How do I draft a winning team?

Tonight is a big night. Or it could be, anyway.

Tonight is my fantasy football draft.

If you recall, I didn’t do so well in my league last year. And by that, I mean that I came in dead last. My first mistake was choosing a quarterback who wasn’t even a starter, and it was all down hill from there.

Would I have done better if that were true?

This year, I’ve been following more of the preseason games and trying to stay on top of the injuries, starters, predictions, and all that jazz. I’m determined to do better this year. (To be fair, I really couldn’t do any worse.) But, as much as I’ve been preparing, I could still use any and all advice.

I just have a few conditions:

1) As an Eagles fan, I don’t want to have to root for any other NFC East team. So, as much as it may hurt my chances, I refuse to draft any player from the Redskins, Giants, or Cowboys. (If I’m losing terribly halfway through the season, I reserve the right to change my mind.)

2) I will, under no circumstances, draft T.O.

3) Ditto for Michael Vick.

Hm…okay, so there aren’t as many conditions as I thought. But I could still use a few pointers.

Pretend it’s your fantasy team – who do you want on it?

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Now what you hear is not a test…

On a follow up note from yesterday: I’m still not sold, but apparently Vick did all right against Jacksonville. And even garnered a standing ovation. Whatever. We’ll see what happens. It’s still only preseason after all.

But anyway, forgetting about football for the time being, I have something else on my mind this morning. Something that I thought of on my way to work and that I can’t seem to get out of my head. I was listening to music during the commute, as per usual, and my iPod shuffled over to “Rapper’s Delight” – which I love. How could you not?

And as I was bobbing my head and trying not to sing along (people look at you funny when you do that), I wondered if I could ever actually learn all the words. I mean, it’s over 14 minutes long! Plus, I always get a little tripped up on the order of the boogie and the bang bang and the dibbie dibbie and the skiddlee beebop. But, that said, I’d love to be able to bust it out and surprise a crowd – a la Rosie in the Wedding Singer.

Can anyone do that already? Or…have you?

I won’t say it’s a life goal, but learning those words is definitely going on my to-do list. How could I resist a song that actually uses the word “kaopectate” in one of its lines? You just don’t hear that every day.

Think about it.

Happy weekend!

Also, I couldn’t write about “Rapper’s Delight” and not post the following video. However much it disturbs me.

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I guess these things happen…

When it first happened, I didn’t really want to talk about it. Even now, it’s a little bit painful to admit, and I wish it could have gone any other way. But it didn’t. And now I have to live with it for at least a year, maybe two. So I’m just going to say it really fast, like ripping off a band-aid.

MichaelVickisontheEaglesandisplayingintheirpreseasongametonight.

I’m sorry, you didn’t catch that?

Michael Vick, yeah, that Michael Vick is now a Philadelphia Eagle. And is playing in the preseason game tonight. The one-year contract was signed about two weeks ago and my jaw just about hit the floor. I have to cheer for him now? Really? Come on, Philly, why would you do this to me?

I can’t and won’t deny that he had talent. (It remains to be seen if he still has it.) I won’t even loudly dispute the idea that he deserves another chance. He served his time (or most of it) and is supposedly sorry. Or at least contrite enough to convince those who make such decisions.

But we’ve been through enough. We lost Brian Dawkins. We have a starting quarterback who can’t seem to go an entire season without getting hurt. Last year we blew another chance at the Super Bowl by losing to the Cardinals. Not to mention, we tied the Bengals!

The point is, we need something positive this season. Something that the team can rally around. Something uplifting. I’ll hold off on final judgment until I see Vick play (and perhaps until I hear him apologize a few more times), but for right now, I can’t see someone so controversial being that needed something.

I could be wrong; it’s happened before (not often, mind you). But even if I am, and he’s the best thing that ever happened to the Eagles, I still don’t want to cheer for him.

And you can’t make me.

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I fought the law and the law…LOST

Nearly four months ago, I received not one, but TWO parking tickets within a two hour period of time. It was a weekend, and I had checked the sign, which clearly stated that I was in the right:

Sure, the tickets were only $20-25 each, but it was the principle of the matter. I was right, dammit. So, for the first time ever, I contested my parking tickets. (To be fair, I’d only gotten a couple before these.) I sent a polite, yet firm, letter in with my tickets and my proof, which consisted solely of the above photo.

To whom it may concern:

I received two tickets the other weekend, one on Saturday, May 2, 2009 at 11:22PM, and one on Sunday, May 3, 2009 at 1:07AM…

1) The signs on the…block…where I was parked, clearly state, “No Standing or Parking 7AM-9:30AM, 4PM-6:30PM, Monday-Friday.” I have included a picture of the sign by which I was parked.

