My Celebrity Sighting

So Dan and I played golf yesterday, and as I'm warming up on the practice green (which did me zilch in terms of prepping me for putting, at which I sucked royally for some reason), Dan came striding over with excitement. He overheard a guy checking in for his round, and said his name was Randolph Childress.

"THE Randolph Childress?" Dan asked? Indeed it was.

You see, Dan is a big Wake Forest fan. In fact, it was weird being at UK with him during the late-'90s when Dan would be cheering for Wake even though the Cats were routinely kicking their ass despite having Childress and a guy you may have heard of (Tim Duncan) on their team. I just laughed listening to Dan espouse the beauty of Childress and Duncan's games as Pitino picked them apart in 1996. Dan always thought Wake was awesome, and yet UK was the team that whipped ass. Just sayin'.

Childress ended up in the group behind us, so anytime someone in that group made a good shot, Dan would invariably turn his head and say, "Childress lighting it up" even if there was only a 25% chance of that being actually true. He was in heaven. But it at least allowed Dan to recount his favorite Childress moments, including his dismantling of North Carolina in the 1995 ACC Tournament, which included eight three-pointers and one of the most awesome "Eff You" moments in college basketball, the "I just broke your ankles and will actually take time to wave to you to get back up before draining a three-pointer in your teammate's face." Damn.

Game On: Week of May 27

My column reviewing Dirt 3 and Lego Pirates of the Caribbean. Thanks to the Seattle Times for publishing.

What I've Read: Live Wire

Had to take a quick 5-day hiatus from the summer of klosterman to read Harlan Coben's new book. My mom brought it with her when she visited two weeks ago and his stuff is such a fast, engaging read that I had to plow through it quickly.

Coben is one of those very few fiction writers that I read religiously and make sure I never miss a book. Live Wire was another good one. All the regulars were there: Win, Esperanza, Big Cindi and of course Myron. The Bolitar books were among the first my mom gave me, and the blend of detective work, sports and pop culture humor is a perfect fit for me to blast through a book in just a few days. If you have the means and are in need of some great fiction writing, I highly recommend picking up this guy's stuff.

What I've Read: Killing Yourself to Live: 85% of a True Story

My summer of Klosterman continues. Or maybe it's my spring of Klosterman. Oh, hell, who gives a crap. Either way, I polished off another of his books last week, this time his second book, "Killing Yourself to Live."

The book is pretty much his recounting a road trip he took across the country. Not to visit anyone in particular; instead, it was to visit places where people died. Music stars, more specifically. Like Cobain, Skynard and others. While it seems like an interesting journey, you can tell from the reading that it's rather boring and not nearly the big deal or cultural eye-opener music fans might consider it.

So instead the book ends up becoming this excellent exploration into relationships and love. He details his relationship with three women, and each represents a certain side of Klosterman, exposing his passions, fears and dreams. You can tell throughout the book that he made the decision somewhere along his drive that this was a far more interesting tale to tell than the bland fields and discreet locations where these rock stars either OD'd or crashed in a small plane. I don't mean to trivialize their deaths, either, but I certainly began to appreciate the stories of his relationships with the girls because they more closely resembled relationships I'd had with previous girlfriends.

Reviewing the first book of his I'd read, I mentioned that since he's both close to my age and also way smarter than me in putting thoughts into interesting words, I feel a kinship through the pages and think we'd probably be friends or decent acquaintances if we knew each other. Or most likely he'd brush me aside and find someone more interesting, but with two books down a three more to go, I'm not really caring anymore and just enjoying the reads.

Friday Funnies

The wife, like a majority of female America, has an unnatural obsession with Jon Hamm. It's quickly beginning to rival her early-'90s obsession with Jordan Catalano and her circa-'Chocolat' obsession with Johnny Depp. I haven't seen Bridesmaids yet, and neither has she but hopefully her and Kristy will go soon so I can stop hearing about it. But in any case, these outtakes make me think the movie does have potential.

Idiot of the Day

A couple week's ago Kelly and I went to a Nationals game, and while the baseball action itself was pretty good (some HRs, a frickin crazy over-the-shoulder diving catch by some guy on the DC team, late-inning heroics, etc.), perhaps the true star of the game was this idiot.

I get that people come to baseball games and drink, but this guy was hammered and was acting the fool all over the place. He was embarrassing his friends (one of which seemed to be a lady friend, who may not be friendly toward him any longer). He accosted a group of young tourists on their class trip for leaving the game early. He was derided by just about everyone in the section, which was fun for everyone who wasn't him. Good times. Oh, and to top it all off, during one of the breaks in innings, he decided to dance for everyone. I only ran down and caught a couple seconds, but trust me he had this routine going for a solid two minutes. And he had more gel in his hair than the teacher from Glee. Oh, and he was wearing a button-up cardigan sweater over his shirt. Oh, I am out of 'ohs.' Idiot.



