Kicking and Dreaming

Last night I had a turbulent dream about playing rugby in the wake of our big game. I was sprinting down the field after a kick. As I approached the ball an opponent was drawing near. I reached back my leg and booted the ball, which quickly morphed into the bed side window. I woke up with a start, hoping I did not kick out the window. I must have seemed like a dog running in his sleep. Upon waking the following morning I wondered if this is something that I commonly do or if I just wanted to give the ball a little extra umph.

Memorial Day 2007

If I did one thing to honor those in the military this weekend, it was celebrating my right to drink as much as I can. It all started Thursday night, when I planned to have a few drink after a rugby practice, but then decided since I have new hours at work and get to come in an hour later that I would stay out two hours later the night before. That is how this whole adventure started. Then on Friday I ventured out to an all you can drink 3-hour special. Fortunately I was forced to leave that event prematurely when it started to get sloppy and some individuals in the group were quite insistent on me buying rounds of shots. So I left without saying anything to anyone. Then on Saturday night, my uncle was in town and after a dinner with his family the two of us headed up to a special beer bar that serves about 200 different beers. We stayed there enjoying each others company until about 1 in the morning. Then next morning I woke up thinking about my drink adventure for that day. I met up with some friends and we headed over to a bar that I had never been to. After drinking Bass all night I thought that I could handle drinking a Miller Lite but after taking two sips in about 15 minutes, I learned better. So I stayed up long enough to leave that bar just in time to get to another bar that was in the process of closing. After a disagreement with the bouncer I headed home for the night, or rather the rest of the morning. Memorial Day at last. During my drinking exploits, I somehow found enough time when I was sober to plan a house warming / Memorial Day party. So I spent most of the day cooking up pork steak and fruit salad, which I shamelessly pushed on my guests. Although I was exhausted from the four straight days of drinking, the beer still tasted quite good. And of course I stayed up the two hours later than I usually do to make up for the one hour later I get to go into work. All in all it was a fun weekend and it proved I need constant supervision.

The Stage is Set

Every once and a while a rivalry evolves that seem to continuously escalate. Nothing brings these rivalries to a boiling point like a semifinal playoff game in a collision sport such as rugby. The buildup to these kind of matches are unparalleled. We have one of those rivalries that just brings out such hatred that people come out of the woodwork just to a part of it. For instance, upon the final minutes of our quarterfinal match, one of our player's girlfriends got into a fight with a rival player's mom. From what I understand it was quite a battle with scratching, kicking, and even a dog humping a leg. The funny thing about the fight was that it had nothing to do with rugby at all. My theory is a certain air surrounds this game when good and evil just recognize each other and duke it out. This game has been described as a bloodbath. Usually that kind of buildup seems to be over stated but in this case I really can see it. All I know is I'll draw some blood if I get a chance.

Two Years and Counting

Today I complete the first two years of my working life. It's been a long wild (well not wild more boring) ride but I do have to admit that I have come a long way in the last year of work. I got promoted, I got a raise, I got a sizable 401K balance, I got some valuable experience and resume items, I got to head up a new operation at work, I got a house, I got a new apartment, I got to go to a luxury box at a White Sox game next to Lovie Smith, and now I have the two years work experience that for some reason so many companies find so important, allowing my the flexibility to find a new job if I have to. As unpleasant as working seems, when you put all the things that you get as a result of it in one sentence, work doesn't seem so bad. But then I get into the whole "do material things make you happy?" debate and that's really not something I want to do. They make me happier and I'll leave it at that. Most of all I am pleased to see that my years (it's strange to say years) of full time working are starting to pay some dividends.

Closing Time

Today I closed on a house. I found the whole property buying experience interesting as well as some of the charges that the title company threw on top of my purchase. I do not understand what I am paying for when I spend $720 for a origination fee, $300 for a processing fee, $695 for a administration fee, and $250 for notary/processing fee. I do know what I got for that last fee. I got some lady to watch me sign my name about a hundred times on a bunch of documents that I did not read and probably wouldn't understand anyway for about a half of and hour. I don't really know if she deserves $500 an hour, but all these fees are out of my hands. I took the pain and now I am a proud home owner, even though I really have no intention on living in my house, mainly because a five hour commute is not my style. I think that my house will be a good investment in the long term, and it gives me a little justification for renting myself. I was a little taken aback by signing a mortgage that bound me to payments until 2037. By that time I will be ... 54. I wonder what the world will be like in 2037. Will people still live in houses? If the Jetsons have taught us anything, the answer is no. I must say that I feel much more comfortable buying a place as an investment rather than a residence. Being bound to live somewhere for that long seems kind of like prison to me. I know that you can always sell, but the paper you sign doesn't mention that.

The Game Where I Severed a Liver

In our most recent rugby match I had an opprotunity to tee off on an opposing player and I seized that opprotunity. The crushing tackle (which would later be called 'a marginally late hit') failed to even knock the player out of the game. So we all left that day believing that I made a great hit and moved on. What we did not know, were the events that transpired that night. Apparently, upon arriving at the airport this player began to feel very bad. So they rushed him to the hospital. As I found out at the next practice, the player was diagnosed with a severed liver. He ended up being okay and did not even need surgery, but it is a scary thought. Several people asked me how I felt about the whole situation. I told them that my official stance on the injury is that it's not cool. And really it's not. I don't like to anyone get hurt. It's one of the truely bad things about sports. However I do always seem to have a smerk on my face when I give this answer. As much as I don't like seeing someone get hurt, a severed liver is something that one may experience after getting hit by a car. And I suppose that I get some sick sense of pride knowing that I can inflict the same kind of punishment as a car.

Why Moving Sucks

We just moved into our new apartment and I have come to the conclusion that moving sucks and here is why. First of all moving is really hard. You never realize how much stuff you have until you have to move it. I tried really hard to thin out my unused possessions and even disposed of several of my used possessions, but still had a bitch of a time physically lifting all my things into a second story apartment. Then once you get all your crap up there it does not put itself away. Instead it just sits there while you explore the new spaces and slowly come to realize how much closet space you had at the old apartment. But if all that is not enough you have to back to your old apartment and work your ass off to make up for the years that you neglected to clean your apartment. When you pull an handful of dirt off your carpet, you quickly realized how much of a slob you really are. Then once you get through killing you brain with cleaning supplies odors, you get to go back to your new apartment and set up your bed so you have a place to sleep. But you have random thoughts about whether or not you are going to get back the thousand dollars that you left with your old landlords or whether you will need to go to court to get it back and if so whether they will discover and bring up the hole that you drilled in the hardwood floor and poorly patched up. Then you wake up the next day and have a whole lot more work to do.