Gravity Works!

And despite its commonplace nature, we rely on it to advance time.

Has anyone ever taken the time question some of the traditions that people honor as December 31st draws to a close? If an alien came to our planet on the last day of the year and used its visit has a culture study of Americans, would he become so confused that he crashes his ship into the Brooklyn Bridge? Would the people who are stuck in traffic on the Brooklyn Bridge get out of their cars to help wayward alien, only to confuse him further with their kind-hearted, charitable acts, despite being what the alien reads in the tabloids as "mean-spirited New Yorkers?" Does Condon have any idea how to effectively insert rhetorical questions into his blogs?

Um...

Well, since there aren't any aliens spending the New Year here at the Random of Run with me (just a Nordberg, and he'd just phone it in anyway), I guess it's up to me to ask the tough questions, get the tough answers, and do it before Dick Clark pro tempore gets down to 0.

Speaking of the countdown, it's not a bad place to start. Counting down can be scary. When the numbers increase, one can always have hope. Hope that the counting won't end, because there's one more place you can go. That's the nice thing about an infinite number system. It was designed by optimists, for optimists. Even if the counting tradition was finite, then at least the value of the counting increases in a direct correlation with the counter's anticipation and excitement. But no, not us. We countdown to inevitability. We start the year with a big, fat zero. Way to look on the bright side Earth. Other planets detonate explosives at zero. Do you want our alien friend to get any birght ideas?

Who's up for a rewrite? When that depressing goose egg hits our collective lips, someone (I don't know who, but someone) strikes up the band for the annual rousing rendition of Auld Lang Syne. I'm so glad in 229 years of American culture no one bothered to write a decent lyric to ring in the new year. Don't get me wrong; I like Auld Lang Syne as a song. The melody is catching, and has the perfect feel for crowd-sqaying revelry. But the title is a loosely translated Scottish phrase, literally "Old Long Since," and this makes as much sense as ABC letting Ashlee Simpson host their West Coast coverage. This may become a New Year's resolution for me: write the next bg New Year's anthem. Coming to a blog near you: December 30, 2005.

And finally, we've got to drop that ball. It's a giant mass of lights, electric current, and danger, and it sits atop the pole on top of the Cup Noodles in Times Square, NYC. We have cleverly designed its trajectory to coincide with the aforementioned countdown of doom. Does the ball rise into the sky in order to signal the emergence of a new calendar year? Nay, it plummets to the Earth in a swirl of light bulbs and confetti. Long story short, we dropped something and millions celebrate.

Do you have any idea how many things I accidentally lose grasp on and drop in a calendar year? Imagine if I had to celebrate each and every occasion my keys hit the pavement or my water bottle hits my desk? I'd have to consume enough bubbly to single-handedly keep the French economy afloat. And this is just something I am not willing to do. Sorry, Depardieu.

Happy New Year!

Nothing But Flowers

You got to love coming back to the office after a nice three day hiatus following the Christmas holiday. Since we were given Christmas Eve off as well, it's been a good week since I was last at this desk scouring my inbox for red flags and black eyes. Now, judging from its size, my inbox is able to breathe a little easier due to the holiday, as it seems some of my usual suspects also took leave to recover from shopping and eating, unwrapping and sleeping. However, with that said, all was not quiet in E-mailandia.

Like I said, some took off for Christmas, but some did not. I'm glad that I am working today, rather than taking off the entire week. January, by way of our fiscal year end, is a very busy time of year around here, and I know that Monday will begin the roller coaster ride of getting all costs booked for FY05. Therefore, by tending to the immediate issues that sprang up in my absence over my hiatus today (as opposed to Monday) will make Monday seem less bad. It'll still be no fun to be back full-time, but then again it could be worse. In other words, instead of Monday being The Mummy Returns, it'll simply be The Mummy.

Ok, let's see immediate issues in the inbox (why do I feel like Strong Bad?)

Um...36 new messages. Typical. Here's my favorite:

We have received your e-mail request to be removed from our e-mail offers and newsletters. As a valued customer, we are disappointed that we will be unable to send you future promotional opportunities with 1-800-FLOWERS.COM .

Funny, I don't recall sending such a request. But this is not spam, since it's got my e-mail address plastered all over it. I have used this vendor in the past to send flowers (without spending extra cash on toll-yes-please phone numbers), and therefore, it makes perfect sense that I am on a mailing list somewhere in their database, where they can hawk their latest floral arrangements and holiday giftsets. No problem with that. If my stream of work related e-mail ever dries up, at least I can count on the folks at 1-800-FLOWERS.COM to make be feel wanted. But apparently, these e-mails will be stopping soon, since I sent it my "e-mail request." I have no recollection of doing this. (But then again, I have no recollection of moving from the living room to my bed in my sleep 5 out of 7 days a week. Stranger things have happened.)

To add insult to idiocy, it appears that they will be disappointed that they will be unable to send me future promotional opportunities. There's no way this can be true. Do you they really think I'm going to believe they will experience a change in emotional state because I have now refused acceptance of a mass mailing that I have never responded to by way of product purchase? Hmm. I'm sure Christmas was a depressing one around the 1-800-FLOWERS.COM office. Thanks to me. I've ruined Christmas for millions of...um...automated order taking database applications.

PLEASE NOTE: that if you have additional e-mail addresses on file with us, you must send an e-mail to remove@reply.1800flowers.com from each of those e-mail addresses to remove each from our list.

Or, I can let the phantom e-mail remover guy do it. You know, just in case I decide that the government is spying on me through jpeg images of azaleas, and I need to tighten up my security against Big Brother.

If you do not have access to the email address please send us the information to custservice@reply1800flowers.com clearly indicating the addresses you wish to have removed.

If I do not have access to the email address anymore, do you really I think I care if it gets promotional mailing from 1-800-FLOWERS.COM? 'Cause, man, I would hate to think that Kamikaze79@aol.com is just overflowing with stuff I can't and never will read. This is like asking me, "Hey Chris, remember that old Volvo you drove? Well, it's just cracked the 200,000 mile mark, and could use an oil change. You don't have any financial responsibility to pay for said changing of oil, but we just thought you'd like to know."

Due to timing issues related to the completion of the removal process you may receive future promotional e-mails or newsletters before your request to be removed is implemented. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause you.

You damn well better apologize. In fact, if I get one these e-mails, now that my subconscious (Ig?) has unsubscribed me, I think I deserve retribution. How about a dozen roses for Valentine's Day? Or no, something even weirder. Like a corsage made of Venus Fly Traps and cauliflower.

We look forward to serving your gift giving needs in the future.

And I look forward to being a disappointment for you and yours.

The Year in Movies, 2003

No, you haven't entered a time warp.

It is traditional practice for film critics to publish their "Best of the Year" Top 10 lists when, well, the year draws to a close. It's easy for them. They see all the movies for a living, and when it's time to sing Auld Lang Syne, they can pick the best ones and publish their list for all to see and to debate. For us casual movie fans, who have to balance more responsibilities then just opening and closing the balcony, it's not that easy. We don't have the money or time to see everything we need to see when the movies come out, but rather have to rely on diligence in catching flicks in second or third-run avenues. Therefore, when the year ends, there's a good chance that the list would be a tad incomplete. And so, I wait.

Until now.

A year has passed since 2003 drew to a close, and I've been busy doing my cinematic homework. Catching all the movies I hoped to see before the year ended, and now I can finally publish my Top 10 of 2003. You see, I have found in my short time in the blogging world that Top 5 or Top 10 lists are tricky propositions. I feel that only once someone has a working grasp of the entire category can one publish a definitive list. For example, I couldn't publish a Top 5 Countries to Visit list here, since I've only been to, like 7 countries. There's over 200 more out there that I would need to visit in order to make the list valid. (Top 10 Players in the Mighty Ducks trilogy, however, that I could do.) So, with that said, I feel I have seen enough of 2003, all that I wanted to see, and can now reveal the list. I've also listed the one scene that makes the flick. Enjoy.

