Is it mean that I think this is really funny?

There's been an arrest made in the JonBenet Ramsey case. Here is the suspect's online teaching resume that I found. It's kind of creepy to have a picture of the girl up on my homepage, staring out at me whenever I open up a browser. I wonder if the millions who watched Little Miss Sunshine in the last few weeks also secretly thought about JonBenet during the creepy beauty pageant scenes, like I did. Maybe it's the power of things being on the verge of the collective conscious. Regardless, the whole situation was strange and tragic, and I just hope that this new development will give the family some closure.

I can't believe that man has looked the same for the last 20 years.

Do you ever have dreams so vivid that years later, you can still look back as if they were memories and say, "Remember that? That was a cool dream." I have a lot of dreams where I've moved into a new house and it's huge with new secret rooms that I continually discover. Sometimes I'll be driving and I'll remember one of those dream houses and think, yeah, that was a great one...I wish I really owned that house. The ones that overlooked the ocean were the ones that still make me happy to remember.

I had a dream the night before last where I was competing in a stupid radio contest. It was like a potato sack race or something, but when I won, the prize turned out to be a one-bedroom condo. It wasn't a great condo--it was an apartment building conversion and the scaffolding was still up outside for the remodeling; I figured its value was around 300K (inflated LA real estate value so it wasn't anything grand). I kept gushing to anyone who would listen though, that I had been trying to save money to buy my brother a little condo close to me so he could be close and somewhat independent, and all of a sudden my dream had come true earlier than I thought it would. I was so unbelievably happy. Like I said, it wasn't that nice of a place, but it was a place that fulfilled a major goal of mine and I was so happy that I could do this and have my brother close by that I seriously wouldn't stop gushing. But then, there was this huge earthquake. I stood in the front doorway which was really solid, and I watched the scaffolding outside crumble. I realized my mom and my brother were in the back of the building and I didn't know if the building would fall around them. I was terrified for a second, but then I remembered that I had control of the dream. It was weird because I was conscious of a choice--I could either turn this scenario tragic so I could experience the emotions of loss, or I could play it safe and erase the earthquake. I decided to erase the earthquake, but a part of me was very aware that I had cheated at something.

Do you ever get so devastated in a dream that you start sobbing so hard that you're sobbing in real life? And when you wake up, it's still heavy around you like ghosts crowded in that haven't completely retreated back into their own dimension? I have those sometimes, too. As awful as the feeling is, it's a high, the relief you feel when you realize all that sadness was part of a dream and that everything in reality is still intact. I guess it's human...we all want to get close to death and devastation in order to experience it, but then also have the safety and high of a resurrection that allows us to truly feel blessed and alive, as exemplified by our search for heightened but controlled "near death" experiences such as roller coasters, skydiving, etc. I am terrified though, that these dreams will make me soft. That a day will come when it's not a dream and the reality I wake up to is tragic, and that will be something I can't change no matter how strong my will or determination.

I am and always will be terrified of when the phone rings in the middle of the night.

Appreciate your families, people, whether they are by blood or by companionship or by mutual positive regard. Because really, after all things trivial that make us anxious, sad, angry, jealous, irritated or resentful are overshadowed by something bigger, what is stronger or more valuable than the people you love and who love you? When you read about someone being murdered at random in the street and the only thing the devastated parents can say is, "I just wish I had given her a big hug before she had walked out that door," at the end of the day, maybe that is the saddest, most devastating hindsight of all.

It's That Time! The Time to See Who Got Fat.

Last week I got an email announcing that they've set a date for my ten year high school reunion. Now, this has always been the big young-adult milestone, where the successes are separated from the failures, where the millionaires are separated from the gas station attendants, where the future productive citizens of America are separated from the poster children of coulda-woulda-shoulda abortions. No, not really. But it is a opportunity to see who got fat.

I've always set my standards low. Yeah, I would have liked to have sold a script to a studio at this point, or be able to say that my next movie will star Johnny Depp or Julia Roberts or at the VERY least, Jessica Alba. I guess I can say I've written and directed things that have won awards and I did go to Sundance that one year for a tangential festival so things are slowly and steadily moving along, but the only true goal I set was just that I didn't want to get fat by the time that 10 year mark rolls around.

