Bringing the Drama

I posted this picture of myself Sunday night, which I will now explain.

(I uploaded more pictures on my Flickr)

I am not sure how many of my readers even will understand this, but I will type about it anyway. As mentioned previously, CZ’s dad is in Endymion. When CZ and I arrived at our hotel on Friday afternoon, her dad called her, and asked her to ask me if I wanted to ride in Endymion if the parade was rained out Saturday night. I’d have to pay $550, but that was it. I told her yes, without really thinking about it. How often do these kinds of opportunities come around? Besides, at that point I figured the parade would not be rained out so I wouldn’t ride anyway.

That night at Herbsaint, he told me everyone had gotten an email that the parade was in fact rained out, I was riding. Also, I had this AMAZING duck and andouille gumbo that ruined me for eating gumbo the rest of the weekend. Dinner was fabulous, watching the parades roll by on St Charles was great, and ending the night at the Carousel Bar was excellent.

The next morning, I went over to the Hilton to meet her dad and go with him to a traditional pre-parade luncheon for members of a few floats. It was pretty cool; they had a live band, open bar, and buffet. The gumbo made me miss the Herbsaint gumbo. The rain came about an hour after we got there and was POURING. The lights even went off a couple of times. We left after doing everything they normally do before Endymion rolls, including second lining and doing Kamikaze shots. I ended up taking home some bananas and grapes. After a trip back to the Hilton that took a few detours, I was able to trade the tux I had rented for the costume I would wear. The guy who was originally going to fill in was going to wear my tux for the ball and luckily he’s the same size as me.

That night at the Endymion ball, we were supposed to get on the floats in costume and ride through the Convention Center. I had never been on a float, much less thrown anything from a float, and now I was about to ride through a massive throng of nicely dressed people on a float with Elvis on the front. All of my throws were already on the float, so all I had to do was organize them on the racks. We rolled through the ball and I threw a ton of stuff. I realized pretty quickly that I was terrible at aiming. I’m trying to throw a football from a moving float with an overhang, and the first few I airmailed over my targets’ heads. After the inside parade was over, I met up with CZ at the table and watched the concert.

The next day was the big day. I put on my costume and walked over to the Convention Center to board the float about 4:30. I had found out where Jacob would be, and where my parents would be. I had put together a bag of stuff for Jacob to get, and set aside things for my parents. We loaded stuff onto the racks and waited. The anticipation was crazy. Once everyone seemed to have their stuff ready, it was cool to look around at the other people without having to say “this is going to be incredible!” You could just feel it. The first few floats rolled out and it was happening.

Rolling down Tchoupitoulas was slow and go. We’d stop for a few minutes, then go, then stop, then go. It seemed like it took forever. The coolest part of the whole night was seeing the shadow of the float on one of the warehouses. You could cleanly depict Elvis on the front, then the people on the top of the float. I checked my phone and saw we were 3 blocks from Napoleon and texted my mom. When we got near Tipitina’s, I saw them. I threw them stuff, and thankfully the crowd wasn’t CRAZY INSANE, so they caught everything I threw them. I was going to throw them beads but they were loaded down so I said “y’all have enough beads!”

We turned the corner to Napoleon and it was like nothing I had ever done. The people were so loud and all over the place. I threw the stuffed animals CZ’s dad gave me to the little kids I saw. I threw the bigger beads I had and tried to get them to people who didn’t seem like they had very many beads. The glow sticks I had to throw were very popular. I have no idea why. People LOVED them. I would throw a bunch at once and people would scramble.

The most awkward thing was when the float would stop. CZ’s dad told me not to throw anything when the float stopped, because the crowd would just expect more. If you threw one thing to someone, then someone else would ask if they could get the same thing. The guy next to me threw when we were stopped, and every time he threw, people would want more. I made myself busy with unpacking more beads while we were stopped, but that did not make the situation any less uncomfortable. The highlight of the ride down Napoleon was the guy who asked for a blinky bead that was “a collectible”. As if I would throw some random dude on the street a collectible pair of beads even if I had any.

We turned onto St Charles, and I knew Jacob was going to be one block off Napoleon. Sure enough, I hear him yelling and saw him. I threw a bunch of glow sticks and had the crowd scatter and was able to hand him the bag. It was a successful handoff!

