Don’t be fooled by the title, this is not a movie review on the sub-par Caveman comedy starring two of my favorite clowns; Michael Cera and Jack Black. Actually, a reader recently told me that she enjoyed my blogs but that she thought that an occasional blog for the women in the audience might be nice… I can do that.
As I am approaching my 1-year anniversary with my wife, I figured that’s right in the women’s ballpark for material. By the way, subject matter be damned, sports analogies will always be used in this blog.
I’m approaching my 1-year anniversary and frankly it was a great inaugural season. I met my wife in 2002 at a friend’s party. Although I was spoken for at the time, the spark was instantaneous. We became friends and maintained contact off and on for years to come but it was always that son of a bitch Grandfather Timing getting in our way. She was spoken for or I was spoken for… It was ridiculous.
Regardless how much time had passed in between visits, every time we met, the spark was immediately re-ignited. It’s an odd feeling to look back on your past and realize you subconsciously knew exactly what you were doing the whole time. It’s actually pretty relieving to know the ball can roll your way from time to time.
Years passed, Key Lime Pie martinis were consumed, she lost many games of pool to me at the bar… But no matter how good things were each meet; there was always something in the way. It was always just a visit. But regardless of how little of progress it looked like we were making, I remained patient and persistent.
In 2007 Devon’s birthday came and I hadn’t spoken to her in a while, so I pulled a couple Jason Bourne-like moves and got my hands on her work address and building number. I sent her a bouquet of flowers that was reminiscent of the aforementioned Key Lime Pie Martini we loved so much and like a guy on Wall Street with some insider knowledge, we cashed out all the stocks in our current portfolios and got involved in a new joint venture. We were finally a couple.
As far as I was concerned, I was a damn millionaire.
When we first started dating it was great because there was none of that “do I fully trust this person” feeling you can have from dating a person you randomly met at a bar. It was quickly evident to us both that we wore the universe down and it couldn’t fight the attraction anymore.
We got married about 26 months after we started dating and HOLY SHIT did we have a nice wedding. You know how in the movies, weddings are incredibly over the top? Yeah, our wedding topped that. Our parents provided us a day I will never forget for the rest of my life. It blows my mind to think how fortunate we were to celebrate the wedding the way we did. So again, I thank everyone that had a hand in bringing that day to us.
Since being married we have taken this whole grown-up routine head on. We own a house, we have a dog, we’ve knocked out a ton of debt, we’re both doing well at work and we’re contemplating a family. Things are moving right along.
We obviously have had our disagreements and like everyone, there is the occasional night where we prefer the other remain silent… But all in all, I wouldn’t rather argue with anyone else. My wife and I are only a year deep in a lifelong journey but it seems like no matter the problem, we can eventually discuss it openly and get it ironed out.
Not everyone even has the capability to be able to do that.
I personally know of a couple people that see a problem, assume it’s detrimental and melt down. The minute that communication dies, the stress begins. It took me just about 25 years to understand how important honesty and accountability are to a relationship. It’s also rather interesting to me that these realizations came the instant I met a person I truly wanted to be happy.
If she told me I literally had to eat dog shit to ensure her health, I’d just make sure Dakota was eating a sweet diet.
I’m not ignorant though. Part of knowing your intelligence is knowing the extent of your ignorance. I know time will bring obstacles, life will throw us curve balls… But at the end of the day, if I’m with her, we’ll get through it. That woman is amazing.
Forget the fact that she keeps the house clean, laughs at my jokes and puts up with my 3rd grade intellect, this woman is incredibly supportive. I recently shifted gears in my realm of creativity and whether it’s about my comedy or my writing, she’s always pushing me to do more and do better. She isn’t a spectator when it comes to this stuff; she’s on the team. I’m very lucky for that.
So we’re almost to a year and we haven’t hit enough bumps in the road to start drawing the map for people of the future, but just like the first time we met, looking at each other you just know that those bumps are just opportunities to become better.
So Devon, if there are future pieces released and you find your character to be held in a less than favorable light, please refer to this blog. I think you’re neat.
By the way, the one year anniversary is the “paper” anniversary right? So if I just printed this blog could I give it to her? Or would a pair of Seahawks tickets work? They’re printed on paper. I know she really enjoys the Kleenex with aloe? I guess I’ll have to think more on this, but those sound like three solid ideas. Anyway--- 1 year almost down. 60 to go. (88 is a reasonable age for me to kick the bucket, yeah?)
**STAY TUNED FOR SCENES FROM NEXT WEEKS “THE YOUNG AND THE RESTLESS”**
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Intruders
My wife and I bought our house in December of 2008. When we bought it, every room was painted a different color, each color more Easter Egg looking than the next. Needless to say the house needed work.
