Teboned

Good morning everyone! Or afternoon, evening, or 3:00 in the morning, whichever it happens to be when you feast your eyes on this deluxe version of the blog that is about one month in the making. I doubt I can make up for the unlimited amount of pain and suffering you all have felt each day when you found out that I didn't post anything new that week. But I can try. And there have been some interesting things going on around here lately. Just kidding, we all know that my life is wicked boring and nothing exciting ever happens to me, I just like to make it seem like that by writing about it every single week. Regardless, our trek through the world's events must return all the way back to the NFL Draft in April...I know, didn't think I could remember back that far, did you?

The Broncos drafted Tim Tebow, sidearm throwing, jump-pass making, linebacker-looking, jerkface of a quarterback out of Florida, the one non-Big East school that I truly hate. Had to get that out of the way. I threw up in my mouth a little bit when I typed it and I can feel some wooziness and a high fever coming on as we speak. The kicker, though, is despite the fact that the Broncos started out with two first round picks (11th and 14th), they ended up trading about 14,000 times on the first day, moving down in the first round, moving out of the first round, and giving up about 3 more picks to move back into the first round to get Tebow 25th. The word on the street is that Tebow was such an attractive option because his character was in order (no complaints here, at least we won't get another whiny baby like Jay Cutler) and that he'd changed his throwing motion to one more conventional and conducive to professional football. In regards to that, assuming he's been throwing a football since he was 5, that's about 17 or 18 years of throwing the ball sidearm. So yes, I'm sure 2 months of practice will defeat all of his bad habits that he has had his entire life. That would be like me practicing for two months to never use the word "the" in conversation. Sure it would work out sometimes, like in this sentence perhaps, but in the (damn) long run, I would relapse under pressure when it matters most. Not a perfect comparison but good enough.

There are two theories on why the Broncos decided to pick Tebow. I'll start with the undoubtedly negative and horrible one first, and then move on the the extremely cheesy and optimistic one. Anyone who knows about the Broncos knows about their tradition of getting my hopes up and then cruelly dashing them again and again. I think I've told this story before, but it all comes together I promise. Two years ago, the Broncos made history by giving away a 3 game lead with 3 games to play. Yeah, they were the first team ever to do that. Like having the Guiness world record for longest time staying awake. Sure you get recognized for something, that's positive. But it leaves you wanting to just lie down somewhere and not talk to anybody for a month. Last year, Denver made no history but had an arguably more impressive collapse. They started 6-0, the playoffs were a certainty, their coach was a genius, we couldn't be happier. Before we knew it, 2 wins and 8 losses later, we once again were golfing in January. Here's where the theory comes in. The Broncos drafted Tebow to make him our quarterback and go 0-16 to top all of our previous failures once and for all. Then again, can you call it a collapse if you never had any hopes to begin with?

Theory number 2: The Broncos are in fact the TC Williams high school football team from Remember the Titans. A new guy moves into town and wants to play quarterback. At first, you have your doubts. He's not a classic quarterback, doesn't have all the moves down that most QB's do, but he's athletic and can be trained. This comes in the midst of a change of head coaches and all of the players are on edge. One of the main characters gets kicked off the team (or traded in the Broncos' case). The coach looks for players with integrity and desperately tries to hold the team together. He also wants to win. No matter what. Quote: "We're just trying to win a mother f***ing game!" The previous statements are all true for both teams now. Here's what will be true. In the championship game, the quarterback stars on defense as well as offense, and Tim Tebow could do just that. He's built like a linebacker with a neck like a Doric column. He will be able to lead block for the Fake 23 Blast with a Backside George Reverse just like Sunshine did for the Titans. Last play of the Super Bowl with time winding down, put the ball in the hands of Kyle Orton and he will run 75 yards for a touchdown, no doubt about that. So Tim Tebow is the key to winning the Virginia high school football state championship. That's what I've determined, and the Broncos are finally going to have some hardware at the end of the season.

One more bit of sports before we move on. This no longer is applicable, but it was at one time. The NHL has proven to be much more efficient in running its postseason than the NBA. NBA playoffs are the most ridiculously drawn out and unnecessarily long postseason of any sports league ever. Including this one. The playoffs started in April when I was still not worried about my final exams and will not conclude until over a month after I get home in late June. NHL playoffs aren't too much better, but hear this. The first round of NHL games were over, with two series lasting 7 games, before the NBA even had all of their series play 5 games. There were numerous occasions where teams would have two off days in a row. That never ever happens in the regular season. Take notes on how the NCAA does basketball. 3 weekends, 6 rounds, best sports event ever. If I wanted to watch something that lasted two months I would watch the World Cup twice. Once in English and once en Espanol. You know why. Goooooooooaallllll!!!!!

