As I write this, I am brewing Jake's Breakfast Stout. You've probably heard of Oatmeal Stouts, and you've probably tried Red Hook's Double Black, brewed with Starbucks coffee -- well, what about oatmeal AND coffee?? Yep, It's a complete breakfast right there in your pint glass!

It's halftime of the Rose Bowl, and Miami is absolutely kicking the holy crap out of Nebraska. UW put up more of a fight in the first half of that game they lost at Miami 65-7.

Coming in, I was definitely pulling for Nebraska, because if they won it meant a shared Nat'l. Title with Oregon. I hate the emphasis on a "National Championship" in D1-A college football because there never really has been one. The BCS is just some method to try to justify the cowning of an official champion, by having an alleged "title game." However, simply having a "title game" doesn't mean you have a National Champ. It's just so STUPID! The Championship is no less mythical now than it was before the BCS crap came around.

Part of what bugs me so much about the whole thing is that it de-emphasizes the tradition the bowls were based on. And yes, the "tradition" is what made them important. "Tradition" is probably more important to major college football than any other major sport -- baseball comes in a close second. There used to be a "tradition" about the whole thing. The major football conferences had major bowl games that their regular season champs would play in. The PAC-10 and Big 10 champs would face off in the Rose Bowl (a traditional criminally broken this year that had existed since 1946!). The SEC champs to the Sugar Bowl, the Big-8 (now Big-12) champs to the Orange Bowl, and the now-defunct SWC to the Cotton (the old SWC broke up, most of it's member schools heading to the SEC or Big-8 come Big-12, this Greatly reduced the importance of the Cotton Bowl). The ACC and Big East have recently been added to the "major" conferences list, but neither had much credibility before Miami joined the Bid East and Florida State the ACC. The emphasis of the season was win your conference, and win your conference's bowl game. The "Nat'l Champ" was sort of a mythical thing, sort of a post-season award based on sportswriter and coaches voting.

But then too much importance was placed on the National Championship, and people started clammoring for a way to solve this alleged "problem." after about 10 years of fidgeting and bickering, this "system" was put into place to determine a "national champion," except it's started as many problems as it was supposed to solve. I really like the BCS rankings as a way to rank teams, and they could use it to make sure deserving teams get put into the open spots in the major bowls, but D1-A College Football just needs to get an actual playoff (seedings determined by the BCS formula) or just go back to the old, "traditional" bowl system. This bastardization serves no-one.

Anyway, Nebraska is losing HARD, and costing the Ducks a probable share of the "title," which I would have love to have seen (go PAC-10!). But I've never been a Nebraska fan. In fact, I've got sick and tired of Nebraska with their boring -- that's right, I called it BORING -- option offense and their treatment of the forward pass as still some kind of novelty. Don't get me wrong, I hate Miami, for obvious reasons, but at least they're FUN TO WATCH. Now that Nebraska is getting creamed, I'm more at ease, because I don't have to root for a team I don't really like and can just watch with a sort of entertained ambivalence.

I played in a particularly intense and hard fought indoor soccer game tonight. It took place in a poorly lit former seaplane hangar at Sand Point, and I had two goals and two assists in a 4-3 win. I wasn�t playing much defense however, because as I explained after the game �I quickly decided that I wasn�t going to be able to play the entire field, so I chose the offensive 2/3. We only had 7 guys (one sub) which in indoor soccer is essentially like playing shorthanded, and I never subbed out, which is virtually unheard of � unless you are short players. We had some great defenders, including a new guy who is awesome, and pretty much stayed in the defensive half, so I didn�t feel so bad. I had one of those games that is really validating � it�s good to be reminded you are good at something sometimes.

I redeemed just over $100 in gift certificates to Borders and Amazon.com today. I�m one of those people who always carries around a list of things �I�ll buy next time.� However, I always seem to forget that list when I walk in the store or visit the website. I�ve found that being spontaneous and impulse buying is always much more satisfying � unless you remember something on your �buy� list right after you leave the store, then you always seem to go through this bizarre phase of Doubt.

