Tag: Judging

Dear Sports Radio Hosts

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Dear Sports Radio Hosts,

Let me start by saying that I LOVE sports radio.  I listen to your programs every morning and on my way home from work.  I listen to sports radio more than I actually watch sports, which I’ll admit is weird.

So please, understand that I am coming to you as a fan (as opposed to a crazy, ranting feminist) when I tell you that your coverage of women’s sports doesn’t make you sound like an educated analyst; it makes you sound like a valued member of Ron Burgundy’s news team.

I hear your ads for male virility drugs and dad friendly divorce lawyers and I understand that I am a minority listener.  I would never ask you to give women’s sports an equal share of your air time.  In fact, I’m not even writing to ask you to report on women’s sports more.  I’m actually asking you to mention them LESS.

It seems like there are only two acceptable ways to approach the topic of women’s sports in your industry.  You can,

1) Comment on how they are inferior to men’s sports, or
2) Comment on how hot and/or un-hot the athletes are

They say no press is bad press, but if I was a professional athlete, I think I’d pass on either option.

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The Top 5 Things that Ruined My Commute Today

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1. The Radio Traffic Report

Delivering a traffic report in Southern California is like telling a person being tortured, “Hey, you’re being tortured!  Specifically, you’re being waterboarded, and it appears you’ll continue to be waterboarded for the next forty five minutes!”

You would never give a bus report notifying riders that “The 34 has standing room only this afternoon, and smells faintly of vomit!”  Stating the obvious to a powerless audience is unnecessary and mean spirited.

When I’m sitting at a dead stop on the freeway, I don’t need to be told that “traffic is sticky through the Golden Triangle.”  It’s 5:30 PM on a weekday and it’s raining.  The Golden Triangle looks like a scene from an apocalyptic movie where everyone is fleeing a burning city at the same time.  Just like yesterday.  There is no need to call the futility of my situation to my attention every fifteen minutes.

I hate you slightly less than morning show DJs.

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The Office Handbook: A Guide for the Reluctant Corporate Employee – Chapter 4

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Introduction
Chapter 1: Combating Office Awkwardness
Chapter 2: The Fundamentals of Office Real Estate
Chapter 3: Tools of Forced Social Interaction – Mastering the 15 Second Conversation

Chapter 4: Rules of Engagement – Mastering the Passive Aggressive Email

Remember in the 5th grade when your teacher paired you with the smelly kid for that group project?  When you complained, she told you, “In the real world, you’re going to have to work with people you don’t like all the time!” 

This wisdom offered little consolation during the pioneer diorama catastrophe of ’95, and unfortunately, she was right.  When you work in a corporate office, it is likely that at least 65% of the people you collaborate with on a daily basis will irritate you to no end.

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Ode to My Favorite Gym Boyfriends

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O MMA Fighter Guy!

I know you are an MMA Fighter Guy because you are wearing one of those bulky hats with a perfectly flat brim, rotated just slightly to the right.  You are often barefoot or in socks, despite the urging of several signs in your immediate vicinity.  I swoon knowing that this rebellious, devil-may-care attitude will mean the certain annihilation of your opponent in the MMA Fighter Guy Championship Match for which you are surely preparing. 

Most gym rats make methodic sex noises whilst they lift; three grunts of exertion with the heaviest weight and then…done.  BORRRING!  You, MMA Fighter Guy, make karate chop sounds and jump erratically in a circle around the cable machine, yanking that handle toward the floor like you’re laying the smack down – each rep a titillating hi-YAH!  I can only assume, nay, fantasize, that being in the throes of passion with you would be like making sweet love to a character from Mortal Kombat. 

I’ve seen the TV show The Ultimate Fighter and I know that there are special gyms for MMA Fighter Guys like you.  They have cages and mat space where you can wrap your legs around other MMA Fighter Guys and perform very intimate sit-ups.  I don’t know if you can’t afford a membership at one of these establishments or if you have been banished (for a sit-up faux pas?).  Either way, your presence gives me a secret thrill, and keeps alive my hope that maybe, just maybe, you are doing very fast pushups with pronounced exhales in my neighborhood 24 Hour Fitness out of … love.

