With the close of the NASCAR "regular season", the Chase for the Sprint Cup has begun. This new-fangled playoff format was devised by the NASCAR brain trust some years ago. A complicated points based playoff system, it is supposed to enhance fan excitement for the last 10 races of the year.
This is the evil work of Ivy League MBA consultants, let loose in the hallowed halls of stock car racing.
The regular points system is hard enough to figure out. But in the "Chase" it totally befuddles most casual racing fans. I have one college degree and working on a second; I can barely figure out what the hell is going on. My race loving cousins, who dropped out of the 7th grade, have no chance of comprehension.
Now only the top twelve drivers have a chance to win the championship. The other 30 or so drivers are in a "rebuilding phase" for next year. But the eliminated drivers are still in every race, even though they cannot win a championship. In other sports, the last place team does not get to play in the playoffs. I can smell the corporate idiot-mania here. Twelve drivers are "in it to win it", while 35 drivers are "in it to take up space."
In 2010, the "Chase" contenders are set. There is a problem. Ask any average NASCAR fan to name all twelve of them. You might get four. If I think real hard I might get six. So after drinking myself silly through 26 races, this is the best that I can recall that are in the "Chase"
- Jeff Burton, He is one of my favorites, so I can remember him.
- Denny Hamlin, I only know that, because he won last night's race and the TV squawked for 20 minutes about him being the number one seed.
- Jimmie Johnson, TV commentators will not shut up about his chances of winning a fifth straight championship.
- Clint Bowyer, TV wouldn't shut up about him being the last one to make the cut.
- Jeff Gordon, Next to Jimmie Johnson, the other guy the TV people talk about constantly.
- Greg Biffle, I like him because I think Biffle is a really cool last name.
As for the other six, me and millions of other hard drinking fans will need a nice graphic from ESPN to figure it out.
Friday
The ironic nose zit
For reasons unknown, I get a zit on my nose about every two to three years. I have been unemployed for two years.
I have a job interview in three days. There is now a huge red zit on my nose.
Figures...
I have a job interview in three days. There is now a huge red zit on my nose.
Figures...
Criteria for a great job
I am fastly approaching two years of unemployment. I even have a headhunter, who specializes in the scrap industry looking for me. Its to the point; I would accept a job in a foreign country, The North.
When I first sent my headhunter my resume, he called me immediately. "This is a terrible resume."
"Its mostly because of my career." I wanted to say it, but I didn't.
I even offered to work for a scrap yard for FREE, just to gain a few resume bullets. Still got a NO. I can't even give it away. I must be the nastiest metal whore ever.
So I dusted off my 2004 edition of "What color is your parachute?" And started going through the section of determining what type of job I wanted to do. Here is my criteria for a great job.
•Being drunk or stoned would not greatly affect job performance.
•I refuse to be on call after I leave work. If you need me, call somebodyelse.
•I do not like working with people, particularly young people.
•I do not like working with computers
•I am completely terrified of snakes and refuse to work anywhere near them.
•I don't do confined spaces, rules out mining.
•Medical field a definite no, I have the nurturing skills of a buzzard.
•Fortune 500 bullshit drives me nuts, cannot deal with it. Rules out the world's largest employers.
•No government jobs, been there, done that. Hated it.
•I have a near pathological hatred and distrust of authority. Rules out police work.
•I will only work holidays if it a) is not difficult b) pays well c) greatly increases my chances of pussy. The same applies for weekends.
•Not a skilled trade that I don't already have. Which is almost none. I am too damn old to learn a trade.
•I will only work more than 40 hours a week if it pays really well. I prefer to work 20 to 30 hours per week.
•I like to take a lot of vacation to go hiking or have day long masturbation sessions.
•I enjoy working with my hands, even more if soft music is playing and my penis is available.
On the positive side of things, I ain't too picky about pay and benefits. I ain't had health insurance in years. Mankind went thousands of years with out insurance and did just fine.
My journey to the dark side is complete. I am an alcoholic, broke, jobless - hillbilly.
" Help me Obi Won Kenobi - The correct six lottery numbers are my only hope."
Lottery Winner, there is the job I want.
When I first sent my headhunter my resume, he called me immediately. "This is a terrible resume."
"Its mostly because of my career." I wanted to say it, but I didn't.