During my first year in Los Angeles straight out of college, I ran into a high school classmate who was living out in LA. She had some cosmetic work done and was sporting contacts, a fashionable haircut and a wardrobe of revealing, sex-kitten clothes, but there was something very demanding about her personality that wasn't there when we were in high school, like a desperate need to be acknowledged in a very specific way. I hung out with her out of sheer not knowing enough people in LA to do otherwise, and was soon overwhelmed by the chip on her shoulder that had visualized some master plan that all culminated SPECIFICALLY at our 10 year reunion. She claimed that she hated high school and all the people in it, and she had done all this work on herself because planned to go back to our 10 year reunion hot and vindictive. Keep in mind, this was in 1999. Now, I hated high school myself and never felt at home with the whole lot. I did hope to be successful enough or at least happy enough in my own life 10 years from our graduation date to not be bothered with what those people from my little hick town thought, but I sure didn't have a focused 10 year plan for it. In fact, it sounded a little crazy to me. I looked at her and at her unspoken but open invitation to assure her that she was indeed hot and would blow people from our high school away in 2006, but in my eyes, she just looked like someone who had gotten contacts, cosmetic work, a new wardrobe and a newfound sense of determination and resentment, all of which just accentuated her insecurity and need to "show up" people who probably didn't care in the first place. Myself, I just hoped I wouldn't be fat.

I'm excited about the reunion because I'm always curious about the life experiences of people, and I want to see people and see where their life journeys are taking them. The advent of Myspace has done wonders for my curiosity as I can browse my high school, see how people have grown up, what their children look like, and theorize their contentment with their lives by the syntax of their profiles. But ultimately, I wonder if this experience is going to be one big dick measuring contest, where everyone is out to show how much more successful they are or how much more successful they can convince people they are, and we realize that no one was really friends with anyone else outside of wanting to keep their enemies (aka competitors) close. I hope that's not the case. I hear 20 year reunions are much more civil and enjoyable in the intended atmosphere of reunions. I hope mine will be like Romy & Michele's High School Reunion where old friends are reunited and it's a joy to see where life has taken everyone within their evolution. Where I can be awarded for most successful in my class despite losing my top, where I can tell those mean girls from school that I hope their babies look like monkeys, where some nerd who was secretly in love with me will arrive a billionaire, and will whisk me (and Reggie) off in his private helicopter en route to funding our little boutique clothing store on Rodeo. I hope that billionaire ex-high schoolmate doesn't mind foursomes, because I'm sure Digit Whit will be involved as well. All that would be really cool, especially if there's also a cameo by Janeane Garafalo. But at the very least, between now and November 25, I just hope I don't get fat.

In other news, Reggie is shooting a commercial with Leslie Nielson of Naked Gun fame tomorrow. I'm sure he's going to have a full day of shooting and fart jokes.

There are only 2.5 reasons I watch the show Psych...for the 1.5 times it makes me chuckle slightly during each episode, and because this guy's hot. He's a big boy next door in uniform..you have to see him on the show. I wish I had skin like his.

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In more news regarding this Mel Gibson drama, Gavin de Becker (intuitive author of The Gift of Fear), is my hero. Make sure to read his letter that was a paid 2-page ad in The Hollywood Reporter responding to Endeavor agent Ari Emanual's impulsive cry for a boycott of Mel in Hollywood.

What do you say when you call a client, only to be told that he died last year? I'll tell you, even if you've never met the person, your heart just sinks. I don't know if it's more because you feel like such an asshole for not knowing, or the fact that this person isn't living anymore and you've gone on assuming he was alive and well when he wasn't, but the worst part of it, is that you still have to communicate the business reason of why you called despite the news. It feels incredibly insensitive. So now I'm supposed to send this woman who's obviously a relative some product information, when I didn't even get her email and I'm really bummed by the news and by calling a year later asking for a dead guy. How do you not feel like an asshole?

Everything Mashed Potatoes

Last week I decided I wanted to make something different for dinner, and the only things I knew was that I wanted mashed potatoes, and I wanted some kind of sandwich. And then I wanted to make something with coconut milk. I went to the store and improvised, coming out with a bunch of random items. This is what I made:

I heated up some light coconut milk (even light coconut milk has 7 grams of fat per serving!) and added organic chicken broth. Once that heated up, I added some soy sauce, some bay leaves and thinly sliced red peppers (the tiny, hot ones, not the big ones). I added half a lime's worth of juice, 3 cloves of chopped garlic, chopped basil and chopped cilantro, some salt and chopped chicken breast cutlets. I let it cook while I boiled fettucine. It came out like a coconut thai pasta that was pretty good, but the one thing I lamented was having forgotten to buy an onion.