The farther we got down St Charles, the more the crowd changed. Less little kids, less families, more drunk frat boys. I knew CZ and her mom were going to be near Herbsaint, but I had to cross over to get to the other side of the float. The crossing over was not a problem, and I thought they’d be up near the barricade, but they were kind of far back. Then when we got in front of where they were, we couldn’t see them. I spotted CZ as the float pulled away and tried to toss a football, but I don’t think it made it.

The crowd was noticeably different on Canal. By that time I had gotten rid of my good stuff and was chunking everything I had left. CZ’s dad told me to throw everything because anything I did not throw I’d have to carry off the float. That was not happening, so I was throwing everything. I finally ran out after we had turned on Loyola, so only a couple blocks from the end. The float stopped, and all I had to take off was the stuff I was going to hand to CZ and CZ’s dad canvas bag. I had met a couple of new members at the open house a couple of weeks ago, and those guys did not throw all of their stuff. They had a lot leftover, so they were going to have to take it all off the float. I was glad I did not have anything more to take off than what I had. I said my goodbyes to the guys around me and got off the float.

I met up with CZ’s dad and we ended up walking up Poydras back to the Hilton. We caught up with his friends, and then ended up hitching a ride back when a guy in a black pick up stopped and offered us a ride. That was a blessing, because my legs hurt. After hours of balancing myself from the float starting and stopping, my left leg was really sore. We made it back to the Hilton where we met up with the women. We ate cheeseburgers at 1 am. It was the first food I had eaten since lunch. CZ and I made it back to our hotel about 2 am and I made it to sleep shortly after that. My first time riding on a float in Endymion was over, and now I’m thinking I may want to do it again.

Look, I know Mardi Gras can make things crazy. However, I had no idea exactly how crazy until I tried to book a room for this weekend. CZ’s dad’s in one of the super krewes, so it’s a tradition for her family and friends to spend the weekend downtown. Last year she had booked us into the Sheraton. The insanity of Canal St during Mardi Gras was a first for me. People EVERYWHERE! The hotel was just okay though, so this year I thought we could Priceline a room. We started trying to bid in December. I tried off and on until a couple of weeks ago. Things were getting serious. Obviously for major events, PL is a failure. I was trying multiple websites, Kayak, PL, Expedia, to no avail. The only places available were on the wrong side of St Charles or too expensive. I would try day after day and check multiple times a day. Finally, after getting home from a cooking class where I learned how to make gumbo, I tried kayak and found success. We got a hotel in the warehouse district, for roughly the same price as staying at the Sheraton (WAY MORE than I wanted to spend but at least it’s not $400/night), but this place has free breakfast. WIN! It is across the street from a club that’s going to have free shows all weekend. WIN WIN! We can also walk to everything and the WH has more places with cheap drinks. WIN WIN WIN! Sure, maybe I’m paying the same amount as 4 star hotel to stay at a 2.5/3 star place, but I’m saving on parking, drinks, taking a taxi, and worrying about breakfast in the morning. The free concerts across the street won’t hurt either.

So during the summer, I was talking with my mom after church when the youth director walked up and asked me if I wanted to teach Jr High Boys Sunday School. At the time I was thinking of becoming a teacher eventually. I did not even think about it, I just accepted. The way it works is we get emailed a curriculum each week that’s usually some current event and how it ties into some Bible verses. For Jr High kids though, the current event topic does not always apply. One week was about having a job. One week was about TRON though, which was cool because I got to give a background on what TRON was about. A lot of times though the topic would be something lame or very loosely related to some verses. I started to use it as a baseline for about a 5 minute discussion, then move on.

At first I was thinking I’d find some kind of way to get through to these kids and talk about God and Jesus and everything would be awesome. It did not really turn out that way. The first few weeks I would read the curriculum and then look up all the verses. Then I’d ask the questions to go along with the verses and try to get a discussion going. The discussion did not really happen. I would read the verses and ask the corresponding question and get silence, either that or the same kids would answer. It seemed very awkward. I felt inadequate. I did feel accomplished when we’d stay on topic and talk about the Bible for the whole hour, but those weeks were few and far between. I could talk to the kids about football or school, but I kept thinking I should be keeping on topic all the time. Then one day I went and both Jr High classes were combined, so I got to talk to the girls’ teacher. I told her about how I did not feel good enough, and she shared my sympathies. It was good to talk to a fellow teacher about stuff and realize I was not alone.

