probably my last post

I am going to the Indians "nooner" today. I will be seated in a very prominent position - viewable via camera when they show the side view of left-handed batters. Oh yes, the heckling will be sweet. I actually probably won't heckle too much because being so close is kind of disarming (the other 99% of it being my sobriety).

I fully expect to be discovered by some talent agent of some kind and, unfortunately for you, respectable famous people don't do blogs. It's been fun.

i refuse to be sad . . . *sniff*

I refuse to be sad about the Cavs losing their playoff series against the Celtics. The folly of sports, well, the folly of sports fans, is the folly of incongruous expectations and false hopes. My expectations didn't start incongruous. They were actually quite reasonable (and correct) - 2nd round exit. But, then the team puts together some solid efforts in 3 of the first 4 games (winning 2) and in comes false hope. "Hey Roger. Cavs are looking good! Time to get emotionally invested - even more! WooHoo! Is that the liquor cabinet? Aren't wins delicious? Let's do a few shots of this! Hey-o! Look and that passing! Assists on every basket! Don't mind those needless turnovers, just chug that $2.50 Newcastle, so sweet!" And false hope only got more insistent after the Cavs knotted the series at 3.

Then the game last Sunday and the game 7 loss. I was surprisingly calm. False hope left without saying goodbye. And I was left to wait until next year.

Also appearing at: Draft Day Suit

uh, hi

A woman in the office, whom I don't know (beyond having seen her around) has mistaken me for someone else. This morning I was walking by her and I did the good morning smile/nod (I need to be awake for 6 to 8 hours before I speak) she said good morning and then asked, "Are you still jogging?" "Uh. Sure. Every now and again."

Getting mistaken for a jogger is not a bad deal. I'll take that over, say, being mistaken for a jazzerciser.

veni, vidi, vici

I went to a used book sale at a library on Saturday. Now I've been to a few library book sales in my day, so I was pretty sure what to expect - mass confusion. Books are helpfully categorized into categories: fiction and non-fiction. And then they're sorted into cover design appeal - or something; I'm not sure what the second-order sorting variable is. I knew this going in, so I had a brilliant idea: I would print out a list of my Amazon wishlist books and take it with me. BRILLIANT! Then I got to the library (smartly keeping the 10-page list out of sight) and thought, "This is quite possibly the dumbest thing I've ever done." As if I'm really going to check this list against each title I look at. The books are in no discernible order. They are fiction or non-fiction (ok, there were a couple of other categories, but those only contained a handful of books). As I was contemplating my nerdy jackassery, I happened upon a book that actually appeared on my list! Forget the fact that I probably only remembered because it was my most recent add to my wishlist. I swear I remembered because of the ass-info osmosis going on between my list and my money-maker. I'm so smart.

The problem with so many cheap books being so readily available is that you'll buy stuff that you'll never, ever read. It took a while, but I ultimately resisted the urge to by $1 copy of "Compiler Design in C." Compiler design is to my job as barley harvesting is to a bartender. You could draw a connection, but it's tenuous at best. I just diddn't see myself reading 600 pages on compiler design anytime soon.

By far the highlight of the trip was overhearing some old lady try to haggle on a 50 cent paperback. "I would buy this if it was 25 cents, but not for 50 cents." She was clearly, though awkwardly, trying to hint that the price should be dropped. The library workers just kind of stared at her amidst a dense fog of confusion. So what? - their looks asked. Finally, old school left without the overpriced book, muttering about a time when two bits could get you a steak dinner, a movie and a private audience with Teddy Roosevelt

overall a success (success part notwithstanding)

So, my ice hockey team finished 0-20-2. Now, this might lead you to believe we (and I specifically) suck. And you would not be wrong - especially about me. But, such as it is, it is now over.

The last game was amidst the most recreational sporting week I think I've ever had. I was like a white, talentless Bo Jackson. Ro knows losing. Starting with the previous Saturday (day-by-day) I had the following activities: roller hockey, ice hockey, roller hockey, basketball, ice hockey, soccer, off, ice hockey. That is a little much, even by my standards. And come about the 4th day in a row, the legs get a tad wobbly. And maybe you're not as aggressive as you were before due to suppressing the urge to vomit and desire to collapse. I ain't what I used to be, I guess.

In other all-about-me news, I ate 47 cookies from the community food cabinet. A co-worker's wife is all about the baking. He should weigh 400 pounds, but does not. Can you get sick of delicious, soft cookies? You wouldn't think it possible, but I suppose you can get sick of anything. I, for one, am not sick of them. Co-worker's wife, if you are ready this, fire up the oven and get baking.

we mock what we don't understand

Which one of you stole “Spies Like Us” from me? I am like 80% sure I owned it at one time. Saturday night at about 11:00 pm when theRogica was at the Rocky River Brewing Company reliving hilarious lines with some friends, I was 100% sure I owned it. We returned to our apartment with the intention of watching SLU, but upon my discovery of its pilfering, we had to settle for a disc of The Critic. Hilarious in its own right, but not what I had been anticipating.

I have a pretty good idea of who may or may not have been the thief. But, please replace the disc in an obscure location (possibly in a box in my parents’ basement?) for my future discovery and elation. Thanks.