On another topic that has absolutely nothing to do with anything I've been talking about, I recently began to suspect that fire alarms are not totally being used what they were meant for. I came to this conclusion whilst at Syracuse and had some very bad experiences with said alarms. Way way back in freshman year (I know, I can't believe it either), I lived in a dorm that had more "fires" in one year than any building ever in the history of the world. It seemed like every night we would be awakened by a shrill siren and a cheery "Attention: an emergency has been reported in the building. Do not use elevators. Have a nice day, and good luck taking your midterm tomorrow on 3 hours of sleep!" I managed to avoid every single alarm in my building this year besides the 11 PM one where it was snowing and I was in sandals, but I'll mark it down as a win. However, the dorms weren't my problem this year. One day I was in Whitman where they had a fire drill, walked across the street where the alarm of the building I walked into promptly went off inside of 5 minutes later. First, what is the point of a fire drill? Most people get told when they're happening, fail to take them seriously, and end up staying in their room with the door locked and the lights off. This attitude just so happens to carry over to every single burnt popcorn/pot smoking/birthday candle incident that the super-sophisticated systems at the Cuse pick up and determine are about to burn down every building on campus. Not a fan. I'm not saying that there isn't a chance of a fire in a dorm. I'm saying that by now most people know how to get out of a building and that you should just get off our backs about it.

As you may know, I like chicken nuggets a fair amount. Alright alright, I would walk back to Cuse from Clifton Park barefoot if I found out they were serving chicken nuggets. However, I would have some trouble believing SU Food Services if they said they were for lunch today. Here's the story. At the end of the year, Syracuse does students the favor of helping them to procrastinate studying for their finals with study breaks, serving some food between 9:30 and midnight. They even tell you beforehand about the food that will be served during each of the breaks. Imagine my surprise when I walk into the dining hall in April, look up at the monitor, and see that Tuesday, May 11 is finger food day, with special guest chicken nuggets. I immediately checked off the date on my calendar and got ready by washing all of my tupperware and clearing out a backpack to put all of my nugg conquests in to hold me over for the summer. This was a unique opportunity. First semester, the dining hall had nuggs every Tuesday like clockwork. Second semester, not so much. Every other week, sometimes Mondays, sometimes Thursdays, they were like lightning. You'd never know where they were going to be or when they were going to be there. Well, when they tell you where the nuggs are going to be, we have a Back to the Future situation on our hands. The only way to know where lightning is going to strike is if it hits a clock tower, freezing it at the exact time it strikes, and you get a pamphlet on said clock tower's illustrious history. Oh, and you have to have a time machine to go back to the strike itself. Well, the study break was my time machine and Ernie Davis dining hall was my clock tower about to get struck by the golden brown lightning that is chicken nuggets. I spent weeks preparing for the moment, getting ready for the one-point-twenty one jiggawatts of deliciousness I was about to harness. Only one problem. Food services neglected to tell me that when they said they were serving chicken nuggets at the study break, they actually meant that there would be no chicken nuggets to be found. So yeah, just a little bitter over that little incident.

One more thing to conclude this rapidly lengthening and making up for the month of lost time post. I recently went to Boston to visit my best friend with another one of my best friends. They both are Red Sox fans. I am a Twins fan. So, obviously, we went to see a Red Sox vs. Twins game. Mistake on my part, as the Twins decided not to try. At all. They did get a couple people on base the first few innings. However, they legitimately managed to hit into double plays every single time. And the Sox had no problems hitting homeruns every inning or two, and soon enough I left Fenway Park with a sense of disappointment and disdain. Only thing that made up for it was the fact that after the game, I was having chicken quesadillas with two of my best friends who...sniff sniff...I will not be seeing very mush of this summer. So here's a shout out to you two who made that a great two days and who I will miss terribly this summer.

Oh, I almost forgot. There was an impasse between who of us visitors would sleep on the couch and who would sleep on the floor. My friend said we should devise some sort of challenge, the winner of which would get the couch. I didn't think we'd have too much trouble thinking of one. While waiting for the quesadillas to cook, we played a game of HORSE with a ping pong ball and a glass of water. But, when the time came for a real challenge with real consequences, I thought of something better. After watching some How I Met Your Mother, I got a hankering to slap someone. So I told my friend that if he let me slap him in the face, he could sleep on the couch. He agreed. What followed was one of the greatest moments in my life. Not that I have anything against my friend, but that slap was so amazingly awesome that I think I may have just had an epiphany to solve the American economy because of it.

