Dihydrogen Oxide

Call me a dreamer, but…

When You’re a Blog’s editor-in-chief gets his act together and catches our little backdating problem up with the rest of the working world, the blog will be able to truly compete for your ocular attention. And once that happens, the next logical step is that some up-start entrepreneur with a Money Bin and extra cash-on-hand buys YAB out and the site gets some much-needed corporate sponsorship. Once we go corporate, the first thing I’m going to buy is a Headquarters.

YAB HQ will have the finest fringe benefits that (Insert Giant Media Conglomerate)’s financial backing can buy. The writers’ chairs will be leather recliners. The writers’ desk will be made of peppermint. And the staff kitchens? You guessed it. Not a coffee machine in sight.

Heh, heh, heh…

No, YAB HQ will only provide free beverage refreshment in the form of the glorious water cooler. Now this isn’t a cheap-o move; it’s a move of preference. And while (same Giant Media Conglomerate) can save a bundle by denying my staff Starbucks, they will take some of that savings and invest in a personal water carrying device for every employee. Now why is this such a big deal, you ask? Easy.

Current water containers are atrocious.

While most office kitchens are found in coffee-dominated terrain, it is likely that the room also maintains a water cooler for those who like cold liquid or have wizened up to Juan Valdez’s wily ways. That’s good news for me, who drinks about 160 ounces of H-2-O on a daily basis. That’s a lot of liquid to take in one day, so much to the point that on the weekend I feel dehydrated. But for such a massive intake, I’ve needed to improvise. Because standard kitchen options for “Things to Drink Water Out Of” are so ill-conceived and prehistoric that I’ve decided to reveal them for the petty inventions that they are right here. A sampling are picked up and tossed out below.

Exhibit A – “Plastic Cup” – The plastic cup, by nature, should be a pretty good match for the water cooler. The material is thin so that you can feel the coldness of water inside. Lip on the cup is also narrow, which plays a crucial role in water intake. Its durability can also go unquestioned, as it should withstand one day’s worth of wear and tear in an office environment. But despite what Yoda says, size matters. Any time I’ve seen plastic cups stocked at the cooler, they are of the shot glass variety. Each cup has about 5 ounces of water in it, and that’s gone by the time I reach my desk again.

Exhibit B – “Conical Cup” – Wow! What a great idea for a cup. It’s, it’s – shaped like a cone! So, it’s cool that it fits into this clever cup dispenser on the side of the cooler. But there’s more! It only has half the volume of an ordinary cup! And what else?!? When you get back to your desk and set your water down, it instantly makes all your documents transparent! Best invention ever!!!

Exhibit C – “Styrofoam Cup” – This type is most often encountered when the Coffeenese have thrown their weight around a little too much. Originally intended for those looking for roasted morning brew, the Styrofoam cup often finds itself being used at the water cooler. There’s a problem here, and his name is Texture. Drinking cold water out of a Styrofoam cup is like brushing off a snowy windshield with your sleeve: it gets you to your goal, but you hate every minute of it.

Exhibit D – “Cupped Hands” – Yes, I suppose you could go old school and not use a cup at all. Seems simple. Take left and right hands, combine them, and hold them under the water cooler nozzle. One small problem, Sherlock. Who’s going to hold the lever to make the water start?

You see what I mean? USELESS. That’s where YAB HQ will rise above its competition. Personalized YAB Nalgene bottles for all employees. They don’t break, they don’t spill, and they could crush the competition.

Even cupped hands if you’re not careful.

Rockie Mountain Low

When the week opened this past Monday, America’s workforce returned to their respective places of business to kick off another enthralling five days of attempting to make their outbox height tower over their inbox’s. Most people are greeted with a standard classification of things to do: stuff that didn’t get done on Friday. It sat and simmered for two days, but other than that, it’s the same unsurprising work that you knew you left when locking up three days prior. Most jobs don’t have to fear something urgent happening over the weekend, adding to the stack on Monday and taking Priority Numero Uno. But then again, most jobs aren’t managerial roles for professional sports franchises.

Poor Clint Hurdle.