1. Mystic River - Tim Robbins' vampire speech by the light of the television to Marcia Gay Harden.
2. Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King - The battle sequence to end all battle sequences.
3. Big Fish - I love the sequence in the town of Spectre.
4. Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl - The pirates walking on the bottom of the ocean.
5. Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World - Anything with Bettany in it, most notably the surgery scene.
6. In America - Djimon Hounsou at Halloween.
7. The Last Samurai - Cruise and Watanabe's exchange about Custer in Watanabe's chambers.
8. Once Upon a Time in Mexico - Pistolero sequence. Enough said.
9. Cold Mountain - It's a simple scene, but the Natalie Portman/Jude Law scene is worth the watch.
10. Pieces of April - Such a small film, such a big ending.

Honorable Mention: X2, The Cooler

Where Credit Isn't Due

***First off, watch as the Amazing Condicio catches up from a vacation of eating too much and blogging too little. It's Three Post Thursday, people! Date sequencing will be upheld, lest we violate the sanctity of YAB. Enjoy.***

Is this all really neccessary?

Katie and I, enjoying the scenic, erm, scenes of Swedesboro, NJ, on our way back to the V of A yesterday, had to stop at a McDonald's to, well, rest. I have always felt a little odd about stopping at a dining establishment, fast or not, and using their facilities without engaging them in a transaction of commerce. I don't know, but even if you are just purchasing a small package of those wretched McDonaldland cookies for 39 cents, then and only then should you have the right to enjoy Mcfringe benefits, such as the restrooms. In order to avoid being a hypocrite, I was sure to purchase a Coke before we headed back to the joys of the interstate. It's a simple exchange, really.

1. I ask for a Coke.
2. They get me a Coke.
3. I give them two dollars.
4. They give me change.
5. End of Transaction.

Seems simple enough. So why is McDonalds messing with a good thing? (No, not the mysterious disappearance of the 2-cheesburger meal, that's another catastrophe altogether...)

Once we got back in the car, and complied to the one way trafficking patterns of the parking lot, I noticed that Swedesboro was, like many other towns I have visited in the last few weeks, on the credit card bandwagon. Yep, you can pay for your Big Mac with plastic these days, and be none the wiser (but yet the fuller.)

What is this world coming to?

I see three main problems with this innovation in the expedited cuisine industry (and maybe four or five if I get on a roll...)

1. First off, I need to make the observation of the obvious (I'm sorry, guys, this one will be the equivalent of "Hey, why do people drive on a parkway and park on a driveway, what's the deal with that?" But it must be done.) I find the aforementioned exhange of currency for goods to be a rather brief experience. They've got food, I've got cash. Let's trade. Seems like this method really fits in to the corporate mission of "fast food," no? Corporate missions are not to be messed with, Ronald. How would you like it if FedEx decided to ship you your frozen french fries "whenever they get around to it?" You'd be a sad, sad clown.
2. Not only is fast food evolving, so is the crime underworld. In the past, the Hamburglar was only capable of heisting one thing, and it became such a staple of his daily take that it became part of his name: hamburgers. (Another reason to be wary of fast food bathrooms.) You'd get up, and he'd strike, and leave some ketchup packets in your burger's place. Now in an era of high-tech theft and larceny, the Hamburglar can take his game to a whole other level. I'm sure he's got a a McCameraphone, and one quick click over your shoulder, and "Robble, robble!" he's got your credit card number. So if you start seeing charges for "a new McCape" and "McBandit masks" on your monthly statement, you know who to thank.
3. What if someone can't make their credit card payments on a monthly basis? Can you honestly feel good about paying a monthly finance charge because of that Egg McMuffin you got for breakfast? It's small, but humiliating.
4. I personally love that you will need a credit check to know if you can consume a Quarter Pounder with Cheese. "Well, sir, it seems that you defaulted on two months of rent in 1993. Therefore, we cannot rightfully offer you a line of credit for this burger. We're sorry. Getting a card cut in two at McD's? How embarrasing.
5. Grimace has no opposable thumbs. Ever seen an amorphous purple monster-thing try and swipe a credit card through the machine? Like a trainwreck.

I bet Mayor McCheese is behind all of this. What a crooked politician that guy is.

Welcome to the fallout

I guess now is as good as a time as any to get any of the Christmas-themed blogs out in the open, considering any festive idea I've come up with would have to be filed away for 365 days and saved for next year. Then again, who knows if YAB will be around next Christmas. (We're hoping to get bought out by Microsoft in 2005 for a fat merger check. THEN, I'll take said check and hire a writer (or 1000 monkeys on 1000 typewriters, whichever seems more fun) for my 2nd career blog, You're a Sequel.) Stay tuned.

So Christmas has happened. The Christ child has been born, and the kings are soon to arrive in Bethlehem (they won't stop 'til they get there, since they're weren't Holiday Inn Expresses back then.) Santa, too, has gone back to his workshop, and has switched the elves from toys to pastrami sandwiches (how else does he keep his svelt figure?) But the one thing that will stay with us long after: Christmas trees.

There's no written rule of when to begin the arboreal dismantling - it's in the eye of the beholder. I'm sure there are those who take it down the minute all of the Christmas cookieas are gone, while there are some who most likely wait for, well, Arbor Day. So while the events of Christmas have transpired, I am left with at least one blog topic to run with, post December 25th.

We're talking ornaments today, people. Specifically, the ornaments I have come to know over my quarter-century of Christmases. My family has a nice collection, and like anything else I write about on YAB, they've got their stories...

• That stupid pickle - I know there's some tradition in Germany about hanging a pickle on the tree, and I'm sure it does something magical like provide a source of good luck for the household for the coming year, but all it does for me is start an otherwise glorious Christmas day with a note of shame and tragedy. Legend or not, this is how my family treats it - my sister and I are to come downstairs on Christmas morning to a lit up a tree with a somewhat concealed pickle ornament. Then, we are to approach said tree to seek out ye holy gherkin, and this would determine who would open the first traditional gift. Well, the tradition has become a bit of a formality. Why, you ask? That's easy. I am awful at finding El Ornamente de Vlasic. I think we've been doing this for nine years. You want to guess how many times my cat-like reflexes have darted past the jawa to claim victory? Yep, you guessed it. Zippy. I have an 0-9 record. Even the Redskins have fared better. (Oh, snap!)
• Kid Things - When Christmas time rolled around back in the days of yore, pre-school teachers everywhere would add to thew giving spirit of the holidays, by having their students construct ornaments for Mom and Dad, while praying that the kids didn't eat so much paste that they'd not make it to Christmas Day. (That stuff's non-toxic, right?!?) Our tree is not exempt from such additions to the ornamental arsenal. Clothespin indians, picture-framed children faces, candy cane reindeer, felt santas. But as the years go by, I find these tree additions become harder and harder to find. Mom, what happened to the little Cub Scout I made when I was 7? Was it something he said? Looks like my parents have come to the stunning conclusion that my career won't be going in the direction of "arts and crafts" anytime soon.
• Alma Mater Hail - This is something that freaks me about my house. It appears that it didn't matter how many college applications I filled out in the December of 97, my path of higher education had a Calvinist filter to it. Even if that essay for (Insert College Here) rocked, my future college ticket had already been punched for William and Mary. Why is this? Oh, my house had already decided this for me. You see, I was helping garnish the tree with ornaments a few years back, and came across one of those thin, gold ornaments that seem unassuming, but upon furhter inspection, it unlocks worlds of prediction. The ornaments was the college seal of W&M, and I found out later that we'd had that ornament since about 1992. 1992? How the-? It is true we took a family vacation to Burg sometime around then, but how was I to know that my future alma mater would find its way to the tree when I was 12. When I was 12, all I knew was that the fastest way to get from Point A to Point B was my Huffy Death Trap of a bike.
  
  Strange. I was still riding that bike in college.

