Halftime

I am watching the Nuggets play New Orleans at the moment, but it's halftime and I realized that I hadn't posted in a while. Let's see how much I can pack in before the third quarter starts.

Sometimes, when I am trying to quickly write an email, I'll accidentally type Oat instead of Pat. I'm nervous that one of these times, I'll miss the mistake and send off the email. I don't really want people from work giving me the nickname of Oat.

Mountain Dew has this goofy commercial with some kids sitting around a park, drinking the heinous concoction of high fructose corn syrup and Yellow #5. Each time they take a drink, they somehow become electrified, and take on an unhealthy glow. I actually think that you do start to have a radioactive sheen when you drink that shit, but regardless, I don't think this is the point. There are swarms of mosquitoes around the kids, and as they fly in to drink the poisoned blood, they get zapped. Problem is, the kids are wearing sweatshirts or jackets. If it's cold enough to need to bundle up when you're hanging in the park after dark, its too cold for mosquitoes. Seriously, who do they think we are?

I'm exhausted. I managed to get in a gym session with Nick over at the BRC, and then went back home to do some more work. After that, I went to a yoga class with my sister Megan. That's a good 5 hours of burning off steam, but I'm zonked. Need a vacation, and fortunately, I'm headed to Squaw on Friday for a week of skiing.

Caller ID is a great feature. The phone rang, but I didn't have to talk to the telemarketer who was on the other end. So I got that going for me. Which is nice.

I got a new ski helmet for Christmas. "New" is a bit of a misnomer. It was probably made back in 1988. But anytime you get the chance to sport a Boeri hot pink racing helmet that was the preferred brain bucket of your girlfriend's baby brother, you gotta do it. Also, I got some new skis recently. The topsheet's graphics feature a flaming skull. It really goes well with the new lid.

I've been talking a bunch recently about how my buddy Hans needs to make a full transition to what I call "The Chris Anderson Zone". Chris Anderson plays for the Nugs, and is by far the goofiest 7 foot honkey to ever play in the NBA. His nickname is the Birdman. Although not nearly as intimidating as "Oat", or even "The Oatman", he is covered in tatooes, has a gross soul patch, and wears a sweat band over his ears. Hans is also a tall, goofy whitey, and I'm trying my best to get him to cover himself in Sharpy tatooes and say dumb stuff like "it's time for the H-man to fly" when he races to the copier to get his freshly minted Assignment of Oil and Gas Lease.

Game's back on. More from Squaw. Maybe pics, too.