Next, for something completely random, I made mash potatoes by mashing boiled potatoes with the chicken broth and salt. I put the mashed potatoes in the fridge to cool. Then I ripped up small chunks of sharp cheddar cheese and mixed them into the potatoes, and balled the mixture up about the size of an extra large falafel. I rolled them in panko (Japanese bread crumbs), then fried the balls in heated olive oil so they were very crispy on the outside. I put them in a poppy-seed french roll and ate it while it was hot. It's like a hash brown sandwich, but smoother. I really wish I had something spicy to go with it in the sandwich, like maybe spicy buffalo chicken strips or pepperoni.

The next day, I had a roast beef sandwich with sharp cheddar cheese (you've gotta get it thinly sliced from your grocery store's deli) and mash potatoes on top, stuffed inside the poppy-seed roll. It was amazing. Seriously, why isn't mashed potatoes on everything?

In other news, I've bought a Roomba. I had a 20% off coupon to Bed, Bath & Beyond, and anyone who lives near a BB&B and gets these coupons in the mail knows that these coupons will make you buy anything. Well, with coupon at hand and looking to save so much money on this little gadget, plus with Reggie's comment that his friend has one and thinks it's the most amazing thing on earth, I had to buy it. I'll tell you...the Roomba is amazing. It's like a pet. I spent the first few days following around, watching it bump it's way around the rooms, going under beds and grabbing every corner in the most random pattern. It does a good job of moving between hardwood floors and carpet, but if it gets tangled on anything (ie extension cords, sheets, etc), it tries to untangle itself then makes this sound that sounds like an electronic, "Uh Oh." I never thought I would get so much pleasure from emptying a vacuum bin of lint. I probably ran it about 3-4 times a day the first few days, and was always amazed at how much stuff it would pick up, even after the place looked spotless after the first few times. It made me so proud to empty it and see how much it had picked up...kinda made me understand those parents who get really proud when their baby poops. Seriously, if you ever wanted a pet but didn't want to deal with the responsibility, get a Roomba. It'll clean for you and even dock itself to recharge when it's done, and I know it sounds crazy, but when you find yourself spending hours following it around the house just mesmerized, don't say I didn't warn you.

In other news, I went to the premiere of John Tucker Must Die last Tuesday at Mann's Chinese. I've never been in that theater so it was nice, but it was a motley crowd as there were the user Hollywood suits of agents, managers and studio execs, the minor stars (Eva Longoria looks she's made out of paper. She looks like she's about 45 lbs.) and the cast and crew, but Power 106, our local hip hop station, had run a contest inviting listeners to the premiere, so there were a lot of rowdy high school kids. But it was a decent teen flick with funny moments (watch Jesse throw a hissy fit...best part of the movie). I really hope this movie helps Jesse get bigger roles. We met Nelly at the after party who wasn't that tall but was really nice, and 3 key lime martinis had me toasty. I had the bartender make Reggie a drink with Hennessy, Amaretto and a splash of Sprite which I made up on the fly but was pretty good. Afterwards, we were gonna meet Jesse and his friends at Hyde but randomly, we pulled up next to a couple of my coworkers who were driving on Sunset on their way to meet one of our other coworkers who had quit to move to Israel last year. We invited them over to hang out at Hyde with us, but the people at the door wouldn't let them in because only Reggie and I were RSVP'd to Jesse's group and there were more people meeting up with my coworkers. My coworkers decided to head over to someplace more chill to make sure that everyone meeting up with them could get in, and I got irritated about Hollywood bullshit and idiot doormen so we decided to go home instead. Overall, it was a good night out for a Tuesday. Can't stand the Strip.

