Stream of Consciousness XVI

July 19, 2010

The Death Pool is updated, now that Big Stein’s done floppin and twitchin’

I had a 3:43 conversation with someone in which it took way too long to realize we were in the same building, no more than 50 feet from each other. We then continued talking, even though we were less than 20 feet from one another. I bet if you told Alexander Graham Bell that one day, two family members 20 feet apart would be on the phone with each other in Texas with the call routed through Louisiana, he’d had smashed his new invention with a hammer.

Watching all seven seasons of West Wing (in about 15 days), really actually made me miss work. I mean, these guys are working 18-20 hours a day, chugging coffee, wearing suits and ties, just grinding it out. It reminded me of working the NCAA Tournament. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I want that lifestyle for eight consecutive years, but I have that warrior mentality that gets you through working those long hours. On an unrelated note, I’m writing this at 3:23 pm while taking the last sip of my morning coffee in my pajamas.

I gave serious consideration to using my free time to learning Spanish. Then I realized that I also said the exact same thing about learning to play the guitar. So I symbolically went to my garage and placed the concept next to my seldom-used guitar.

When did CNN.com become such a abysmal news source? User-generated content as a major news gathering outlet? Egads. Can I get a refund on my journalism degree?


Stream of Consciousness X (Toasted Laptop Edition)

September 17, 2009

Hours before my trip to New York, I got online to confirm my flight reservations and discovered my computer had a virus. So, instead of being online constantly, as per my usual, I went virtually six days with no internet access. I checked email occassionally, and did a fantasy draft from my grandma’s computer. But nothing significant.

When I got back, I fired up my old personal one (with re-attached N key) and set the other one to IT. But I lack my documents and settings. and have felt naked for 10 days. Since I created the site on the work computer, I also lost my password for this site, so that explains the lack of updates.

Lucky for me, I kept some notes while I was gone, so Brought to you by my missing N key, here’s the Toasted Computer Random Notes/Stream of Consciousness X:

When can we make High Definition TV the standard, and dump standard def?

My brother things the Death Pool is too sick to get into. But he and his co-workers do random gambling pools and fantasy sports (My brother knows NOTHING about the NHL, but wins that league each year because no one he works with in Waco, Texas, has ever actually watched hockey).
So my brother developed a new Fantasy Sport: Fantasy Death Pool. Instead of participating in the pool, they draft the participants of MY DEATH POOL. And whomever has the person who wins my pool, wins their pot.

I met my Bro-ddy Tom, (that’s half Brother/Half Buddy. Next Door neighbor growing up, my mom babysat him. He’s my little brother) in Rochester and saw his son Jackson, who’s a legitimately cute baby. Seeing Tom with Jackson was amazing, because I went to college when he was 14, and then moved to Dayton. So I never saw the part where he learned to take care of himself, let alone another human being. I can’t wait til little Jackson grows into the David Wright jersey I gave him.

Had drinks with my friend while in Rochester, and we saw a high school classmate tending the bar. We didn’t say hello and had to ask our waitress her name. She mentioned to the waitress that she recognized my friend and I reveled in the fact that because I cut my grunge era hair in college, I get to dictate all interactions with old high school classmates. She’s not going to recognize me, so I get to decide which former classmates I want to talk to.

CLM quit. Her last day was Wednesday. She’s moving on to Life 2.1. Losing an office mate sucks, but my number of non-work friends in this city just doubled.

And speaking of the office, I did jot down all the moments from the office over the past few weeks, so MorganBowers25.com is updated.

With my computer being toast, there were plenty of awkward moments when I had to respond to the implication that I got a virus on my computer from downloading illicit pornography. Which simply isn’t true.  /  IT guys must hate dealing with customers. Every single person is not only lying about not viewing pornography, but also freaking out and saying crazy things like “My whole life is on there!” They probably just want people to shut up so they can fix the computer, which is what they are good at.

The next time I get good customer service in New Orleans will probably be the first.

I don’t care what he does politically, the fact that our president has guys over for a beer, calls Kanye West a jackass, and sounds like The Rock makes me proud to be an American.

Stream of Conciousness XI

Hours before my trip to New York, I got online to confirm my flight reservations and discovered my computer had a virus. So, instead of being online constantly, as per my usual, I went virtually six days with no internet access. I checked email occassionally, and did a fantasy draft from my grandma’s computer. But nothing significant.