One of the main concerns was the status of our backyard. The flowerbeds and plants were perfectly colorful but the back fence was only half standing. Having a dog we clearly needed an effective fence.
In the first months of home ownership I had the pleasure of experiencing my first set of trespassers. My Miniature Schnauzer, Dakota, and me sat in the backyard with my Father-in-law as three very large raccoons marched through the broken fence boards of the back fence. These raccoons walked into my yard like this was a public trail. One of ‘em actually made eye contact with me then flashed a gang sign at me.
That pissed me off.
Those raccoons eventually made their way out of my yard. It was like when those gangsters bumped into Ricky on Crenshaw in Boyz in tha Hood; there was some friction, it was confronted, ignored and we moved on.
But much like the gangsters in the movie, these raccoons weren’t done. I figured if I built a fence we could count on these raccoons staying out of the yard and away from my football sized dog. For months these rodents steered clear. However one morning I awoke to see two big ones in my backyard. When I went outside to scare ‘em off, they stood up and looked at me like most humans that see me wanting a fight do… “Really?”
Flash forward two days….
So I’m setting the sights for the scope on my new high-powered pellet gun. I start contemplating where to put the gun and the pellets that is near enough to the back door that when a raccoon comes strutting in I can immediately lock and load and pop that little bastard.
Flash forward two months…
No raccoons. I think the fallen victims to target practice may have been a deterrent to enter my yard. Frankly I’m a little pissed I haven’t gotten my revenge. It is now June of ’10. I feel like a soldier that has all this training and no time in action. Then it happened.
I woke up about 6:00am for work on this morning and my dog is looking at me like “I’ll give you a choice Dad, the carpet or the yard?” So I walk her to the back door to see four beaver sized ‘coons just chilling in my backyard. One walking on the fence, two adults walking the fence line on the ground, and a baby about half the size as the others trailing close behind.
I thought “Aaaaahhhhh….. I’m going to have to shoot this bitch in front of her baby?”
My army fatigues at this point consist of boxer shorts that have comic book superhero WOLVERINE on them. I grab my gun, load it, take the safety off and quietly walk on to my deck making sure to keep Dakota in the house. She clearly wants to see what Dad is about to do to these critters so she hops to the closest window overlooking the back yard and stands on her hind legs watching.
These illegal immigrants of the United State of Nicholls had no clue the President and CEO had the intention of revoking their occupancy cards. I picked the biggest out of the bunch; though I was very tempted to shoot the one on the fence and watch him fall off (most funny option in my head), my goal is efficiency. I popped the big one in the neck, watched it shake off the impact and dart underneath my shed. Now I have two points of entrance/exit from underneath my 30’ long shed. These bastards found cover.
I needed to shower and get to work, so I took Dakota out front to do her business and let these turds escape from the clutches of my malice.
Two nights ago I was sitting in this very chair writing. It was late and the temperature was high so the back door was open. My dog sat on the porch as she does many nights. But even when Dakota is hyper enough to chase my cat, you can tell by the sound of her nails on the wood upon takeoff, whether she’s attacking the cat or something else. This night she took off and gave the battle yell the people of Little Big Horn remember. I heard another noise that wasn’t Dakota, wasn’t a cat and honestly did not sound like a raccoon… WTF?
Being scared that those 3 raccoons were plotting a drive-by on the crib (I live in Renton, it’s a constant fear) I ran outside and yelled my dogs name at the top of my lungs. It’s darn near pitch black and running from the well-lit office to the pitch-black backyard made for a very blind situation. But I gave the type of yell that even when you’re done yelling, your throat tingles from over-exertion. Dakota returned unscathed and she thought I was mad at her because of how I summoned her. I eased her mind with a Beggin’ Strip and closed the door.
Last night I was a little more cautious. Door was open just enough to let some air in, but not enough for Dakota to go outside. I take her out for her to do her business and I make sure she is by my side. I see a dark object that could’ve been a number of things run from the right side of my yard to the Man Cave entrance… All these animals are perfectly aware of where to take cover in Old Man Nicholls yard. As Dakota is well trained and sitting on the deck with me while this thing crossed my yard it stopped at the entrance of the tunnel and looked at me. Now it’s dark enough where I can’t see 30 feet out into my yard, but like a mythical beast might, this fucker stared me down with these two BRIGHT, GLOWING ORBS. Could have been a cat, could have been one of the raccoons attempting to graffiti my house. It could’ve been a lemur escaped from the zoo… But it was fairly graceful in it’s movement and had enough confidence to stop in the middle of their escape to taunt me again….
I now have the gun fully loaded, a flashlight by my back door and I have blocked off one of the exits from the Man Cave tunnel to create a choke point. I’m ready now.