Saturday found the Michigan gang (Sareet, Thode, Rebecca, Kate & Plumb included) helping to build a house in Glendale for Habitat for Humanity. Considering that Los Angeles has been consistently working with 105+ degree heat, we were relieved to show up and find it overcast, gray and slightly misty at times. We were given the unskilled labor work that involved a lot of cleaning and hammering. I chose a hammering job that somehow turned into a pulling-out-bent-nails-without-heads that the people in a previous week had hammered down into the wood. It was a pretty hard and frustrating job because without the heads, you had to dig at the nail until you got some kind of area to grab onto with pliers, then twist and yank it until it broke off or came out. Sometimes I had to put my entire body into pulling a nail in the opposite directions, and if I slipped or if the nail suddenly came out, the force would send me flying. Luckily, I was on a lesser populated side of the construction so no one saw me fall on my ass. I think. It was a pretty fun day, and I got to learn a lot about my friends...mostly, how much those boys love their Rocky. It was really satisfying to use a hammer and get down and feel like you were building something, but the next day, I realized, all the work that the 20 of us did in an entire day, could have been something that two nail guns could have done in 2 hours. Oh well. I guess that program is as much about giving volunteers the satisfaction of contributing to a greater cause as it is about providing a need for the community. As Ben (who organized everything) said, the problem in the U.S. is that there's a surplus of volunteers willing to help out, but not enough resources.

What are all the kids listening to these days, you ask?

We'll, it depends on if you've fucked Alec Baldwin in his ass.

Big changes are coming...

http://msnbc.msn.com/id/13830825/?GT1=8307

Very, very cool.

Some Quick Reviews Before I Go To Bed (aka Recap of The Last Two Weeks):

NIN (Verizon Wireless Amphitheatre, Irvine):
Trent Reznor is a god amongst men. Trent Reznor is the sexiest fucking thing on this planet. Trent Reznor makes me wanna be a better man. I would pay big money to watch Trent Reznor drench his body in water and rip his emotional guts out in a dark steel-caged dungeon every day of the week. I heart Trent Reznor. If you've never seen him live...there are really no words to describe the passion and intensity that man brings. He makes cacaphony a living, breathing universe of discordance synchronized by the rhythms of a pulsing heartbeat. You don't even have to love his music before you become mesmerized by him live. You'll see...Trent Reznor is a sensory experience.

Superman:
...wears too much make-up. And apparently isn't a very good actor because he didn't have as many lines as you would expect from a lead actor, and they cut away a lot during his lines. But he does look a lot like Christopher Reeves, albeit Christopher Reeves wearing red squishy old-lady orthopedic boots. Kevin Spacey plays an excellent villain, but aren't all gay great villains wonderfully catty? Bryan Singer has a quick sense of humor, injecting the scenes with funny little moments, and the kid who plays Jimmy Olsen is the same one from Not Another Teen Movie who sincerely and wholeheartedly promised to take a dump on a girl's chest. I recommend seeing this film at the IMAX theater because there are approximately 20 minutes of footage in 3D.

X-Men:
Now this was a fun movie. I can't remember much about it so it was pretty mindless, but it's always fun to see the different characters match up with their different superpowers.

Unscripted (HBO):
Great acting, many episodes directed by George Clooney who now seems to rule Hollywood by the grace of his charm and magnetism. I think some of the comic moments are well set up but cut out too early, but the acting teacher is one of the best characters on TV. Actors should watch this show just for some great insight on the theory of acting. Good DVD choice for the cardio machines at the gym.

Getting Promoted:
More commitment to the office job, more time and effort spent at the office job, more money to spend outside of the office job (supposedly). And having to go out of town on more business trips. Will I come to resent Vegas and my constant presence there for trade shows? Not if it means being able to buy a condo for my brother in LA.

The Score:
Jonathan Kranz, composer extraordinaire, is in the final stages of completing our score for the short and now we're just waiting for the sound designer to come back into town next week and finish the sound, and then we've just got the output to go. The music is pretty damn good...like the first season of Lost as requested but with his own signature. You can check out his music at: http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendID=20354239. He's a really nice guy, a consummate professional, and incredibly talented and easy to work with. Talk to him if you need a good composer. I believe he did the music on the Da Vinci Code trailer. Oh holy shit, he's got our music up on his myspace! Okay, cool...check out our score. ;) Pieces, that's us. His score makes me jump every time.

