Does the thought of communicating with me intimidate you?

Silly question, I know, but not without reason.

After getting “this isn’t a reprimand but kind of is a reprimand” about how I correspond with people within my company (for the second time), I’ve accepted the reality that people in my office are scared to communicate with me.  As irresponsibly cowardice as it may seem, it appears to be in my best interests to let other people do the speaking for me, as my words coming from someone else, appear to be vastly less inflammatory to the fragile people I work with.

I have to remind myself that I’m not in an agency environment, where people have told me to my face that something I’ve done is not acceptable in spite of the amount of legitimate work I’ve put into it, or that I’m not in an actual creative studio, where everyone is perpetually in competition with one another regardless of how much they may deny it, so everyone develops somewhat of a shield and an edginess to their tones.  Despite the fact that I just turned 32, I’m still leaps and bounds the youngest person in the office, which is to say that everyone else is much older, not just in age, but in work experience.

That being said, stating true facts in a robotic voice is clearly coming off as condescending and in an inflammatory tone.  Either that, or people in my office have a preconceived notion that I’m a very mean and awful person.  This is what I wrote:

Read more »

lol Michael Pineda

Aside from my own baseball exploits, I typically don’t bother writing about baseball here, even if it is my own personal brog.  I have actual people in which I can blab about baseball with when I want to, so I don’t always feel the need to write about it anymore.

But for whatever reason, I felt compelled to write about Yankees pitcher Michael Pineda, who tonight was caught with pinetar smeared on his neck, and was subsequently ejected from the game.  Long story short, this is perceived as an act of cheating, because pinetar is sticky, and having pinetar on your fingers gives you superior grip of a baseball, and when you have superior pitch of a baseball, you can make it do extraordinary things when thrown.

It’s all very funny to me, because it was barely two weeks ago when Pineda was seen having very obvious pinetar smeared all over his hand, and the results of such were that he was pretty much throwing a no-hitter against the Red Sox.  I would imagine that in spite getting away with it, it was very, very much discussed all over the sports world, that I might not consider doing it again, or trying to find a more discreet way of cheating.

But nope, two weeks later against the very same Red Sox, Pineda goes back to the pinetar.  The funniest thing about it though is that it’s very noticeably pointed out that he tried to go without it, and in the first inning of the game, he got tagged for a few runs, so when he stepped onto the mound in the following inning with pinetar smeared on his neck and started throwing strikes suddenly, he seemed to have thought nobody would have noticed.

The point is, Michael Pineda is clearly stupid.  But the bigger thing to me is that now, I pretty much question absolutely everything about Michael Pineda now.  He was perceived as a hotshot in Seattle where he debuted, but I wonder if he was cheating back then too?  Probably not, because this was pre-injury, and there’s a good chance he started pinetarring after his injury to get a leg up on his competition to make up for his deteriorated skills, but who really knows?

Maybe he became hot shit out in Seattle because he was cheating.  Seattle is a vastly less-covered market than the New York Yankees, and playing against the vastly less-covered Athletics, Angels and Rangers for most of 2011, who’s to say he wasn’t pinetarring his way to 173 strikeouts?

I don’t know what to believe with Michael Pineda anymore.  Is he really 25 years old?  Is his name really Michael Pineda?  I mean seriously, Latin players are always being revealed to having completely different names and occasionally being completely different age than they originally claimed, so who’s to say that if Michael Pineda is so predisposed to trying to cheat, that he’s really not 28-year old named Ernesto Gonzalez?

Doesn’t matter though, because as long as he can pitch a baseball, he’ll be allowed to stay, no matter how much laws are broken or deportation would occur for ordinary non-professional athletes.  I don’t care of Michael Pineda goes the rest of the season without cheating, or actually turns around and wins the Cy Young; Michael Pineda is always going to be a joke to me now.

The day Storage Wars jumped the shark

I know, it’s very easy to accuse Storage Wars of jumping the shark at numerous other locations, but hear me out.  The show’s undoubtedly campy, and sure there’s at least five different instances where a former show member, or an A&E person, or someone else loosely associated with the show has talked about how fake it is, and how doctored the lockers are, and how there are so many planted items in them.  But I don’t care, I still liked the show, and it was always a great way to kill 22 minutes at a time.

The show then hit a massive speed bump when it became apparent that for whatever reason, show member, Barry Weiss was leaving the fold.  The writing was kind of on the wall at that point, and the show was already beginning to become unraveled with the firing of Dave Hester, and the constant incorporation of other “buyers” like Nabila Haniss, the fat German guy with the dumb-as-a-brick wife with huge tits, and Ivy Calvin, with Barry becoming absent from time to time.  And the season finale episode that was a clear eulogy to Barry’s time on the show had me wondering if the show was ever going to come back, at all.

