!skcihc dekan toh yllaer

edoc terces a ni gnipyt ma i
si ts tahw tuo erugif uoy nac

thginot taeper a si namrettel

ahhhhh...
beer
toasted cheese sandwiches
beer

good clean livin'

Well, my indoor soccer team is three games into the latest "season" in which we moved up a division. Our first two games we were absolutely murdered, 7-1 and 8-2 if I recall correctly, but tonight we "only" lost 7-5. Moral victories are for losers, I always say... but that's what we are. In the previous "season" I was one of our primary offensive weapons... if not THE primary offensive weapon. I'm certainly the fastest guy on the team, and seem to be in the best shape (and I'm not in good shape by my seemingly lofty standards) but it is a little unusual for me to be THE primary offensive weapon. You see, my M.O. for most of my soccer playing days has been a defensive stalwart and/or "gritty playmaker" type person. All of a sudden I've gone from the "Grinder-Playmaker" guy to the "Scorer" guy... but I don't make a very good "Scorer," it's just not me (and everyone who knows me should understand this).

But, nonetheless, I scored probably 33-40% of the goals last "season," with a few assists thrown in here and there. I recall one stretch, over the course of 2 games, in which I was involved in something like 5 of 7 or 6 of 8 goals, as either the scorer or the assister. Lately, I have been racking up very few assists, which is as clear an indication as any that I have become a "scorer," as well as the fact that it is very atypical for me as a player.

This "season," in the two games before tonight, I didn't have any goals or assists -- which of course isn't really saying much seeing as how we have scored a whopping three (3) goals. Tonight, I opened the scoring with a pretty goal, then we proceeded to fall behind 5-1 at halftime, then 7-1 early in the second. We got a garbage goal to go 7-2, then I scored my second to pull to 7-3. We seemed to catch fire, and Kevin, who is probably right with me in scoring for our team over the last couple months, scored two to get it to 7-5.

So, I got off the schneid (sp? schnide?) on an individual basis, and we got off the schneid as a team. We played a hell of a lot better tonight than our previous two games, and I felt like I played with a hustle and the "controlled desperation" I need to perform well. Of course, all I can think about is three blown chances in the second, including a perfect chance with a minute left... I just fucked it up. I console myself by thinking it was a result of fatigue, which is a perfectly legitmate reason, and that I played my ass off, which I feel is true.

I guess I can walk away from this one feeling okay about myself.

What's new down at the Brewery:

03-06-02: "Honey Blonde" is created. Tentatively due for release late April/early May
03-08-02: Getherdrunk Hard Cider v.2.0 is created. Tentatively due for release mid-May. Also, "3-cubed Malcontent's Dunkelweizen," the official beer of 3-cubed Apr 5-7, '02, is bottled.
03-17-02: "Hop on Jake" and "Skulltwister Scotch Ale" are bottled. Both due for mass-release at Greg's b-day celebration, April 26.
03-20-02: "Sneak preview" of the Dunkelweizen, as it is tasted by Brewery staff and deemed "pretty durn good!" Y'all have to wait for 3-cubed to get your grubby little paws on some.
03-21-02: "Piss Free Pilsner" is created. Tentatively scheduled for release Memorial Day Weekend.

Tyler had this to say
which got me thinking about the phenomenon of "pause talking."
Everyone does it, to some effect, usually when you are trying to get your thoughts together. I find myself "pause-talking" a lot when I discuss sports, especially football. It's the sort of stuff, meaningless numbers mostly, that gets tossed into the back of my brain, and I have to find them and gather them as I'm going. Most people are all-too familar with my usual ranting conversational tone, however.

My dad is a notorious pause talker. I remember sitting around the dinner table many a time waiting for my dad to crap out his thought he wanted to share with us. The thing was, oddly enough, it was usually enlightening. That's what was funny, when he finally got his thought out, it would be something interesting. Many of my friends can tell you my dad's weird ability to pull unusual facts out of nowhere (I get that ability from somewhere, I figure), sometimes it's just a struggle to get there.