Naet Treatment:
Michael was visiting me the week before last because he's developed a constant throat-clearing habit that all the specialists up north can't figure out. My neighbor recommended Naet treatment as a way to help distinguish and clear up mysterious allergies that was successful on her three young children. Incidentally, it has a good record with autism. They do a muscle strength test to test reactions to various substances and if the symptoms are very strong like in Michael's case, they use a surrogate. So I got the treatment while holding Michael's arm. It seemed strange, almost like going to a psychic's office, albeit a psychic that knew her stuff about endocrinology and performed lab tests and acupuncture, but I suspect it was because I had no idea what she was doing. But at this point, we're willing to try anything. Incidentally, I've never had allergies before but after the treatment, I suddenly had strong allergic reactions to being outdoors and developed an incessant cough. Probably a coincidence. Hopefully a coincidence. The program is long and Michael will continue it up north. It calls for testing and treatment for several individual substances (ie egg products, dairy, pollen, metals, etc.) and takes a while--they test and treat you for a particular substance, then you have to avoid it for 25 hours and they recheck you to see if you come back more tolerant. She did find a weakness to two of Michael's medications though, so I would be interested to see if those meds or their current dosage levels are actually detrimental to him.

Calistoga Mud Baths:
Went to Napa for 4th of July weekend with the family, and my mom and I decided to try one of their famous mud baths. I think she and I were on the same wavelength in that we thought the mud would be the same stuff as the "mud" masks that you put on your face, this smooth clay (mine is infused with green tea!), but when we showed up, the tubs were filled with literally, what looked like something they had shoveled in from the side of the road then turned into a soupy substance with water. And it STINKS. My mom changed her mind and opted for the mineral bath while I decided to give it a try. You were supposed to get in, then sit down, then wiggle your butt until you sunk in. I wiggled until I could no longer bear the thought of mud in my nether regions, and lay there, noting how the mud kind of formed this quicksand like suction so you felt encased. I lasted about 5 minutes before the knowledge got to me that it was mud-mud, not clean, mud-mask clay mud, so I got out, showered everything off and got in the mineral bath, which is basically a jacuzzi bubble bath with mineral salts and your own individual rubber ducky.

Patrick O'Bryant:
WHY? Why would they do this to us??? Fuck the Warriors. Seriously, I hate you guys.

Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas
Anyone who says videogames aren't an intense and debilitating psychological addiction is dead wrong. I have wasted entire days of my life. Today I was waiting at a light and I saw a low rider and who I thought was a guy wearing a green do-rag at the wheel, and my immediate thought was that I needed to go drag him out of his car. Video games rot the mind.

Ten Hours of Sleep:
The stuff of fantasies for me.

For Documentation and for You Guys to Share My Disgust

10:50pm – 11:27pm 6/26/06 Westwood

Went to Noodle Planet with Michael. Sat at the back booth against the wall opposite the cashier’s booth, with the emergency exit behind me. The waiter was the tallish Asian guy with pale skin and hair spiked up in the front. Very polite. Ordered the Noodle Planet Pho, asked for steak only (no flank). Ordered Chicken Satay Hand Rolls. Michael ordered the Chicken Tom Yum. We ordered Spicy Yakisoba for Reggie. Michael got a mango green tea drink for me and a boba drink for himself next door.

The food came and the Tom Yum and Pho came first. We started eating. Yakisoba came later and I let the waiter know that we never received the Hand Rolls. Had eaten a quarter of my bowl of pho when I saw something floating at the top of the bowl (located at about 11 o’clock) , brownish, about the size of an almond. I thought maybe it was a piece of fried garlic when I saw that it had long black, muscular legs. I thought it was a cockroach. I took a picture of it with my camera phone. The picture didn’t come out clear because there wasn’t good light and it’s a crappy camera phone.

I flagged the first employee who walked by and told him there was a cockroach in my soup. He was shocked and said, “A cockroach?” He looked in the bowl and said dismissively, “Oh, it’s just a June Bug.” He apologized and took the bowl and showed it to a guy who was standing at the cashier’s area. Later he came back and asked if I wanted another pho because they were already making it. I said, “No.” (Especially because I think they make a big kettle of the soup that sits all day, which means that everyone throughout the day was probably eating June Bug soup). He said okay, and walked away. I called my mom to tell her what happened. I was worried that I could get sick. I told her in Chinese that it was like a cockroach but bigger, but I didn’t know what the word for June Bug was in Chinese. She said knew what I was talking about, and that a June Bug is even worse than a cockroach. She told me to contact the health department tomorrow morning.