Clint is the manager of the MLB’s Colorado Rockies. Well, at least he is for now. His 19 win, 39 loss ballclub have taken up residence in the basement of the National League West despite Hurdle’s best efforts to make a young ballclub find ways to win. Now even though managers work weekends, their daily work is pretty standard. Come up with a lineup. Sit in a dugout. Yank pitchers when A-Rod blasts their 2-2 offerings onto the upper deck. It’s pretty simple. Well, when Clint got to his desk Monday morning, he had one of those immediate attention tasks waiting for him.

Poor Clint Barmes.

Turns out one of the bright spots on Hurdle’s squad, rookie shortstop Clint Barmes, is going to be sidelined for three months with a broken clavicle. Two things probably came in to Manager Hurdle’s head when he learned the devastating news. 1) How in the world are there two people named Clint working for the same team? 2) What happened? Barmes played in the win against Cincinnati Sunday afternoon, even belting a solo homer in the eighth. He was fine then!

Still a rookie, bachelor Barmes hasn’t quite yet earned the palatial Denver estate he will someday get. Like any other entry level employee, he currently maintains an apartment near his job. Also being a rook, he has yet to hire servants and monkey butlers to do his errands and chores. No, Clint goes to the supermarket like any other recent college graduate. He unloads his car just like any of us. He slips on the stairs while carrying his groceries, something we all do. He breaks his clavicle and is collecting workman’s comp – well, ok, maybe that’s unique to just him.

So while Barmes kicks back in his easy chair waiting for his clavicle to heal, Hurdle has to scramble to make some sort of damage control move. Desi Relaford becomes the starting shortstop for the Rocks, and once Barmes goes on the Disabled List, Hurdle will call up an even greener rookie to man the utility infielder role. Heck, he could probably crash at Barmes’ pad (but take the elevator, of course.) Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention one more person whose Monday morning went to panic mode because of this mishap.

Poor Chris Condon.

Condon also manages a ballclub, and for the past nine weeks has consistently penciled Clint Barmes in as his shortstop. The NL Rookie of the Year has just been one of the reasons that Igfield Fly Rule has maintained its throne atop the Colonial Yards Fantasy Baseball League for countless weeks. But now, with Barmes sitting at home watching cartoons for the summer months, that left a hole just to the left of second base. I beg season ticket holders to IFR’s home games to not fret. I picked up last year’s Rookie of the Year Bobby Crosby to take his place, and we’ll continue to seek Condon’s first ever fantasy title. But while this transaction may do a world of good, I’m not stopping there. In the fantasy clubhouse, over the shower door, I am getting a plaque made and hung with my club’s official Fantasy Team Rules.

1. Fantasy baseball players will not carry their own groceries. The team will e-mail them to you.
2. Fantasy baseball players will not require sleep. They shall hibernate when the manager's computer does the same.
3. Fantasy baseball players, despite playing for many different pro teams, will maintain a healthy atmosphere in the virtual clubhouse.
4. Team meetings will be organized and planned using Evite. Failure to not respond to an Evite results in a one-day benching.
5. Fantasy baseball players do not play for money. They play for pride, love of the game, and good press in the manager's blog.

All the News that's Fit to Mock

And you thought I was just a financial analyst by day, grad student by night.

There are long stretches of time where from a blogreader’s perspective, my actions are completely unaccounted for. Now that you think of it, it’s kind of ridiculous. Unless I’m posting, you have NO idea what I’m up to. Well, I feel that it’s time to pull back the curtain and reveal what else I accomplish on a daily basis. And since we don’t have the capital funding to buy a YAB WebCam, it looks like I just going to just have to describe it to you. Hey, we’re on a budget, people…

Actually, now that I think about it, trying to relay my more mundane daily happenings may cause me to sensationalize a bit. With a few keystrokes, I very well may turn eating a bowl of Captain Lucky Pops into a quest for the Holy Grail. That’s not fair to those who believe in “journalistic integrity.” Instead, how about I get some outside reporters to let you know what I’m up to. (This is by no means phoning it in, N-Berg.)

All news stories from found by typing “Chris Condon” in Google News.

Chicken Holiday plucks Beer Garden
- While this may have been the marquee match up in the Staten Island men’s softball league, the real action happened in the Good Guys-Secret Squirrels tilt. I should know; I was there.
Kyle Aaman's gamer and back-to-back homers by Kevin O'Neill and Chris Condon lifted Good Guys to an 8-7 South Shore Softball Association win over the Secret Squirrels.
Ok, I admit that my blast just made it over the fence, and could have been caught by an outstretched outfielder's glove. But let's face it. Squirrels aren't that tall.