Then, of course, there's Greg. I've noticed, for whatever reason, that my dad and Greg share a lot of mannerisms. I attribute it to some sort of teacheritis, but who knows. I would hardly say that all, or even most, of the teachers I know (and roughly half -- no exageration -- of the people I know are teachers) are afflicted with this syndrome. Another thing that my dad was notorious for, and Greg also does, is talk from another room. Now, we all talk from another room, most often in the classic kitchen-living room paradigm, but most of us raise our voices and eventually meet in the same room to finish the dialogue. Greg will talk to you in a normal conversational volume -- except from the other room. Usually I eventually say "I have no idea what the fuck you're saying," or, in what seems to be a game of discussional chicken in which Greg never flinches, exasperatingly stomp into the room he's in. More often that not whatever he had to say wasn't really worth getting up for.

Well, other than that, I flipped to CBS a few minutes ago to watch some NCAA Sweet 16 action, and find out Duke lost to Indiana (!!!!!!!!!!) and Oklahoma beat Arizona (sucks for me, I picked AZ for the Final Four. Sounds like the Duke-IU game had a hell of a finish.

I owe the IRS $141

I guess spring officially arrived today. I had assumed it was tomorrow, but at 11:18am today it became spring officially, so it is indeed the Vernal Equinox. Yippee! Is there some sort of pagan ritual we can involve ourselves in? I wonder what I should DO to recognize this moment.

Approprately enough, however, is the fact that mere hours after Spring officially arrived, it started snowing. It is snowing like a sumbitch right now. It's started to stick, it looks like. Hmm, we'll see if it freezes tonight and ices up the roads for tomorrow.

I got my serious Corn Beef and Cabbage schwerve on today. Had a few pints of Guinness. Oh yeah, baby!

Yesterday, Tyler picked me up in the middle of a blinding snow flurry at about 9:30 am. We were headed up to Anacortes for an Orienteering event at beautiful Washington Park. Piled into the back of the Explorer were Angie, Angie's sister Julie, and Julie's boyfriend Max. After orienteering, we were heading up to lovely Bellingham, the Mecca of Western Washington, to check out WWU and the town in general for the benefit of Julie.

Of course, it was snowing like a sonofabitch here in pleasant Wallingford. It wasn't sticking, but I was convinced the following simple formula would apply, as it so often does in these conditions around here: further north = more snow. By the time we left my house, I was wondering how smart this was.

By the time we hit Everett, there was no snow at all. In fact, it wasn't even precipitating at all. We hit a nasty squall-line just outside Burlington, but at Washington Park it was overcast, windy, cold... but not raining or snowing.

Of course, I'm nordic, so I thrive on those conditions. I'll take windchill of 25-30 and dry over 50 and pouring any day, twice on Sundays. I did... okay. Tyler did poorly, Angie did even poorer, and Julie and Max hid out in the Explorer huddled under a blanket.

Bellingham was sunny and beautiful blue skies. It was cold, and windy, as Bellingham is so apt to be, but it FELT nice with the late-winter sun beating down on us. After a quick, impromptu campus tour, we retired to Boundary Bar Brewery for a late lunch and the sweet, sweet nectar they pour out of their taps. After a Scotch Ale, Oatmeal Stout, bowl of chicken chilli, and massive Philly Cheesesteak sandwich, I was feeling pretty good about things.

We drove semi-aimlessly around town for a while, ostensibly so Julie could check it out and look into places to live, but she didn't see to interested. We ended up at Bob's in Fairhaven so Julie and Angie could get a drink (they shockingly don't like beer) and put up with the slow service there until we busted for home.

I was dropped off at about 7:30, and proceeded to sit around and down a couple Breakfast Stouts, and starting at 10:30 watched the Grand Prix of Malaysia. I spent some time "designing" some shirts which I am now shamelessly hawking at cafepress.com (see below -- the store is up link).

$3 PINTS!!! $3 PINTS!!!
I am going to run for political office on the "$3 Pints" platform.
It's simple. Draught pints are a maximum of three bucks.