The employees kept coming by to clear the table because they were closing. Our waiter came by and said sorry and said not to worry about the check and to take our time. Shortly, another person came over to clear the table and tell us they were closing even though there were still other tables eating. I couldn’t get Reggie on the phone. Finally, the guy I had shown the bug to came over and asked if he could pack up Reggie’s noodles because we had to leave because they were closing (again there were 4 other tables there). I told him that I was grossed out about everything, and I didn’t want to bring the food home, but I wasn’t sure if Reggie would be mad if I didn’t so I was trying to reach him. He said he would box it up just in case because they were closing. He came back with the box and apologized again but had already turned his back and was walking away before he finished saying it. I was pretty angry about that. It seemed like other than our waiter, everyone was more interested in getting us out of there than the fact that they’d just served me a giant bug in my food.

I went home, threw up, then got a hold of Reggie, who is heading over there right now to get the name of a manager and the names of the servers.

If you've ever seen the show Cheaters, then you know what a slimy, self-righteous punk Joey Greco (the host) is. I find that I watch the show mostly to scoff at his inflaming comments and in hopes of seeing someone kick his sleazy drama-chasing ass. And also for the Springer-like quality the makes for good TV when you're up at 3am on a Saturday night.

And for all of you who feel the same way I do, here's your moment of zen.

Welcome to Hump Island! Which, may I add, is TOTALLY not gay.

one more thing about my mother

my favorite recollection was when
she stuck her fingers in that cherry pie
(did it right there in front of the fluorescent-lit
deli section)
and pulled out two fat ones
gleaming red syrup
like movie prop stunt cum
sliding down her fingers
but never quite dripping
she held them up for some
imaginary live studio audience to inspect and approve
and with that sparkle of childlike glee in her eye
she slipped them into her purse

i asked her why she didn't shoplift the whole damn pie
when her purse could fit a buick
and she said,

'sometimes it's the little things in life you have to appreciate'

she patted me on the back
a tender
lingering touch

maternal almost

leaving two red trails that had the dog after me
for days before i thought to wash that sweater

this is my favorite memory of my mother
long before she started worrying about the things in her
head that rattled the bars and threatened to escape
and even longer before
the afternoon i came home from sunday school
to find my mother curled up on the closet floor
a bible in one hand and my father's
ivory-handled pistol minus a single rusted bullet in the other.

america the day it went cold turkey off of prozac

tonight america feels unsettled
uneasy
like a blister on the brink of burst

the fires of the west have not stopped raging
not nearly enough to mollify the
slow burn of violence rumbling in its belly
digging at the seams

the moon hangs high
exuding indifference

detachment

self-loathing

fear

neglected in its own defiance
a rotton child plotting with an axe

66 runs like a vein through the heartland
feeding off the windtossed litter of the desolate masses
but it's the silence that feeds the slow burn
the silence that eats itself from the inside out
until there's nothing left to be remembered by

on the shoulder near cleveland
a bum wanders the freeway
a forgotten man
following the twisted metal guardrail
through the tunnel of his existence
stumbling on a paved road that laps up
the hollow spaces in between
but never once choking on the things that
were meant to be kept

and if you ask him in a way that he knows you exist
he'll tell you

he's heard this place whispering
when it thinks no one is listening
towards a heaven overrun by sycophantic wings
flapping to the rhythm of a rhythmless beat
praying for an upended big rig
or a six-car clot to end its misery
and begging someone to touch its emptiness
to really feel it
before dropping it back into that dark
hungry space
where everything that is found
was once lost
and loss is the blanket which covers us
when our insides becomes too expansive to be named.

and you and i?

we slept in our beds
and dreamed our dreams
that shielded us from the nightmares
never aware of the world outside
swirling in its own misery
contemplating its meaning
until it awoke to find itself a butterfly in
its own dream
floundering deeper into a bottomless gulch
that was never given a name

and when i wake
you will not remember me

one day i will land softly on the tip of your tongue
a butterfly kiss that's more a twitch than a tug
briefly reminding you of a truth that precedes the universe
and you will remember a time
from somewhere far away
in some distant memory
once
when you were loved
by someone who existed

and that, in itself, had been enough.

on american airlines flight
486 from ft. worth, texas
to detroit

i neatly autograph the plastic pretzel
bag of the sleeping woman in the window
seat next to me

(carefully placing it back on its napkin on her armrest)

so

just in case she should sleep
through the entire flight
she'll have something to remember
me by.

