Theories

There are some great outdoor basketball courts near our office building, so in the spring and fall, when temperatures permit, we play basketball during our lunch break at work.

One of the software engineers who plays nearly everyday frustrates me to no end—or at least he does when he’s not on my team; otherwise he’s a great guy. You see he’s shorter than I am, balder than I am, has a bigger “stummy” than I do, and yet somehow he manages to be quicker than I am, and jump higher than I do. Consequently he steals the ball from me on a regular basis, blocks my shots when I try to shoot over him, and gets rebound that he shouldn't.

And did I mention he’s a software engineer? Where does he get off breaking out of his stereotype and being good at basketball!? I mean it was okay when he beat me at Halo despite the fact that it was my game/xbox/projector we were playing with. He’s a software engineer! They’re supposed to be good at video games and computer stuff…but basketball? Isn’t that a little unfair? You can’t be good at everything.

I could never understand how he managed this until recently he revealed his secret to me. It’s a technique he’s been perfecting for some time now. It’s based on what he refers to as his “Theory of Fluid Dynamics.” Now I’m not sure I completely understand all the technicalities and subtle nuances of this theory, but the basic gist is that you use the “fluid nature” of your own body to your advantage.

For example, when you’re about to jump, you give a quick downward squat to send your “stummy” (this is Ben’s technical term) downward. Then, as your “stummy” reaches it’s lowest point and begins to rebound upward, you straighten your legs and jump with all you’ve got. The upward momentum of all your “stummy” mass carries you higher than you would normally be able to jump. See diagram below for clarification:

Evidently, this smashes a theory of my own. I called my theory the “Ice Princess Movie is Complete Bollux Theory”. My wife made me watch this movie (and then go ice skating which was more fun). The premise of the movie is that a science-geek girl becomes a champion ice skater by studying the physics of ice skater movements. I thought this was ridiculous, but evidently a strong understanding of scientific principles coupled with a little practice can lead to phenomenal results. I stand corrected (and sometimes blocked :( ).

Maybe in another post I’ll explain Ben’s other, less-scientific, basketball theory. I’m not sure if he’s named it yet, but I call it the “Theory of Fouling Really Hard When Your Opponent is About to Score Over You and There’s Nothing Else You Can Do About It.” It’s a pretty long name, so Ben probably calls it something better.

Hey Crackhead!

I ran across this post in the rants section of craigslist. I would link directly to it, but there's some swears, and I think my baby sister reads this blogs so I've edited it for content down to a PG-13 rating. It made me laugh really hard. Enjoy:

HEY CRACKHEAD!

Yes, you. You sick freak. On Wednesday morning I emerged from my girlfriend's building by U.N. Plaza to find that you had sawed the tops off both the sparkplugs on my motorcycle. At the time, I had no idea why anyone would do that. Other than the sparkplugs, the bike was untouched. Some kind of bizarre vandalism? A fraternity prank gone awry? I had no idea. All I knew is that I looked like a huge douchebag riding the Muni to work in a padded motorcycle jacket and helmet.

Because the bike was immobilized I got a $35 street sweeping ticket that night. Thursday I had it towed to the shop ($45) where they replaced the sparkplugs and the boots ($50 including labor). They explained to me that "people" - I use the term loosely here - like you break off the tops of spark plugs and use the porcelain tubes to smoke crack. As an engineer and former MacGyver fan, in a way I think this is kind of cool. But then I remember that I just paid $100 for YOUR crackpipes, and I get angry again.

Crackhead, it was really good to have my bike back though. I rode home from the shop with a couple of spare sparkplugs and a smile on my face. I figured the next time I parked at my girlfriend's place overnight I would have to buy some crackpipes and tape them to my bike as a peace offering. Overall, I wasn't that upset. Despite having to ride the bus for three days and dropping a hundred bones at the shop, I had gained some fascinating knowledge, a new set of sparkplugs, and a pretty funny anecdote about how f-ed up you are, and how our paths once crossed briefly in the night.

But you couldn't just let sleeping dogs lie, could you Crackhead. You couldn't just stay in on Friday, watch Letterman through the window of a home electronics store and then call it a night. You couldn't rest on your laurels. Two porcelain sparkplug crackpipes just wasn't enough for you, was it Crackhead? You just had to come back for more.

