Our little boy is all groweds up

Tonight was somewhat of a microcosm. All day I looked forward to getting a video game. I $60 shoot-em-up sign of youthfulness and time to spare. I went and got that game at midnight -- where I realized I might be getting too old for this.

And after all that trouble, the only game rated a 10 by IGN in a DECADE wasn't my best purchase of the day. That, my friends, came in the form of a 2-bedroom, 1-bathroom house with a screened-in front porch, a gorgeous back deck and a 2-car garage. I am a homeowner, folks, and I love it.

I think that Trent (aka Vince Vaughn) can better explain how I feel. Start this clip at 1:05 (then watch the whole thing, because it's pretty god-damn hilarious).

I'm doing OK these days.

As much as I sometimes hate life, at least I ain't these guys (although some days, my G3 iBook really deserves it):

I don't love the whole world

Recently, a friend and co-worker of mine posted this video on her blog:



I like it. In fact, I almost love it. There's just one problem: I don't love the whole world. In fact, I very much dislike a good bit of it.

For example:
I don't love racism
I don't love global warming
I don't love "supporting the troops" by keeping them in a hot, vast desert full of people trying to murder them.
I don't love those who mistake a sale piece for artistic expression
I don't love self-importance
I don't love free agency

And besides these, I don't love a lot of other things. Let's face it, folks, there's a lot that's easy to not love in the world we live in.

But, thank God, there are a few things on this big blue ball that I do love.

I love sunny spring days.
I love rainy spring days.
I love hellos and smiles given away to unknown passers-by.
I love good fights between loving friends.
I love Sunday afternoon baseball.
I love love.
I really love love.
I really, really, really love loving, love-filled lovederful love.
Don't you?

Touche, Bentley. Well played.

Copywriter 1: Look at what this car won.


Copywriter 2: Oh yeah? Look at what THIS car won.


Copywriter 3: OH YEAH?? LOOK AT WHAT THIS CAR WON!


Ultimate Master Writer of the Universe: Fuck awards. Bentley, motherfuckers.

We don't like to think about it this way.

Help me make a wedding

I've spent much of tonight putting a soundtrack to the happiest day of my life together. Nothing's in any order yet, and obviously some cuts need to be made before the big day, but I feel like the list is incomplete. To take a look at the list in a readable form, just click the images to make them bigger.

Anyway, I feel like the people in my life, whether they be at home, at work or back in Columbia, need to contribute.

So PLEASE, if you know who I am (and I'm guessing you do if you read this) please help me.

It's really easy to do. Just open iTunes, search for your favorite love, dance or background songs and post them in the comments section.

Sounds easy enough, right? Good -- then get to posting. I'd really love as many perspectives as I can get on this thing, as I'm sure I'm missing a few gems that you undoubtedly know all about.

Oh, and one more thing: No Jovi or Panic allowed. I'm talking to you, carpoolers.

I love you, davesecretary.

OMFG. LOL. ROFL.

These stories are funny.

Fuck the Man

I've noticed lately that a lot of my most creative, motivated days come on Sundays. I'm starting to think that that's just because I've been away from work for a couple of days.

I work on a variety of things, you see, and I'm starting to think that those dog food, bank and cell phone promotions are starting to suck my creative energy to the point that I don't have any left when I get home. Sure, I get paid for my work, but is it worth it? I don't know yet. I've not been doing this a long time, and I realize that my job affords me stability that many creative professions don't. I also know that my job affords me a great many limitations that other creative professions don't.

So what's better? Money and stability or freedom and expression? I'm not sure yet, but you can be sure I'll let you know when (or if) I figure it out.

Making the most of it.

There are lots of days I feel like this:



No, I didn't go to school for a lot of years to learn to play the piano. But what I did do was go to school for a lot of years to learn to write. I wrote story after story, poem after poem, essay after essay and ad after ad.

And then I graduated to write about dog food.

Sure, I know it's more complicated than that. I know I'm driving business and influencing people's purchase decisions and helping, in a small way, a big business get even bigger. At least that's what I tell myself when I need to feel better about it.

But my reasons, valid though they may be, just don't do it for me these days. I don't care about dog food for fat dogs or young dogs or dogs with sensitive stomachs or really fat dogs or dogs with itchy skin or dogs who puke a lot. I don't care about fucking dog food.