I originally was going to redeem my Amazon.com gift certificate on X-mas day, with an expressed intent to �be impulsive.� I sort of moved away from that as I was picking out items, hesitant mainly because I though it wise to wait and see if an apparent need for digital camera accessories popped up. Today, I went back to my account, and saw the shopping cart still full of the items I pick out a week ago, and went ahead and purchased them, leaving only and $18 balance I had to pick up. Here�s the rundown:

From Borders ($25 G.C. with 10% off any purchase coupon):
The Elegant Universe by Brian Greene
The Pocket Encyclopedia of Aggravation by Laura Lee

From Amazon.com ($75 G.C):
Last of the Mohicans DVD
Being John Malkovich DVD
magazine subscriptions to Outside and Scientific American

This evening I hung out at Mike and Mary's apartment in my Homeland of SeaTac. I was exposed to the joys of upper-level Japanese cinema (Tampopo), a properly prepared ramen and soup bowl, and the intensity of 4-puck air hockey.

The last few hours of a year can be an awful ordeal, when the balance inside the heads of Gentlemen and Scholars tips towards the Savages and Ignoramuses lurking in the basest synapses of our labyrinthine psyches. When one surrounds them themselves, like I do, with self-proclaimed Artists and Professors of Enlightenment, who instead are thinly-veiled drunken Malcontents & Ne�er-do-wells, things can quickly careen out of control, and the Public Forum that is a New Years Eve engagement can turn shockingly sour.

The cast of Character last night included the usual list of alleged philosopher-poets: including Mike (Ryu, clad in Japanese traditional dress) and Mary; Tyler and Angie (showing up at 5 and leaving before 10); Vicki (Jon�s sister). Laurie�s presence, ostensibly as Greg�s girlfriend, brought in a contingent that included friends from high school and their hangers-on. This bastion of depravity was sent to a frothing broil when the Jen contingent began to trickle in: her blonde buxom friend Amber, the infamous crying guy (Brian), a former roommate of Jen, some guy named Mike Cameron (but having no affiliation with the Seattle Mariners), the �wormy looking guy with glasses who had intentions on Amber� another guy named apparently named Tom, and a student of Economics at UW of dubious social heritage named �Travis.� There were a few more people thrown in, of course, but I don�t remember exactly.

The early theme of the evening was apparent: the usual quasi-apocalyptic �fuck or die� instinct which seems to consume people this time of year. The end of another typically desperate year consumed by existential angst, forcing people to follow their reptilian minds, and engage in bizarre acts of human courtship. As DanG put it: �show up, get drunk, pair up, head home.�

Between the bizarre pills to be found in the pockets of Mike Cameron (no affiliation with the Seattle mariners) and his attempts at bizarre energy-drink based mixed drinks (made amidst the complaint of our kitchen lacking �adequate mixers to make drinks for the ladies�), and the blatant displays of quasi-lesbianism so eagerly exhibited by Jen, Amber, and sometimes Vicki, along with the groupings of people from harshly differing social background, there was a disturbing vibe in the air which drove me on the porch to smoke (I don�t smoke normally) and upstairs to seek refuge. I began realize that even a veteran of deranged alcohol-inspired behavior like myself had no recourse in such an environment, and I quickly took to documenting as much of it as possible, struggling through the veil of my own inebriation.

I had kicked off my own festivities about 5 with my first glass of scotch and commencing my commemorative viewing of �2001.� As the earliest guests sauntered in the door near the end of the movie, things began to move, food was acquired, ping-pong tables set up, and already nursing a good �party buzz� I decided to partake in unusual rituals involving stuffing a yo-yo down my pants, and impersonating a cat underneath the table.

By the time things were in full swing, I was consumed by an anxiety over my house being full of people I didn�t know at all or were only slightly acquainted with. My default setting is fear and loathing, and it mixed with the Scotch in a discomforting manner.

The Porter was met with mixed, but mainly positive, reviews. This bit of anxiousness was largely relieved, and I would consider myself free of this burden as a contributing factor in my interpretation of the evening�s events.

As the evening wore on, antics began to wear on my soul. I found myself seeking something a little more compelling and real. I ignored a four-person groping session on the couch, despite pleas in my direction to take a digital photograph. At some point I was relieved by the arrival of Dan Studley, someone who I don�t communicate with nearly enough.