Down with the Carnival
- After my NYC softball games, I usually hop on a jet - to Australia. You see, to make a little extra money in the summer, I serve as the Townsville Show Secretary. Most of the tasks are administrative, except for that whole "Planning a 200k person summer Carnival...apparently not everyone is pleased with my work.
Like him or loathe him, Townsville Show secretary Chris Condon firmly believes he is doing everything with the interests of the public as his sole concern. And if that means getting up the nose of the Showmen's Guild over ground rates, so be it.
Look, I'm just trying to save the good townspeople of Townsville some cash. Ok, if the whole thing falls through, I'll just invite them all to the wedding.

Danger assessment system targets domestic violence
- On my plane ride home to the States, I often have some time to do some number crunching. I'm no John Nash, but I like to think my work (for which I sacrifice sleep) is making a real difference in the world.
"I envision us definitely using her assessment in our work but at what point and to what extent, I don't know yet," Condon said. "I'm very interested in finding out how this will help us better determine a chance of re-offense on the part of abusers."
I suppose if I was John Nash, I'd probably have some excellent hallucinations. I was constantly be visited by people no one else could see. Personally, I'm hoping for Ferris Bueller and Terry Tate, Office Linebacker.

News about upside of coffee pours out
- According this study, coffee (once again) has been ruled by scientists as having some benign health effects on those who drink it. Guess who threw his two cents in to prevent the masses from rushing to the local Starbucks. (Oh, by the way, I'm the Director of the United States Training Institute.
Most disquieting to Condon, whose business provides wellness education, products and services, is the uncontrolled consumption of coffee and its addictive properties. "If you don't mind being a drug addict, then drink your coffee."
Wise beyond my years...

I'm Terribly Vexed

Russell, Russell, where did we go wrong?

CNN.com is reporting today that Hollywood actor Russell Crowe has been arraigned on assault charges stemming from an incident at a New York City hotel late last night. As the story reports, Crowe was brought into custody after throwing a hotel telephone and striking the concierge in the face. He doesn’t deny the account, and will be fully compliant when it comes to the legal proceedings later this year. As a read yet another story that IMDB news will be sure to blow out of proportion tomorrow morning, I have the following four quick-hit thoughts.

1. A Note to all Concierges of the world. If an irate hotel guest picks up a lobby telephone and throws it directly at your head, MOVE. This will avoid you getting clocked with a airborne receiver, and it will also prevent Chris Condon from making fun of you on You’re a Blog, the Internet’s next big thing.
   
2. Furthermore, Russell Crowe is not to be messed with. Let him make any phone call he likes. He’s a GLADIATOR. Rule #1 of Hotel Industry Ettiquette: Don’t tick off a Gladiator. Just wow.
   
3. On behalf of Russell Crowe, I would like to personally apologize for any misunderstood feelings that the telecommunications and hospitality industries may endure in the fallout from this altercation. I assure you Mr. Crowe has used hotels and phones on many an occasion where a fracas has not broken out. This was a one-time event, and neither industry should be the bearers of ill will. Although, if Vonage was a smart little start-up telecom, they would use him for the “unpredictable” advertising campaigns.
   
4. I must say I find RC’s behavior a tad bit surprising. I thought my influence on his life had held greater impact, but it turns out my powers were limited to only one life-changing event. Had I known, maybe I would have tried harder. Wait a minute – what’s going on? What are those wavy lines?

Uh Oh. Flashback.

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You see, I have long held a guiding power over the biggest thing to come out of Mystery, Alaska. For once, in a chance encounter, the mighty Condon spoke, and his will was done. And for this act of foresight and awe, RC owes me. Big time.

In the spring of 2001, while on my epic quest to turn hockey-watching into an educational experience, I found myself in Nashville, Tennessee. Being in the Music City (sorry, Detroit) for two nights with no plans allowed me to shoot from the social planning hip. On the first night I grabbed an extra ticket to see Sister Hazel and Vertical Horizon in the original site of the Opry, Ryman Auditorium. Pleased with my music-going experience, (as well as the Preds’ dismantling of the NY Rangers that afternoon), I decided to catch a little bit of country while still in the city. Picking the first name I had heard of out of the city event guide, I saw a twinbill of emerging country acts Rascal Flatts and Jamie O’Neal.

