The World's Least Superficial Dog Owner

Come on, be honest with me, you first looked at the picture below before reading this entry. That's okay since I would have done the same. Damn, that is one ugly dog. It looks like something from a horror movie or the host of "Tales From the Crypt." The picture is not meant to scare, injure, or harm you. Rather, it is to show that there are a few dogowners who don't choose their dog based on appearance. The following is a 14-year-old Chinese Pedigreed crested that won the World's Ugliest Dog Contest a few weeks ago.

I think the owner could at least do a few things to help the dog's appearance. For one, adding a little styling gel to those five white hairs would really help the dog meet some lady friends. Also, is it possible for the owner, Susie Lockheed, to brush Sam's teeth once in a while? I guess it is impressive to have won the contest for the last three years, but you have to wonder what it's doing for the dog's confidence when he isn't approached at the dog park to even have his backside sniffed, and isn't that something we all work toward each day?

Sam is blind and does suffer from many medical problems and requires lots of pills so Lockheed should be congratulated on taking him in, but come on, don't kick him while he's down by putting him in ugly dog contests. Lockheed said she has never had a dog so much in love with her, well, I guess she doesn't care that dogs in love tend to gravitate toward people like themselves.

Is Lockheed crazy? That depends on your opinion of people in dogshows and the like. She gives Sam bottled water, ensures he is always hanging out in 70-degree environments, makes him home-cooked meals (including flan and french toast), and the best one...Sam sleeps with her...get this...under the bedsheets! I bet Sam is a nice and well-behaved dog, but do you really want to wakeup with that thing next to you? If you want to know the latest on Lockheed and her dog, checkout their blog.

Too Hot For Free Tickets

Through my dad's "connections" not named Tony Soprano, he got 4 tickets to today's Oriole game versus Toronto. When he got the tickets, we were both excited to not only see each other and some baseball, but also because at the time, the O's were in first place. How times have changed. The O's immediately (and completely unrelated to the tickets of course) went into a freefall close to biblical levels. So with the game today, the O's are in 4th place, far out of the playoff picture, and will again finish the year below .500.

My dad and still thought about going b/c we'd spend time together (awww) and at least see some semblance of baseball. Well, thanks to the oppressive heat and humidity this weekend, he ended up going about an hour or so down the turnpike before calling me to say if it was still hot in his car despite the AC, watching a game outside, even for a few innings would be brutal. So he's on his way home to watch the PGA Championship and hangout with the dog. I had said to him yesterday how hot it would be, but we decided to take our chances, even for two hours of gametime, but it wasn't meant to be (and we don't get to boo Palmeiro's first game since his suspension).

Though we both would have loved to get together, it was just too hot to make it worthwhile. So for now, I'm staying inside, watching golf, and calling my dad.

World's Loudest Happy Hour

Yesterday I had dinner with a good friend of mine at "On The Border" off Rockville Pike. I hadn't dined in Mexican food in a while so why not get my fix here. Upon walking in, we noticed how incredibly loud the bar area was. I understand happy hour noise levels get high, but this was crazy. It was as if the restaurant's walls were designed to reflect the noise back upon itself and create even more noise, forcing everyone already making noise, to make even more noise so they're heard over the noise they just made.

I figured once we were sitting in the dining room, the noise wouldn't be too bad, but alas, my co-diner and I had to ask, "what did you say?" more than a few times to overcome the noise. Despite being a lactard, I ordered the supreme dinner that gives a sampling of a few mexican meals. The food was really nothing special thanks to being lathered in cheese, so this was probably my first and last meal at On The Border.

By the way, for those weirdos still wondering, I survived the meal and just to give you too much information, it hasn't caused me any trouble...yet.

Let's takeoff the training wheels

Ever since two of my best friends told me they had bought bikes and have gone on a few rides, I've made it a point to search for a bicycle of own. I have always enjoyed riding, but haven't owned a bike since I outgrew my last set of wheels in college. Trust me, that bike had gotten too small for me since my back would hurt after making the 10-minute ride to campus.

It's clear that bike technology has really improved since my bike was bought at least 10 years ago. Dual suspension systems, disc brakes, and 24 speeds are the tip of the iceberg in the world of consumer cycling. I'm just looking for any entry-level mountain bike to take on some roads and maybe a well-manicured trail. Though it'll be used on roads 95% of the time and not so much on a trail, I like the durability that comes with a mountain bike versus a "10-speed" racer.