If you’re reading this mythical creature of the yard, I dare you to come back. It’s my birthday, I don’t work tomorrow and I’m fully willing to spend the evening making an example of you. Unless you’re a cat… Then come on in, I’ll pet you and treat you nice.
One of the main concerns was the status of our backyard. The flowerbeds and plants were perfectly colorful but the back fence was only half standing. Having a dog we clearly needed an effective fence.
In the first months of home ownership I had the pleasure of experiencing my first set of trespassers. My Miniature Schnauzer, Dakota, and me sat in the backyard with my Father-in-law as three very large raccoons marched through the broken fence boards of the back fence. These raccoons walked into my yard like this was a public trail. One of ‘em actually made eye contact with me then flashed a gang sign at me.
That pissed me off.
Those raccoons eventually made their way out of my yard. It was like when those gangsters bumped into Ricky on Crenshaw in Boyz in tha Hood; there was some friction, it was confronted, ignored and we moved on.
But much like the gangsters in the movie, these raccoons weren’t done. I figured if I built a fence we could count on these raccoons staying out of the yard and away from my football sized dog. For months these rodents steered clear. However one morning I awoke to see two big ones in my backyard. When I went outside to scare ‘em off, they stood up and looked at me like most humans that see me wanting a fight do… “Really?”
Flash forward two days….
So I’m setting the sights for the scope on my new high-powered pellet gun. I start contemplating where to put the gun and the pellets that is near enough to the back door that when a raccoon comes strutting in I can immediately lock and load and pop that little bastard.
Flash forward two months…
No raccoons. I think the fallen victims to target practice may have been a deterrent to enter my yard. Frankly I’m a little pissed I haven’t gotten my revenge. It is now June of ’10. I feel like a soldier that has all this training and no time in action. Then it happened.
I woke up about 6:00am for work on this morning and my dog is looking at me like “I’ll give you a choice Dad, the carpet or the yard?” So I walk her to the back door to see four beaver sized ‘coons just chilling in my backyard. One walking on the fence, two adults walking the fence line on the ground, and a baby about half the size as the others trailing close behind.
I thought “Aaaaahhhhh….. I’m going to have to shoot this bitch in front of her baby?”
My army fatigues at this point consist of boxer shorts that have comic book superhero WOLVERINE on them. I grab my gun, load it, take the safety off and quietly walk on to my deck making sure to keep Dakota in the house. She clearly wants to see what Dad is about to do to these critters so she hops to the closest window overlooking the back yard and stands on her hind legs watching.
These illegal immigrants of the United State of Nicholls had no clue the President and CEO had the intention of revoking their occupancy cards. I picked the biggest out of the bunch; though I was very tempted to shoot the one on the fence and watch him fall off (most funny option in my head), my goal is efficiency. I popped the big one in the neck, watched it shake off the impact and dart underneath my shed. Now I have two points of entrance/exit from underneath my 30’ long shed. These bastards found cover.
I needed to shower and get to work, so I took Dakota out front to do her business and let these turds escape from the clutches of my malice.
Two nights ago I was sitting in this very chair writing. It was late and the temperature was high so the back door was open. My dog sat on the porch as she does many nights. But even when Dakota is hyper enough to chase my cat, you can tell by the sound of her nails on the wood upon takeoff, whether she’s attacking the cat or something else. This night she took off and gave the battle yell the people of Little Big Horn remember. I heard another noise that wasn’t Dakota, wasn’t a cat and honestly did not sound like a raccoon… WTF?
Being scared that those 3 raccoons were plotting a drive-by on the crib (I live in Renton, it’s a constant fear) I ran outside and yelled my dogs name at the top of my lungs. It’s darn near pitch black and running from the well-lit office to the pitch-black backyard made for a very blind situation. But I gave the type of yell that even when you’re done yelling, your throat tingles from over-exertion. Dakota returned unscathed and she thought I was mad at her because of how I summoned her. I eased her mind with a Beggin’ Strip and closed the door.
Last night I was a little more cautious. Door was open just enough to let some air in, but not enough for Dakota to go outside. I take her out for her to do her business and I make sure she is by my side. I see a dark object that could’ve been a number of things run from the right side of my yard to the Man Cave entrance… All these animals are perfectly aware of where to take cover in Old Man Nicholls yard. As Dakota is well trained and sitting on the deck with me while this thing crossed my yard it stopped at the entrance of the tunnel and looked at me. Now it’s dark enough where I can’t see 30 feet out into my yard, but like a mythical beast might, this fucker stared me down with these two BRIGHT, GLOWING ORBS. Could have been a cat, could have been one of the raccoons attempting to graffiti my house. It could’ve been a lemur escaped from the zoo… But it was fairly graceful in it’s movement and had enough confidence to stop in the middle of their escape to taunt me again….
