Would you wear this t-shirt?

Anal Retentiveness

If you know me, you know that I can be kind of anal retentive. I couldn’t stand looking at the word “wiener” in my blog title because it doesn’t look right– I hate that the “i” comes before the “e.” To me, it seems like it should be spelled “weiner,” but it isn’t. Because of this (and because Ashley liked the old one better), I changed my blog title back.

Type your goddamned name, please

This is just a quick venting that I need to get off my chest.

I don’t know how many of you have experienced this, but there is a trend that seems to be growing in my peer circle that annoys the hell out of me: people are signing emails with just their first initial. Who started this? I want to punch them in the face. Is your name so long that it’s inconvenient to type? I could understand using an acronym if your name is Tikki tikki tembo-no sa rembo-chari bari ruchi-pip peri pembo. But if your name is “Steve” or “Carl” or “Jan” or “Trisha,” type your goddamned name. It won’t take that long.

Wiener Poopie

So, I changed my blog title. I just couldn’t resist. Thanks to Whitney, the phrase “Wiener Poopie” will forever be etched into my brain. It makes me laugh every time I see or hear it, so I thought I’d share it with the world in hopes that if you’re having a bad day, just seeing my blog title might brighten it a little bit.

And if you’re curious:

The origins of Wiener Poopie

More Wedding Wishes

Modern boxers are pansies

I was reading a story about Wladimir Klitschko’s latest fight, and the overwhelming sentiment was that it was dreadfully boring. No knockouts… not even any knockdowns. 15 rounds of bobbing, weaving, leaning on each other, and jabs. Bleh. That isn’t boxing, I thought. When was the last time a fight was so exciting that people were talking about it at work the next day? I decided to do a little research to learn just how much modern boxing has deviated from its origins. This excerpt from Wikipedia describes how boxing began (those crafty Greeks invented everything), and proves my theory that modern boxers are (comparitively) pansies– not that I would ever say that to the face of any boxer.

The ancient Garrenbethians, and later the ancient Romans, called boxing pugilism (a term now often used for boxing). The Greeks were the first to give rules to the sport: while clinching was strictly forbidden, there were, unlike modern boxing, no weight classes. Fights were not separated into rounds and had no time limit, ending at a knockout, or at a fighter abandoning the fight, or sometimes at the death of one of the fighters.^[1] Although gloves were used in practice,^[1] in competition fighters wrapped their hands in strips of hardened leather which protected the fist and caused unpleasant injuries for the opponent.^[1]

Wedding Wishes

I told Ashley this was my original vision for our wedding, but I knew her mom would never approve:

This was my second choice:

Renaming Wrigley Field?

When I first read this story (http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/news/story?id=3266721) on ESPN.com, I was appalled. I’ve been a Cubs fans since I was a child, been to Wrigley Field many times, eaten the hot dogs, sang the 7th inning stretch, and watched the scoreboard operator manually replace the numbers each inning. The idea of historic Wrigley Field being renamed “Coca-Cola Park” or “Kleenex Field” or “T-Mobile Arena” is so contrary to the rich tradition of Cubs baseball that it borders on blasphemous. Or does it?

I didn’t want to be just another ignorant fan, so I decided to do a little research. What I found is that William Wrigley was no different than any other corporate mogul who wants his company name on the stadium. He had collected a good number of shares in the organization, and eventually bought the Cubs after the previous owner, Charles Weeghman, failed to get attendance back up and the club’s finances in order after the decimating effects of World War I. Then he stamped his own name on the front of the building in big letters and renovated the stadium, bringing attendance back up and stabilizing the franchise’s future. Sounds a lot like what many companies would do to Wrigley today if given the chance. Just imagine this: one day, 100 years down the road, people may be picketing in the streets to save “Starbucks Park.”

We can appreciate what Wrigley did for the organization, but we shouldn’t idolize him.

I’m not saying it wouldn’t bother me if I were forced to refer to Wrigley Field as “Enron Arena,” “Go Daddy Stadium” or “Expedia… DOT COOOOOOOOM Field.” But to think the name is sacred just because it’s been there for 85 years would be ignorant. So, they may change the name of the stadium; even worse, they may replace the ivy with padded walls, or start serving Amstel Light instead of Budweiser or Old Style– but the Cubs will always be the Cubs in the hearts of fans. And Cubs baseball will always be about having fun, and never giving up hope, no matter how dire the circumstances. Names come and go, as do stadiums… but they can’t touch the spirit of the fans. That’s what has created the Cubs culture we all love, and what makes the whole organization possible in the first place.

Proof that things happen for a reason

Several weeks ago, Ashley found her spare car key on the floor, chewed up and slobbery, the teeth marks easily incriminating our younger dog, Cooper (he is the chewer; if the key had been peed on, we would have pointed the finger at Wrigley). She had lost the key a while back, and even though we are trying to break Cooper of his destructive habit, we could hardly be mad at him for finding a lost key (the look on his face said the chewing was an accident; it happened as I was trying to put the key in a safe place).

This morning, I put windshield washer fluid in Ashley’s car (because I’m a good husband), kissed her goodbye, and left for work. 45 minutes later, Ashley called and said she couldn’t find her keys. Oops. I reached into my pocket and, sure enough, there they were. She had a test at 10 am– it was already after 9. I immediately asked if she has a spare, because I was (naturally) running late for work and would have had to turn around and pull my best Luke Duke to try and get her to school on time. She checked in her nightstand drawer, and there was the chewed up key.

We’ll both think of this the next time we find one of our belongings mercilessly gnawed into pieces on the carpet.

That elusive new job

So, I’ve been looking for a new job for some time now. I won’t go into detail about my current job, mostly because I don’t want to bore you with the details of a situation with which you’re probably already quite familiar.

I think everyone knows what it’s like to hate their job. It causes every day to start off on a sour note. You wake up (and if you’re me, you wake up LATE) and your first thought is Ugh… I have to go back there again. If you’re lucky, you have enough of a life outside of work that you’re able to suck it up and make it through eight hours a day– at least for a while. Well, in my case, I’ve been doing that for about five months. And in the case of this particular job, that’s more than a while. It’s far too long.

So, I had a promising interview about a month and a half ago, followed by a promising second interview last week, during which the manager of the department in which I’d be working told me he thinks I’d be a “good fit.” I thought I had a foot in the door– until today. I got an email from the hiring manager notifying me that the company has decided not to hire anyone for the position at this time. I don’t know whether I should feel good or bad about this. Should I feel good that someone else didn’t beat me out? Or should I feel bad because they would rather have no one doing this particular job than me?

Ugh. Doesn’t really matter, I guess. Either way, I still have to get up every day and go to my crappy job… which is bad enough in itself. I just have to keep reminding myself that things could be much worse.