2) Even if that sign were somehow out of date (which, for the record, should also not be my personal responsibility)…my ticket reads “No Parking 9A/1P/EXCP/SUN.” By that reasoning, given that I was issued the ticket at 11:22PM (i.e. after “1P”), this ticket should never have been issued in the first place.

Pertaining to the second ticket, issued less than 2 hours after the first…

The ticket that was issued on Sunday, May 3, 2009 has similar notes…that read “NO PKG 9A-1P EXCEP SUN, SIGN CLEARLY VISIBLE REAR.” Please note that Sunday is the exception. Please further note that the ticket was issued on a Sunday. Therefore, by your own comments, this ticket should be null and void.

As should the first.

And I WON!

Small victory? Perhaps. But please, let me revel.

They accepted my obviously eloquent argument and irrefutable facts and were truly sorry for the inconvenience they had caused. The time it took to craft that letter is time I’ll never get back.  (Or: They were too lazy to disagree and backed down the moment they were challenged, but I like my version better.) Their admission of defeat went to my parents’ house, as that’s where the car is registered, and my mother texted me the happy news the other day.

So take that, DC. I’m sure that fifty dollars less in your pocket will really hurt.

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That green-eyed monster

I’d love to be able to say that I’m not a jealous person, but that would be a lie. I’ll settle for saying that I’m not usually a jealous person, and that I’m not nearly as bad as I used to be. It’s something that I’ve been working on, and something that I’ve only just recently had a breakthrough about.

I don’t get jealous of the things that other people have. Sure, I may want his car, her outfit, their apartment, etc, but overall I’m content – happy and satisfied, even. I don’t get jealous if my friends have plans with other friends because, well, I’m not in middle school anymore.

I do, however, get jealous, from time to time, in relationship-y situations.

And it’s not something I like to admit, for obvious reasons.

I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to realize why I get jealous, but it has. Maybe because my jealousy isn’t an across-the-board thing, so the reason was harder to pinpoint. When dating someone, I’d never want him to give up his girl friends. I don’t constantly think that every girl is making passes at him. I’m not that crazy. What I’ve realized, though, is that there are some situations, some people, who just get under my skin.

But it’s more than feeling jealous; it’s feeling like they could replace me.

(That sentence is, at once, one of the hardest things I’ve written/admitted, and possibly one of the more embarrassing, as it makes me feel petty. I can feel my cheeks blush as I even think the words.)

I wish I knew where it came from. Because 98 percent of the time I am confident in myself and ergo in my relationships. But then that two percent sneaks in and starts whispering in my ear, Look at that. That’s the same thing he said to you when you first started hanging out. She’s better than you at [x, y or z], and that used to be your thing. Look at the way they act – you recognize all of those moves.

Basically, that inner two percent is a bitch. And I recognize this. But I still can’t stop it all the time. Who knew that two could have such sway?

So I have two questions:

1. Is it possible (and if so, how?) to shut up your inner bitch? I’m not proud of the fact that I need to, but I’d rather be aware of it than not.
2. Do you think it’s possible to not get jealous at all? I posed that question to friends and came up with most ladies thinking it’s not possible (everyone gets jealous about something, at some point), and most gentlemen saying, of course it’s possible. What’s there to be jealous of?

Thoughts?

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Excuse me, but what are you?

I love making new friends at bars. It yields some of the most interesting conversations and often ridiculous questions.  This past weekend did not disappoint.

It started off innocently enough – a guy came over to our table to borrow a light and then started chatting. We all talked sports and DC living; he told us about his upcoming wedding. And then he asked me:

“Can I ask you a question? I’m not sure if I’m really allowed to say this, I don’t know if it’s okay, but what ethnicity are you?“

I have to kind of admire his boldness (read: drunkenness), as I’ve occasionally wanted to ask the same question, but never dared. But it’s more the fact that he asked me. I laughed at the question and before I could even respond, one of the friends I was with told him that I was “white as white could be, the epitome of Caucasian.”

So he explained. “I’m sorry, I just asked because, well, and I’m still not sure if this is all right to say, but, I mean, it’s your eyes. They look a little Asian. Are you Asian at all?“

Thoughts? Based on eyes alone?

Really? Not that I’d mind, actually, I think it’d be pretty cool, but it’s still not something I hear every day. He assured me that I did, in fact, have great eyes, he was just curious. In the meantime, his fiancee was standing there shaking her head and apologizing to me. And she apologized even more profusely when his friends all came out on to the patio (at his urging), and started whispering, “Is that the one? Is she really Asian?“

If I had a better poker face, I may have tried to play along and tell them that yes, actually, my grandmother was Asian, and wow, you’re very observant and usually nobody picks up on that.