Not that I’m paying any attention, but it looks like all the spinoffs in Brooklyn and Texas have already gotten the axe, based on how I don’t even see them showing up on any schedules anymore, but I was pleased when I suddenly noticed that “plain” Storage Wars started popping up notifications of new episodes taped again.

So, I tuned in, with tempered expectations that there was going to be no Barry, and in spite of the fact that he was a big dick, the lack of Dave Hester meant the lack of a good self-aggrandizing heel would be noticeable too.

I’m a few episodes into the new season, and it’s apparent that Ivy Calvin and the fat German guy appear to be the replacement mainstays, with some artificial drama injected into the show, with Jarrod and Brandi’s second store in Long Beach, struggling and causing them lots of financial distress.

The fat German guy is apparently the heir to Dave Hester as the guy you want to root against every episode, and everyone seems way more artificial and scripted than before, but when it boils down to the treasure hunting aspect of the episodes, it’s pretty much the same song and dance but the absence of Barry has really derailed the show tremendously, and it goes to show how much of an impact he had on every single episode, especially now that he’s gone.  I’ve DVR’d his new solo show Barry’d Treasure, but I haven’t actually gotten a chance to watch it yet.

However, the most recent episode is when Storage Wars officially jumped the shark for me.  In the typical formulaic structure of the episodes, we’re told where the auctions are going to be, auctioneers Dan and Laura get about a minute to talk the place up and give a general idea of what they think is going to be in the lockers, and make one sexual and/or humorous innuendo remark, before the other “players” are shown driving to the same location.

From the cabin of their big-ass Ford F250 pickup truck, Darrell and Brandon Sheets are then seen suddenly talking about Subway, in name.  And the next thing you know, the innocuous ride to re-introduce the Sheets father and son to the audience, has turned into a commercial for Subway’s new Flatizza flatbread pizzas.

A supposed reality television show about modern-day storage unit treasure hunters has turned into a platform for product placement.  And of Subway, no less.  It’s kind of funny how their actual commercials all use super-fit professional athletes to promote the health benefits of Subway as opposed to all other fast-food restaurants, and then Subway pays for a product placement on Storage Wars, where they use two fat white guys who probably have never seen a treadmill in their entire life to promote their pizzas.  Real juxtaposition there.

But yeah, after two seasons of planted merchandise, all of Barry’s corny-charming one-liners, fake rivalries and other things that might have constituted shark-jumping for many other people, it’s when Storage Wars starts utilizing product placement that does it for me.

I’m almost reluctant to watch any more episodes now, because I don’t really want to know what’s going to be schilled next.

The anatomy of a blue day

Typically whenever I’m feeling blue, I can usually take solace in the notion that I can sleep it off, and I’ll be alright the following morning.  Logically, it doesn’t make any sense other than a convenient literal idea that we’re closing the book on one day, and that the next day is truly a brand new page for us to begin writing on.  But usually it works, and things simply feel better just because it’s not the same day when you were feeling down.

Such is kind of the case at the time I’m writing this now, as I do feel a little bit better than I did the day prior despite the fact that other than downtrodden emotions in my mind, there was absolutely nothing physically wrong with me.  However, this doesn’t mean that I can’t continue to think about and try and hypothesize the things in my head that put me in a dour mood.

But I think what it boils down to is the fact that currently, right now, in this day and age, I do believe that it’s difficult, for me at least, to really love the world as it is.  In the end, such a pessimistic sounding statement boils down to me, my preferences, and my interests, but as it stands now, based on all the things that I do and all the things that I like, I’m finding it difficult to find a positive idea when there are times when I really feel like I could use one.

Read more »

Treadmill selection etiquette

When it comes to selecting a treadmill to run on at the gym, it’s my belief that it’s very similar to that of selecting a urinal in the men’s room.  In other words, choose the treadmill furthest from another human being, and at the very least, leave a gap of at least one treadmill in between people.  The gaps are to be filled when there are no other options available, and even then, try and find the treadmill between at least one attractive woman.

Yes, I’m aware that my rationale and decision to write about something to trite and petty makes me sound psychotic, but these are thoughts that genuinely swirl through my head, when I’m on treadmill #17 out of 25 available, and in spite of the fact that pretty much 1-10 were completely unoccupied, two grown men insisted on using #16 and #18.

This, I do not believe, is in the least bit cool.

Read more »