We need to gradually ween the US off of the dollar onto a new currency. Slaps. When you go to the grocery store, you get slapped twice to buy eggs, once for a candy bar, and so on. We could even implement fractional slaps. If they slap you above what the item costs, your change is slapping them back. You could take out loans if your face hurts too much and pay back a few slaps per month with interest. People would be a lot more careful about what they spend their slaps on, because impulse shoppers would just get pummeled every time they go out shopping. This system would foster savings, financial preparation for the future, and an overall toughening up of the cupcakes we call Americans. I don't see a single problem with it, and I think President Obama should consider setting the wheels in motion. Yes We Can...get slapped in the face.

It's the Daily Orange, not USA Today

The following are direct quotes from the Daily Orange during the past week.

It's FYP, not Broadway

"First Year Players performed, to the best of their abilities, 'Dirty Rotten Scoundrels' this weekend as their annual show."

"Though the performance had many singing and acting flaws, it was expected of the freshman and first-year non-drama majors."

"Despite the enjoyable and entertaining plot and characters, First Year Players' Thursday-through-Sunday presentation of the musical "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels" fell flat vocally."

To which I reply:

The Daily Orange wrote, to the best of its ability, a review of the First Year Players' production of 'Dirty Rotten Scoundrels.'

Though the article had many writing and phrasing flaws and sounds like it was written by a complete d-bag, it was expected of college students.

Despite the professional tone of the review, the article fell flat in terms of actual content.

I am starting to realize that I am a critic of the media and in making fun of the DO, I am becoming exactly the evil that I have sworn to dispose of: bad media. Seriously, these days any idiot can start a blog and write whatever the hell they want, and since it is on the internet, anyone anywhere can read it. You don't need talent to get an audience, just connections. In my eyes, there are many media outlets that could use a makeover. However, I acknowledge the media's ultimate importance to the survival and improvement of society. Right now, I think that a proper analogy would be this. The media is an extremely powerful tool, much like a calculator, when used properly. But, when misused, it is like someone typing in numbers to a calculator and flipping it upside down to read a funny word on it.

Media aside, sometimes there is no controlling how people react to different stories. Recently, charges have been pressed against Syracuse football player Delone Carter for striking a student he believes threw a snowball at his car. Turns out he was wrong and the student he gave a severe concussion to did absolutely nothing at all. These are the facts as told by a syracuse.com news story. I am absolutely disgusted with some of the responses made by readers.

-Over one lousy punch...cops got nothing better to do then play gestapo.
Syracuse hasn't changed in 60 years since I was there. Civil rights in the Cuse? LOL.

-Little Jimmy shouldn't throw rocks at bigger dogs, at 1 a.m. no less, deserved a punch, probably was talking smack too. Good for the footballers!

-These are the type that jump into the Gorilla pen wanting to play with the cute monkey and are stunned when he tears them apart.......but the soccer playing peeps think this is great

-This may be the most outragious story I have ever seen. This is really news? Someone throws a snowball at a car drivin by god knows who and they expect what? a handshake? Natural consequence, I feel

All of these represent the stupidity of a few people giving everyone else a bad name. The article states that the student assaulted did not throw the snowball, yet everyone assumes that he was just some punk kid looking to piss off some people and get away with it. He wasn't. So in response, here's my two cents.

-I'm standing on the street corner doing nothing but talking to my roommate and a D1 college athlete comes over and punches me in the face giving me severe injuries, apparently it's the normal progression of events and I deserved it for letting my face get in the way of his fist.

So the conclusion to draw here: nobody is perfect, the media and Joe Public especially.

I really want to get back on track, this has been quite the angry post so far. I recently attended my first auction. Like all good young masters of finance, I came with a pocketful of cash (it was in small bills to more easily facilitate 'making it rain'), I looked over the lots, and I went with a good idea in my head of what I wanted to buy. I told myself that I would put a limit on how much I would spend. Just so happened that the limit and the amount of money I had on me were the same. Once the auction started, I did a good job holding off bidding on the items I didn't want so much, and once one of the things I had my eyes on (cupcakes and a movie night) came up, I was ready. Bidding started at $5, and I jumped in pretty quick. Things got out of hand pretty quick, with the bidding to 10, 11, 12 dollars. I don't really remember clearly because of the adrenaline head rush that was driving me to bid higher and higher, but I'm pretty sure the number was $14 when my brain said, "Hey Tim, you might want to reconsider this whole bidding thing." I had to keep my eyes on the prize, so I vowed my return to bidding on another item would bring victory.

