Women

Guys, listen up.

Literally. 

If you want to impress a woman, listen up. 

I went out with a group of people for my friend Charlena’s birthday last night.  Being one of the few straight men in attendance, Charlena was eager to introduce me to her boyfriend Owen’s sister, Norah, a nurse from Milwaukee who was in town for the weekend. 

“Hey, Rick knows Myers-Briggs,” Charlena said in front of everyone, grinning.  “Rick, why don’t you see if you can figure out Norah’s personality type.”

Charlena is smart.

Charlena is sweet.

Charlena can go to hell.

Still, I gave in and sat down next to Norah.  Turned out she already knew her type.  So we discussed that.  Then I listened.  I listened as she talked about her job; about how her co-workers of different types drive her nuts; about her mother, a retired nurse who is now a talented and published writer.  I made eye contact.  I paid attention.  I actually let the woman speak, sometimes in stretches that lasted for (gasp!) more than a minute.  I didn’t take a drink.  I didn’t check my BlackBerry.  I didn’t try to interject lame one-liners.  I didn’t eye bang her.

When it was my turn to talk, I spoke clearly, elaborated on points, continued to make eye contact, etc.  In other words, we had what I would consider to be a mature, adult conversation in a bar.  I write this not to pat myself on the back.  I write this because Owen, Norah’s brother, said something that really struck me. 

“Hey,” he said, shaking my hand as I was leaving.  “This isn’t a loaded statement, but my sister really, really enjoyed talking to you tonight.  She said guys don’t ever pay attention and talk to her like that.”

Fellas, this is lame. 

You want to meet women?  You want to impress women?  Stop dousing yourselves with Axe body spray and using cosmo after cosmo to try to get into some sweet young thang’s pants.  Instead, be confident.  Be brave.  Be bold.  Be human.  Be polite.  Ask questions.

But mostly, shut up and listen. 

And I mean listen.  I don’t mean laugh at stuff that isn’t funny or affirm her every thought with “uh huh, uh huh” because you think it will get you laid. 

Listen for the sake of listening.

If you care even a little about politics in America, you must read this

And don’t let the headline deter you.

Yes, it’s about Sarah Palin.  (Yes, Matt Taibbi thinks she’s a moron.)  But the bulk of this fantastic piece addresses the state of American politics; not some twangy remark Palin fired off on Oprah. 

I beg of you: read this.

The ECHL is here

Covered the K-Wings’ 5-0 win over Trenton last night for the ol’ fishwrap. 

I still can’t believe the Devils outshot Kalamazoo 36-26.  It just didn’t feel like it.  The home team slapped the forechecking equivalent of a straightjacket on the visitors, which prevented them from moving the puck through the neutral zone with any flow or consistency, which was why the shot total seemed impossible.  Kalamazoo routinely had two players below the Trenton goal line, hounding the Devils’ defense like a bunch of ankle-biting dogs.  If you truly understand and appreciate this facet of the game, you would’ve been impressed.

Anyway, three things:

• The K-Wings took their team photo Oct. 24.  As of this morning, eight players who said “BEER!” are no longer on the roster because of recall to the American Hockey League.  Don’t bitch, K-Wings fans.  We wanted the ECHL.  We take the good with the bad.  Besides, the team is 11-2.
• Mitch Versteeg, the K-Wings’ rookie defenseman, will be in the NHL within three years.  He’s 20 years-old, property of San Jose and a mother back on defense.  He’s smooth on his skates, he jumps into plays, he’s patient with the puck, but mostly the 6-2, 204-pound brother of the Blackhawks’ Kris Versteeg just wants to run people over.  It’s hilarious.  At one point last night, he smoked a Trenton player in Kalamazoo’s zone, skated to the other end and hammered another Devil, then, on his way back up the ice, came all the way across the neutral zone to line up a third victim along the glass.  The final hit resulted in a roughing penalty on the wrecking ball, but it also touched off a mini brawl that earned Trenton goon Gord Burnett an instigator, a fighting major and a misconduct.  It was worth it. 
    
