Monday, July 25, 2011

Muggle Quidditch: Not for Pussies or Twihards.

    This past week, I have been talking a lot about a new sport I've started playing. It involves the contact and tackling of football, speed and footwork of soccer, small unit cohesion and tactics of basketball, and the field layout of lacrosse. If this sounds like an awesome super sport to you, than you would love Muggle Quidditch. The IQA is the governing body (think FIFA/FIBA) of worldwide Muggle Quidditch operations and has set forth rules and regulations as well as ranking structures and World Cups in order to legitimize the new sport in the public eye. They fund raise, have an ezine called Monthly Seer and even pay for a spot during NFL Halftime shows! See it here

    One of the biggest drawbacks to the game is where it originated from: the Harry Potter novels. Most people in the world would tell you it's actually not a bad thing to come from them because Harry Potter was awesome, but still the books do not seem to garner much respect in the athletic world. Many people don't take it seriously and think it isn't real, or that it is not a sport. However, I've spoken to people who laughed it off and then played it once and they all have limped away with a different opinions. It is seriously fun while physically challenging. You may feel a little ridiculous holding a broom between your legs but you quickly forget once the action begins. There is major contact-full on tackling is allowed and when the ref isn't looking I've seen quite a few clotheslines and yoke tackles. Screens are set and charges are taken, yet there is no foul or stoppage of play when you get floored by a charging Chaser. You have three separate goals that you can score in from all angles, and I've personally just bulldogged my way through Beaters and Keepers to score. It's so physical and demanding and so fun, that I'm surprised some of my Marine friends are as quick to disparage the game. I can think of so many times we could have played it for PT, however the broomsticks would've been left behind.

    Muggle Quidditch has set positions. The Seeker is a player that chases the Golden Snitch (an object worth 150 points and when caught, ends the game). They can run all over campus trying to catch it and climbing up trees and over obstacles; not for the out of shape, surely. This is the position that Harry Potter played in the books/movies. The Chaser is the main goal scorer and the most outright physically tough position. Their job is to take the Quaffle (usually a slightly deflated volleyball) and try and throw it through one of the three goals. There is a lot of running back and forth here, so they're comparable to a midfielder in soccer/lacrosse with elements of a striker or attackmen. Stopping them, we have the Beaters. They live up to their menacing name by defending the goals, tackling and body checking Chasers and throwing Bludgers at opposing players to get them out of play (think dodge ball). Finally, we have Keepers who are the goal keepers and also part time Chasers.

    Quidditch may not become a professional sport, and it may be just for fun during your college years but still, the game is just as physical and fun as any other major sport. It's a great way to stay in shape, have a ton of fun, be geeky and not be judged and just work out some aggression on beating up people. Another great thing is that it's an integrated game so men and women play and hit each other side by side. It is as intense as it is fun and hilarious to watch and let me tell you, it sure beats the hell out of Ultimate Frisbee.

Monday, July 18, 2011

I'm still here

don't know when I'll add a new post, most likely this weekend. But life catches up and you forget to publish writings! Sorry!

Saturday, May 28, 2011

The band that was Phantastic.

    I just came from the Palo Verde Lounge in Tempe, AZ. Most Phoenicians don't even know what the fuck this place is about. It was about 700 Square Feet of dive bar with booger covered brick walls. The bathrooms rival Yamhill Pub's bathrooms back home in Portland. If you've been there, you'll totally get it. Thank god I stand up to piss.
    I was there to see an old friend I served with. He also happened to be in a band called WolphPac [sic]. They're a mix of Lonely Island, old Beastie Boys and a very small dose of 36 Chambers-Wu-Tang. They were hilariously endearing. I can't think of a better adjective and that's not really a bad thing.
I'm not going to talk about the other two bands. The headliners, "Level T" were just awful. Female Trouble was alright but I felt like I was blasted in the face with Feminism and it wasn't my thing. Tampon rock isn't my thing.
    They started the show with one heckler. A bearded (ginger, so you can see my affinity) ghost-buster-jumpsuit wearing man told his to "shut the fuck up in 12 seconds or I'm going to hit him in the face." The heckler didn't shut up until about 3 measures into the first song and the small bar was phanatical about WolphPac. You could tell three things from the first song: They were as diverse looking as possible for a band (guitarist looked like a sex pistol, the drummer looked like he was from Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, the bassist looked like he wore Dragonball Z shirts in high school); they knew exactly what they were doing on stage; they were having a ton of fun.
    I've seen about a million shows and bands that have failed and a few (mainly from my youth) that have made it big. I am positive that WolphPac has very little to work on. Their songs were named after odd things that made you want to hear much more. "Blown Out Clit" "Jesus was a Gangbanger" "Dirty Masturbater"
    The songs were catchy, well written and everyone really liked them. The guitarist was extremely energetic despite wearing a thick rubber mask in the 90 degree bar, and the three vocalists sweated more than I do in heavy activity. The Keyboardist was the most popular and the most comic. He was offering a special edition band T-Shirt to the first girl to blow him. Trust me, it was put in a way that made you laugh and not be grossed out.
    They really outperformed everyone else tonight. They may not have a lot of combined experience but they really felt together. That tiny corner converted to a stage was everything to the band. WolphPac, if they so choose, will be a major presence in the Tempe music scene. They're really funny, talented and mesh fantastically as a group. They really knew how to bring it, and as the bearded day-walker mentioned, "We fucking killed it tonight!"
    If it takes still more to convince you of any other awesome tribute, they encored with "Saria's Song" from Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. Baller.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Annoyances as of late/New Job