TKO...of my heart.

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FUNdraising

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The thing is Cory, you caught me on the wrong day.  I’m not a huge fan of Christmas.  And I know that statement makes you want to say “bah humbug” and lightly squeeze my shoulder in a jovial, salesy way, but please save it.  I don’t mean it like that.  I’m not anti merriment or goodwill – I like taking off work to spend time with my family and justifying my over consumption of sweets just as much as the next guy – but I hate crowds, gaudy inflatable Santas, Mariah Carrey Christmas albums that refuse to die, and our perceived obligation as a culture to buy each other shit to prove our affection. 

I was at Fashion Valley begrudgingly participating in this most trying of seasons (which, if I may uncharacteristically side with the religious right for a second, I would be perfectly happy having Jesus be the “ONLY reason for”), when you came my way.

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To All Organizations Playing a Role in my Overall Flight Experience:

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Rugby practice started this month and you know what that means! Soon my teammates and I will be taking bi-monthly flights on Southwest – the Greyhound of the sky!  The American equivalent of traveling in the back of a crowded truck with live chickens! – to glamorous destinations all around the country. Our sightseeing highlights will include grass fields miles from the city center and if we’re lucky, hotels boasting an hourly rate and Super Wal-Mart accessibility. We couldn’t take these fabulous vacations without you! Boy do we appreciate all you do! That said, our entire hypothetical retirement fund and mortgage does go directly into your pockets, so we’d be ever so grateful if you made a few minor changes to help make our travel experience as pleasurable as possible.

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Arizona Cheers and Jeers

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I have been going to Arizona for rugby at least once a year since I was a freshman in college. While these trips often include an epic party with some of my favorite desert dwellers, it takes a lot of hugs and alcohol to negate the misery of a rugby game played at high noon in hundred degree weather and twelve hours of cumulative driving across a landscape that is best described as “beige”. Couple this with my general feelings of rage toward the “Zonies” who migrate to San Diego in droves starting in June to crowd my beaches and drive poorly around my neighborhood until well into September, and you can see why heading in an eastward direction on the I-8 past Mission Valley is something I turn my nose up at like an elderly La Jolla home owner.

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Blogging About Harry Potter: A New Low?

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A quick disclaimer/confession:

I have not read any of the Harry Potter books, nor have I seen all of the movies. I know that to a die-hard Harry Potter fan, this makes me absolutely unqualified to make any commentary whatsoever about the blessed work of JK Rowling and the subsequent butchering and/or enhancement of her work by various movie directors (depending on which camp you’re from). And after Chowder yelled at me the other night when my criticism of Quidditch as a sport was based on a slight misunderstanding of the rules, something I would have known, “HAD I DONE SOME RESEARCH!”, I am feeling a little timid about sharing any opinions in the general realm of wizardry at the moment.

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Man I’m Judgmental: Part II

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It’s been a really long time since I’ve written about one of my stances. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had plenty of unnecessarily bitter opinions about life’s trivial annoyances since blogging about the mutual disappointment Jenny and I felt when America selected Taylor Hicks as its Idol (not that we were wrong; does anyone even remember Uncle Taylor and the way he embarrassed the family by dancing on TV anymore?), but I haven’t had the motivation to put any of them down on paper until now. Lucky for you all, I’ve been back in California for just under two weeks and I’ve already become so irritated by the driving situation here that I’m ready to boldly publish my latest stance:

The cell phone law in California is fucking ridiculous.

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procrastinating…

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As many of you know, I’m graduating this quarter, and all week I’ve been getting sentimental about my college career coming to an end.  Case in point: I actually teared up at the gym this morning when I realized that I was probably doing my last on campus workout ever.  So, as a tribute to all the good times I’ve had – getting over my chubby phase, rehabbing the chicken leg, Operation 10lbs. – I just wanted to give some quick goodbye shout outs to my favorite Rimac regulars who were there through it all.  (Ok if we’re being honest, I didn’t get that emotional, I’m just avoiding writing a paper, so please indulge me.  I know all you kids are procrastinating on “The Book” right now too, so this one’s for you, slackers.)         

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