This morning, a scant fifteen hours after I rode it out of the shop, I found my motorcycle violated once again. This time you only took the right one - maybe you were having an off night. At least this time I had a spare sparkplug and the tools to fix it - or so I thought - having ordered a 73-piece toolset from SEARS.com last week. But no, the sparkplug socket in my new toolset was for American sparkplugs. So I had to go down to the neighborhood Ace hardware. They had an 18mm socket that would fit over my sparkplug, but it was for a 1/2" drive ratchet. My toolkit only has 1/4" and 3/8" ratchets. So I had to buy a 1/2" ratchet along with the socket. Even though the clerk took pity on me and gave me the senior citizen discount (I'm 25) it still cost me $22 all told. Now, you might say that I should have just gotten a 3/8"-to-1/2" drive adaptor instead of springing for the whole ratchet. And to that I say "Shut the hell up, Crackhead, I'm not finished. And besides, I was eventually going to buy a 1/2" ratchet anyway so it's probably not worth it to take it back now."

OK, now I'm rambling. But the point is, Crackhead, that you have done me wrong. Now, I get that you love crack. That is totally understandable. I've heard it is really fun, at first, and quite addictive. What I don't understand is,

YOU ARE A CRACKHEAD. WHY DON'T YOU OWN A CRACKPIPE?

I am an engineer. Do you ever see me shaking down bums in the Loin for a calculator and sliderule? No, you don't. Because engineering is the main thing I do, I went and bought myself a calculator. The main thing you do is crack. How do you get by without a crackpipe? The other crackheads must clown on you non-stop. I mean, the freakin’ saw you used to saw off my sparkplugs is probably worth five or ten bucks. Why not sell or trade it for a crackpipe? You really haven't put much thought into this, have you?

Please, Crackhead, please don't tell me you sold your crackpipe to buy crack. Even a stupid crackhead such as yourself couldn't possibly be that stupid.

I've decided that taping crackpipes to my motorcycle would be tantamount to appeasement. You have crossed a line, Crackhead - specifically California Street. You have come onto my own street and you have desecrated that which I hold dear. You have stolen from me, and you have caused me to spend the last half hour writing this post instead of engineering stuff, and it is conceivable, if not likely, that my boss could find out about this and fire me. I am hella pissed at you dude.

Here are my options as I see them:

1. Write a note saying that I have coated both of my sparkplugs in rat poison and tape it to my bike at night. You can thank Tim for that one, it was his idea.

2. Don't write a note, but just coat both sparkplugs in rat poison. This is probably closer to a punishment that would fit your despicable crime. I'm sure this is super illegal and stuff, but it's not like anyone is going to miss you, Crackhead. Don't fool yourself.

3. Wait in an alley near my bike armed with my new stainless steel mirror-finish Ace Professional brand 1/2" drive socket wrench, my 18mm sparkplug socket, and my searing rage. It's pretty heavy and well balanced. I am not a large man, but I am angry.

In conclusion, Crackhead, why don't you just do both of us a favor and buy yourself a crackpipe? It will both enhance your crack smoking experience and save me a lot of time and felony assault charges. Think about it.

Sincerely,
Matt

*** If you are not the Crackhead that took my sparkplugs, please disregard this posting ***

Good thing my scooter's spark plugs are hard to get to. With all the crackheads milling about in north Orem, I'd probably be walking home as many days as not if they could get to Hidalgo's plugs.

A Close Call

It's starting to get a bit chilly riding Hidalgo (my scooter) to work in the mornings, so this morning I decided to wear my thermals that are usually reserved for snow boarding. Boy did that make for a nice ride! Cold air meant less bugs to the face but the thermals still kept me nice and cozy.

By 10:00 AM I’d had my cup of Mormon coffee (hot chocolate) and put in about an hour and a half of hard labor, or in other words I’d checked my email and replied to a couple of them.

All the hard work and warm chocolate in my belly was making me uncomfortably warm, so I headed into the bathroom to take off the thermal underwear.

It went pretty well to start out with… I followed all the right steps: 1) Take off shoes. 2) Take off pants. 3) Take off thermals…

But somewhere in the re-dressing process I messed up and skipped a step without realizing it. I had both my Doc Martens on my feet and all the way laced up before I realized that I hadn’t put my pants back on.

I musta looked pretty funny standing there in my underwear and Doc Marten boots, but it wouldn’t have been so funny if I’d walked out of the bathroom like that.

Maybe from now on I’ll skip the thermals and just let the cold air flow through my clothes. Maybe that way I’ll actually be AWAKE by the time I get to work.