I'm gonna ramble on here, so just deal. Or don't. But either way, click an ad. Thanks. I need the money.

So a lot has happened since I last posted. I've thought of more weird things I do, but don't put them down and I forget the whole lot. I got a new job. Are you ready? It's super classy.

I work at Walmart.

(That place is such an evil empire, that it didn't even come up as a correct word. When I right-clicked on the red squiggly line the first suggested correction was Voldemort.)

I'm an Unloader. Which means I take everything off-well I'm not gonna patronize you. I think you can figure out what an Unloader does. It gives me a little more respect since I'm in the back. I don't have to wear a stupid vest, talk to people, or even wear khaki pants. I don't wear my name tag, I listen to an iPod all shift and sweat fucking bullets.
If you were with me in the Iraqi desert, you'll remember how profusely I sweat from my chest. I believe it was the first and last time I was called a nickname other than "Tracer" the entire time I was in. (It was "Tit-Sweat"). I stopped sweating from my chesticles until I started this job. Super hot warehouse and trucks, running around and heavy lifting-I did not expect this.
So yesterday I had to "throw" a truck. Basically, I get inside the docked delivery semi and pull all of the boxes and pieces of gear off the back and into the warehouse. I put some box carrying your tampons, pace picante sauce, motor oil and dog food and roll it down a long metal nonautomated conveyor belt. It is way harder than it sounds, I promise. Well, not difficult wise it's just a work out. I stupidly volunteered to throw the truck so I could learn the job faster. I hate being taught a job and I really hate sweeping and mopping as the new guy. I gained enough rank in the Marines to not have to do that and I see it as a downgrade to have to go back to it.
The truck was a 13, which means it had 13000 boxes in the back plus pallets of whatever. So here I go, all gung-ho to impress my co-workers and be more enthusiastic about the job than my other new associate brethren. After 2 1/2 hours I contorted my back and legs lifting thirteen thousand boxes of assorted items. I work in a Super Walmart so that means that I may pick up a light box of tooth brushes and paper towels and then pick up a treadmill right after. Heavy boxes are on the top, they fall on my head. At the end a cock tease more aggravating than my first girlfriend-400 4x4inch boxes of whatever and 200 big boxes containing dumbells. Great. I can see the back wall of the truck, knowing the end is near and this is my last hurdle? Fuck off...
This really isn't a huge deal. It's not that bad but it's really, really annoying. In the beginning I try and lift the boxes and roll them gently down the aisle. But after the 2nd gallon of Quaker State 3k plus mileage oil spills on my already sweat dripped body, and I step in and fall into a pile of Salsa I start treating each box like Ace Ventura treated his delivery box in the beginning of Pet Detective. I take all my anger on the boxes.
"Fuckin' tampons. Ruining my want for vaginal sex with bleeding. It's all your fault...tampons." they get kicked to the front.
"Fuckin' kitty litter. Why do you have to come in giant heavy boxes? I don't even like cats." I kicked that box one time-might have broken my toe. I don't kick those boxes. I just shove them angrily down the belt. "Take that!" I think.
"Fuckin'...whatever this is. oomph, really? Otter Pops? This box is more than 50lbs easy..." that box got its comings.
In my time throwing the truck, I listened to over half of my AFI collection, and Genius'd a Florence + The Machine song and got about 14 new songs I had to download. She's awesome as is her music. I thought about all of the things I should've said to each girlfriend I've ever had when we broke up. I ran through scenarios I faced in the military that I could've handled a little better or worse. I think of ways I can kill Busby/Gunner Rico without getting caught. I think of the massage I want to get from my girlfriend and if I should try for a BJ while I'm at it. Will she be mad if I give the probably expected head nudge downward?  I remember how hot it is when Mike from work offers me a cup of water. Thanks dick. I wonder if I should change the playlist on my iPod but decide against it because my fingers are soaked in motor oil. Motor oil...I need a new car.
Another big annoyance of my reintegration to the civilian work world is the fact that I was a Marine. My co-workers all assume I can lift 500000000 lbs and can never get tired and fight all of them in the back for fun and want to hear all of my war stories and ask if it was hot in Iraq. Maybe it's just because I have a beard.
Speaking of, the combination of my beard and my face apparently equals Zach Galifiwhatever from The Hangover. At every bar someone asks me if I'm Allan. I sing the "three best friends" song and they cry laughing, profess their love for me, buy me a drink and the girls want to fuck me. Ok maybe I made up the last part. It's not really bothersome, I just honestly do not see it at all. I got one "Iron and Wine" reference which excited me because I DO see that one. I get how my black brothers feel. Not all bearded day-walker gingers look alike!
I don't really know what else to say. I'm not going to proof read this before I post it. Nope. I don't give a fuck. If it's misspelled or has incorrect grammar, than you can go fuck yourself.