I now have the gun fully loaded, a flashlight by my back door and I have blocked off one of the exits from the Man Cave tunnel to create a choke point. I’m ready now.
If you’re reading this mythical creature of the yard, I dare you to come back. It’s my birthday, I don’t work tomorrow and I’m fully willing to spend the evening making an example of you. Unless you’re a cat… Then come on in, I’ll pet you and treat you nice.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Welcome to the Fantasy Factory
For so long I have gotten into leagues thrown together at the last minute. Up until the final minutes before the draft we aren’t even sure we have a full league. It’s ridiculous. I want a format that is fun, stable and exciting.
No more “I’ll pay you when I get paid.” No more, showing up to the draft with $91. That is some bullshit. We’re grown men and your DNA alerts you months before the opening kick that the NFL season is upon us. My goal is to create and establish a league you guys can enjoy and will remain in. I’d even be willing to turn it into a keeper league if you wanted. I’m open to suggestion. We can vote on ideas at any time in the season. With that said, buckle up, peruse these rules, regulations and standards and let me know if you’re interested in joining the alliance of the leather.
- League Name: The Church
- Password: *You will get your password when our agents have come to an agreement*
- League Size: 10 Teams
- Buy-In: $100 (due at draft or penalties will be imposed see below for details)
- Trades will cost $2.50; Money will be put into pot for winners
- Waiver acquisitions You are allowed two free moves per week. Each move after will cost you $2.00; Money will be put into pot for winners
Payouts
- 1st place- $700
- 2nd place- $200
- 3rd place- $100
- Most Points by a team in a season- 25%
- Most Points by a player in a season- 25%
- Most Points in a game by a team in a season- 25%
- Highest scoring QB- 5%
- Highest scoring RB- 5%
- Highest scoring WR- 5%
- Highest scoring Def- 5%
- Least points by a team in a season- 5%
Game of the Week Payout
Each week a “Game of the Week” will be chosen. Every team will play in a “Game of the Week” an equal amount of times. The loser of each GOTW matchup will pay $5 to the GOTW Pot. Each week a poll will be posted and you must choose who you think you will win the GOTW. At the end of the season the player(s) that chose the winner of the GOTW the most times will win the GOTW pot; GOTW pot will be separate from the Top Performance Award pot consisting of wire/trade/penalty funds. [Payout will depend on the amount of GOTW games played]
PAYMENT PENALTIES
As stated above, I loathe you turds that show up to the draft without your money. Football season starts at the same time every year, have your chips banded up and ready. Ultimately I’m trying to avoid anyone getting screwed out of their winnings as I’ve seen happen time and time again.
If you do not show up to the draft with cash or check in hand for the full amount you will be instantly fined $10. For every week thereafter that the commissioner is not paid, you will pay $5. Late payment arrangement is up to the player, the commissioner will not be responsible for “meeting up” or “stopping by” for payment unless otherwise agreed. At the very least use the mailbox. I’ll be happy to take Paypal as well. Fines imposed will be added to the waiver/trade pot to pay out Top Performance Awards.
If a player has not paid their dues in full by the kickoff of the first Fantasy Playoff game, that player forfeits their right to any winnings. And if I hear someone complain about this stipulation, you're instantly suspect to be the "that guy" of the season... Please don't be that guy.
*Money for trades, waiver pick ups and GOTW will not be included in the fees needed at the draft. Those figures will be kept track of by the commissioner and pay arrangements will be made at the end of the season. (Billy Bob owes Joe $25, Chris owes Mike $15, etc.)
Season Length
The season currently is 14 games long with four teams advancing to a two week playoff. Seeding will be decided by division standings. 1st, 2nd and 3rd are paid out. I am willing to take a vote to see if we’d like to go to a 13 game season with six teams advancing to the playoffs, 1st-3rd will remain the paid prizes.
Below you can find scores and settings as currently posted. Items in bold can be voted on if you disagree on the format. However I think the point system is set in stone unless there is some unanimous uprising against me. I think the point tweaks I made will make for a more interesting season.
EXAMPLES
- QB’s will be awared 2 pts for every 10 completions
- RB’s will be awarded 1 pt for every 10 carries
- WR’s will be awarded 1 pt for every 10 receptions
- Rushing, Receiving or Kick Returners to gain over 100 yds will be
awarded 5 bonus points. Defense/Special teams will also be awarded
points for return yards as any other player would (0.1pt/yard) - A shut out for your defense yields 12 pts while the next point scale is 7pts. It’s hard as shit to get a shut out so they deserve a little extra.