It did. But, funny story, it was an item I had no desire for previously. I promise the purchase was entirely pragmatic. It was a polo shirt from Abercrombie. I know, I'm the biggest prep in the world, and now I can finally show it. The shirt just looked all alone up there with nobody bidding on it. So I snagged it for a cool $5. Next, I made another impulse purchase. It was a Syracuse colored winter hat. It just looked soooo cool. With slightly less cash, I turned towards the real reason for my being at that auction. 3 words. Homemade. Chicken. Parm. I bid with the fervor of a man possessed. Bidding went to $10. Someone went to $11. I said $12. The competition hesitated for a half of a second. That's when I went for the throat, outbidding myself to $13. Turns out that people didn't want to bid against a crazy person, so I won. And it was de-fricking-licious. Last but not least, I won a homemade shirt that is probably going to be amazing. I was filled in on the process to make it, and it apparently involves ninjas, snipers, and Chuck Norris. I won this one by just threatening to overbid myself. No need to follow through this time, people were afraid of just the concept now. Advantage, Tim.

I think I need to take a nap. I ate my weight in chicken parm yesterday and its still hanging with me a little bit. Worth it? Worth ittttt.

And Now I Relay This Information to You

Wow. Lot's of negative feedback about another late blog. And by that I mean three people. New record. Let's say this time that I thought the day "Wednesday" had a much more philosophically intriguing name than "Tuesday" does. Wednesday, pronounced whens-day. A day that includes when in its name. Existential. When is it happening? Whensday. Also, since when are there silent d's in the English language? Since Wednesday. Duh. Where have you been? Tuesday? Get real. Get real.

Now that that matter is officially sealed up, Syracuse lacrosse officially dominated last weekend. They got to open the new Giants/Jets football stadium with none other than a lacrosse extravaganza. A multi-multi-million dollar facility, opened by a college sport that nobody, not even twice repeating national champion home of the tribes that actually invented the sport Syracuse University, can make money on. Less profitable than college women's basketball, baseball, and hockey. But we opened that mother up with a bang. Playing the #4 Princeton Tigers and we made them look like they were back in the old days playing naked with a pig skull for a ball. Just made them look foolish. 13-4. It was the first day of my life where I was a little hesitant to name-drop my father's alma mater. (But I'm not hesitant today, it's Princeton!) The point of this is that lacrosse is awesome, but only if you go to Syracuse. I'm looking at you, Cornell students. How about teaching your so called lacrosse team how to make a clear with a long-sticker slash checking while they run out of the attack box? Don't worry, it's a lacrosse thing.

The other highlight of my weekend was a little event called Relay for Life. Quick refresher: it's an event where a bunch of teams fundraise for cancer research and then walk around a track all night lit by luminaria in honor and memory of those afflicted with cancer (they raised over $153,000). I got to go with PSP, possibly the most interesting and awesome collection of individuals on the face of the earth. I compiled a list of the different laps (~1/4 mile) we tried throughout the night.

• Your heels can't touch the ground lap
• Do the same stupid dance move for the entire lap lap
• Leapfrog lap (only lasted about 1/8 of a lap)
• Carry a girl on your back lap (not to brag, I did 4 of these)
• Frislap (or lapbee, we're not picky) we did about 10 of these

And dozens of normal laps. It was a lot of walking. But it was amazing. And I got to know some people I didn't know so well a lot better because they were the only ones awake at 4 in the morning.

And fun story, I didn't sleep at all. I planned on a 3 hour nap at 6 AM, but decided that breakfast with PSP-ers was more important instead. Totally worth it. So when I had to got to church at 9 AM to play bells, I had a solid 45 minutes of sleep under my belt. Then came an hour of practice, an hour of chatting, and an hour for the service. 12 PM, I finally trudge home to clean up and collapse because my arms and legs were threatening to secede from my body. Get to sleep around 12:45, just enough time to sleep 3 hours before my next event. PSP chapter, lasted 5 hours. So I do what any red-blooded American would do when faced with an empty stomach and closed dining halls. I bought 2 chicken quesadillas. Ate 'em up, got in bed at 10 PM and slept for 12 hours. What a day. Probably the first time in my life where an outside observer would've mistaken me for a narcoleptic.