What Underachiever Will the Warriors Draft This Year?

One of the biggest days of the year is coming up for me next week--the NBA draft. Throughout the year, I keep an eye on the draft projections, researching them and trying to figure out which of the many names will one day be household. It's kind of like gambling, or trying to predict the future. Mind you, each year I probably watch about 1/3rd of a college game at most so I haven't seen the majority of the players play. I just like to read about them and their scouting reports.

The Golden State Warriors have made a name for themselves of having awful drafts. Count on the Warriors to pick up clumsy white big man Todd Fuller over Kobe Bryant, Peja Stojakovic, Steve Nash, Jermaine O'Neal, while also later trading for Erick Dampier of the same draft. Count on the Warriors to vacillate between young high-school phenom Tracy McGrady, and undersized center from a tiny conference, Adonal Foyle, and pick Foyle because they thought he might turn out to be a poor man's Tim Duncan (the fact they gave Stone Hands a ridiculously large salary when he shouldn't be playing in the league at all, let alone starting for a team, is insult to injury). The Warriors once badly needed a point guard in a draft that featured Baron Davis, Steve Francis, Andre Miller and Jason Terry, and instead, traded the pick for a geriatric Mookie Blaylock to Atlanta, who promptly used the pick on Jason Terry. Let's not forget the 2002 draft where the Warriors had the #3 pick, and while their camp was high on Amare Stoudamire, management was worried about "character issues" and instead, went with the safe, "can't miss" pick of Mike Dunleavy, Jr. My friend Nate put it best when he described Mikey as..."half man, half deer." The guy looks like he's perpetually caught in headlights.

So with the draft in a week and the Warriors holding the #9 pick in a weak draft, I figure there's not going to be anything get excited about but it doesn't stop me from obsessing about the board. Keep in mind that the only things I know about most of these players are from what I've read on the internet, but I think the player I'd be most excited about the Warriors getting this year is Ronnie Brewer. He plays the 1-2-3, is strong and quick, is a great passer and a good defensive player. I hear his shot is atrocious because of a freak childhood injury that left him with an elbow that doesn't extend all the way, but as long as it goes in, I don't care how it looks (ie Shawn Marion). I also like the way he expresses himself in interviews. He sounds like someone with heart. I also like Leon Powe and Rajon Rondo.

The one guy there's a lot of talk about the Warriors picking is Patrick O'Bryant. He's a big center with a frame that can take on more, but in his interviews he sounds an awful lot like Erick Dampier. And to a Warriors fan, the only thing worse than a guy who reminds you of Erick Don't Care is a guy who reminds you of Chris Webber.

Personally, whatever happens, I think the problem lies in the inability of the Warriors system to develop good players and have their young guys meet their potential. If you've got someone who's got a heart like Wade or Arenas, he's gonna succeed in almost any system that gives him room to develop because they have that internal fire and good instincts. For example, I have a theory that Dallas has the best staff (best trainers, doctors, etc) because their players come back so quickly from injuries and perform at a high level, while every player I've seen who landed in Dallas has suddenly bulked up without losing their agility, speed, etc (ie Nowitzki, Howard, Terry). I think a player like Leon Powe, who is going to drop into the 2nd round because of injury concerns, would do well on this team because he would have the best trainers and doctors to keep his major red flag, the injuries, in check. Without injury concerns, he's a guy with fire in his heart and an incredible motor who could play Dallas' running game and gives them an athletic post presence. Someone like Rondo would do well with Phoenix because he's fast and athletic, and while he's not a shooter, he's a great distributor and slasher. But no matter who comes to Golden State, they're faced with a few problems, mainly a team that doesn't know what it's identity is, a management that doesn't know what it would like the team's identity to be, a coach that can not earn the respect of his players, and an owner who is cheap.

They say that the Warriors are the farm club for the NBA, the place where young players have break out seasons as soon as they leave the team. All I ask is that they draft someone who truly has the fire, the desire and the talent, and let him and all the other young guys play rather than playing guys like Foyle and Dunleavy (and Davis). Or trade the pick for something that will actually make this team better in the long run.

Baby loves her stats, and today's stat winner is... Sonya Thomas!

http://ifoce.com/eaters.php?action=detail&sn=20

Question: Why is she single? It can't possibly have anything to do with her eating 10% of her weight in one sitting.