Over the past couple of months, we’ve had more combined classes, and the other teachers have noticed I have a good rapport with the kids. I had no idea I was one of the only teachers not going to the youth leader exasperated about teaching. I just figured all of that came with the territory. I like the combined classes, because other people are usually doing most of the leading and I get to goof off with some of the boys. For example, a couple of weeks ago the class broke into groups to play games, and I ended up playing Texas Hold Em with three boys using markers to bet with. One of the things I don’t like about the classes is the boys that usually share in the separate class don’t always share in the combined class. I’m not sure if we’ll go back to having separate classes. There’s a rule where we’re supposed to have two teachers for every class, something about having a witness to say you did not mess with a kid or something. My second teacher hardly ever shows up. When he does come, he leaves halfway through the class to go practice with the praise band. I can’t remember the last time he showed up, but I think it’s at least two months.

Wednesday night we got a book for a new study we’ll be going through this spring. From the looks of it I think it’ll be alright. There’s a video and then discussion after that, so I think it should be easy to keep on topic. Lately the topic has been the Saints and LSU football after the initial talk about that week’s curriculum, so it probably will help to talk more about God.

So I have some weird dreams, and don’t always remember them. Last weekend, I had a dream, then woke up right after, and texted myself the details. The dream basically threw together a lot of things from my head the last few weeks, which was odd. First of all, I was at a Minnesota Twins baseball game, standing near the on deck circle behind the owner of the Atlanta Falcons. I think the Twins were playing the Rangers in the Metrodome (the roof was in good shape). During the course of the game, someone hits the ball to the outfield, and it was not a home run, but it went into the stands. I know that the rules say if it’s a ground rule double if the ball bounces into the stands, but whatever the situation was, the ball went into the stands but was still considered in play. The outfield players are yelling for someone to throw the ball back to them, while the guy from the Rangers is running around the bases. However, the people in the section where the ball went started fighting over it. I’m standing there with the Falcons owner watching it all unfold up close on the jumbotron, when the camera falls to the floor. On camera, I see a gold can of High Life rolling underneath the seat, and in the midst of people fighting for the ball, someone sits down and the seat crushes the can of High Life. I remember thinking “people are fighting over the ball, while the other team is scoring because of their fight, and now they’ve wasted a beer.” I also remember laughing hysterically with the Falcons owner about it and then I woke up.

The funny thing is, I now drink PBR over High Life when available.

So at my new job, every employee gets a ham for Christmas. When we first got the email about it at the beginning of December, I thought someone was ordering hams and we would pay for them. No, everyone gets a ham already cooked and spirally sliced. How awesome is that? For a person who came from a cold corporation who gave no Christmas bonus of any kind, it is very awesome. The Tuesday before Christmas, we got our hams. The day was highlighted by the following text conversation with my sister:

Me: (Picture of ham box) Boom!
Her: Lol You know you work for a family-owned company when you get a ham for Christmas.
Me: It is awesome! Ham for everyone Friday!
Her: Stop being a ham!
Me: We will ham it up.
Her: I hope the Hamburglar doesn’t steal it in the night.
Her: Name a Dr Seuss book.
Me: The Cat in the Ham
Me: The Lorham
Her: FAIL! BOOOOOOO.

My family and I ate the ham on Christmas Eve. It was delicious. I still have a lot of it in my fridge. Also great on CE, giving my parents a harmonica playing raccoon.

To my faithful reader(s), in the eternal words of Michael Jordan….I’m back. It’s been a while since I even started to type an entry. I’ve been keeping the good things posts and all, but over the summer was not very interested in blogging. Most of the stuff that would happen was because I was unemployed, and that was not very fun to talk about. It was embarrassing, and I know it should not have been, but I hated talking about it. HATED IT. So I didn’t type posts, because I felt everything that happened was somehow related.

The anger I had towards my old job has mostly subsided. I really hated working there the last few months. Nothing made sense, managers were clueless, and program directors had no idea of what actually went on. I think I was axed because I was truthful about looking for another job rotation because of the grim program outlook. I even buffered what I said with “I’m just trying to find out all my options.” When it came down to it, none of my managers were helpful trying to find me another job. I’ve learned in recent grad school classes how managers should behave, and none of my old managers did any of that. No wonder the program is on shaky footing.