• The New Jersey Devils own the Trenton Devils and, as a result, the farm boys are mandated to do everything just like the big club.  And when I say everything, I mean everything.  Track suits to and from the morning skate?  Ha.  You’re wearing suits — even if it’s the fifth game of a nine-day road trip, nobody is at the rink and this is the third time you’ve worn that shirt.  Take the ice for warm-up with your chinstrap dangling, unsnapped?  Pay up.  If I’m the baby Devils, I have one question for New Jersey GM/godfather Lou Lamoriello (pictured): “So, if we’re doing everything just like you guys… uh, where’s the private jet?”

*
For the record, I committed a factual error in my Gazette story: I listed Brian McGuirk as a defenseman; he’s a forward. 

Deadlines.

Stupid Signs: Leaf blowers

Location: Ontario (we assume). Level of stupidity: Brilliant!

This sign has so much going on — hockey, beer, PLAYOF, using 3s as Es, the humor … wait a second.  This isn’t stupid.  This is awesome!

(Stick tap: Tommy G.)

*
In case you were wondering (and I doubt you were), the blog has gone pure signage all week because I’ve had approximately 437 articles to write for four different publications, including coverage of tonight’s ECHL matchup between the Trenton Devils and Kalamazoo Wings for the Gazette.

Hey, does a bricklayer come home from work and want to lay bricks?

Stupid Signs: Maybe they ran out of Is and Es?

Location: Green Bay. Level of stupidity: Wayne and Garth

Judging by the difference in style of some of the letters, this is likely. 

But still.

(Hat tip: Steph.)

Stupid Signs: Pass

Location: Euchre night. Level of stupidity: Derelict?

I typed “daerler” into a Google search just to make sure it wasn’t actually a word.  Here were some of the results:

Pengalaman Touring
Daerler Garut untuk tempat Berhentinya di garut. 6. Tak lupa kepada Kang Suud ( P2C ) yang memberikan arahan dan bimbingan touring perdana. 7. Club Xtreme . …

DAERLER. DAGON. DAGON DELACONTRIE. DAHLER. DAIGUE. DALMAS. DAMBLY. DAMM.
DAERLER. DAGON. DAGON DELACONTRIE. DAHLER. DAIGUE. DALMAS. DAMBLY. DAMM. DANGEL. DANGELSER. DANIEL. DANNENMULLER. DANNER. DANNEUZ. DANTZBER …

dick smashes into our car
bad news… defo a write of.. i had a small dent in my rear quater of my old vtr and they wrote it of… said just to replace to rear quater at main daerler …

PALM OIL FOR SALE
hi i am obenny a palm oil daerler at the most comfortable rate. well if interested just call me on 0023776272565 or email me

Price of shotgun ammo gone up?
Maybe this is something I shouldn’t talk about but what my limit is on my licence has never concerned any daerler I have purchased from.

(Grazie*: Linda Diehl.)

* Full disclosure: I spelled grazie (the Italian word for “thank you”) wrong initially, which my mother (&^%#!) pointed out.

Image

Had the Monday Night Football game on in the background last night as Mike Tirico introduced the Ravens’ defense, complete with the little headshots of each player at the bottom of the screen.

Jarret Johnson… Kelly Gregg… Ray Lewis, the future Hall of Famer… Dawan Landry…

Ray Lewis. 

It’s been nearly a decade since he and his buddies were charged with allegedly stabbing to death two men — Jacinth Baker and Richard Lollar — during Super Bowl week in Atlanta.  Article after article after article has been written in the aftermath.  Lewis made a plea deal, testified against his buddies, got a year of probation, professed his faith in God, became really devoted to his family, etc.  Sports Illustrated’s S.L. Price wrote a fantastic piece on all of it in November 2006.

Now?  Lewis is still burying his helmet into the chests of opponents, still leading Baltimore’s defense, still on pace to be showered with praise on the day of his election to Canton. 