Midnight rolled around, with the usual hooting and hollering, exchanges of embraces and kisses, along with the groping to keep in the spirit of the evening. I noted a particularly lingering romantic encounter between Amber and �wormy looking guy with glasses.� I was the last in, standing barefoot in the middle of 41st and Interlake, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, kept warm by the bellyfull of Scotch and the 22 of my Porter I finished off.

Things quickly degenerated. Mike and Mary left. The CD player malfunctioned, and the drunk got drunker, the depraved more depraved, and the house was full of Reptiles, squirming and darting about the pool table, kitchen, and living room. Rich announced he had threatened �Travis� with a hefty Toss Down the Stairs if further touching of Julie�s ass ensued. This individual had distinguished himself as a potential Hazard earlier in the evening, and was now puking in the kitchen sink.

I jumped all over the opportunity to express my frustrations. After some spraying with the hose, I wrestled Grabass into the back bathroom, and proceeded to look for something to wedge the door shut with. Indulged in this quest, I noticed Sink Puker had escaped from is commodious cell, and was staggering about the laundry room. I calmly escort him to the back door, gave him an encouraging pat on the way out, and locked the door and turned off the light behind him. He was seen by witnesses, including Rich, staggering into the street and off into the darkness of the Wallingford Wilderness.

I escalated things by declaring that Rich was �greenlit� to kick his ass, where I was intercepted by Laurie in the upstairs computer/TV room. After an extended conversation, I lurched back downstairs to find that an extensive search party had been launch to see to Travis�s retrieval. I continued to shit-talk about my hopes of his hypothermic demise and started a definitive atmosphere of negativity. At this time, a remarkable and thorough kitchen cleaning party, led by Greg, was sprucing things up.

The Search party returned to the sound of my taunting, and some of them reacted with alarm and disgust at my glee. Amber was in the back toilet and �wormy looking guy with glasses� was overseeing her puking (I was later made to understand that this individual cleaned the bathroom, huzzahs to him!).

The Party began to trickle out, and Rich later regaled me with tales of their entertaining journey into various vehicles. Greg attempted to wrestle me up the stairs so I wouldn�t further add to the negativity with my �Ali� inspired yelling, and we ended up engaging in a weird �wrestling moves vs. guy squirming� match. It was quite fun, and Greg would later compliment me on my squirming ability. I did manage to get in some words out the door, succeeding in Making Things Worse. I received and accepted an apology from Mike Cameron (no affiliation with the Seattle Mariners) who had Amber puking in a plastic bag in his front seat. He asked for, and I gave, a roll of paper towels, and he responded by throwing four dollars up the stairs.

I immediately felt guilty from my excessive �jaking,� clued by the somewhat detached �good-bye� from Jen and the gentle lecturing from Greg. I attempted to smooth things with a couple quick emails (one of which, for the record, was sent before Greg�s words) while also uploading the first official Picture Othe Day.

After some further debriefing, a snack, and a lot of liquids, I hit the sack.

For the sake of decreasing the amount of Negativity floating around... I would like to Oficially retract the preceeding "hypothermia" statement, and instead state that I hope he merely experiences the appropriate discomfort appropriate for such behavior. Thank you and Happy New Year!

Right now, there's a guy that was at our house for our New Years party somewhere in Wallingford. A number of people who were here are out looking for him (mostly the people he came with). I found him puking in our kitchen sink, then "escorted" him to the downstairs toilet (off the laundry room). While I was looking for something to wedge the door shut, he stumbled out, and I "escorted" him out the back door. He was last seen stumbling out into the street in front of the house. Here's to hoping he gets hypothermia!

coming soon, in your pants:

Verne Troyer stars in Lord of the Pants

There were nineteen steps up to the santictity of the treehouse. However, one couldn't safely gain passage up the ladder without the Final, crucial, 20th rung. He who yielded this Rung held tremendous power in the Neighborhood.

Lord of the Rung

starting soon, but only at that shitty theater clear accross town

He had developed a taste for exotic high-end pharmacueticals and "female escorts." This other guy tailed along as his "advisor" and partook in the highjinks. Together, it's Johnny Depp and Benicio del Torro starring in "The Habit"

at a theater near You!

LORD OF MY ASS!

I saw LOTR tonight... it was long... my ass is sore...

funny, my ass wasn't sore after other long movies like "Heat" or "Braveheart"