Just like Linus told it...

And it came to pass in those days that a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. This census first took place while Quirinius was governing Syria. So all went to be registered, everyone to his own city.

Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be registered with Mary, his betrothed wife, who was with child. So it was, that while they were there, the days were completed for her to be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

Now there were in the same country shepherds living out in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. And behold, an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were greatly afraid. Then the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger."

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying:
"Glory to God in the highest,
And on earth peace, goodwill toward men!"

Merry Christmas from all of us (read: just Condon) at You're a Blog.

The Adventure of Links

While work and school took the last few weeks of my calendar hostage, it seems that there was only so much time to get my Christmas shopping done. Hitting the mall in targeted runs after work on weekdays, I was able to accomplish what I set out to do. Coupled with some well-timed internet shopping, it is now December 23rd, and I've got it all wrapped, sealed, and ready to deliver. But it appears that there is one recipient on my list that I woefully neglected in the final moments of crunchtime frenzy.

Yes, YAB, I forgot about the 12 Days of Christmas. I'm the equivalent of an Advent Calendar that still has all its little doors shut, and the chocolate within has gotten a little melty. The first day, I started off good - gave the reading faitfu some additional Links of Mass Distractions. The second day, I got the counter working on YAB (it's at the bottom, I haven't moved it yet), and and after that, nothing. Crickets.

But the counter has provided me with some holiday-time merriment. The counter that I use employs some pretty cool stat tracking that allows me to waste more time instead of giving you all timely blog. It's a statistician's dream. My favorite part - the referrals. This aspect tells me where any of you came from that was too lazy to save YAB as a bookmark or type in that "oh so hard to remember url." No, this would be the page you had to click through in order to get to YAB. Sometimes people come from America Needs Blog, other times it's from the lovely Kristen. But the most fun is when someone is trying to search for something on the internet, only to have their search engine of choice return a link to yours truly.

Here are some of the things that Yahoo! has decided YAB would be a good source of information for: (try them yourself! Some may have changed in recent days, but it can't hurt to try.)

1. Chris Smith blog Medford - Well, it's good to know that my buddy Smitty has set me up as a fence to screen out those not interested all things Smith.
2. House M.D. Quotes - It doesn't look like I'm in the top 10 anymore, but I was at one point. Let's see, quotes, right, what do I know abou- YOU'RE RISKING THIS PATIENT'S LIFE.
3. Todd Pinkston - Feedster.com seems to think I am an expert on ole' Skinny Arms. But now that every sportswriter feels the need to chastise him, I'm sure I'm no longer listed.
4. "Fly Eagles Fly" origin song written - Is someone asking for a parody? Come on, people, I gave you the Grinch. What more do you want?
5. Ralph Voldemort - This is the explanation that must not be named.
6. Honduran Wedding Traditions - My personal favorite. 8th graders around the global doing stupid research projects on Central America now have to answer to me. Hey kids, I know all about Honduran wedding traditions. When planning a Honduran wedding, confide in Ig. He knows all (or at least wants some wedding cake.)

I've broken the internet.

Here Comes the Bribe

One of the nice perks about working in Facilities is the fact that we control the financial state of numnerous area vendors as their fiscal year draws to a close. You see, my department's current annual budget sits in the $55 million range, and once the rent is paid, there's a lot of money out there used to fund building improvements, repairs, maintenance, and miscellaneous expense.

Tangent Alert: I love the category titled "Miscellaneous." It's in every one of my budgets. Traditionally, I use it for any type of repair that I can't classify under any other line item. This turns out to be rather mundane, since I've done a fine job of isolating costs under proper banners, such as "Fire Protection" or "Exterior," so only things that I balk at the invoice ends up here. (ex. "What do you mean, we needed to create an electromagnetic netting over our landscaping pond to deter geese from making it their home? Hmm...well good thinking, Kasmir, that was very miscellaneous of you. Next time, though, buy a frickin' flare gun - cheaper and more fun to use.") But mundane projects aside, just imagine the potential for the line item "Miscellaneous." "What's that? We procured the services of a monkey that makes omelettes in the lobby? Have I got the line item for this expense!" mmm...monkey omelette.

Tangent Alert #2: Monkey Omelette sounds like a great name for a rock band. You know, I've got a list of these somewhere. I think it's the kind of hip indie band that frequents Conan on a regular basis. Hmm...this may be one I have to develop. Yeah, Monkey Omelette.

So anyway, what was I talking about (this is a very Harfordian post, methinks)? Oh, right, cash money facilitaires. Like I said, lots of money to spend on work to be performed by people who don't work for SAIC. Electrical repairs, architectural drawings, hell, full-blown construction of buildings. You name it, we buy it.

Now, there are many vendors trying to make a living by performing on these contracts for large corporations like ourselves, some nationwide, some local family business. Regardless of organizational girth, you gotta think that these vendors would rather hang on to the business they currently hold, rather than try to find new customers -

Tangent Alert #3 - Can you imagine what it would be like for a general contractor to find new customers? Most contractors fill a need; something broke and now someone else needs to fix it. Unless GC's dabble in the game of the clairvoyant, I just can't see how they would go by drumming up new avenues of revenue (ravenue, condensed). Door-to door? Cold calling? "Um, yes, hello, this is Frederick with Frederick's Electric? Do you have anything that needs, erm.., fusing?" Not a likely scenario.

Tangent Alert #4 - Needs fusing? That's the best I can come up with? El Blogger Extraordinaire? That's like the equivalent of the having the star power of Ocean's 12, and referring to the flick in interviews as the "latest Casey Affleck vehicle."

Like I was saying (wow, I've really turned up the Rob knob to 11 today.) keeping your current business is best. And how does one accomplish this task? Doing a efficient job? No. Making sure you are available when something breaks? Uh uh. Keep your invoicing low? Not a chance.

Apparently, you bribe.

As I sit here, two days from vacation in my cube, I am surrounded by gawdy gift baskets of every size and shape, all with the aim of "maintaining status quo." Ah, some fine cheese from Little Diversified Architects. As long as they don't use fine cheese in their construction, we'll stick with them. And over there by the printer, a chocolate sampler from Graybar Electrical Company. I see they've fused chocolate and caramel into a delectable, bite-sized treat. (Why do I keep coming back to the fuse joke. That's not comedic bread and butter, that's not even bread and...horseradish.) But the weirdest bribe of them all comes to us courtesy of AtSite Construction. And Sara, if your out there, cringe with me...now.

Down, but not out...

Every Fan Down in Who-Phil
Liked Playoffs a lot... But the Grinch,
Who lived just South of Who-Phil,
Did NOT!

The Grinch hated Playoffs!
For one simple reason!
He's a Washington fan.
Who blew in the regular season.

It could be he has nothing pleasant to say
About the Birds' future game on Super Sunday.
But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that the Redskins are done 'til the fall.

But whatever the reason,
As the story would go,
He stood there on Playoff's eve, mocking T.O.
Staring up from the District with a dumb, Redskins grin,
He saw no chance of vict'ry, not even a win.
For he knew every Fan down in Who-Phil above
Was cringing in horror, missing 81's love.

"And they're prayers are hopeless!" he snarled with a sneer.
"2 weeks come the Playoffs! They're practically here!"
Then he growled, with his grinch fingers cynically drumming,
"I MUST mock the Birds with their playoffs games coming"
But inside, he knew...

...All season long
They roughed up the 'Skins, and Giants with poise.
And then! They swept Dallas! The Cowboys! Boys! Boys! Boys!
That's the team Grinchy hated! The BOYS! BOYS! BOYS! BOYS!

Then the Fans, young and old, football kings of the East!
Yes, the East! N. F. C. EAST! EAST! EAST! EAST!
They still won the division, their rivals deceased,
Which was something the Grinch couldn't stand in the least!

And THEN
They'd do something he liked least of all!
Every Bird down in Who-Phil, even without T.O.,
Would storm through postseason, reversing the jinx.
While poor Patrick Ramsey, spends time on the links.

