Daily frustrations.

While I am not shy about expressing my distaste of all things Ohio, one of the things I could always say was "At least it's not West Virginia."

Apparently, I can say that no longer. Exhibit A:


This blazer has been mysteriously "parked" in front of my house now (inexplicably) for over three weeks. I have no clue where it came from (although the Native American rally stickers plastered over the rear window lead me to assume it's one of my hippie new age landlady's friends) and really do not like the fact that every one of my friends who passes by has to bring it to my attention.

Yes, I know it's there. No, I do not know where it came from. Yes, officer, I will tell them to move it if I ever see anyone near it.

Didya go to Drug Mart across the street and just get too lazy to get back in the car? Are you still over there in the plaza- possibly eating the world's largest Won Ton noodle at Hunan? Or maybe you moved into abandoned pizza place? Other theories offered: the roads were bad and they slid off and opted just to leave it there, parking was limited at the neighboring daycare and they decided just to leave it there, they are selling it- sans for sale sign. Or, my favorite, they were finally zapped up by the Wheel in the Sky that I'm sure they pray to every night in the sweat tent on the edge of the property (no, I kid you not).

If the weather was nice, I probably wouldn't be so ornery. Let's face it though, I'm always ornery and the snow just exacerbates the situation. Worsened by the fact that my tires are balder than a waxed va-jay-jay, it is a daily challenge to keep from sliding off my own driveway into the damn thing (at a rate of 5mph).

New Gap Ads...

Ok... I lied.  I just visited "Best Week Ever" and found plenty to be excited about.  Just look at the new Gap ads!!  My all-time favorites put their spin on Gap's Christmas MadLibs.  Jason Suedekis would like to "LIGHT YOUR OWN... house on fire" while Fred Armisen suggests you "VISIT YOUR OWN... stalker."

Then, there is gorgeous Kevin Volchik-er-Cam Giga I-don't-know. Wearing a winter hat.  I want to stare at this boy for hours on end.  Along with ads from Don Draper (Jon Hamm, the next Clooney) and Jason Bateman and offspring, this is by far the best ad campaign. Ever.  Even better then SJP dancing to Lenny Kravitz.

YOU MUST GO NOW: http://www.bestweekever.tv/2008/11/11/heres-some-holiday-magic-for-your-eye-holes/

For the love of God and all that is Christmas... it's a.ma.zing.

Whirling Dervish.

So, I just thought that I would explain the concept behind Whirlyball since I mentioned it in my post from yesterday. I'm not sure how many there are nationally, but I do know that WhirlyBall is an up and coming "indoor sport" in the midwest (we have six months of winter here, what do you expect?). Specifically, Chicago and Cleveland. If you go to an official website, they basically introduce it like this:

"Agility. Speed. Strength. None of these qualities will be of any use in the highly competitive world of WhilrlyBall. Although it combines lacrosse, hockey and basketball with bumper cars, WhirlyBall has caused great athletes of every stripe to laugh and holler their way to a crushing defeat." (Basically, if you are just another average midwesterner (read: morbidly obese and otherwise uncoordinated), you finally get to even the playing field with all those athletic types).

WhirlyBall combines bumper cars with lacrosse, basketball, little bit of hockey, and soccer. You have a scoop and a whiffle ball and the goal is to either hit the backboard of the same color as your car (2 pts) or get it in the net (4 pts). Pretty easy, right? WRONG. This game is HARD. Not only do you have to figure out how to maneuver your car (which has a one hand steering device, wheel), you have to be able to catch the ball and get it down the court. You can only hold it for 20 seconds so passing becomes another obstacle. Any penalties in delay of game or fouling cost 4 points to the other team. (See demonstration by Death Cab above).

So on Sunday, I joined some friends from work and their families to play this raucous game. I had seen it before- an old boyfriend of my mother's was on a league when I was probably 13 or 14. I figured I could do this. I didn't have to run (which I hate), I just had to steer (which I can do with my car... how hard could this be?). Considering most of the 13 minute game I was trying to figure out how to back up as I got stuck in a corner and then when I finally had the ball, I couldn't get out before my twenty seconds... I'm gonna go ahead and say that I sucked.

So that's why I thought laser tag would be more fun. I had played before... it used to be a hot spot for the stoners and the bad kids during high school and I made my appearance a few times. Of course, this was like 10 years ago. So I suited up with 15 other people, about 8 of them under 10. Not only did I get my ass kicked, I got shot down by a 5 year old. He was insane! Every time I thought I had a good place to hide, my vest would light up. Who was this phantom assassin? It took me about 8 minutes to realize I was getting shot up from below by a misleadingly innocent operative, code name: Lucca. And he wasn't all stealthy, either, like James Bond or Ethan Hunt. No, Lucca used more of a Scarface method (pretty much running forward with his finger on the trigger, laughing maniacally as he mowed down rival gang members). I came to the conclusion that there is definitely a problem with our kids being exposed to too much violence.

It wasn't until I saw the results and realized that I had shot none and been shot 48 times that I thought about sticking to tennis if I wanted an indoor sport. At least on that court I get to be the crazy one.

Anybody got some quail shot?

SCARY

Is it bad when an entire new group of people begin calling you Cheney?  As in Vice President Dick Cheney?  

Such was the case last night.  After the craziness of Laser Tag and Whirly Ball (Ohioans are always looking for new indoor sports seeing as that we are entering the 6 month phenomenon that is Ohio Winter), I joined my coworker and some friends at her house for a little bit of Asshole.  Wow, that sounds really dirty.  It's just a drinking game.

For those who don't know the game, a bunch of people sit in a circle and try to beat the card the previous person just threw.  2s are Wild, doubles must be matched with doubles.  If you don't match, you drink. After the first round, ranks are decided based on who was out (had no cards first).  President. Vice President. 3. 4. and so on until the last ranked. The Asshole.  The great thing about being highly ranked is that you can make rules for everyone underneath you.  Those who do not obey have to drink.  Having played this game before, let's just say... I rule with an iron fist.  ("No 'Drink, Drank, Drunk,' Thumb rule, No Cursing).

Maybe the power went to my head a little and maybe an offhand joke about being the Dick Cheney of Asshole lead to it.  But either way, a nickname was born.  I'm really not sure whether to take this as a compliment to my thorough VP skills or a nod to my power hungry tyrant alter-ego.  I'd like to think the former.