When I got back, I fired up my old personal one (with re-attached N key) and set the other one to IT. But I lack my documents and settings. and have felt naked for 10 days. Since I created the site on the work computer, I also lost my password for this site, so that explains the lack of updates.

Lucky for me, I kept some notes while I was gone, so you have Toasted Computer Random Notes. Brought to you buy my missing N key.

When can we make High Definition TV the standard, and dump standard def?

My brother things the Death Pool is too sick to get into. But he and his co-workers do random gambling pools and fantasy sports (My brother knows NOTHING about the NHL, but wins that league each year because no one he works with in Waco, Texas, has ever actually watched hockey).
So my brother developed a new Fantasy Sport: Fantasy Death Pool. Instead of participating in the pool, they draft the participants of MY DEATH POOL. And whomever has the person who wins my pool, wins their pot.

I met my Bro-ddy Tom, (that’s half Brother/Half Buddy. Next Door neighbor growing up, my mom babysat him. He’s my little brother) in Rochester and saw his son Jackson, who’s a legitimately cute baby. Seeing Tom with Jackson was amazing, because I went to college when he was 14, and then moved to Dayton. So I never saw the part where he learned to take care of himself, let alone another human being. I can’t wait til little Jackson grows into the David Wright jersey I gave him.

Had drinks with my friend while in Rochester, and we saw a high school classmate tending the bar. We didn’t say hello and had to ask our waitress her name. She mentioned to the waitress that she recognized my friend and I reveled in the fact that because I cut my grunge era hair in college, I get to dictate all interactions with old high school classmates. She’s not going to recognize me, so I get to decide which former classmates I want to talk to.

Awkward moment with the friend from drinks: Discussing failed attempts at romance, she made a comment about how she’s looking for a relationship and just wishes someone she knew before, like from high school, would re-enter her life a relationship could start from there, so she wouldn’t have to try and find new people and discover they are crazy. Awkward because we had that brief pause in which I’m thinking “Does she mean me? What am I supposed to say to that?” and I bet she’s thinking “Oh crap, does he think I meant him?” or she’s waiting to see if I take the bait.

It’s entirely possible (or probable!) that she wasn’t talking about me at all and I just have an ego problem. I also thought the whole reason my co-worker CLM changed her hair color from Chocolate-CHERRY was because she discovered I have a thing for redheads; and it was her non-confrontational way of saying “Don’t even think about it. No chance in hell.” (Cue Carly Simon’s You’re So Vain).

Speaking of CLM, she quit. Her last day was Wednesday. She’s moving on to Life 2.1. Losing an office mate sucks, but my number of non-work friends in this city just doubled.

And speaking of the office, I did jot down all the moments from the office over the past few weeks, so MorganBowers25.com is updated.

With my computer being toast, there were plenty of awkward moments when I had to respond to the implication that I got a virus on my computer from downloading illicit pornography. Which simply isn’t true.  /  IT guys must hate dealing with customers. Every single person is not only lying about not viewing pornography, but also freaking out and saying crazy things like “My whole life is on there!” They probably just want people to shut up so they can fix the computer, which is what they are good at.

The next time I get good customer service in New Orleans will probably be the first.

I don’t care what he does politically, the fact that our president has guys over for a beer, calls Kanye West a jackass, and sounds like The Rock makes me proud to be an American.


The First One That Hurts

June 26, 2009

In the five years of running the death pool, Michael Jackson is the first celebrity to die in which I’ve actually felt bad.

In general don’t like faking reverence for someone I’ve never met, when thousands of people I never met die every day and death is a natural part of life (plus the whole humor as a defense mechanism thing, I guess).

But MJ was THE MAN in the 1980s. I had the Michael trading cards. I played Thriller non-stop. I pretended he and Kurt Cobain died the same day because the Michael of the last 15 years is NOT the Michael I grew up listening to.  He was THE STAR in the world. We watched MTV 24/7 hoping Thriller would come on. And like every kid my age, I danced in my socks on the kitchen floor trying to moonwalk wearing one of my mom’s white winter gloves.

Funny story, as I was talking to my mom, and she was reminiscing on the sensation of Michael in the 80s (which coincided with many happy memories of her kids at the time), she mentioned how my neighbor Lisa, who is my age and was 5-7 at the time of Michael’s immense popularity, wanted to marry Michael Jackson.

We laughed at how Lisa probably had a better shot back then at age six than she did at age 18-24.

And that kind of made us both sad. Michael Jackson was a ridiculously gifted and talented dance, a musical genius and world-wide superstar. The 1995-2009 MJ was a tabloid freak who obviously didn’t even physically resemble 80s MJ.