And the Birds would start rolling!
And they’d ROLL! ROLL! ROLL! ROLL!
And the more the Grinch thought of the Philly Steamroll
The more the Grinch thought, "They can’t make the Super Bowl!"
Why for fifteen long weeks I've put up with it now!
I MUST stop the Eagles from winning!...But HOW?"

Then he got an idea!
An awful idea!
THE GRINCH GOT A WASHINGTON, AWFUL IDEA!

"I know just what to do!" The Grinch laughed in his throat.
And he editorialized in the papers, cynical things the Grinch wrote.
And he chuckled, and clucked, "What a great Grinchy aim!"
For the Eagles are cooked! (The Grinch has no shame.)

"All the other teams..."
The Grinch knew they needed a present from Santa,
And this would be it!
But no team is can prevail, not Green Bay or Atlanta
And the NFC West isn’t good, not one single bit.

Every team, they are weakened,
Their flaws will cause them to go.
Into submission in Philly,
Even without T.O.!

‘Cause they still have that defense, on which no one can run
And in the whole NFC, they have lost to no one.
So while the Grinch cackles wildly with his newspaper jabs,
Let’s not fall of the wagon, we’ve still got McNabb.

To all the Fans in Who-Phil,
This still is the Birds’ Year.
And to our sourpuss Grinch,
We’ll look past your sneer.

For the Playoffs are coming,
Jacksonville, here they come.
While the Grinch sits home, bumming
Looking stupid, sorry, and dumb.

E-A-G-L-E-S Eagles!

Dairy Queen vs. District of Columbia

In the Battle of the Blizzards, DQ 1, DC 0.

I don't know if anyone heard, but I think that my beloved metropolitan area just endured (and survived!) the latest storm of the century. I am astonished with what perserverence this area of the country was able to muster to stare Old Man Winter in the face, and say "No Snow for you!" As I sit here in my internally climate-controlled workspace, inside from the harsh conditions that lay just outside my window, I can only think of how fortunate I am to endure such a menacing anomaly of a meteorogical nightmare-

The above was accidentally run through the "Local Newsilizer" I apologize for the tragic error. We now return you to your regularly scheduled sarcastic Condon.

A dusting. That's all it took to make our Nation's Capitol shudder, turn, and run for shelter this Monday morning in December. Yes, last night it snowed. But this is kind of snow that makes anyone from the Syracuse, New York area confused. Confused as to whether it actually snowed in DC, or a few people accidentally dropped a few strategically placed sugar bowls and salt shakers, only to have them shatter on the floor and ever so slightly coat the ground with a fine white powder. Granted, I'm not from the Great White North, rather the Above Average, Occasionally White Mid-Atlantic. But I know what a snowstorm is. And this, well, just was not one.

Yes, it's cold today. The Weather Channel is telling me it's 9 degrees out. 9. Single digits are certainly something to be reckoned with. But that's no reason to call for a Regional Freeze on the account of a regional freeze, is it? You see, that's when people are supposed to bundle up, not bail out. And granted, that car can be especially icy in the morning when you are living la vida sin garaje, but do we really need to cancel school? That's right, we cancelled school on account of less than one inch of snow and a 9 degree temperature reading.

If DC was a 5th grader at an elementary school for cities, he'd get beat up by Buffalo on the playground.

You gotta love the reasoning around here. In years past, they've waited until the snow had completely blanketed the region to put salt down on top. That's like making a ham and cheese sandwich, and just slabbing the mayonaise on the outside of the bread because you think you saw someone make sandwiches that way before. This shouldn't even matter, since the roads are as dry as the humor of Kenny Mayne. It's the type of light, granular snow that on a blustery day (such as today) merely blows over the surface the asphalt with not even a glimmering hope of sticking.

Of course, this didn't prevent my neighbor from deicing her car with a frying pan. I love my apartment complex.

Can you imagine the little boys and the little girls of the region running up and down their hallways with glee once they've found out there is no school? They'll rush to the closet to get on all their gear and rush out side to play in the umm...er...well...frosty grass?

Maybe they can build a snowman out of frying pan shavings.

Great Scott!

(editor's note: Sleepy Chris was in charge of posting the following blog on Friday night in lieu of studying for his last final of the semester. Apparently, in his drowsy state, he pressed the "Save as Draft" button, rather than "Publish Post" We here at You're a Blog would like to let our readership know that the parties responsible have been sacked.

Check in around noon for your regularly scheduled blog.)

Am I that much fun to be?

Don't get me wrong, I am aware of how psycha-awesome I can be. I mean, I can spin anything under the sun (except, sadly, a basketball), I can wreak havoc at any dining experience with my southpawthian ways, and I can see over cubicles at work while others must resort to standing on their desks. I'd hire an assistant to take notes on my ubercool ways, but, well, then I would have to cancel another utility. Let's see...Assistant or Cable..Assistant or Cable...

Yep, can't do without the new Gilligan's Island. Sorry, assistant-to-be. You're so fired.

So it appears that others have taken noticed of the Essence du Condon. Well, at least one other person. There is some yokel running around out there with my likeness and identity, and there's not a whole lot I can do about it. I'm not sure why I'm being targeted in the biggest cloning case since Martin Lawrence and a dumb rock, but that's just how it is. Someone is living the Condon high-life, impersonating the Editor in Chief of You're a Blog, and making millions of my visage.

Millions? (Ok, I can dream, I suppose.)

Three times today I have been mistaken for this other guy. Due to a lack of creativity at 11:38 on a Friday night, I could give him the moniker "Chris Condon Number Two." But, an invented nickname would only be required if I did not know his name. But, as fate would have it, I do, and he is the one they call Scott.

And, now in turn, I am now the one they call Scott.

Three times today. 3. This can't be coincidence. The only rational explanation possible is that Scott has stolen my identity and left me with his crummy existence. Here, I'll explain.

1. I check the mail often on my way to the car in the morning. There's the same stuff every day. Lots of junk flyers, some invitation for my roommate to sign his name in blood to the Federalist Society, some mail for a former tenant of the Random of Run, normally of Indian descent. (Or so is my guess. Last name averages 18 letters long Always.) And finally, a grad school application packet for yours truly. (Apparently, those fine folks at the GMAT testing board are still sending my information to schools, despite my repeated attempts to let them know I am already enrolled at a university.) Well, maybe it's not me they are wooing after all. The recipient on the envelope "Scot Chrondon"
2. Spent a lot of the day doing account reconciliation at work. I had to call Verizon for the sake of our telecom service over in the Falls Church location. Someone hasn't been paying their bills, and now I have to clean this mess up. "Hello, this is Chris with SAIC, can I spek with Jennifer Shandlin?" This is how I started the conversation. We talked, negotiated payment terms, the whole deal. And then she called me Scott . ??? Then, Ms. Shandlin went into a 45 second monologue has she confuses me (Scott) with Scott White, who also works for SAIC, and she can never keep us straight. Yeah, I hate when I randomly assign a name to a person and then confuse them with someone with a real name. I hear ya, Jennifer, I hear ya.
3. Just got back from my MBA's Christmas party. Open bar, good appetizers, anything to try and win us back on the same day the next semester's tuition bill arrives. Al Razick, the head of the PMBA program greeted Katie and me at the door. Even took the elevator with us to the top floor of the Hotel Washington. Told Katie that Scott (referring to me, duh) was one of our best and brightest. He later corrected himself when one of my classmates referred to me as "Chris," but how can this mistaken identity have happened? You accepted my application, man.

Once my Christmas shopping is over, I've got some Christmas cards of Doom to write.

And just for the heck of it, here's one more on the list.

Oxen, Sheep, and Donkeys

Sure, they all had season tickets to the Bethelem 1-2 B.C. Christmas season, but I don't remember God giving any front row seating to dogs...

Enter Mackenzie.