Riding appeals to me as a great alternative to other exercise methods. I haven't lifted weights in 2.5 weeks and don't really miss them. Sure the workout was great, but it got boring and when I feel tired enough to nap, I'll choose napping over lifting. Playing ultimate frisbee on Sundays is nice, but if my lifting has tailed off, I need something new to do between Sundays. I dislike just going for a run, but welcome riding with open arms. It gets me outside and once I'm on the bike, it's not like I can get distracted (or procrastinate) by checking email, watching TV, or sleeping.

Ideally, I will get my hands on a bike (that is not the one above) before the end of the month and perhaps let you know when I've gone a significant ride. Of course, I might just procrastinate the bike purchase and take a nap instead.

It's good to have a friend with great vision

Last night, while eating dinner, my friend noticed someone walking by the cars in front of my apartment with a flashlight. She said it looked like a tow truck driver checking everyone's parking permits or lack thereof. Fortunately she noticed him and his flashlight and asked me if I had put my temporary parking pass on the rearview mirror. Of course, I hadn't b/c I was going to place it there after I got gas for my car that afternoon. Well I took a nap and never got around to getting the gas. So I ran downstairs in my slippers and placed the permit on the mirror, and just to make things square, I got a few gallons of gas, shortly after 10 in those same slippers.

I'm just glad that I got to write about cutting things close with the permit, instead of one lamenting my forgetfulness causing me to be out $150 and complain about the logistics of getting that cash and making it to the impound lot after my car was towed.

Take Her Shopping Cart License Away!

After looking through my pantry and realizing that I can't get by on a dinner of boil-a-bag rice and PB&J sandwiches, I did some major food shopping last night and learned that some people just shouldn't be allowed to push their shopping carts without permission or training wheels.

This all took place while I was cruising along in this middle area between the health/beauty products and the pet food aisle. This space is twice as wide as a normal aisle with a few displays in the middle acting as medians. After getting my cookies, I turned into this space on my way to the bread aisle when I saw a woman in the other direction, but on the OTHER SIDE of the cinnabon display. I thought nothing of her since we were clearly on opposite sides and had some material between us (or better yet protecting me from her).

Just as we're about to pass each other, she suddenly swerves right after the raisin English Muffin stand toward my cart. Thanks to the Defensive Shopping Cart Driving School diploma I earned last year, I was able to swerve to the left - avoiding her brazen cart pushing, then powerslide back to the right around the sharp blades of the disposable razor display at the end of one of the health/beauty aisles. Well, the blades are sharp and they were in two layers of plastic for protection, but any blog entry sounds more exciting when weapons are involved.

I immediately had to stop my cart since I was shaken up from the matter. After checking for whiplash and my pants for any loss of bladder from being scared, I immediately turned around to give her the "I can't believe you can't control your shopping cart despite the wide aisle and product display medians eye". Of course, she didn't even give me the respect of turning around to see if I was okay, and do you know why?

She was on her cell phone!

The picture below is an artist's sketch of how I described her appearance (though the height is a little off):

I have no complaints about cell phone use, but there needs to be a rule that you can't push your cart and talk on the phone at the same time. Shopping cart usage rules must be adapted from our driving regulations. Here's the first law...you may only use your cell phone in the store if your shopping cart is stopped or you have a hands-free device. The reason the woman almost hit me is because she was distracted and tried pushing the cart with one hand. I'd like to think we live in a world of supermarkets that don't require stop signs and traffic lights to safely buy food.

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For the rest of my blog full of rants, raves, and attempts at humor, its current address is:

http://bandtcrowd.blogspot.com

Rafael Palmeiro and the MLB Conspiracy

I recognize that the world of sports is a business and that some entertainment/excitement is required to maintain the casual fan's interest. If a sport rests on its laurels, eventually the general public will become dissatisfied with the product because there's nothing new as athletes start looking like they're going through the motions. With this in mind, I've been thinking about Palmeiro and his steroid suspension, its timing, and Major League Baseball's look-the-other-way policy for the last 15 years.