thanks for reading.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

11 Best Albums of My Life

(In no particular order)

1:Dummy-Portishead (triphop)
2:Illmatic-Nas ('90s gangsta/conscious rap) side note: most white kids say this genre is the only "real" rap. I disagree, but I just think it was fantastic and speaks of real experience. Plus, he raps about beepers!
3:Transatlanticism-Death Cab for Cutie (indie)
4:Either/Or-Elliot Smith (folk)
5:The Hazards of Love-The Decemberists (rock opera/folk rock)
6:Badmotorfinger-Soundgarden (grunge)
7:The Art of Drowning-AFI (horror punk)
8:Catching Tales-Jamie Cullum (jazz)
9:Whatever and Ever, Amen-Ben Folds Five ('90s adult contemporary)
10:Bang Bang-Dispatch (indie jam band)
11:The Places That You've Come to Fear the Most-Dashboard Confessional (emo)

Each album has significant meaning to who I am today. Musically, I am diverse (like everyone is) and I have strong examples from most represented genres. But these, these each have a time period of my life, a feeling, a relationship, an experience, or a thought change associated with it. I picked 11 because after much debate, I figured I'd be honest and admit that I loved Dashboard in the early '00s. I never had bangs or tried to become emo, but I loved the lyrics at the time and I know the songs played a major roll. I still believe that beatnik became hippie which became intellectual which became emo and then became hipster. Hipsters love Dashboard, they just will never admit it. If I picked songs, it would probably be a list like 50 deep. That's probably what I'll write next. Top 50 songs.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Sh*t My Grandma Says

    Talking with my grandmother is hard work. She's great and all, but it's quite a task. Her need for Political Correction and ideals has become slightly hypocritical and convoluted. She'll bring up points in an argument that are either invalid or out of left field. Regardless, she will make herself look more accepting than you and try and make you feel like you're dumb for not thinking in her infallibly correct ideals. Black people are all nice, upstanding citizens and none of them are gangsters because that's racist. All illegal immigrants are here to work for their children's future, and to suggest a portion are here to run drugs is horrendous. Yet smokers are the evil people, and republicans are dimwits who have zero intelligence (I hope you see some inconsistency here). To sum it all up, she is full of White Guilt.

    "What did you see at the zoo today?" She asked my little cousin Jackson.
    "Mexicans." We had just finished remarking how it was Mexican day at the zoo. She huffed as if she had just heard someone throw 'nigger' at her face.
    "Whose child is this?"
    "Jefferey's." My uncle answers, some what condescendingly.
    "Yeah...exactly" She retorts. At this point, I don't know if I felt the need to defend my absent father or just be a little shit.
    "What is the problem? I stated the fact that there were Mexicans at the zoo today. Why are you turning 'Mexican'  into a negative connotation, grandma?"