I went on an interview to ATL (with the same company) over the summer and eventually was offered the job. The job seemed interesting enough, and the guys I interviewed with were cool, but the pay increase was peanuts. I had always felt underpaid, so to move to ATL for a 5% pay increase was not worth my time. I was in touch with a recruiter for that job, and when I showed doubt about the offer, he made me feel like the company was doing me a favor because of all the layoffs in NOLA. Thing was, I was the one who found the job and I was the one who applied. No HR person helped me, even though I had heard people were supposedly doing that. When I turned it down, he asked me what I was going to do, as if I did not have any other options. Of course, that’s his job, to get me in that position, but I just felt most of the people I dealt with whether it be the recruiter, or the worthless people who worked in the ‘transition center’, did not know how to deal with an educated person who knew his options. I explained to the guy that I was dating a girl at the time, and engagement was imminent, also that I did not think the salary was worth me moving away from her and all my friends for a job that was not THAT great. I even told him “it’s not like I’m taking a pay cut because I’m signing with the Yankees.”

I eventually found a new job thanks to a friend at a job fair. The interview went well, and I weighed the pros and cons. The only con was the commute. I grew up at my grandparents’ in Metairie during the day while my parents worked downtown until I went to 1st grade. I remember those long drives in the evenings. I never thought I’d be doing that. I needed a job though, and this one seemed to be giving me a good opportunity I had never had before. I had grown tired of sitting at home and reading books. Not that there’s anything wrong with reading books, but I wanted something to do. (Incidentally, I reached my goal of reading every HP book before the first movie) The commute has not been as bad as I thought. I wake up by 4:30 am, leave by 5:30 am and get home around 5:30 pm. I’ve gotten used to the drive, and the times I am traveling on most days it has only added 15 minutes to my commute. The job has been awesome. So far so good.

So I’ve been on Twitter, and I follow a few sports writers. My friend Aaron also follows a couple of the same sportswriters, and we’ve been keeping unrecorded score of who gets responses from the sportswriters. I think unofficially I’m in the lead because I notched Peter King, but everything is unrecorded. Monday the heavily twittering duo of ESPN (Mortensen and Schefter) were concluding their training camp bus tour with the Saints. My grand plan involved somehow meeting them and persuading them to tweet to my friend Aaron. It didn’t matter what it was really, just that he got it. In my scheming mind it would be a photo of me with one of them with “wish you were here @am_mgmt” or something.

Since I was going to training camp, I took along my copies of the books from Sean Payton and Drew Brees that I just received last week. Players and coaches sign autographs after practice, and even though I’m not a big autograph guy, it would be cool to have them sign their books. I figured if for some reason they signed after practice, I’d give it a shot. I got there about 20 minutes after practice started and snapped a few photos. After practice was over, I stood over where the players were signing autographs. Other players like Reggie Bush signed, but no Brees or Payton. I waited around, but no results, so I started walking back to my car.

The ESPN buses were parked outside of the practice fields on the way to my car. Since I had shown up later, I had to park in a Zephyr Field lot. It wasn’t a big deal, it was better than parking across Airline Hwy. I saw there were about 15 people waiting at the buses, so I figured maybe Mort and Schefter would come out and talk to people. Here was my chance! People were walking around the buses, taking pictures, holding the ESPN mic that had been left on one of the chairs, etc. Then some sheriff’s deputies showed up and shooed us back away from the buses. Good thing I had already taken a few pictures.

It was cool seeing the stickers and what people had signed in person after seeing it on TV and reading about it.

So I’m in this group of people who have been herded a safe distance away from the broadcasting equipment, when all of a sudden Drew Brees comes walking out of the Saints office building with some PR people. He comes right over to the group of people, but I didn’t have my book or Sharpie ready. By the time I had my book ready he was on a bus to film an interview. Then, Sean Payton gets off a bus, and walks across the parking lot. Luckily I was standing with people who are REALLY into autographs, so they were the ones yelling “Coach! HEY COACH, could we get an autograph, there’s only a few of us over here!” Sure enough, my buddy Sean came over and signed autographs. I figured, I was standing there, I might as well get my book signed. Someone had brought a gold Sharpie to get his poster or something signed, so then that pen ended up being used for all 8 or 10 things, including my book, so I have my book signed by Sean Payton in gold Sharpie. What up.

So back to the waiting. A lot of the people left, and there were only three other guys and me waiting. I still figured Brees would come off the bus, and the ESPN guys would be available to shoot the breeze (HA!). I stood under a tree in the shade while the others stood in the middle of the parking lot. All of a sudden, Brees exits the bus and walks over to the few people left. I had my book ready and he signed it. We all thanked him. I figured, NOW is the time, but no. After Brees left the bus, then Saints owner Tom Benson and a couple of other people got on to do interviews or something. ‘That’s it!’, I thought, and I walked back to my car. On my way back to my car, I called Aaron and left a VM telling him what all happened. I genuinely went over to the buses to talk to the ESPN guys, but walked away with two autographed books. It ended up being a pretty incredible Monday morning.