- Kickers points went up a little as well to make them more of a factor;
kicks 50+ yds will be awarded 6 pts and misses will be –1 and –2 depending on the range.
If you’d like to discuss anything please comment and we’ll get the dialog going. Otherwise, I'd like to see which of you sissy's will be in the [Jake] Locker room with me before kickoff.
Good luck ladies.
The Commish
Scoring and Settings
Setting Value
League ID#: 174701
League Name: The Church
Password: “Fuck you, pay me.” Joe Pesci
Custom League URL: http://football.fantasysports.yahoo.com/league/churchofpigskin
Draft Type: Live Standard Draft
Draft Time: Sun Sep 5 6:30pm PDT
Max Teams: 10
Scoring Type: Head-to-Head
Start Scoring on: Week 1
Can't Cut List Provider: Yahoo! Sports
Max Moves: No maximum
Max Acquisitions per Week: 5
Max Trades: No maximum
Trade Reject Time: 2
Trade End Date: November 12, 2010
Trade Review: Commissioner
Waiver Time: 1 day
Waiver Type: Reverse order of standings
Weekly Waivers Sunday - Tuesday
Post Draft Players: Follow Waiver Rules
Playoffs: Week 15 and 16 (4 teams) Note: Week 16 runs 7 days from Dec 21 to Dec 27
Divisions: Yes (2 divisions)
Playoff Seeding Options: Division winners awarded top playoff seeds
Roster Positions: QB, WR, WR, RB, RB, TE, W/R, K, DEF, IR, BN, BN, BN, BN, BN, BN
Fractional Points: Yes
Negative Points: Yes
Offense League Value
Completions 0.2
Passing Yards 25 yards per point
Passing Touchdowns 6
Interceptions -2
Rushing Attempts 0.1
Rushing Yards 10 yards per point; 5 points at 100 yards
Rushing Touchdowns 6
Receptions 0.1
Reception Yards 10 yards per point; 5 points at 100 yards
Reception Touchdowns 6
Return Yards 10 yards per point; 5 points at 100 yards
Return Touchdowns 6
2-Point Conversions 2
Fumbles Lost -2
Offensive Fumble Return TD 6
Kickers League Value
Field Goals 0-19 Yards 3
Field Goals 20-29 Yards 3
Field Goals 30-39 Yards 4
Field Goals 40-49 Yards 5
Field Goals 50+ Yards 6
Field Goals Missed 0-19 Yards 2
Field Goals Missed 20-29 Yards 2
Field Goals Missed 30-39 Yards 2
Field Goals Missed 40-49 Yards 1
Field Goals Missed 50+ Yards 1
Point After Attempt Made 1
Defense/Special Teams League Value
Sack 2
Interception 2
Fumble Recovery 2
Touchdown 6
Safety 2
Block Kick 2
Return Yards 10 yards per point; 5 points at 100 yards
Kickoff and Punt Return Touchdowns 6
Points Allowed 0 points 12
Points Allowed 1-6 points 7
Points Allowed 7-13 points 6
Points Allowed 14-20 points 2
Points Allowed 21-27 points 0
Points Allowed 28-34 points -2
Points Allowed 35+ points -4
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Workin on the weekend
Working as a waiter you can either make a shit ton of cash, or none at all. It got me through college with a comfortable amount of money, but its days like tonight i thank god its not my primary income. Ive been here for two hours and have yet to get a table. Its in the high 70's outside and i have yardwork to do!
Fuck me that they called and said "we need you on Saturday". And as sit here playing video games and blogging i feel real needed. Yay! Look i got a table.
Cole W Nicholls
-Blogging from my phone-
Fuck me that they called and said "we need you on Saturday". And as sit here playing video games and blogging i feel real needed. Yay! Look i got a table.
Cole W Nicholls
-Blogging from my phone-
Thursday, July 15, 2010
The Opening Kick
Being a sports fan in Seattle is tough. We don’t have the hardware that cities like Los Angeles and New York have. Nor do we have the history that teams like the Yankees or Lakers do. What we do have are fans. Our fans are passionate and the camaraderie is electrifying… We deserve a god damn parade.
But the franchises. The franchises are like that girlfriend that just doesn’t put out enough, and right as you’re convinced you’re going to leave her, you walk into a bedroom to find her in a black teddy. So being a Seattle fan is a balancing act. You have to balance passion and expectation.
But regardless of where you live or how good your team is, it’s that first kick off of the season that sends chills through your spine. When everyone is 0-0, all your players are healthy, new additions are ready to shine, attitudes are fresh and morale is high. However in Seattle… That feeling is about as consistent as the sun. We’ve had some absolutely gorgeous streaks of weather in Seattle, but I always bring my umbrella just in case.