You have to question the timing of Palmeiro's results being made public. Apparently, his positive test was found in May, yet he was allowed to continue playing. So here's one line of thinking...MLB had the results in hand, but saw he would get his 3,000th hit sometime in the summer, only after that would he be knocked off his pedestal with the test's results. He's the biggest name to get busted and makes a great example of a "star" who cheated. MLB's ability to choose to suspend someone who just got his 3,000th hit two weeks earlier says a lot about how well its foundation has been rebuilt since the early 90's.

During the strike year of 1994 when no World Series was played, I penned a column in my high school newspaper that essentially said, as a member of the next generation of paying sports fans, MLB really lost an entire generation with the strike, games that end far too late for the East Coast, and escalating prices for a day at the park. Heck, things were so bad that when the 1995 season was played, even the Atlanta Braves won a World Series that year.

With MLB at rock bottom, the suits at the league's offices were well aware that players were getting unnaturally larger. With players becoming so strong thanks to hormones and any number of designer steroid drugs, the steroid ban began in 1990 (but had not real penalties) in conjunction with Congress' passing of the Anabolic Steroid Control Act of 1990 (of course). Before this ban, the suspected steroid use of McGwire, Bonds, etc., was perfectly legal in baseball's eyes. Sure players were getting bigger and homeruns were increasing, but games weren't the out of control homerun derbies that they became in the late 90's and early 2000's.

So back to 1994 and the strike that put baseball in a ton of trouble. Fan interest has waned, ticket sales and tv ratings are at record lows and fans lament the time between pitches, overall length of a typical game, and salaries. I theorize that the higher-ups in baseball realized that as steroids become more refined and complex, players will be hitting homeruns, records will be set, and most importantly, the fans will love the game again. Sure there's a steroid ban, but there was no consistent test policy in place. This allows high schoolers in the early 90's to play with steroids and ultimately reach the majors as fully grown and strong hitters because they've always (ab)used drugs.

MLB allowed the use because they saw the obvious - fans will return to the game if today's players do things better than anyone else before them. The commissioner and team owners wanted a tangible thing the casual fan would relate to so why not highlight the simplest of baseball skills - smashing a ball over the fence. Sure I love great pitching, but all of us are in awe of a massive homerun. So MLB lets the players juice, smash homers, and break the most hallowed records by incredible marks, specifically the battle for Roger Maris' season homerun record between Sosa and McGwire.

What do you do when the "best players" are juicing and you have to as well to keep your job?

Baseball writers "thought" (or just looked the other way) that the homeruns were due to smaller parks, watered-down pitching thanks to expansion, and a possible conspiracy by MLB to stitch baseballs tighter. Of course, like all of us, they ignored how all of the players were incredibly large by chalking it up to better exercise, weight training, and supplements (not steroids of course). Thanks to your typical baseball contest looking more like a videogame, everyone returned to the ballpark and actually cared about pennant races during the season. Previously small players like Ken Caminiti came out of nowwhere to win the 1996 MVP and Brady Anderson suddenly hit 50 homeruns while his previous high was 21 and he never hit more than 24 the rest of his career. Think about this...36 times in the history of baseball has a player hit at least 50 homeruns, yet 18 of those happened in the last 10 years.

Baseball's foundation in the nation's sports mind was solid once again.

Now that the league is on good terms with its fans, it can crackdown on the steroid controversy that it allowed to happen. The ability to crackdown on itself says a lot about the game's strength, in that it's strong enough to humiliate the same players it used to rejuvenate the game, yet has no problems washing its hands clean by burning the candle at both ends and making the players the scapegoats. MLB made a deal with the devil by allowing steroids and is trying to act as its own archangel.

It's easy for Bud Selig to ask for stiffer penalties and look like the good guy, but shouldn't we be asking him why it took so suspicioulsy long (or rather waited until now) to finally get vocal about this problem?

Using Matches in the Bathroom

I recognize that this might be too personal for some readers that haven't visited too often, but how many of us have some matches in the bathroom? It's okay, go ahead and raise your hand since I doubt anyone is sitting next to you at the computer. The idea of lighting a match to counteract that not-so olfactor-loving bathroom odor has been a phenomenal event ever since I first saw them used in my late grandparents' home. Before then, I'd rely on the unreliable bathroom vent/fan (that we all know doesn't do anything), a window (which helped a bit except if you got a whiff outside), or an air freshener (that only made the smell worse and spread even further).