Finally, a bit of current events. The Denver Broncos, my beloved but embattled (good word) football team, traded a top 3 wide receiver for 2 second round draft picks. Seriously, I'm not even biased, Brandon Marshall was one of the best. He tried harder than any other wide receiver I have ever seen. He was beastly, could outplay anyone to catch a pass. He caught a record 21 in one game. So what if he was a disruption to the team. So what if he lacerated every muscle, tendon, ligament, artery, vein, and whatever else you can lacerate in your arm after he was goofing off with his brother and got pushed through an entertainment unit. So what if he punted footballs in frustration at practice. So what if he got in trouble for substance abuse. Wait. I'm realizing something. Maybe he was a detriment to the team. Well, here's a link for you. The gist is that ESPN seems to think that now the Broncos are chomping at the bit (equestrian humor haha) to draft Dez Bryant out of Oklahoma State. Interesting. The thing about Dez Bryant is...he's the same fricking guy! He got suspended for basically an entire college football season because he lied about stuff to people. He's been continuously reprimanded and demonized and is one of the biggest controversies of the draft. So why wouldn't the Broncos want a wide receiver of his moral fiber? People are stupid.

I apologize for my lackluster blog, college basketball is over so get used to it. I'll hopefully get next week's out on time. If I don't...I will...I don't know. I'll put out my blog on Whensday. Promise.

SPIN MOVE!

Gosh it's Wednesday again. That's the day we've all come to associate this blog with I think. I could come up with a list of completely BS reasons why I keep posting late (which I will):

• I want you to build up the blog in your head because of all of the anticipation, disappoint you when it's not as good as it should be, and study the range of emotional reactions that I see. It's all part of a psychology experiment I've been undertaking ever since the age of 5. Surprise!
• Tuesdays are Dinosaur Stampede Day here in my dorm...it's hard to think with the stegosauruses and triceratops running down the hallways.
• I've recently created a new religion, which celebrates the birth of Chester A. Arthur, requires all members to sport amazing facial hair, and takes a sabbath on each Tuesday. No work on those days.

I'm fairly sure most of those reasons have a base in reality (psychologists, dinosaurs, and Chester A. Arthur have all existed at some point or another), but you all probably don't care about lateness of posts. Other than the two of the awesomest people I know who continuously remind me that they check this every day even though I only post once per week. Well, it means a lot to me that they do that. So thanks. And thanks to everyone else who checks it even once each week.

I am officially out of material when it comes to my main staple, college basketball. As you may know, or not if you live in a cave or Iowa or something, the college basketball men's and women's championships were this week. We saw Butler vs. Duke and Stanford vs. Connecticut. And by we saw Stanford vs. Connecticut, I mean to say that we know that the Stanford and Connecticut women's basketball teams saw Stanford vs. Connecticut. Just for old time's sake, and for my sake as well, I'll just jot down some thoughts to carry me through a basketball-less 7 or so months.

Duke is officially the whitest team in the history of everything. Sure, they have players from other races. But what they have that other teams do not is Kyle Singler. Seriously, looking at this guy is like looking at the surface of the sun.

Good looking guy. Compare him to Butler's best player, Gordon Hayward.

I know, I see it too. Looks like he's 12. In this case, whiteness overcame youth and Duke took home the 61-59 victory. Man I hate those guys.

In the case of the women's championship, I honestly wouldn't be able to tell you who won had I not seen SportsCenter on in the dining hall (sorria to the person I was eating with for my lack of attention). Well, here's what I found out. UConn came in to the game with a 77 game winning streak. That's like 2 1/2 seasons. No losses. And what's more, nobody even lost to them by single digits this year. That's not even fair. Well, this night would change that. Stanford came in looking to win. And UConn helped with the fact that from 17 minutes left in the first half to 7 minutes left in the half (a 1o minute period in the game), they scored a grand total of 0 points. 0. They missed 16 shots in a row. I don't think I've done that in my basketball career. With stats like that, the winner of the game should be obvious. UConn wins 53-47. Wait, did I just type that? Yes, UConn went through 1/4 of the game not scoring a single point. Ice cold from the field. And won. How screwed up is women's basketball? A friend put it best: "They should call the women's tournament the UConn Invitational."

As some of you may know, I've been enrolled in a ballroom dance class this semester. I know, pretty awesome, right? So I thought I'd conclude by imparting some knowledge onto all of you in terms of what some of the dances actually are.

• Foxtrot: It's like, if a fox could dance, it would probably dance like this.
  
• Chacha: Just move your hips around a lot and jerk your head around every time you change direction.
• Rumba: The guys stand there and "showcase their partner" (aka let her do all the work)
• Merengue: As long as you keep doing steps in groups of 8, you can do pretty much whatever the hell you want
• Waltz: Who knows? I skipped dance twice and this is what they went over both times. It is also the dance "randomly" assigned to me for the final exam.
• Swing: Twirl the girl, twirl yourself, repeat.
• Salsa: Not so tasty unless you bring tortilla chips.

Happy International Beaver Day! And remember, always chew away from you when eating trees, we don't need anyone to have a tree fall on them.