    Holy fuck, her eyes said as she realized she was losing ground. Quick, what is she to do? How can she reply to make herself the better person? She could take the obvious route and point out that I was being racist for humor; she could say how I am just being annoying and watch my tone; she could also say something completely random. Well I wouldn't be writing this if she hadn't chose the third route. Be warned: rationality will be lost here.
    She holds up her finger to prove physically that her studious and well learned point will rock my face off.
    "Why didn't you say you saw a bunch of Catholics?"
    Wow, grandma. I don't know how to even respond to this. Thank god I've taken some logic class at Chandler-Gilbert Community College, or else I wouldn't be able to answer your thought out and deeply insightful reply.
    "Because not all Mexicans are Catholics. Again with the stereotypes, Grandma . . ." (if you can read my sarcasm here, then you are better at reading it than she is face to face)
    "No, because they're mostly Mormon." Says the matriarch of the family.
    "How. . . wha. . . I don't even know how that relates to saying they saw some Mexicans at the zoo. It's Arizona." At this point, I've turned my back to her to continue cleaning the lime build up on the pool. I am trying my best to not laugh at her, but everyone stops caring as soon as Jackson (the baby) starts to dip my uncle's putter into the water.

    If you've seen The Office, you may recognize a similar interchange between Michael Scott and Oscar. Michael tells his subordinate not to call Oscar Mexican because it is racist. Oscar asks why, since he is actually Mexican. In Michael's Political Correctness, he outs his own prejudices; hilariously. I wish I could find the clip to show you. Arguing with her is fun for me. I try to do everything possible sometimes to point out logical errors in her ideas, but she keeps on coming (she's a pescatarian, by choice of morals-not health, for Christ's sake, this is for another blog post about vegetarianism). It is made more fun by my Grandma's incredible ability to be critical of everyone else's life choices. Seriously, debating her is as fun as watching To Catch A Predator.

PS: I love my grandmother very much. She is wonderful and has done numerous things for me without hesitation. Despite my writings about her, she is a very smart woman. You cannot teach an old dog new tricks, I guess. It is purely a game I play with myself to see how she thinks and operates. She is a study all her own. Really, I cannot put into words how amazing my grandma is to me and our family. We'd have been lost long ago without her leadership.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

I have some weird habits

I (like everyone) have some odd habits. Some of you know them and some don't. But I figured I'd put some down for lack of a better topic.

1: When in private, I have a need to vocally announce to no one in particular that I have farted.
2: Unless I am in Oregon, I cannot drink the tap water anywhere. Well, Scotland had good water.
3: I have to touch things an even amount of times. This requires more explanation. If I accidentally tap my right elbow against a wall, I have to touch my left elbow against a wall. you can replace "wall" with another object and you can also replace "elbow" with any other part of me.
4: Sometimes, I feel the need to explain things out loud when I'm alone. I've been told this isn't anything big, it's just an over active social complex when I'm alone (as in I want to be around other people, so I just create some. Typical of only children).
5: I never step on cracks or lines on the sidewalk.
6: I speed up to stop at red lights.
7: I use far too much toilet paper.
8: I do not have one best friend, but I have many great friends. (in years to come it will be hard to pick a best man)
9: I used to never do homework and just get drunk in high school. Now that I'm in college, people who don't do their homework annoy me extremely-I think it's because it costs money now, so it seems pointless.
10: Speaking of college, I hold no stock in the perceived importance of going to a University. I'm only doing it because it's free for me right now.
11: I'm super proud of what I've done in the Marines and what my unit (314) did in Iraq, but I really hate other veterans my age almost wholeheartedly.
12: I seem to be the only person in my family that puts their silverware face down in the dishwasher. I do not understand this.
13: If I'm wearing tube socks at home, sometimes I will pull them halfway off my feet and let them dangle, like a Dr. Seuss shoe.
14: My dad and I discovered the genius of Wheat Thins and Philadelphia Cream Cheese by accident when I was 14. I still eat this combo constantly. This is one of my favorite things my dad taught me.
15: I love dips. With bread, chips, other assorted foods, I just love dip. It is my favorite thing to eat. especially 7 layered-dip.
16: If I don't swallow a pill fully or if I brush my tongue too far back, I will almost assuredly vomit. My gag reflex is turrible, just turrible.
17: When I was younger, my mom told me you were only ticklish until you lost your virginity. I believed it, but remained ticklish after I lost it. I am still very ticklish.
18: I literally kicked my girlfriend in the face and then called her a whore in the span of three minutes. We're still together.
19: I played with my plastic army men until I was like, 13. Way too old to be that immature.
20: I have a problem of buying the top notch thing of whatever I want. Even though I cannot afford it sometimes. It must be the best.

What odd/strange things do you do?