminds me of Police Academy 6 when Hightower has a punch for punch battle with the equally large criminal in the back alley. It was a pure slugfest and obviously Hightower comes out on top.

I'm pretty sure that no one on here knows anything about that movie. I loved all of the Police Academy movies, even number 6. Some would say they were all bastardizations of the first one and those people might be correct. But those people would also be on my to kill list for speaking poorly of Commandant Lasard and his unit...no homo.

After this week, the playoffs start. Next Thursday is the first round and depending on how things go tonight, we will play either the 14th, 15th or 16th ranked team. If we win, we get the 16th place team. If we lose and give up at least 8 runs or something unheard of currently though impossible, we would likely take the 3 seed.

I get nervous before most kickball games and usually assume that my team will lose. It's nothing personal to my team. It's the way I've been since I was a kid. However, as a kid, I was always playing sports like soccer or basketball that every other kid in America played and therefore was slightly better than me or my teammates. Thanks to sports like ultimate or kickball, I don't have this problem anymore...and especially thanks to the 3 people that always kick ahead of me in the lineup and usually put themselves in a win win situation to score when I come up, I don't have to be nervous really at all in kickball. But it's a hard habit to kick.

I say this because I've been nervous before pretty much every game this year and the result has been a clear victory for us each and every time. So I'm going to go ahead and be nervous but calm myself by assuming we're going to score more runs than we give up and take the regular season title tonight....and an f-ing invite to Vegas.

Of course, if I play frisbee next year, people might give me trouble for missing a practice or a tournament to go to Vegas to play kickball. I like when this happens. It's similar to when ultimate players laugh at me when I tell them my team is nationally ranked in kickball (6th in the country, fyi) because there are national rankings for frisbee too...that are equally ridiculous.

At nationals last Saturday, we were playing Sub Zero in the consolation game after we lost in the quarters. Just before the game started, one of their players yelled out to someone saying, "hey, this isn't kickball". I couldn't help but yell back, "if you guys want to play kickball, I guarantee we will. I'm nationally ranked and I'm not even kidding". They looked at me with one of those "are you serious" type looks and we then unsure if I was kidding and even seemed a little nervous that I might be telling the truth. I think it was at this point where I finally realized I've been taking this a little too far.

Lets recap a bit:

I used to hate kickball before I started pitching.
Then I declared I wanted to shutout every team we played all season.
Then some kids quit and others said the team was no fun because some people take it too seriously.
Then I was informed some teammates thought I was going to freak out when I couldn't pitch a strike after showing up to a game nearly blacked out drunk.

All of that and it took some frisbee players being unsure of what a retard just blerted out to help me come to realization. Some would say I might have some problems. I might say I might have some problems.

But none of that is an issue right now.

Right now, it's time to take on nWo....and shut them the fuck out.