Gratuitous picture of my knees. This is how I ride in cars at the moment.
And then, suddenly, a possible explanation for my issues with snow.
GPOYW. Told you I was cutting it all off.
Robin asked what was up with the hair: I’m growing it out a little.
It’s unruly at the moment, since the places where I usually go (either the strip mall supercut or the financial district salon where they hire unbelievably hot supermodels who don’t really know shit about hair but wear awesome clothes) could not translate my requirements into a workable outcome. I’m going to a guy I know and trust tomorrow to help me get this right or probably talk me out of it altogether. “Dude, you’re a 45-year-old man and you look like an idiot. You’re already too old for a mid-life crisis and we’re cutting that off right now.”
BTW, it’s really hard to take a focused pic of the back of your own head.
Gratuitous Coaching Observations Wednesday:
- By age 8, it’s obvious which kids are good at baseball.
- You can also tell those who are good at life by the same age.
- For a short cut to the previous realization, meet their parents.
- The little blonde kid who hasn’t had a hit all year and then finally gets a big one to drive in key runs? It’s not just Bad News Bears, it’s real, and it’s pretty awesome. Go Hank!
- I yelled at them hard for the first time today. Have fun, build your self-esteem, all that 21st century bullshit, fine. But if you’re looking down, fooling with the dirt while ostensibly playing shortstop, you could get really badly hurt and you’re going to hear about it from me. Ditto for floor hockey in the dugout.
- There’s not a lot to take away from a 23-12 beating. But you will get a snack, at least.
- I’m going out drinking with the other dads/coaches soon, and we’re going to set the playoff lineups. Damn right we are PLAYING TO WIN.
- My kid’s a decent player, middle of the pack. But no one tries harder or pays more attention or is more polite and, honestly, who could ask for more?
- I think this post is only about 100 words short of becoming a pithy, weepy Mitch Albom best-seller.
GPOYW, c. 1985.
I’d tell the backstory, but I’m sure the one you’d come up with is more interesting.
My little friend here had a pretty tough 24 hours. Any day that includes a new prescription for an EpiPen will be filed under “raging suckfest” 100% of the time.
And the hipster with the new glasses needs a nap, stat.
One awesome story about the getaway weekend to Mexico would be how I left my glasses in a disco/tequila bar and didn’t discover it until I was on my way to the airport the next morning and there was no time to go back and get them so I had to go get fitted for new glasses tonight and the drive home was terrifying since there was a pressure differential in my eyes that he needed to dilate me to test which turned out to be nothing and anyway this increased the net cost of my trip by several hundred dollars if you think about it which makes the story not so awesome after all.
GPOYW. We had a real photographer, Ray Harris, at our gig last weekend. Click through for the set.
And no, I wasn’t going for a combover here…this was after I was awkwardly tousled by Cliff.
GPOYW with many bedtime bonuses:
- Possibly tipsy dad
- Unquestionably adorbz daughter
- OCD-sorted-(mostly)-by-decreasing-size bathroom accoutrement
- Super 70’s Sicilian Whorehouse Decor (green marble walls!)