For the longest time, whenever I'd visit my grandparents and use the little boy's room, I'd see the matchbook on top of the toilet, but never figured out their use since there were no candles anywhere. Finally, I discovered, or rather had it explained to me, that after you're done with your business, for the sake of anyone within a mile, please please please light at least one match so we don't have to learn-by-smell what just happened in there. Are you uncomfortable with this topic yet?

If you haven't used matches to cover-up your business, let me have the honor of breaking you in with the greatness that they bring. Trust me, you're far better off smelling the burnt carbon of a match than any air freshener out there. Those sprays only push things around and never get rid of the smell. Though I have not run my unofficially official unscientific non-clinical trial yet, I believe a match actually absorbs the smell while it burns and then overwhelms the predisposed smell you left once the match is blownout and has time to smoke. I've been asked about match placement for maximum smell...well, just about anywhere in the bathroom will do the trick since it's just that good.

I decided to write about this topic that's near and dear to all of us after taking two matchbooks from a restaurant in DC. Those in the elite matchbook circles know this one place offers an astounding 40 matches per book, so it was a good time to stock up. Don't worry, I don't go around grabbing every matchbook I see, but even when my inventory is low, I'm allowed to be selective.

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For the rest of my blog full of rants, raves, and even worse attempts at humor, its current address is:

http://bandtcrowd.blogspot.com

The Greatness of Hoyer's Ice Cream Stand

As you know, I went home to the tri-state area this past weekend for some R&R with my parents and the dog. We thought about making a trip to the city (that's NYC and not DC, Chicago, LA, SF, or ANY other city in the world for the uncool), but decided to do a little marinated steak BBQ with fresh corn from the local farm (yes, there is one "farm" in the NJ suburbs), and then we were going to hustle up 9W for some great soft serve ice cream from Hoyer's in West Haverstraw. The steak and corn were great, but we had to get moving if we wanted to get our dessert in time. It also gave my parents a chance to get a real feel for my new car.

We got onto route 9W and all of its wonderful curves and hills. It's a great road to drive, but has always been a deadly road since it's not exactly lit for the most part and some people don't know that speeding around a blind curve at night isn't the safest thing to do. Nevertheless, I stayed at the speed limit and it was a problem-free trip. Now it was time to eat. I didn't bring my camera for this trip, but these pictures I did find definitely do the trick. It really is your quintessential summertime ice cream stand.

The stand does not have a single menu board, but rather pieces of paper listing your options. Sure, each of the papers with a different ice cream float description are found a few feet from each other, or the toppings list is 4 windows from the hard ice cream flavor list, but who really cares? If there was one big menu, Hoyer's would become too corporate and lose the 1933 mentality/experience that makes it so great.

We got there around 8:45 and it seemed like the lights were being turned off a little after 9 so to play it safe, get there before 9 and you should be fine. Upon our arrival, the 3 lines seemed a little long until we realized that people weren't in line, but trying to make the impossible decision of what to order. My choice was simple, safe, and always outstanding - chocolate and vanilla soft serve swirl with rainbow sprinkles on a waffle cone. It's okay if you need some time to salivate. It tasted great and really can't be beat. I thought about ordering the hard ice cream since my parents were also going soft serve, but there's no need to mess with a great and reliable flavor. Only if I started making more than one trip each summer for ice cream would I consider experimenting with Hoyer's soft serve perfection.

Michael Hoyer says not just anyone can make a soft ice cream cone as tall and perfect as his. He piles his trade at Hoyer's Ice Cream on Route 9W in West Haverstraw.
(Vincent DiSalvio / The Journal News )/The Journal News (Aug. 5, 2003)

Hoyer's Ice Cream is really worth the drive up (or down 9W). It's hard to beat taking a ride (with a new car) on a fun road that runs along the Hudson River and goes through small "upstate" towns (some folks call anything outside of NYC as upstate) on your way to some great dessert. I can't find an exact address for Hoyer's, but it's off of 9W in West Haverstraw and is on the left-side if you're traveling northbound. It's the place with the long lines and great taste.