I even offered to work for a scrap yard for FREE, just to gain a few resume bullets. Still got a NO. I can't even give it away. I must be the nastiest metal whore ever.
So I dusted off my 2004 edition of "What color is your parachute?" And started going through the section of determining what type of job I wanted to do. Here is my criteria for a great job.
•Being drunk or stoned would not greatly affect job performance.
•I refuse to be on call after I leave work. If you need me, call somebodyelse.
•I do not like working with people, particularly young people.
•I do not like working with computers
•I am completely terrified of snakes and refuse to work anywhere near them.
•I don't do confined spaces, rules out mining.
•Medical field a definite no, I have the nurturing skills of a buzzard.
•Fortune 500 bullshit drives me nuts, cannot deal with it. Rules out the world's largest employers.
•No government jobs, been there, done that. Hated it.
•I have a near pathological hatred and distrust of authority. Rules out police work.
•I will only work holidays if it a) is not difficult b) pays well c) greatly increases my chances of pussy. The same applies for weekends.
•Not a skilled trade that I don't already have. Which is almost none. I am too damn old to learn a trade.
•I will only work more than 40 hours a week if it pays really well. I prefer to work 20 to 30 hours per week.
•I like to take a lot of vacation to go hiking or have day long masturbation sessions.
•I enjoy working with my hands, even more if soft music is playing and my penis is available.
On the positive side of things, I ain't too picky about pay and benefits. I ain't had health insurance in years. Mankind went thousands of years with out insurance and did just fine.
My journey to the dark side is complete. I am an alcoholic, broke, jobless - hillbilly.
" Help me Obi Won Kenobi - The correct six lottery numbers are my only hope."
Lottery Winner, there is the job I want.
Tuesday
The swamp rats of Tatooine
I went to a party a while back. They had lost the labels for the two kegs. No one could tell which beer was which. I told them to step aside, I was unemployed. Two sips and I solved the mystery. The one on the right was Landshark, the left was Fat Tire. Should I consider quitting - Hell No! Just cutting back. I had been spending over $100 a week for booze. This is the fourth day in row that I have been sober. Honestly it sucks. How do you people do it? My plan is to drink only 2 days a week instead of 4 or 5. And I can only get fucked up once during the "work" week. Further, I can only drink good beer or liquor on one of those days. On the other day, its Icehouse road quarts in the can.
I just read over that last paragraph. The problem may be worse than I initially feared.
But there is hope! The rebel fighters have penetrated the Death Star's outer defenses. Several have begun their attack run; the two meter exhaust port is in sight. Which made me think. Luke used to bullseye swamp rats in his T16 back home on Tatooine. Now, Tatooine is a planet that is entirely desert. So where exactly in the desert does one find "swamp" rats?
Further, shouldn't Luke's propensity to slaughter innocent animals for sport, factored into Yoda's decision to train him in the Jedi arts? Too old and reckless my ass! The boy has no patience or respect for living creatures. Hell, even his old Pa, Ani-boy, did not kill for sport. He slaughtered the Sand People in revenge for happened to his Ma. He did not put out 'Sand People bait' and crawl up in his T16 and wait for the unsuspecting bastards. Then stuff a couple of them and hang them above Padme's fireplace
I just read over that last paragraph. The problem may be worse than I initially feared.
But there is hope! The rebel fighters have penetrated the Death Star's outer defenses. Several have begun their attack run; the two meter exhaust port is in sight. Which made me think. Luke used to bullseye swamp rats in his T16 back home on Tatooine. Now, Tatooine is a planet that is entirely desert. So where exactly in the desert does one find "swamp" rats?
Further, shouldn't Luke's propensity to slaughter innocent animals for sport, factored into Yoda's decision to train him in the Jedi arts? Too old and reckless my ass! The boy has no patience or respect for living creatures. Hell, even his old Pa, Ani-boy, did not kill for sport. He slaughtered the Sand People in revenge for happened to his Ma. He did not put out 'Sand People bait' and crawl up in his T16 and wait for the unsuspecting bastards. Then stuff a couple of them and hang them above Padme's fireplace
Sunday
Math of the functional alcoholic
How can a man, who hikes 20 miles a week for 3 months, still gain over 10 pounds? The numbers are terrifying. Sadly, the facts I am about to present to you are accurate.