But even as I thought about it, I knew I couldn’t lie without laughing.

Maybe, though, I’ll work on my story and my poker face. You know, for next time.

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TGIF

Honestly, does anyone else feel like this week just dragged on and on?

Unbelievable.

With any luck, you have an easy Friday ahead of you, perhaps with enough time to test out this neat little program from MIT. I found it through a friend and feel like it’s the next step up from googling yourself. (Don’t act like you haven’t done it.)

You type your full name in, the program scours the interwebs for information, and ultimately breaks down your online presence into categories, like so:

You can see how utterly boring mine is. What I can’t figure out, though, is why I get different results each time I type my name in. What’s up with that, MIT?

And now I have categories for medicine and illegal? What?

Give it a shot and let me know – do you think it’s an accurate representation?

Happy Friday!

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Belief, makes things real…

…makes things feel, feel alright.

After reading f.B.’s post yesterday, I got to thinking about what it is that I believe – with evidence or without, for better or for worse. It was a little harder than I expected – not so much figuring out what I believe, but figuring out how to phrase it.

I believe that most people are inherently good – or, at least, that they have some good in them.

I believe that there is more than one right answer.

I believe that romanticizing the past makes it harder to learn from, but easier to live with.

I believe in soul mates – however you define them – and the possibility that you can have more than one in a lifetime.

I believe that intelligence and a sense of humor are two of the sexiest qualities you can find in another person.

I believe that it’s hypocritical for women’s health magazines to advertise diet pills in the back pages.

I believe that Disney movies and romance novels gave me unrealistic expectations about life and relationships – but the fantasy’s still fun.

I believe that Brett Favre should have retired as Packer.

I believe that I’ll eventually figure out what I want to be when I grow up.

I believe that some things are supposed to be hard, and that the hard is what makes them great.

Belief, makes things true. Things like you, you and I.

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In one ear and out the other

Do you ever have those days where you have a post all ready to go, all you have to do is hit “publish,” but then you balk? Something about it feels off. The words are right, the sentiment’s spot on, but the timing just isn’t. I’ve never felt it as strongly as I did this morning. So, on to Post B.

Last night the girls and I had a little quality time at Good Stuff Eatery. First of all, delicious. And the milkshakes to top off the meal filled my sweet tooth quota for at least a month. Although, admittedly, I could have gone for a mini-moo size instead of regular, considering I could only finish about a quarter of it.

Anyway, as we played catch-up (it’s surprisingly hard to coordinate schedules, for us all being in the same city) Cla asked H about the guy she’d been seeing recently.

“Well, I tried to break up with him, but he didn’t listen.“

“What does that mean?“

“He just wouldn’t break.“

“He wouldn’t let you break up with him?“

“No. He told me he loved me, instead. And followed with, ‘Please let me spend the night. I can’t leave thinking this is the last time I’ll see you.‘”

Whoa.

In addition to the fact that he comes across as *slightly* melodramatic, I’m also confused by the break-up refusal. Sure, I’ve been on both sides of the ending of a relationship, and I have, at times,  desperately wanted the other person to change his mind.

But I draw the line at begging.

And I also don’t think I’d want to be in a relationship where I have to convince someone to stay with me. Can that ever end well?

“So what are you going to do? Have you talked to him?“

“He’s been texting and emailing. I think he knows it’s coming, but he’s trying to ignore it.“

Ah, feigned ignorance and copious amounts of denial. If that’s not a recipe for success, I don’t know what is.

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Aladdin, boats and competition

I have to say, it was a lot harder coming back to work today, after a long weekend at the lake, than it was coming back after camp.

I know, I know – my life is so hard. Feel bad for me.

In any case, these past few days were filled with much needed relaxation, as well as a few key observations.

1. It is easy to shock people by telling them you’ve never seen the Price is Right. (However, after seeing it this weekend, for the first time ever, I wish I’d watched when Bob Barker was still on. Not a fan of Drew Carey.)

2. Men will be sneaky and devious in order to gain control of the TV remote. (To be fair, I already knew this, but it’s worth repeating.)

3. I’m not the only adult who knows all the lyrics to Aladdin. And will sing along when it’s on TV.

4. I am, however, the only one who would lobby for leaving the country music station on in the car.

5. I will get competitive at anything: Trivial Pursuit, mini-golf, skee-ball…even Big Buck Hunter. Stupid cows getting in the way.

6. And speaking of Trivial Pursuit, let me give you a tip when playing the 90s Edition. On yellow questions (Wired/Technology/etc.): 90% of the time, the answer is Apple. On any golf question, just answer Tiger Woods.

7. It’s practically impossible to spend all day on a boat without saying/singing “I’m on a boat!” numerous times. Try it and get back to me.

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