I work with a guy name John who has two large, beautiful dogs. Now I've never been good with dog breeds, so I really shouldn't try and relay what type of dogs they are. There not pugs or bulldogs, I know that much. Probably not poodles or ice dogs, either. They're those big, All-American, bark at the French dogs and make them cry, perfect family photo dogs. I'm going to guess that they are labs, but if I'm wrong (and also assuming his dogs read the blog), I'm going to get attacked next time I visit his townhouse out in Sterling. This much I know - their names are Dakota and Mackenzie. Dakota is older, and Mackenzie is trying to find her faith.

Huh?

John told us over lunch the following story. It's a story of hope and of tenderness. And it reminds all of us in the hustle and bustle of last minute mall shopping and cookie baking the real meaning of the Christmas season. You see, in this glorious season, in preparation for the Lord's birth, Mackenzie the Dog has found Jesus.

You see, John is way ahead of Condon in terms of decorating for the Christmas season. He's got the tree, the wreathes, the stockings (yes, dogs get stockings, too) and the Nativity scene. Speaking on the last, John has placed his Nativity on the coffee table in his living room area. Bigger than most scenes of its type, the tallest person (I'm guessing one of the kings, you know, with the massive crowns) stands about 10 inches tall. And everyone has made it to the manger on time. Kings, Mary and Joseph, some shepherds, the aforementioned barnyard animals, and the newborn baby Jesus. I haven't seen John's setup, but it sounds very nice.

Now, on the night that Christ was born, it was probably pretty cold out, even for Bethlehem. That's why everyone is huddled in close to the manger. John has accurately depicted this, as all the figures stand pretty close to one another. And yet, this configuration has proven no match for a wayward nomadic traveler: Mackenzie.

Over the weekend, when John was not home, Mackenzie went to the Nativity, and oh so deftly removed Jesus from the scene. Two reasons this is impressive. 1) The dog, using only her mouth, did not knock over any of the other figures during the heist. 2) The dog only took Jesus, not the manger that He was laid in. Just the baby, swaddling clothes and all. Mackenzie went on a crusade with Jesus leading the way to elsewhere in the house, while John got home hours later to find an empty manger. As to explain for this disappearance...

Resurrection?!?!?

Nah, wrong holiday.

As God looks out for His Son, He must have given John the insight to track down the cradle robber, and he found Mackenzie in the upstairs office with Jesus. At this point, this story has both good news and bad news. The good, clearly, is that Jesus has been safely returned to his crib, and John has reprimanded the shepherds for watching over the flock better than they watched over their Lord. The bad -

Mackenzie swallowed Jesus' right arm.

From an artistic standpoint, John has now re-set Jesus in the manger in such a way that any guests he has over will not notice the missing appendage. From a religious standpoint, this has a much larger meaning. The right hand of God is now with Mackenzie. It's a part of her now. She will now go forth in the Advent season to proclaim the coming of the Lord.

Now's that's a holy dog.

An Intelligent Accounting Blog

...or a cheap mockery of my study efforts. You decide.

Before you lies the Annual Report of the corporate entity "You're a Blog, Incorporated" for the fiscal year ending December 15, 2004. The entity is not actually incorporated legally, but rather the Chief Awesome Officer Chris Condon decided to dupe potential investors by making the word "Incorporated" part of the entity's physical name. That way, YAB, Inc. avoids the legal and securities regulations while enjoying the intangible net gain of "sounding wicked cool."

You're a Blog operates as a not-for-profit-but-would-be-nice newcomer to the Divertainment industry. A combination of the words "diversion" and "entertainment," this industry aims to please its customers, from this point forward known as "readers," by adding one more diversion website to visit as said readers run through their morning cycle of "stuff that ain't work yet." The entity aims to entertain, and occasionally, be thought-provoking. The CAO understands that the provoking of thoughts can be quite dangerous for readers, as they may feel inclined to make said thoughts public via the comments board. The entity's vehicle exists as a website, and despite the literal nature of YAB, Inc., is not a real vehicle. (Although, a future post entitled "Pimp My Blog" make give readers such an impression.)

Hereforth is the financial information that the Securities and Exchange Commission requires real businesses to report to its shareholders. Since the finest form of comedy is parody, YAB, Inc. feels inclined to do the same, despite the fact that nobody really has money riding on the existence of the website.

If anyone really has money riding on the website, the CAO demands a cut.

YAB Inc.'s balance sheet states the snap shot of risk analysis as of 11:37 AM, December 15, 2004. The snapshot was taken with the new Canon Digital Rebel camera, and developed by downloading it to this blog.

As for assets, the YAB, Inc. holds a total of 6 dimes, which have been accruing in value since August, and nothing more. As for accounts receivable, Yoda, the Jedi Master who also in August guest blogged about the Olympics, agreed to one more guest appearance in 2005 in return for a favorable write-up of the new Star Wars DVD Box Set, of which said Muppet was a part. As for Plant, Property, and Equipment, the only other item legally owned by the entity is the post-it note where the CAO writes down oscure things in hopes that during writers' block he has something to blog about. YAB, Inc. acknowledges that some topics on the post-it, including "Halloween Party Recap" may be dated and need to be written off.

On the liability side of the page, the only payable remaining on the books is in Prizes Payable. Since only 1 response came in as far as the CAO knows for "One Hundred," the winner should not be hard to determine. This prize is still a work-in-progress, and is not an executory contract, hence the need for a liability. Also, you're a liability.

Stock has not been issued. Yet.

Scissors on the Chair

First things, first. Christmas shopping for the blog. One of these days of Christmas, the blog is going to be in for a nice stash of gifts, since the upgrades I had planned on daily lose out to studying for finals. Sorry, blog, I know you've been good this year, but you're going to have to wait until the semester is over on Saturday. Be patient, little blog.

Second things, second. Come on people, only one response to the quiz? I'm extending the deadline to the end of the week. Go back to Friday's post to pay tribute to the Greatest Blog ever written by a guy whose name begins with C and ends with hris Condon.

Third things, third. Someone is trying to kill me.

(Bet you weren't expecting that! Snap!)

I don't know how the mafia works in an office environment, but I have a feeling that this is how it might go. Outside of the daily work routine, where every employee's objective is to contribute to the overall revenue-generating business strategy, lies some other intabgible job responsibilities. One such task is to contribute to the office environment. The premise is this, and has probably been the hallmark of any Employee Rules video since the 1950's (I'm Troy McClure...), is that a happy workplace is a productive workplace.

Since most firms in the Federal Contracting business try to keep their corporate overhead low, few actually have a "Morale Coordinator" position on staff. Besides, these positions, as stereotypes would have it, would be filled by out of work cheerleaders or Dr. Phil clones (now THAT's a good horror flick!) No one has in the annual review goals the phrase, "Make sure everyone is having a good time. Or else." As a result, there needs to an underground syndicate that sets out to accomplish just this.

The responsibilities of such a racket are these. Without being directed to do so, the upper management would like their employees to be happy, (without giving them random cash bonuses, but that would work...), and therefore rely on this independent operation for cubicle glee. Some of these operations are very formalized and structured: birthday cakes for birthdays, secret Santa and Christmas lunches (People with desks love bobbleheads as gifts around here.), and occasional thank you and retirement parties to boost morale. But I guess a lot of the syndicate's work is informal - office pranks, witty and immediate e-mail responses, and taking the time to mock the Redskins on Monday mornings.

I guess I'm slipping.

I am required by my co-workers to bring the funny on a daily basis, and this contributes to the office environment. It's a blessing and a curse. Regardless, since finals and projects (cough CIA cough cough) have occupied that other part of the brain that should be concentrating on non-work related functions, the cranial room for funny-bringing has shrunk considerably. Thus, I am not pulling my weight.