So what do I care about? Well, it seems I've lost track of that, too. If I looked at my current ways, I'd probably say drinking too much and watching a lot of TV. If I'm talking ideals, I'd say sports and walks in the park and movies and books and music and good food and great company.

Funny, now that I see it all there on the screen, it seems not impossible to fit it all in. In fact, it seems like with a little work, doing it all would be pretty easy.

Maybe I should get going on that.

Wow.

Most people don't think of MU as a baseball school, but the truth is we've been one of the elite programs in the country for the last couple of years and have produced several early 1st round picks in the MLB amateur draft.

The next one of those, Aaron Crow, has quite an amazing scoreless streak going. Currently, he's sitting on 42.2 innings of goose eggs.

The most amazing part? He managed to make his way out of the pit of darkness known as Lawrence (well, Wakarusa technically) Kansas, convert from the dark side and became a good kid and a Missouri Tiger. Nice to see somebody from that neck of the woods buck the trend and make the right choice for his education and career.

The Tigers face off against Texas this weekend, and Crow will be starting the Saturday game. Tune in if you want to watch an amazing young talent do some amazing things with a right arm and a baseball.

Love

I've gotten a lot of advice over the last seven years.

"Play the field," they say.
"Don't settle," they say.
"You'll know when the time is right," they say.

But the most puzzling thing to me,
the most frightening thing,
is when I hear this little nugget:

"She's going to be your life. Choose wisely."

Because I, you see, am a man of independence.
A man of my own will.
An unwavering beacon of what it is to be smart and clever and unwavering.

Sure, she's the one I love, but I have a life of my own.
I won't be held back.
My ideas and my ideals will never be compromised.
I know what's best for me, and what's best for you, too.

Or so I thought.

Then she said it.
She said the only words that have shaken me to my core.
She said the words that made me know,
after acting like it for much too long,
that I am not just about me.

"Do you want this ring back? Because I don't want it."

Oxygen leaves my chest like a shot from a gun.

Of course I don't want it back.
Please no, I don't want it back.
Jesus, just keep it on your beautiful finger.

You are the only one that keeps me going.
You are the only one that keeps me in check.
You are the only one that I never, ever, ever want to lose.

Please don't give me back the best money I ever spent.
Please don't make the best years of my life for naught.
Please, please, please don't leave.

Because in the end, sweet little girl,
you are what I really want.
You are what I am really about.
You are the most treasured part of my existence.

Please, for God's sake, just stay that way forever.
Because I don't know what I'd do without you.

I love you NIki, and I always will.
I hope you will always love me, too.

What wasteful bastards are we.

An art exhibit came out recently entitled "Running the Numbers: An American Self-Portrait." Most of the pieces featured in it are more or less pictures of just how much of many different disposable items (plastic bottles, cell phones, plastic bags, paper bags, jet fuel exhaust fumes, etc...) Americans use.

The images are absolutely mind-boggling. It's no wonder there is a trash dump in the Pacific ocean that's nearly the size of Texas.

Yes, I said there's a trash dump in the Pacific Ocean that is THE SIZE OF FUCKING TEXAS.

We've gotta do something, folks -- and sooner rather than later.

Ahhhhhh...

I think, some time during my college days, I lost my passion
my fire
my soul
my want-to.

I'm not sure exactly when or where or how or why.
I think it just drowned in beer-fueled nights and was pissed away during hung-over mornings.
It doesn't matter, really.
Because that is that past.
And I'm not going back there ever again.

I like here much better.

My brain is moving quick again.
My body is looking and feeling better every day.
Music has rekindled it's long and glorious friendship with this midwestern soul.
Baseball speaks to me again.
Reading speaks to me again.
Writing speaks to me again.
Movies speak to me again.

But best of all, lately I I just find myself wanting to get out more.
Go more.
See more.
Feel Hear Speak Listen Taste Smell Create Love more.

I've got a hitch in my giddy-up.
A spring in my step.
A smile on my face.
And the sun on my skin bathing me in a warmth and light that I haven't known for years.

Yes, I think I've found myself.
And boy does it feel good to be back.

April Fool's Day Round-Up

From Google.

From IGN

Google again, but this time Virgin got in on the act.

Hillary? Really?

YouTube: Click on any video on the front page. Then prepare to get RickRoll'd.