But it was the unannounced act that got my attention.

I would read later in the paper that Oscar nominee Russell Crowe attended that very same concert in order to catch up with Miss O’Neal. Both from the far side of the world, Crowe and O’Neal shared the stage once in a Sydney musical in the early nineties, and he chose this night to stop by and see her. He was in town to pick up a custom Harley he was having built, and had some free time in the evening. Which he spent doing two things: Johnny Cash cover songs and talking to Chris Condon.

After performing the former, he did the latter as different members of the audience (60 people, tops) approached his table to get autographs and the like. Lacking my trademark ear-pencil, I figured I could at least say hello and shake his hand. And that is what I did, ending our brief dialogue with a prophetic wish: “Good luck at the Oscars.”

And the rest is history, Maximus.

I'd Like to Teach the World to Bling

Idle summer weekends are few and far between. Other than my Saturday morning 4.5 hour brain drain that is Corporate Governance, this past weekend had no other events penciled in. This is probably good, considering the sheer strength required to lift Harford’s image of a gigantic pencil off of my ear perch may have put me out of commission for a few days. Therefore, penciling in things on Condon’s calendar is not just an obligation; it’s a safety hazard. Egad.

Unfortunately, in this age of Time Management Suicide, discretionary schedule gaps often result in the completion of TYPOs (Things You Put Off). It’s not that you don’t WANT to get miscellaneous errands and tasks done; you just can never find ample time to complete them. This was such a weekend where I got motivated and eliminated so many TYPOs from the agenda, that I guarantee there won’t even be a single keyboarding error in today’s blog. Yeah. What.

As a working class, young professionals share many of the same TYPOs that hold more intention than attention. Haircuts, oil changes, bank visits – these all would be grand things to do on the way home from work, but there’s some magnetic force on your route home that prevents you from veering off the homeward path. Which leaves you shaggy-haired and cashless in a squeaky vehicle (squeakichle?)

Well, as the Smiths, Jesters, Rogers, and (future) Thompsons can attest, TYPOs are multiplied by a factor of threeve* when planning a wedding. As the big day approaches, more and more things will pop up to make the big day a flawless success. This past weekend, Katie and I did our best to knock some of these wedding TYPOs out of the matrimonial park. Heh, matrimonial park has a nice ring to it. Speaking of, this weekend we bought the wedding rings.

In a Christian wedding, there are many things one can forgo to maintain simplicity (swans meandering in the aisles?), but a cornerstone symbol of the joining of man and woman are the wedding rings. Without them, there’s a gaping hole in the phrase “With this _______, I thee wed.” Accept no substations, unless “hilarity” will “ensue.” Some random things that cannot fill in the blank: “circular saw,” “flank steak,” and “chimpanzee.” You see? You’ve got to buy a ring.

Ring shopping is not as easy as radio commercials make it to sound. Nor are all people buying rings black and white silhouettes, as DeBeers would have you believe. A jewelry store is actually a very normal place, with normal people looking to purchase jewelry. The staff is often very well-dressed and well-informed regarding the merchandise. NOTE: do not buy from a store with a salesman named Gem Diamond. He’ll rip you off big time.**

Again, pick a nice jewelry store where normal-looking people shop. We selected Jared. They had some nice features that really make shopping there enjoyable. There was a play area for kids, a free coffee bar, a security guard, and a courtesy umbrella bin to get to your car, and all of it was just part of the shopping experience. But since it was a sunny day on which I wasn’t planning to rob the place, and I am childless guy with a distaste for coffee, none of this was particularly helpful.

All that aside, it was still a pleasurable shopping experience. A woman named Alexa helped us pick out the perfect rings. While other salespeople have been overbearing, this woman knew how to kick back and watch as the sale fell into place.

Anyways, it looks like we finally had some success. Katie had a pretty good idea of her ideal in mind, and as luck would have it, they had the perfect ring. As for me, I was looking for a classic band, with my number one requirement being the ring should be “round.” Square rings can be murder on your knuckles. Not recommended at all.

*Threeve is NOT a TYPO. Name that reference, jerkpants.
**It had been too long since a SBTB reference. Just too long.