A bonus Idiot of the Day shoutout goes to Nationals Park, which has a sorry state of soft serve ice cream options. I only noticed one, and they didn't even sell the ice cream in those miniature helmets. I play the bullshit card on that one.

Game On: Week of May 20

My recent column, reviewing Brink and Thor: God of Thunder. Thanks to Nashua Telegraph, Seattle Times and others for publishing.

Cobblings from My Memories

At the end of dinner at Medium Rare last night, the server brought over a parting gift, a piece of Bazooka Joe bubble gum for each person at the table. What surprised me was not that they gave us the gum after we had already had dessert and paid the check (really, a second dessert? why bother with the dessert menu if I'd had known gum was coming?), but the fact that it was Bazooka Joe, a gum I honestly had not seen since I was probably 13 or 14 years old.

It's always amazing to me the things that take you back to your childhood or formative years. Innocent things like ... say ... a piece of gum. You see, I'm not a gum person. I only chew it on extremely rare occasions (I can only count 3 times in the last year that I've had gum, and two of them were after concerts where heavy drinking was involved). And yet there was the piece of Bazooka Joe, instantly transporting me back to The Loop Barber Shop on Dundee Avenue in Louisville. Just blocks from my childhood home, this was my first and only place I went for a haircut until I went to college.

It was your typical barber shop, and judging by the photos still looks pretty much as it did in the '80s when I was there. I loved that they used scissors to cut your hair instead of buzz trimmers, because it meant you had to take your time and actually talk to each other instead of it being a factory system atmosphere. To get me to sit in that chair for the whole time and not wiggle around (and thus be stabbed in the noggin with sharp scissors), the barber would promise me that if I sat still he'd give me, you guessed it, a piece of Bazooka Joe. I always thought this was so cool. I loved the moment when he got the vacuum out and sucked up all the hair from the chair and my shoulders because that's when he reached into this drawer that was filled with nothing but gum. Plus it was great to chew the gum and carefully open the wrapper so as not to tear the comic strip that came inside each wrapper, along with fortunes or lucky lottery numbers.

I'd then sit and chew on that gum for the next 30 minutes as my dad got his hair cut and listened to the news, weather and traffic radio station that blared on the old radio next to the old cash register with the enormous buttons to depress and the loud 'cha-ching' noise you don't hear anymore yet everyone knows what it means. I'd rummage around looking for the box in the back that held all the gum and could never find it. It's where I read Sports Illustrated for the first time, and where I always thought it weird that there was one barber who in a decade or so of going there to get my hair cut never had a single customer but was always employed and was just there. He was an institution of the place, so he always had a chair.

It's really bugging me now that I can no longer remember my barber's name, because he was a cool dude who was nothing but the friendliest guy and always asked the right questions of his customers no matter their age. I know he died sometime while I was in college or shortly thereafter, and I'm sad about it now as I was then, since I spent more time with him sitting in that shop over the course of 10 or so years than I did with many extended family members. Though it looks the same, I'm sure the place has changed, as all things do, but at least it's still there, cutting hair and maybe doling out candy to the kids who need the bribery in order to avoid an accidental lobotomy. It'd be a tradition worth carrying on, and it's nice to at least know Bazooka Joe is still an option to fill up a drawer when an unruly kid won't sit still..

Friday Funnies

In reliving the joy of Pootie Tang last week, I found myself stumbling around on the interwebs checking out some grew Chris Rock clips and naturally stumbled across the role that launched his career. It's brief but memorable, and it's still something he'll never let down.

Game On: Week of May 13

My recent column reviewing Section 8: Prejudice and Conduit 2. Thanks to the Seattle Times for publishing.

My Sister, All Grown Up

Gotta hand it to my sister for pulling off a grown-up feat I have yet to do: buy her own car. She's made chemicals burst into flame, while I've created fire the old fashioned way. She's even gotten nearly fired from a job already in her young career, even if the person who did the pseudo-firing may be certifiably nuts. But in any case, I have to give a pat-o-the-back to Chels for making the big purchase. It's not the Mercedes Benz she's always dreamed of having, but hey, it's dark silver, I think Mercedes makes cars in dark silver!

Friday Funnies

HBO or some movie channel started running Pootie Tang again, and the other night I caught it in its entirety and died laughing once more. It's such a perfect Chris Rock movie, and comes with a slew of actors from his then-HBO show and was written and directed by Louis CK, only considered the funniest man in the world right now. There are about a dozen or more top-notch moments throughout this movie (Luke and I have laughed repeating them all, from the girl licking milk from a bowl to the woman begging a young Pootie to come back to her), but here is one that I particularly loved. It's when Pootie makes a hit single with no music, vocals or anything. Good stuff. Plus, he always had great one-liners, sa da tay!

Game On: Week of May 6

My recent column, reviewing MotorStorm Apocalypse and Mortal Kombat. Big thanks to the Seattle Times for publishing.