Calories burned:
I usually hiked at least 6 1/2 miles at a time, 3 times a week - 35 times total during the summer. My typical hiking time per trip was 2 1/2 hours. With my pack, that's burning about 800 calories an hour. So I burned 2,000 per trip, times 35 trips. That equals 70,000 calories burned over the summer.
Calories consumed.
I usually drank 60 beers a week (or more) for 12 weeks. That's 720 beers over the summer; or 67 1/2 gallons. A typical beer of my preference runs 160 calories each. That's 115,200 calories imbibed over the summer.
115,200 calories consumed minus 70,000 calories burned. That a surplus of 45,200 calories. Now divide that by about 3,500 calories per pound of fat. So my beer drinking accounted for the13 pounds of fat put on my ass. The scale confirms my calculations.
Oh but it is worse! I gained 13 pounds over the summer. Had I not drank all that beer and still hiked; those 70,000 calories burned would have caused me to loose 20 pounds. So in all actuality, my voracious beer consumption caused me to be 33 pounds heavier today than I should be.
Guess how many pounds over weight I am... 36. So had I been able to resist the irresistible call of beer, I would only be 3 pounds over weight right now.
Worse yet, all that beer cost over $500.
Yes, I realize the absurdity of my beer habit. I have decided to take action and take back control of my life.
I am switching to vodka
Calories burned:
I usually hiked at least 6 1/2 miles at a time, 3 times a week - 35 times total during the summer. My typical hiking time per trip was 2 1/2 hours. With my pack, that's burning about 800 calories an hour. So I burned 2,000 per trip, times 35 trips. That equals 70,000 calories burned over the summer.
Calories consumed.
I usually drank 60 beers a week (or more) for 12 weeks. That's 720 beers over the summer; or 67 1/2 gallons. A typical beer of my preference runs 160 calories each. That's 115,200 calories imbibed over the summer.
115,200 calories consumed minus 70,000 calories burned. That a surplus of 45,200 calories. Now divide that by about 3,500 calories per pound of fat. So my beer drinking accounted for the13 pounds of fat put on my ass. The scale confirms my calculations.
Oh but it is worse! I gained 13 pounds over the summer. Had I not drank all that beer and still hiked; those 70,000 calories burned would have caused me to loose 20 pounds. So in all actuality, my voracious beer consumption caused me to be 33 pounds heavier today than I should be.
Guess how many pounds over weight I am... 36. So had I been able to resist the irresistible call of beer, I would only be 3 pounds over weight right now.
Worse yet, all that beer cost over $500.
Yes, I realize the absurdity of my beer habit. I have decided to take action and take back control of my life.
I am switching to vodka
Saturday
I am to old to go greek.
It was Friday, beer day.
Being old and in college has some issues (I am in my late thirties). Sometimes a good beer drinking crowd is hard to find.
I called everyone who I normally drink with, no takers. Not afraid to drink alone I sit at the end of the bar, destroying $1 drafts of Miller High Life (the champagne of beers.)
I end up striking a conversation with the guy across the bar. He is 25 years old and a veteran of 2 tours of combat in Iraq. We do glorious drinking. Then he hits me with an odd proposal.
"Dirty Ert, I am the president of a local fraternity. I want you to come by and join us. Hell, you won't even be the oldest guy there. Our sergeant at arms is 43."
He spent half an hour talking me into his little group.
I came home and sobered up. The next morning I decided me, married with two kids, a mortgage and one kid in college...joining a fraternity is a horrible idea.
I've never let the fact that an idea is bad, prevent me from doing it anyhow.
What am I getting myself into?
Being old and in college has some issues (I am in my late thirties). Sometimes a good beer drinking crowd is hard to find.
I called everyone who I normally drink with, no takers. Not afraid to drink alone I sit at the end of the bar, destroying $1 drafts of Miller High Life (the champagne of beers.)
I end up striking a conversation with the guy across the bar. He is 25 years old and a veteran of 2 tours of combat in Iraq. We do glorious drinking. Then he hits me with an odd proposal.
"Dirty Ert, I am the president of a local fraternity. I want you to come by and join us. Hell, you won't even be the oldest guy there. Our sergeant at arms is 43."
He spent half an hour talking me into his little group.
I came home and sobered up. The next morning I decided me, married with two kids, a mortgage and one kid in college...joining a fraternity is a horrible idea.
I've never let the fact that an idea is bad, prevent me from doing it anyhow.
What am I getting myself into?
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