Now if I was slipping a little, I would probably get pranked. Simple stuff. Like hiding my cell phone, or maybe alphabetizing my keyboard by popping off the keys for a little rearrangement. But from the first thing I noticed upon getting here this morning, I must be slipping a lot. Because what I have interpreted as a threat, surely could mean that I have become so unfunny, my life is on the line. The Godfather - yeah, he uses a horse's head in the bed. But other means are used in an office.

Scissors on the chair.

Getting Defensive

E-A-G-L-E-S Eagles!

This is what I heard over and over last night. Why, you may ask? Because I went toa Washington Redskins home game, of course.

Huh?

You gotta love Philly fans. I would say 35% percent of the football fans who braved the cold of FedEx Field on Sunday night were more adept at singing "Fly, Eagles, Fly" over "Hail to the Redskins." We bussed people down I-95 to swallow up any block of unclaimed seats for this one. And while the Eagles would eventually down the Redskins by a score of 17-14, two things became painfully clear to me. First, this is the sort of game that either tells me one of two things. The Eagles are that good of a team that they can have a bad game and still pull a W due to sheer talent OR the Redskins are that bad of a team that they can play their hearts out, make some big plays, and still come up short. Maybe it's a combination of both, I suppose. Maybe it's the fact that I sat next to two guys who led the upper deck in the Eagles chant for every good Birds' play. Maybe it's because it had an 8:30pm start time, and thus its scheduling has taken its toll on my clarity of thought. Maybe it's 'cause the tix were free, courtesy of someone in my grad program. I don't know what sort of analysis I am supposed to put on this game, but I do know one thing:

The Redskins' secondary - BIG BIG FRAUD.

Ok, well, not all of them, I'll spare the innocent. Shawn Springs has been a solid, proven corner in the league for years. It's just a shame that he spent most of his career with the obscurrific Seattle Seahawks:

Guy 1 - "Hey, what's the name of our all-pro defensive back, number 24?"
Guy 2 - "Starbucks?"
Guy 1 - "Is that your answer or a suggestion?"
Guy 2 - "Starbucks?"
Guy 1 - "Ah, yes on both counts."

And Ryan Clark is doing a solid job of filling in for an injured Matt Bowen. Ah, Ryan Clark. One of those guys in the NFL with a name so basic and normal, I really can't make fun of it, nor could Spud change it for humorous effect on Madden 2005. (Example - in our game - Jeremiah Trotter's new name - "Jibba Jabba Toast is Hot" Clark isn't a starter in this league, but since Dan Snyder likes to pay the salaries of guys now playing on other teams (See "Toast is Hot, J."), there's only so much cash to pass out. Besides, a lot of money is being siphoned out to the Fraudulent Duo:

Fred Smoot and Sean Taylor.

Fred Smoot think's he's inherited Darrell Green's kingdom, and he's going to rule it with Deion's scepter. What. A. Punk. He dances, he struts, he gets burned.

Frequently.

The FedEx Faithful are prompted by the jumbotron to cheer SMOOOOOOOOOOOOOT whenever Fred deserves it. Well, based on what I saw Sunday night, the jumbotron guy must have been knocking too much egg nog back too early in the Christmas season. Let's see. Brian Westbrrok caught a pass out in the flat, ran 15 yards before Smoot even approached him, put a move on him that left Freddy glued to the turf, and then when Clark came over to trip up the runner, Smoot got a hand on him. What's that burning? Defensive back in the oven? Ooh. Yum

Sean Taylor is a rookie who I thought was a lot better than he looked Sunday night. True, he's already got a DUI on his record, so he is going th eway of NFL thug, but being drafted #6 as a safety says something, so I give him the benefit of the doubt. UNLESS. Todd "Skinny Arms" Pinkston can get behind you on three deep routes, and you're left chasing all 130 pounds of him. If you are any good, and deserving of the strut that you present while waiting for the play to start, a guy who resembles those XMas ornaments you made as a kid (clothespin Santas with pipe cleaner arms) can not get behind you.

12-1.

One Hundred.

That’s right. 20 weeks straight. 5 posts a week. You do the math.

Before all you cry out in disbelief, since my profile I think still lists me at 74, let me offer two lines of advice. First, screw the stats, and count them. There’s an even century there, and with one exception (which I made up for with an early 6-post week), I have gotten a daily diversion up every work day since July 27. Second, it just shows that my current www.blogger.com walls can’t stop me, they can only hope to contain me. I’ve tried many difference topics and many different styles, but over the previous ninety-nine I’ve realized what the reading faithful want. It’s like that stupid AOL commercial where all the “members” show up at AOL HQ. The “You’re a Reader” base has come together and shouted to Condon up on his blogmountaintop in once clear and concise voice:

“Just bring the funny!”

And so that is what I aim to do. Day in, day out.

Anyways, below is a bit of a cleverly-wrapped nostalgia. For the 20 weeks, I have composed 20 killer questions of topics of yesterblog. Some are easy, some are hard. Some you may remember, others you’ll have to some research. Submit the answers to me via email at condon@gwu.edu by Sunday night at midnight, and I’ll announce the winner Monday with the revelation of a sweet, sweet prize! Godspeed.

1. Which of my arch villains had given my superhero alter-ego trouble in the past few months? (1)

2. If Condon had his way, what occupation would he cross-breed with HR during his tenure as Chief Awesome Officer (1)?

3. Who “had drinks” with actor Jason Lee in a NYC bar, and thought enough to text message YAB shortly thereafter? (1)

4. Who is “Greenmonsters, Inc.” in reference to? (1)

5. Which U.S. President would make a great catcher for the Washington Nationals? (1)

6. How many superintelligent babies did it take to film the worst sequel to the worst movie ever made? (2)

7. Which is the only Major League Baseball team to not have a curse as an excuse for failure? (2)

8. What is the official mascot of the Electoral College? (2)

9. What is the current Vegas over/under line for Condon’s soda intake? (2)

10. If my Real Estate Summary workbook was to be named after a fictional tennis player, what its name be? (2)

11. Who was the sole casualty in George Lucas’ Trilogy DVD release negotiations? (3)

12. Name something else that Ig has wanted on YAB, other than pudding or touchdowns.(3)

13. Why must there be snow all year long in Canada? (3)

14. What cashier edict gave me fuel for the blog-ranting fire? (3)

15. What sound is made when a wily high school senior runs full-steam into an inanimate object? (3)

16. In the Maddengate conspiracy, which cornerback got called for a ridiculous pass interference penalty? (4)

17. What weapon did I use against Joe Brescia upon disagreeing with me about a certain movie remake that came out over the summer? (4)

18. If Liz and Spud were to, say, try and break into our apartment, what would their tool be? (4)

19. What basketball team is “next on the schedule” for my current collegiate home? (4)

20. What was the name of the post in which a paragraph was typed in such a manner that you would have to hold your laptop up to a mirror in order to decipher it? (4)

As for the second day of Xmas, I didn’t get to the mall last night. YAB, expect 2 gifts on Monday!

Under the Tree?

That's right e-shoppers, you've only got twelve more blogs posts courtesy Santa Condon before Christmas Day. Only a dozen more rantings/social commentaries/Redskins cheapshots before the big day. So surf away from this page! Go to your nearest online retailer, scour the virtual DVD racks, and be quick to purchase your favorite divertainment website a holiday gift!

(please?)

Okay, so since many of you don't actually buy presents for "non-living outlets for hilarity," I guess I'll have to retract the above intro. As is the spirit of the season to be charitable, but maybe donating movies to a url could be considered "a poor way to give back" this December. Instead, help out the Marines in their 57th time round the Toys for Tots program. Yeah, that's better.

Well, I guess if YAB is to get anything new for Christmas, it's going to have to be of the self-giving variety. Apparently, I've got some shopping to do. 12 days left? Someone should write a song about all of this-

(scans list of popular Christmas carols)

- eh, right. So, apparently someone has written a song about this. No matter, that just means that's one less thing I need to buy for the website. With 12 days left, I think I am going to add something new to the Blog each day in order to make not only YAB feel special, but to provide the reader with more reasons to in daily despite my erratic posting schedule. Over the last few weeks I've been all over the chronological map, and my publishers are confused to all hell. Well, now it's time to give back. 12 Weekdays of Christmas. 12 Awesome New Features. Simple.