Idiot of the Day

It's Derby Day, which means besides horses, I have drinking on the brain. Of all the things I enjoyed about my trip to Ireland, naturally the copious amounts of drinking ranks high on the list.

We averaged about 7-9 Guinness pints per day, which would have been higher had we not spent so much time driving all over the country.

When we returned to Dublin toward the end of the trip, that was when this idiot entered my life. She sat with her friend at the next table and Dan and I could not help but laugh at her for being Irish and ordering a Coors Light ... ON THE ROCKS. Seriously? A light American beer poured over ice? Because the mountain cold freshness didn't possess enough cold water for you? You disgrace the Irish people, lady! Idiot!

Friday Funnies

Because idiots on DC trains abound. And drunkenness with the aid of friends equals hilarity.

I Love My Wife, But ...

Hopefully this will not become a running series of posts, but I guess it all depends on the wife's actions, not my own.

In this inaugural post, this is all about the wife's new routine in the kitchen. In something that can almost definitely be defined as life imitating art, the wife is trying to kill me. Or at the very least, give me some kind of bodily injury.

About a month ago, we watched "Date Night" starring Steve Carrell and Tina Fey. Decent movie, nothing special, but had some OK moments and it was worlds better than having to suffer through another of the wife's "Real Housewives" marathons. One of the movie's obscure subplots is what she has somehow brought into our everyday life. What she does is open up drawers, cabinets and whatnot, and forgets to close them. In the movie it's a gag where Carrell does it and Fey keeps banging her head and knees into doors and such, and it's all his fault. Well I'm Fey in this real world interpretation. For instance, this is a typical look at the gauntlet I face nightly:


And this is only one part of the kitchen. What makes it worse is that she NEVER had this problem until after seeing the movie. Maybe a drawer here or there, but it's uncanny. Plus, this isn't even a subplot in the movie that we talked about or laughed particularly hard at or anything, just something that through one way or another, she's now adopted. It's amazing ... and it's going to injure me I'm sure.

Trailer Love

A couple trailers to movies I am really looking forward to:

X-Men: First Class


What can I say, I'm a geek for comic book movies. And though I'm still excited for Thor (despite the trailers that make it look campy without the self-recognition of camp) and also Green Lantern (trailer looks like a video game I would likely pan), I'm really thinking this prequel trilogy they are trying to setup with X-Men is genius. Allows for new characters, new actors and good shorelines to set it all up.

Make Believe


You know me, I am a sucker for a good documentary that delves into weird worlds. Enjoying magic shows (mainly card tricks, screw the Cris Angel bullshit) is one of those dirty secrets of mine, and so I think this doc could be great in either two ways: 1) it's a good doc that highlights young people doing magic; or 2) Is a new Trekkies and Darkon for the laugh factory. Either way, I win.

30 Minutes or Less


Because I can't get enough of Jessie Eisenberg or Michael Cera movies yet. I'm still OK with just about any movie they are doing. Do I care that they are reruns of the same kinds of characters, only in different cities with different costars? Not one bit. Go ahead, tell me Social Network, Zombieland, Adventureland, Scott Pilgrim, Youth in Revolt and Superbad aren't good. Go ahead, but know you are lying to yourself. You lying liar.

Game On: Week of April 29

My recent column, where I reviewed Portal 2 and NASCAR 2011: The Game. Hat tip to the Minneapolis Star-Tribune and a newcomer, Colorado Daily, for publishing.

Getting Back in the Groove, v2

I had two goals for this year's running of the TKPK5K (the local 5K that is run just a few blocks from my house). 1) Survive and 2) Beat last year's time.

You might think this an easy task but, you see, I had a big hindrance affecting both those goalsL I did zero training. None. Zilch. Sure, I bike regularly now and I'd like to think of myself as a relatively fit guy (I did build a multi-ton patio after all). But I'd done no training for this race whatsoever. Never got on a treadmill to test myself. Never did a preliminary jog or 1-mile run to see what kind of endurance I had. Nope, I was a total idiot and just decided to wake up at 6:30 a.m. on a Sunday morning and go run a shade over 3 miles. Yeah, Kuni knows what I am.

Not training influenced my first goal, because who knew if my body would make it through the race. I certainly wasn't out there to break any records, and I could have just walked the damn thing and technically survived, but we all know that wasn't going to happen. The lack of training also greatly affected the second goal, because beating last year's time was not going to be easy, and that includes not having the wife holding me back (her words, not mine). Only 20 guys got a worse time than me last year, so I feared besting that.

So I woke up, walked over, and ran. And ran. Ran until it ended, and I'm almost talking about my body. Because that last quarter-mile that's all uphill did me no favors for my internal confidence. But I finished, and I fared way better this year. 68 guys finished worse than me, and I shaved 5 minutes off last year's time. I also beat a few kids, who should have WAY more energy than me. Wimps. So clearly, with no training, I'm now ready to conquer anything. I'll be out of pocket for the next few days as I scale Everest.