We’ve only won a handful of national championships here and most of them at the collegiate level or in undeveloped leagues. But professional championships in Seattle? Few and far between.
I bet you didn’t know that in 1917 the Seattle Metropolitans became the first American team to win the Stanley Cup, defeating the Montreal Canadiens in four games. That would be something neat if I was old enough to enjoy doing crosswords while watching Matlock.
But outside of a Sonics title in ’79, a Storm championship in ’04 (No offense ladies, but I don’t feel comfortable enough in my masculinity to hang my hat on that) and a US Open Cup win from the Sounders last year, all we have to talk about is if we’re in playoff contention or the story about how your buddy drank too much tailgating and missed the whole first half puking.
But regardless of stats or public opinion, that opening kick off is like that hot shower after skiing. It’s like that piss you finally get to take after 3 hours in the car listening to your buddy jam out to his BEST OF WHITESNAKE album. The excitement you get from the season opening kickoff is like a first date. You don’t know what to expect. You hope for the best. And get as drunk as you need to be comfortable.
I’m not going to lie, these past few seasons of Seattle sports have left my will beaten. My confidence is shaken and there are times that I’m not sure I can go on. Our baseball and football teams have been sub .500, they took our fucking basketball team and my Huskies haven’t seen a bowl game since ’02.
But that opening kick. There’s something special about that. It’s like the first day of school. New surroundings, new people, you got your new threads on; anything is possible. And the beauty about Seattle is the worse the weather on opening day, the better. If it’s 50 and pissing, we’ll leave the jacket in the car and just put another shot in our Bloody Mary. Your mind is clear and your fatigue is non-existent.
What are your feelings about the season? Is it something you're confident about or is it another typical season in Seattle? I try not to think too far into the future as the words that eventually escape my mouth come back to bite me in the ass right around playoffs. But I digress.
I feel like my descriptions of the biological phenomenon known as the “opening kick” came off a bit orgasmic. But in a way, it is a little orgasmic. As men, and some women I guess, from August to February there is a certain something in the air that effects us all. Even if you don’t like sports, you are aware it is football season. It’s an extremely powerful force I care not to escape. But if in order for me to convey the importance of this event, I have to simulate busting a big footbally load, so be it. It is always a bitter sweet moment as the summer wind escapes you and the snowy ground leads your path to solidarity among your comrades as you all sit back and enjoy the opening kick. But god damn it... I want a parade.
GO HAWKS!
But the franchises. The franchises are like that girlfriend that just doesn’t put out enough, and right as you’re convinced you’re going to leave her, you walk into a bedroom to find her in a black teddy. So being a Seattle fan is a balancing act. You have to balance passion and expectation.
But regardless of where you live or how good your team is, it’s that first kick off of the season that sends chills through your spine. When everyone is 0-0, all your players are healthy, new additions are ready to shine, attitudes are fresh and morale is high. However in Seattle… That feeling is about as consistent as the sun. We’ve had some absolutely gorgeous streaks of weather in Seattle, but I always bring my umbrella just in case.
We’ve only won a handful of national championships here and most of them at the collegiate level or in undeveloped leagues. But professional championships in Seattle? Few and far between.
I bet you didn’t know that in 1917 the Seattle Metropolitans became the first American team to win the Stanley Cup, defeating the Montreal Canadiens in four games. That would be something neat if I was old enough to enjoy doing crosswords while watching Matlock.
But outside of a Sonics title in ’79, a Storm championship in ’04 (No offense ladies, but I don’t feel comfortable enough in my masculinity to hang my hat on that) and a US Open Cup win from the Sounders last year, all we have to talk about is if we’re in playoff contention or the story about how your buddy drank too much tailgating and missed the whole first half puking.
But regardless of stats or public opinion, that opening kick off is like that hot shower after skiing. It’s like that piss you finally get to take after 3 hours in the car listening to your buddy jam out to his BEST OF WHITESNAKE album. The excitement you get from the season opening kickoff is like a first date. You don’t know what to expect. You hope for the best. And get as drunk as you need to be comfortable.
I’m not going to lie, these past few seasons of Seattle sports have left my will beaten. My confidence is shaken and there are times that I’m not sure I can go on. Our baseball and football teams have been sub .500, they took our fucking basketball team and my Huskies haven’t seen a bowl game since ’02.
But that opening kick. There’s something special about that. It’s like the first day of school. New surroundings, new people, you got your new threads on; anything is possible. And the beauty about Seattle is the worse the weather on opening day, the better. If it’s 50 and pissing, we’ll leave the jacket in the car and just put another shot in our Bloody Mary. Your mind is clear and your fatigue is non-existent.