*

Last Saturday, Alex Rodriguez and a few other Yankees held an autograph signing at a suburban New York country club.  Price of A-Rod’s John Hancock?  $250-$475 each.  (Jeff Pearlman nails this whole thing here.)  Remember a year ago?  A-Rod was a womanizing, steroid-using, playoff flop.  He marinated on the New York baseball spit.  He was a joke.  None of his teammates like him.  He’s arrogant.  He can’t hit in the playoffs.

This year?

He admits steroid use, overcomes early-season hip surgery and — most importantly — figures out his playoff stroke.  He belts six postseason home runs, nudges his career playoff average back over .300, the Yanks win the World Series, all hail The King!

I believe in second chances, but have you noticed how quickly this country re-brands its sports heroes?  Ten years ago, Ray Lewis may as well have been Satan.  Last year, Alex Rodriguez was the boob of baseball.  But with a little spin, a new coat of P.R. paint and, most of all, immortal on-field performances, all is forgotten.

Just sayin’.

Stupid Signs: Life. Not well spent.

Location: SEARS, Ann Arbor. Level of stupidity: 100%

Props to Kelly V — and congrats on the new condo that will house the new refrigerator.

How about a little faith … in yourself?

RALEIGH, N.C.|

I ran across this story in USA Today while killing time at O’Hare yesterday.

To summarize:

• Pastor of a church in a place called Burton, Ohio, takes his girlfriend up in a hot air balloon to propose
• Pastor accidentally drops camera case with engagement ring inside out of balloon, sending ring 500 feet below into thick woods (doh!)
• Once home, pastor “Googled maps, plotted flight paths and marked off search grids”
• For seven days, pastor and fiancee (he proposed, anyway; she said yes) hack through woods with machetes and eventually find ring

Now, the rub:

When interviewed about the fiasco, the fiancee said, “It was so beautiful. It was perfect. It was everything that I wanted. And that we found it, and I never thought in a million years we’d find it, that was truly God. It really was.”

See, this is where religion and God and people who believe lose me.

Was it Him who figured out where the balloon was in relation to a nearby river?  Was it Him who went home and plotted maps and flight patterns?  Was it Him who hacked away brush for a week?

No, it was him — the living, breathing, mortal and apparently intelligent man you agreed to marry.

Doesn’t he deserve the credit?

P.S. — I’m down here in North Carolina visiting friends for the weekend.  Yes, there’s hockey here.  Of course, I’m going: Hurricanes and Islanders tonight.  Two NHL games in different cities in the same week for this hockey honk.  Can I get a HELL YES?

Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah

“God DAMN there’s a lot of stupid bastards walkin’ around.” – George Carlin

CHICAGO|

I’m walking down the sidewalk to dinner last night and, about thirty yards ahead of me, two men — fortyish, clean cut, seemingly well-educated – are strolling along, hand-gesturing, deep in conversation. 

All I can hear is the faint hum of their voices, but as they approach their conversation comes into focus.  Then, as we pass each other, I hear the one guy say to the other guy:

“… the problem with the iPhone is that it’s too big of a success …”

Uh, what? 

Unless this guy sells BlackBerrys (unsuccessfully), in what context does that statement even begin to make sense? 

Too big of a success. 

According to Wikipedia, Apple has sold 33.75 million iPhones in over 80 countries or territories.  Big, yes.  Successful, yes.  But too big of a success? 

What does that even mean?

P.S. – I’ve camped out here at Argo Tea the last few mornings.  Great place.  Good light.  Friendly staff.  Great coffee (and tea).  I was also here a couple of times last week … and apparently one of the female baristas has noticed, because she just asked me out.  I was sitting here, face buried in my monitor, when suddenly she appeared from around the corner, jacket on, shift over, and with solid eye contact and a smile said, “So, would you like to go get breakfast with me?”  I was completely caught off guard.  For the record, I politely declined.  

Also: According to the male barista, the Blackhawks’ Andrew Ladd is a regular here.  For whatever that’s worth.