Today the USA soccer team takes on England. I’m currently in Denver, lamenting Bono’s back injury and my friend Jacob’s absence. I’m also going to be watching the USA play England. Remember back when I posted about how excited I was when the US beat Spain? Imagine that, then multiply it by 1000. I’m so so so excited for this game.

Here’s a video giving a glimpse of what the team went through to qualify for the WC.

It’s going to be long odds for the US to win, but like that quote I posted last summer, and like I’ve read in articles leading up to today’s game, we’re Americans. We always believe there’s a chance and we will not give up until it’s over. Here’s hoping today is a game we can all be proud of.

ABC, 2:30 pm ET, in HD.

U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!

I first took up golf in high school after a PE class where we were made to chip wiffle balls into a target area. I remember holding the club open (twisted away from me) to hit the balls because I had never played before and doing that seemed to work. I did reasonably well, and figured maybe I should give golf a shot. Fast forward to 2010, and after hurting my shoulder over a year ago, I had not played since the summer of 2008 (I think, it could have been longer). I had missed playing, but after having not played in a while, and not really having anyone to spur me on, I did not really do anything about it.

Then my g/f signs me up for this tournament being sponsored by her school’s athletic booster club. She had talked to me about playing, and I told her I had not played in a while. I told her to sign me up only if they needed players, and I would make it work. She called me a couple of days after that conversation and told me I was signed up.

I was determined not to show up and suck at this tournament. It did not matter if I did not know any of the players, I know how I feel when I’m playing in a best ball tournament and I have a guy on my team that is really terrible. Last weekend after having my family over to my house for Mothers’ Day, I went and hit range balls at the golf course near my house. It was like I had never left. I hit some shots that made me think I did not have that far to go. I also hit some shots that made me think I had some work to do. I was encouraged by the results though, and knew if I practiced more that week, I would at least be able to contribute a little bit.

I went and played nine holes on Wednesday. I had noticed when I went to the course that not many people were playing, so I figured I could sneak on one afternoon and play alone. I like to play alone. Unless I’m playing with someone I know, I’d rather just play by myself. I warmed up on the range and then hit the course. (BTW, some dude was on the range with a driver that sounded like an aluminum bat when he hit the ball. I thought that was stupid. Maybe I’m too old fashioned. If you’re driver head is bigger than your hand, you probably should not be using it.)

After not playing in almost two years, I shot a 46, finishing with the same ball I teed off with. I could not believe it. I finished in near darkness where it was really hard to see, so luckily I was still hitting the ball straight. It felt great to walk the course and play like that. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed playing. The feeling of hitting a monster drive, watching your iron shot go high in the air and come down on the green, getting out of trouble, making a long putt, etc. I felt ready for this tournament.

I showed up yesterday and I was greeted with “You’re our ringer, right?” Uh oh. I quickly found out I was our team’s best player. It was not really a bad thing, but I wish I could have been more consistent with my shots and helped the team more. We shot a 74, which in best ball is not that good, but we did not finish last and we had a good time. It rained off and on, but there was free food and free beer, so it ended up being a good time. I lost twelve balls. TWELVE! I got 6 free though, so really my net loss was nine.

After all of this happening, I’m determined not to let my game lapse like that again. I have said this before, but hopefully this time I will be able to stick with it. People have told me that if I could play more, I could be really good. I’ll have to see about that.

I’ve been unintentionally avoiding writing this post. Not that I didn’t want to write it, I just never got around to it. See, the last month or so has been CRAZY. I’m talking working till 7 pm almost every night for two weeks straight, including one night till 10:30 pm. I’m talking re-writing papers for my grad school team. I’m talking making plans for my birthday via Priceline, running two road races, and somehow not losing my freaking mind because everyday I have a list of things to do and yet try as I might cannot possibly get each thing done each day. This blog has been neglected except to update the good things post. I will try to correct that soon.

Here’s the big thing, about three weeks ago I got a layoff letter at work. Happy 8 days before my birthday to me. Some of you already know about this, but if you didn’t, there it is. My last day will be 5/28 (Greek Fest Run!).

More easy going posts to return later this week, including one about how Emeril gave me a food coma, and about how Sally finally got awarded a long awaited prize from the Buddy D Dress Parade.