What are your feelings about the season? Is it something you're confident about or is it another typical season in Seattle? I try not to think too far into the future as the words that eventually escape my mouth come back to bite me in the ass right around playoffs. But I digress.
I feel like my descriptions of the biological phenomenon known as the “opening kick” came off a bit orgasmic. But in a way, it is a little orgasmic. As men, and some women I guess, from August to February there is a certain something in the air that effects us all. Even if you don’t like sports, you are aware it is football season. It’s an extremely powerful force I care not to escape. But if in order for me to convey the importance of this event, I have to simulate busting a big footbally load, so be it. It is always a bitter sweet moment as the summer wind escapes you and the snowy ground leads your path to solidarity among your comrades as you all sit back and enjoy the opening kick. But god damn it... I want a parade.
GO HAWKS!
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Unearthing Your Gifts
Do you have an imagination? Do you have aspirations? Do you wish grand things for yourself and those close to you? Do you wish you had a statue of Lou Ferrigno in your backyard?
What I mean to ask is, do you have a job or lifestyle that you'd rather be living? I'm pretty sure we all do... Outside of Hugh Hefner or Chuck Norris, I think we all have a little room for improvement in our lives. The sour point of it all is 99.9% of us all have dreams of being something more, but a vast majority of us are doing nothing to achieve full potential. Why is this? Well here we go. My dream is to be a writer. Writing anything; comedy, fiction, commentary... Just writing something.
Recently, I came across a key group of people that offered insight to a lot of things, both common and foreign to me. Concepts so basic that I didn't even understand how I could've been missing this for so long. These words came directly from the mouths of nationally recognized artists and some of the most unique people you would ever meet that happen to live right across the street. The gist was this: You want something? Go get it.
Reasons be damned there will always be an opposition. Forget the opposition. You got kids, too many commitments, you're broke... All common reasons why we don't chase our dreams. Every day there are people that succeed at what they want in life despite these exact reasons, sometimes with them all combined.. If Stephen Hawking can develop theories and educate people on quantum gravity and if David Spade can land Heather Locklear, you can clearly see anything is possible.
Most of us stay on the safe path for fear of failure. Thinking about the logistics for chasing your dream you think, "Can I do this?" Who the fuck starts off on a path for success expecting any type of failure? Almost all of us do this. And it boils down to intent. Do you intend to go for your aspirations, or do you intend to use a question like "can I do it?" as a deterrent to persuade yourself from leaving your comfort zone? These goals don't have to be enormous. You don't have to aim for a PhD or the UFC heavyweight title, just make yourself a goal. Start small. You'd be surprised at how much you can accomplish when you're actually trying. Not "Can I?” try "How can I?"... A simple yet effective tool taught to me by my favorite comedian Kyle Cease.
I'm on this new kick to take reality by the balls and "twist it 'round yo head, spin it like a helicopta!” All my Rentonites will likely get the reference. For everyone else, I meant that I'm going to take control of my life.
But I digress.
From this moment on, things are going to change. I have four new goals.
1. Start a new blog to post bi-weekly (check)
2. Start a new podcast (hopefully a weekly podcast)
3. Get up on stage at least 4 times a month
4. FINISH MY DAMN BOOK
So you heard it here. Goals. I made them public. Hold me to them. Bug me about my progress. Prod me for details. Shit, contact me; let's work together on something. But I want to hear your goals or aspirations. What is something that you would be doing in a perfect world? Would you be living in the same city? With the same people? Are you doing anything to pursue that?
I've spent my whole life using words to navigate the world. Sometimes it led me to a profound answer; sometimes it led me to the principal’s office, sometimes it led me to defeat. But in every situation, these words were always available to express myself. And I'm not sure how yet, but eventually something that spews from this 4th grade educated brain of mine will find it's way into your life and you will find it useful. These words will help me achieve my goals, and in turn, I hope they can be a spark to you achieving yours. These words will help buy my next house. These words will help me acquire a big enough stake in CNN so that I can stop hearing about how much of a racist Mel Gibson is... Don't you have an oil leak to attend to?
I may speak on the mating rituals of primates or the clear visibility of corn in my last bowel movement, but I promise there will always be true and authentic "Cole" involved.
With that said, Cole is an open and honest person. (And clearly a little narcissistic to be speaking in 3rd person) If you have any questions or comments, don't hesitate to leave 'em. If I think you're full of shit, I will likely say so. But if I think you make a valid point, I will still likely contend that you're full of shit, but will still attend to your point.
