Vacation, we're gonna have a ball, yeah

That's right - just like Around the World in 80 Days was in theaters, I'm out of here after just a week. I'll do my best to find an AOL disc at the Ocean City Wawa so that I can post next week. God speed.

It was the best of times...

Oh, man.  What a week.
 
Randy Johnson still hasn't been traded to the Yankees.  Jay London still has a chance to win Last Comic Standing.  Catwoman still sucks.  Kerry and Edwards still can't keep their hands off of each other.  And M. Night Shamalamadingdong still can make a good scary movie.  Nothing has really changed in the world, right?
 
Wrong.  You're a Blog has been brought into the world.  You're welcome.
 
Man, what a run it has been so far.  So many memories, so many moments to treasure. 
 
Like that time when I found out Jason Lee and Spud were downing drinks in the Big Apple (and they weren't Bellinis, Nordberg.  Tool.)  Man, we went through some serious "reading on the edge of our desk chairs" with that one. 
 
I can't believe how time has just flown in the process of getting this site up and running.  It almost makes me forget about that time when I broke down for all of you what it truly means to be phoning it in.  I know I've pulled my shares out of AT&T, since it is so apparent they have a low return on investment. 
 
And speaking of Roy, I remember when he was my only reader, and truly pondered what it meant in the maiden post, "If a blog is created on the internet, and Condon doesn't tell anyone about it, does my keyboard make a sound?"  By Roy, I must mean Jayesh  (Who the ???). 
 
Finally, when Spud tried to put the Tour de France in its place by extolling the values and intensity of the World Series of Poker to us.  Well played, clerk.  At least we are all in agreement of one thing.  The WNBA sucks.
 
This is Condon, saying it's never to early for a clip show.

Taking on the U.S. Postal Service

This past Sunday marked the conclusion of the Tour de France, and a sixth consecutive tour win for Lance Armstrong.  This is the second greatest feat in modern athletics (second only to the 1995 Medford Babe Ruth Gold team and their miracle run through the losers bracket of the June all-star tournament (Yes, I'm awesome, and I'm sure only Smith remembers that one.  (well unless Tom Irwin is reading...Tom Irwin can't read...nevermind))).  So it's been a few days, and the effects of the race have yet to wear off.  For me, it ranks as the third most exciting recurring sporting event there is:
 
1. FIFA World Cup
2. NHL Playoffs
3. Tour de France
91.  WNBA Finals
 
As I find it that enthralling, like I said, my life and the tour have merged to become one (but not in a creepy Captain Planet sort of way).  For example, I drove into Jersey to escape the terror (W. Jean, The Carnival, Track 2) this past weekend, and I could have sworn that Stage 19 of the Tour was the 83 mile (133km) stage from Le Source d'Argent and ending at the Arc du Newark.
 
I found myself spending most of my time in the peloton (read: group of cars stuck together). All was smooth until that RAV 4 and the Camry made a break for it just south of Ellicott City, while I was busy trying to communicate through clever head nodding (which Sara would have LOVED).  I found a strange alliance with all the other silver cars on the road, and our drafting techniques led the peloton into the heart of Baltimore.  The escape group from Team Toyota stayed strong up until the Chesapeake House (whereupon the RAV 4 abandoned the Tour, probably for some Cinnabons).  Left all alone out front, the Camry (who I named George Hincamrie) was reeled back to the pack.  I'd like to thank my team (The Silverados) for this stage win, my sponsors Honda and Gatorade, and would like some help from anyone reading this.  The tour officials insist I paint my car yellow for this weekend's stage.
 
Posted in memoriam of Leroy.

I wonder if he ordered a Holy Bartender...

Incoming text message to cell: (6:56 pm): Guess who i saw last night at a bar
Message #2 (1:11 am): Jason lee
 
Okay, so these text messages (my first since 7/10) came to my phone from an unknown phone number.  I am not parrying these off as random calls (a la my "friend" Jack's father), but rather from a friend incognito in the NYC.  (Area code blows his/her cover)  I am almost sure these came from the prodigal roommate as well, but I cannot yet confirm.  Regardless, Jason Lee!  Definitely would make my list of famous people to meet in a bar.  While I trace these calls, here's my Top 5 Jason Lee Roles:
 
1. Brodie Bruce, Mallrats - "Breakfast, shmreakfast. Look at the score, for Christ's sake. It's only the second period and I'm up 12 to 2. Breakfasts come and go, Rene, but Hartford, "the Whale," they only beat Vancouver once, maybe twice in a lifetime."
 
2. Jeff Bebe, Almost Famous - "Yeah, come back here! I'm incendiary, too, man!"
 
3. Azrael, Dogma - "Oh no, I've seen way too many Bond movies to know that you never reveal all the details of your plan, no matter how close you may think you are to winning."
 
4. Daniel Zavitz, Enemy of the State - "F@&# a duck." (It's kind of his only line)
 
5. Banky Edwards, Chasing Amy - "This is all going to end badly."
 
Honorable mention goes to all those Cyclism commercials he did for OLN during the Tour De Lance...so the trace didn't work (stupid Attica).  So I am just going to have wait until Jason Lee text messages me to tell me who he saw at the bar...

How to Deal with a Swedish Chef.

Ah yes, it seems that I have lured Nordberg out of his cave.  Speaking of his cave, it could quite possibly be, aside from Canada, "The Saddest Place in the World."  It has not had a phone line for a month, electricity for about three, or basic cable since 1987.  (Real shame, too, you've missed about 896 commercials in the past 24 hours for TBS' airing of the Mask of Zorro next weekend.)  You see, the Swedish lad has pretty much perfected the fine art of "phoning it in."  Despite the obvious jokes considering he works for an unnamed telecommunications giant, much can be said about his (in)activity.  He's practically rewritten the book on phoning it in.  Work-related correspondence is down 74%.  Calling and e-mailing friends to "entertain him" has skyrocketed 63%.  Sitting around drinking peach champagne out of his coffee mug has reached an all-time high.  The next term of the vernacular Nordberg will be perfecting is "sitting on the fence."  After all, William and Mary football will be in Chapel Hill on September 4.

Ground Control to Major Tom

If a blog is created on the internet, and Condon doesn't tell anyone about it, does my keyboard make a sound?