"On the first day of Christmas, Chris Condon gave to me

some hyperlinks in a blog tree.

To kick things off, I present to all of you, (drumroll) MORE (more) THINGS (things) TO (to) CLICK (click) ON! (on-on) Since the YAB's inception back in July, I've left you with only four additional places to go to escape working on that spreadsheet or grading that science project or compiling that stack..err..i don't know...whatever Chris Smith does for a living. Well, on the right, now, you've got 12 links to kick off the holiday season. They're pretty random in subject, but I find myself typing them in most often when I'm staring at a blank input row on Internet Explorer. Enjoy.

This is just the beginning of the Christmas Joy, to be brought to you by all of me at You're a Blog.

Call off the Operation...

...because Dr. Pepper is a certifiable idiot.

Honestly, I've never met Dr. Pepper. He's probably an alright guy. I mean, products named after people must have model citizens as namesakes, otherwise today's press would tarnish their reputations and force the host company to remove them from the shelves. You've got to think that Mrs. Butterworth is president of the garden club over in breakfast foods (it sure isn't Count Chocula - what a raving looney, that guy.) So, it is this fact that makes writing this post so hard. Dr. Pepper nay be the nicest man in the world, medical degree and all, but let's face it. Dr. Nick is smarter than him.

The reason I am forced to question the good physician's intelligence is his appearance in in my accounting class tonight. No, he's not enrolled in the class (freeloader.), but he was the choice beverage of one of the girls who sit in my row. Therefore, because of his proximity and my mind's post-project numbness for accounting (Dividends are dead to me.), I really got a chance to analyze his latest choices in fashion, and I conclude that he must have lost a bet or something. Here are the reasons for my scathing red carpet review: (Hey look, I'm just like Joan Rivers. But with a soul...)

• Texture. The Doctor has decided to forgo the smooth and clear plastic exterior that has become widely popular in soft drink circles. Instead, he's gone the way of the basketball. Since LeBron, Grant, and Kobe were all too busy drinking Sprite, Dr. Pepper took matters into his own hands to attract the hardcourt faithful. Any place on his body not covered by label reveals a bump pattern so consistent he might as well be called Spalding. My chief concern here? Obscuring the view of the liquid contained within. Honestly, I can't tell if that's soda or syrup. For all I know, the Doc could be having an affair with Mrs. Butterworth. (But doctor, she's a married woman!)
• Girth. It appears Dr. Pepper has either been in the weight room or at BALCO (can soda be on the juice?), because he looks like he's filled out around the the torsonic region. Sure enough, in banner form around the top of the label, he yells, "5% MORE THAN A 20 OZ!" Wow, that's great, man! The more caffeine the better right now. That's....Wait. 5% more than a 20oz? Now let's crunch the numbers...carry the four...Ah HAH! The doctor has cleverly disguised a lousy 1 ounce increase as a major size breakthrough. Verrrrrrrrrry clever.
• Apparently, the Doctor's promotion of the mighty extra ounce has spawned a bit of a strange fashion statement. Surrounding his nametag is a field goal post and a football sailing over the D in Doctor. Apparently this new look is the Extra Point campaign. Uh, Mr. Pepper, a word of advice? If you are going to pose as a football player pick any position, ANY POSITION, other than a kicker. You do want to be respected, yes?
• Finally, Dr. Pepper's side label warning: Contents under pressure. Cap may blow off causing eye or other serious injury. Point away from face and people, especially while opening. This is the most serious words of warning I have seen since I read the label on Tim Fischer's old trampoline - WARNING! MAY CAUSE CUTS, ABRASIONS, OR DEATH.

In conclusion, the Doctor should have ordered something else.

Upon Final Examination

Well, after months and months of waiting with bated breath, that special time is finally upon us. Specific music gets put into heavy rotation. Movies are on the television every night. Trees are cut down worldwide in order to create the season’s vital by-product. Cookies are baked at all hours of the night, and people everywhere are scrambling to get everything done in time for the big day. Authority figures compose lists of all the boys and girls who have done good and bad over the last semester. It’s December, and that means only one thing.

It’s Finals Time! (And there was much rejoicing.)

In honor of the first potential all-nighter of the season cramming cheer, I thought it might be fun to adapt one of our holiday classics and relate it to the reason for the season: THIS STUPID ACCOUNTING PROJECT. Enjoy.

Singing voices ready?

“Ac-count-ting the Project, was a slacker’s dream come true,
With a twelve page min., not including charts,
And tomorrow it is due,
Ac-count-ting the Project, should have been done months ago,
But the C-I-A whisked my life away,
I just wish time would go slow.
There must have been some secret in,
Doing this back when,
I had the time to do things, I’m
Against the wall again.

OH!

“Ac-count-ting the Project, really should not be that hard.
This is what I do for a living, you
Would think I am off my guard.

Crunchetty, crunch, crunch,
Crunchetty crunch, crunch.
Number crunching in a fix.
Crunchetty, crunch, crunch,
Crunchetty, crunch, crunch.
Sounds like an ad for Twix!

“Ac-count-ting the Project, will be turned in late tonight,
When I get out there, I will seize my chair,
Fall asleep, that is my plight.
Down to Alex-andr’a,
Where our class, it weekly meets,
But see what I do, I’ll confirm it’s true.
Ev’ryone is fast asleep.
I’ll turn it in when Prof says when,
And breathe sighs of relief,
With one less thing to do, I’ll sing
This stupid song, good grief!

OH!

“Ac-count-ting the Project, for this I deserve an ‘A,’
Now it’s off my chest, for I am the best!
Procrastination rules the day.

Gotta go for the W, Gordo...

The teams of You're a Blog - more W's than the World Wide Web.

With the lone exception of "Ig Wants Touchdowns," my fantasy team dealt a crushing blow by the Sackville Bagginses, (don't worry, I'm playoff bound), this was a very good weekend for all teams Condon. Allegiances, both old and new, found themselves in the tight fist of the upper hand, and now I can revel in their collective success.

Sports are a red-target topic around the water cooler in the office. Actually, we convene more frequently not by the water cooler, but by our department printer. While our printers may not have most excellent names, they do provide a sanctuary to recap co-workers' weekends, what we should expect in the days to come, and most importantly, the new weekly excuses for the Redskins poor play, since we can't criticize the lord and savior Joe Gibbs (yeah, I know they won. But it was the Giants. The SanFran Giants could beat them right now. Hell, even the JollyGreen...) When everybody's team has a good week, it's a pleasant conversation. When someone is on the long end of the losing equation, it becomes rife with awkward pause and reflection on how much happier I would be if I was sitting at my desk right now.

And here, is how to rock the sports page like it's going out of style.

William and Mary - When I talked to my parents on Saturday, they mentioned that it was over. 31-10 at halftime, Delaware had made it clear that they would like to continue defending their national championship. In the quarterfinals of the Div I-AA, the Tribe had gone into their home game thinking they had a shot to advance to the national semis for the first time in the College's 311 year history. As for me, I casted off this news in regret and went back to working on my stupid statistics project.

It looks like my stupid statistics project unleashed some karma of legendary proportions. Sure enough, what was a 31-10 Blue Hen lead became a 31-31 dead heat as time expired. That only means one thing (no, not punching a hole through my stats computer in glee. (Almost happened.)) - OVERTIME! Two rounds later and a incredible defensive stand, Tribe 44, Blue Whens? 38. Up next, James Madison comes to Zable next Friday night. And if it weren't for my SAIC holiday party, I'd be there.

Tribe Football - Knocking out one Smith Family Alma Mater at a Time.