I wish everyone in the world could remember him as just that musical genius and not as the plastic surgery warning poster, probable child molester, and psychologically messed up freak he was later in life.


Stream of Consciousness III

January 10, 2009

I love my job because of the fact that if I had to get a real job, I wouldn’t get to experience winning. Oh sure, if I was a corporate business man, we might break a sales record. But are they going to hang a banner in the rafters above the cubicles? No, they ain’t taking my ring size for that. Then again, if I worked in a cube, I’d never know the frustration of blowing an 18-point lead and losing on a pair of free throws with 1.9 seconds left.

Jack is back Sunday. I am excited. Speaking of Jack Bauer, I think you could build an entire season of 24 around Obama’s Blackberry.

Patrick Swayze was admitted to the hospital with pneumonia. This is not good. It’s only Jan. 10. He’s got to make it the whole year, because I did not pick him in the death pool.

Speaking of the Death Pool, The Death Pool Page is finally updated and finalized.

Humidor page, too

An actor who played a wannabe mobster in “The Sopranos” was sentenced Friday to 10 years in prison for a botched burglary that left an off-duty New York police officer dead. This makes me feel less guilty about illegally downloading the Soprano’s to watch on my computer. It’s difficult to watch the show and not want to get in on the act of criminal activity.

Does anyone else ever watch Classic replays of games they saw, in which their team loses, but they can’t look away? Watching the Mets lose Game Seven of the 2006 NLCS makes me want to Pull out my own eye and eat it.

I’ll repeat: THE MAN IN THE LINK PULLS OUT HIS OWN FREAKING EYE AND EATS IT!!! Holy hell, how messed up is that?


2009 Death Pool

December 25, 2008

If you’re reading this, you probably know I run a death pool. The new season starts Jan. 1, and you should send me your picks my then. It cost $10, and the rules are simple:

10 Celebrities
1.00 point if they die, plus a 0.01 bonus for each year under the age of 90 they are. (example: Estelle Getty died last year at age 85. Therefore, she was worth 1.05 points).

Most points at the end of the year gets the loot.

You should join. Here’s why:

#1 – It’s NOT sick and twisted. Death is a part of life, and we pretend to care when we really don’t by saying things like “oh, how sad” when someone dies.

#2 – It’s no different than any other gambling. In sports, some team loses. You don’t feel bad for the team you bet against, do you? What about horse racing? The horses are racing so you can gamble, and getting hit with a stick/whip. No one’s whipping these celebrities (Ok, except maybe Carmen Electra). They don’t know we are gambling on them so who cares?

#3 – You’re not rooting for your picks to die, you’re rooting for everyone else’s picks to live.

#4 – Conversation! Instead of “oh, how sad” you can say “Hey, I saw that one coming!” and know you moved up the standings. Or “Did anyone else have him?” Most of you probably follow along with celebrities relationships. Just add their health to the mix!

#5 – It’s a ray of sunshine on an otherwise cloudy day. One person said “I can’t tell you how close I was to taking Red Auerbach in the Pool – but then I decided that if he really died I would feel bad. Now I realize that he died anyway and I don’t have any points to show for it.”

Totally join, by Jan.1. It’s only $10. For more info, plus my email address click the Death Pool tab at the top of this page (or for the lazy, this link)


Blood on the Dance Floor?

December 21, 2008

I just read a news story that Michael Jackson is in bad health.

“Michael Jackson is reportedly in desperate need of an emergency transplant operation to save his life from a rare lung condition, according to the author of a new biography of the singer.”

First off, this would explain the sightings of Jackson in public wearing a surgical mask or scarf to cover his mouth and nose, etc. We all thought it was because his nose was so ugly.

Remember when Michael was black... and cool?

Remember when Michael was black... and cool?

Secondly, why couldn’t this have struck him in 1989 before he became a parody? Think about it. If Michael Jackson died in 1989, he would be regarded as a musical genius. Spoken of with the likes of Hendrix, Morrison, Lennon, Joplin, Gaye, and countless other musicians who left the earth in their youth.

Instead, he did a mediocre album in 1991 (Dangerous), shot a video with Macauley Culkin (Black and White), and then turned into a freakish goul accussed of molesting children, mocked mercilessly by the media.

I don’t want to think of him as an effeminate freak. Michael was the freaking King of Pop. Thriller! Billie Jean! Smooth Criminal! Not child molesting, alien looking warning against plastic surgery.