Subscribe to this blog. Pass on this blog. Repost, retweet, regurgitate this blog. Even publicly trash this blog. Just do me a solid and get the word out. I'm here to educate and entertain. Also if any of you are younger or faint of heart or morale, you should probably stay clear of this blog. I like pee pee and poo poo jokes and hate teams like the Yankees and Lakers. Yes, alienate 1/2 of the people you know on the first blog. Real genius marketing strategy...
Cole W. Nicholls
Quick thanks to a handful of people: Kyle Cease, Dane Cook, My Wife, PFC Cirhan and my parents... You guys are all part of why I'm bout to blow up. (Mom- "blow up" is a good thing)
What I mean to ask is, do you have a job or lifestyle that you'd rather be living? I'm pretty sure we all do... Outside of Hugh Hefner or Chuck Norris, I think we all have a little room for improvement in our lives. The sour point of it all is 99.9% of us all have dreams of being something more, but a vast majority of us are doing nothing to achieve full potential. Why is this? Well here we go. My dream is to be a writer. Writing anything; comedy, fiction, commentary... Just writing something.
Recently, I came across a key group of people that offered insight to a lot of things, both common and foreign to me. Concepts so basic that I didn't even understand how I could've been missing this for so long. These words came directly from the mouths of nationally recognized artists and some of the most unique people you would ever meet that happen to live right across the street. The gist was this: You want something? Go get it.
Reasons be damned there will always be an opposition. Forget the opposition. You got kids, too many commitments, you're broke... All common reasons why we don't chase our dreams. Every day there are people that succeed at what they want in life despite these exact reasons, sometimes with them all combined.. If Stephen Hawking can develop theories and educate people on quantum gravity and if David Spade can land Heather Locklear, you can clearly see anything is possible.
Most of us stay on the safe path for fear of failure. Thinking about the logistics for chasing your dream you think, "Can I do this?" Who the fuck starts off on a path for success expecting any type of failure? Almost all of us do this. And it boils down to intent. Do you intend to go for your aspirations, or do you intend to use a question like "can I do it?" as a deterrent to persuade yourself from leaving your comfort zone? These goals don't have to be enormous. You don't have to aim for a PhD or the UFC heavyweight title, just make yourself a goal. Start small. You'd be surprised at how much you can accomplish when you're actually trying. Not "Can I?” try "How can I?"... A simple yet effective tool taught to me by my favorite comedian Kyle Cease.
I'm on this new kick to take reality by the balls and "twist it 'round yo head, spin it like a helicopta!” All my Rentonites will likely get the reference. For everyone else, I meant that I'm going to take control of my life.
But I digress.
From this moment on, things are going to change. I have four new goals.
1. Start a new blog to post bi-weekly (check)
2. Start a new podcast (hopefully a weekly podcast)
3. Get up on stage at least 4 times a month
4. FINISH MY DAMN BOOK
So you heard it here. Goals. I made them public. Hold me to them. Bug me about my progress. Prod me for details. Shit, contact me; let's work together on something. But I want to hear your goals or aspirations. What is something that you would be doing in a perfect world? Would you be living in the same city? With the same people? Are you doing anything to pursue that?
I've spent my whole life using words to navigate the world. Sometimes it led me to a profound answer; sometimes it led me to the principal’s office, sometimes it led me to defeat. But in every situation, these words were always available to express myself. And I'm not sure how yet, but eventually something that spews from this 4th grade educated brain of mine will find it's way into your life and you will find it useful. These words will help me achieve my goals, and in turn, I hope they can be a spark to you achieving yours. These words will help buy my next house. These words will help me acquire a big enough stake in CNN so that I can stop hearing about how much of a racist Mel Gibson is... Don't you have an oil leak to attend to?
I may speak on the mating rituals of primates or the clear visibility of corn in my last bowel movement, but I promise there will always be true and authentic "Cole" involved.
With that said, Cole is an open and honest person. (And clearly a little narcissistic to be speaking in 3rd person) If you have any questions or comments, don't hesitate to leave 'em. If I think you're full of shit, I will likely say so. But if I think you make a valid point, I will still likely contend that you're full of shit, but will still attend to your point.
Subscribe to this blog. Pass on this blog. Repost, retweet, regurgitate this blog. Even publicly trash this blog. Just do me a solid and get the word out. I'm here to educate and entertain. Also if any of you are younger or faint of heart or morale, you should probably stay clear of this blog. I like pee pee and poo poo jokes and hate teams like the Yankees and Lakers. Yes, alienate 1/2 of the people you know on the first blog. Real genius marketing strategy...
Cole W. Nicholls
Quick thanks to a handful of people: Kyle Cease, Dane Cook, My Wife, PFC Cirhan and my parents... You guys are all part of why I'm bout to blow up. (Mom- "blow up" is a good thing)
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