Philadelphia Eagles - Ok, since I let Tribe Pride take over my keyboard, I'll keep these shorter. Eagles 47, Packers 17? Is this a misprint? Did Brett Favre get caught in Schuylkill traffic? Will Andy Reid wear the tights? With Atlanta getting shutout and the CHICAGO BEARS downing the Vikings, is there anyone in the NFC to play? Can Condon just keep rattling off questions? Is the answer yes? Will this ever stop?

Breathe.

George Washington Colonials - I don't know much about 'em, but I know they beat Michigan State and Maryland in basketball this weekend. We must be good at defeating "M" teams. Up next, Mongolia. Bring it, Genghis.

DC Salsa Sharks - Winning streak back on track in the Condon Family Football League. Will take on archrival Jersey Guys for the division crown next week. Winner take all. Oh, and I have some bad news Mr. C. My QB-WR tandem of McNabb and Owens - yeah, they're playing the Redskins next week. Sorry.

For Immediate Release

Press Release, dated December 3, 2004; 4:38 PM

To: All Media Outlets, Both National and International

RE: YAB not a BALCO client

To whom it may concern,

There has been much speculation and revelation in the news in regards to the use illegal substances that may enhance the performances of blogs. These substances have been banned for some time by the International Federation of Blogs, and in no way should be incorporated into the production of a daily-run blog. Blogs on steroids are a dangerous thing, that affect the entire blogging community, and all efforts to remove such substances from circulation are fully supported.

These performance enhancers have the following effects on daily posts. First, posts, under the influence of BALCO's nefarious products, grow to be bigger and longer than the average post. One paragraph can easily turn into 6, and two or three topics can be strung together, to be treated as one, only to be read by unsuspecting followers. Second, words are more easily made up, incorporating the word "blog" in them. This shows how the blog takes over the entire writing style while on these substances. And thirdly, hyperlinks pop up without reason or explanation. With these substances, as Barry Bonds has described them as "the cream" or "the clear", the blog tries to extend itself as much as possible, linking to other web sites around the world wide web with the greatest of ease.

We here are YAB want to quell the rumors before the accusations start flying. This blog in no way whatsoever, uses steroids in order to achieve the length and the frequency that loyal readers have become accustomed to. It is true that a case against YAB would be compelling. Looking at the le ngth of the first week of posts, compared, to say, any week in the last 6, it seems that words have doubled and tripled themselves without real reason. YAB would like to state on the record that the real reason for this is twofold. One, the writer has no control of his verbosity. Two, the writer takes on projects that are long in nature without thinking things through (the Curses of Major League Baseall? What was I thinking?)

In response to the second and third bloggasigns, it appears that YAB is guilty on these two additional counts. "Blogtastic," "blogmine," and others have snuck their way into the text found within, and it seems that this website is doing everything it can to link to every last page ever created at the Internet Movie Database. Please understand that steroids are not the reason; it's just the writers over'reliance on said site for obscure cinematic trivia.

We here at YAB feel we have cleared ourselves of any charges, and look forward to providing you with your week-day morning diversion you have come to expect.

Not on the Juice,
Condon

Going Lampostal

Well since fellow blog soldier Harford chose to emphasize the Cross in Crosswalk today, I thought I would pick up the slack and bring blogging back to the streets, as our "Capitalism Rules" friend has promised for days. Personally, Rob is very lucky to have a topic in reserve. Byt man, have I got some heightened expectations. You better have met someone cool while crossing the street, man. More than just a chicken.

So, like I said, back to the streets. Honestly, I have very little experience with the notion of crosswalks. I don't abide by them typically, using the rationale that my gangly legs can get me from Point A to Point B in a single (or perhaps double) bound. I'm sure one day the fuzz will get me for jaywalking due to my ignorance to the rules of the road, but if they do, well, that means I just get one more blog topic in reserve:

"So a cop pulled me over for jaywalking today. It's kind of humiliating when getting pulled over entails the ceasing of putting one foot in front of the other. Getting out of the car turns out to be a real pain as well..."

While my crosswork is limited, I can at least speak on behalf of several other items in the "Stuff you Find at your Local Intersection" Department. Benches? Yep, sat on 'em. Traffic Lights? Ran 'em, consecutively. (Hey, I let Brescia drive in Stone Harbor. It happens. Lampposts? Uh oh.

"Times rushing back. painful nostalgia attack..."

High school is an interesting time. See Mean Girls, if you don't believe me. Even if you avoid placing stereotypical names on your classmates, you still manage to define a role for yourself within said graduating class. I don't think I ever had a title or category, aside from being part of the Senior Slack Pack (Our motto: Take the Most Classes, Do the Least Work). But what I did leave SHS with, aside from a diploma and hurdle crossbar, was a defining moment.

I don't know what exactly this moment defined, but when people in college asked me what kind of kid I was in high school, I avoided giving a direct answer (because I really don't know), but rather relayed this story instead. That let them interpret it on their own, which kind of satisfied me (I love vexing people. Terribly.) Okay Condon, enough waxing pathetic, get to the story that everyone probably already knows.

I didn't ask to be remembered like this. But God is much funnier than me.

It made absolute sense. After four long, fun days in Walt Disneyworld, I and about 300 of my closest fellow seniors were drawing our trip to a close. I had sat little, slept less. So, sitting around the large courtyard at Disney's All-Star Sports Resort would seem like an ideal point in time to prop up against my suitcase (still with the game of Risk in the secret compartment) and catch a little shut-eye. Everyone else was, after all. But then, as often happens when hanging out with the Shawnee Group, someone did the completely expected.

"Anyone want to toss?"

Frisbee. Figures.

It started like any other throw and catch. Half of us (Lou, James, Josh) went down 40 yards, past the weird "tennis net" that went with the landscaping theme, while Tim, myself, and maybe another waited patiently for the disc to come our way. The 'bee was airborne, and everything proceeding as if this was to go really well for about ten minutes. Even the chaperones, equally sleep-deprived, did nothing to stop us. Hell, we were unexpected entertainment for the entire school. I was never in a musical, but it was center stage now, baby.

I should have waited in the wings.

James pulled, and my high school career was summed up instantly. As the disc left his hand, I knew that this catch was going to be the opportunity to present the spectacular to my graduating class. In my mind, it beats giving a speech at graduation. Just look cool. That's all. Is it that hard to make us look cool?

Knowing I was going to have to get on the proverbial horse to rundown James' toss (he's Herculean, I tell you), I took off like a shot. I could already picture it - this was going to be an Air Jordan catch. You know, like the logo. Arms outstretched, legs outstretched, ego outstretched. Mainly because I don't drop the disc. Period. Back then, I couldn't throw a forehand to save my life, but man, I could catch. And this wasn't going to be any exception.

Or...

Once my left foot left the ground, it was destiny or bust. This was the big play I wanted to be remembered for - running top speed, full extension, looking back over my shoulder with an absolute homing signal on the disc. Someone needed to take a picture of my gracefulness and send it to Sports Illustrated. I'm cover material. Here it comes...reach the fingers out for absolute full body extension. My hand briefly feels plastic, and then-

CLANG.

No one, out of the 300 onlookers, could muster the breath to tell me that as graceful and athletic as my heroic leap was going to end this way. I'm sure everyone wanted to, but apparently everyone left their tongues on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. And in that instant, I was lying flat on my back at the base of the meanest lamppost I have ever met. It seems my shoulder served as a pivot point that swung my legs out from under me up to a full horizontal, before gravity did his thing. The post itself? Swinging wildly back and forth as it plans to join me on the ground any second. (Somewhere in the distance, Mr. Williams yells, "If that falls, you're bringing home with you!")

Silence.

People wait to react in moments like this to see if the kid who just ran top speed into a lamp post still has a pulse.

But then I rose. Rose to 300 people, staring at me and me alone. And when the clapped (even though the disc was far from my hand), I bowed. End of story.

Thinking back, running into a crosswalk would have been much preferred. (Assuming, of course, that taxi intends to yield for pedestrians...")