HAPPY ANNIVERSARY

Welcome to a special anniversary edition of The Gene Pool. If you haven't heard yet, I like to count things. And today is my 50th consecutive day posting a blog entry. What, no one planned a surprise party for me? Gee, thanks a lot, guys. Gold is the gift of the big Five-O, and I hope to make today's entry as golden as Michael Phelps' room.

Let's go through the long and storied history of The Gene Pool (yah, as if I've been writing this thing since the 90s.) I had been thinking of starting a blog for about a year but was too lazy to pull the trigger. Some interesting stuff happens to me, and I thought it would be funny if I wrote about the experiences. Yada. Yada. Yada. I finally started the damn thing (Lopes suggested the name from the pickup-line story I had told at work), Paul picked up a hooker, and everything started to fall into place.

It was not my intention when this thing started to incorporate my mother. But when you stumble upon a gold mine, you keep digging and collect as much of it as you can. The Tina Cursing Corner is a play on Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. Tina's segment promotes quite the opposite behavior of the neighborhood, so I changed it to corner, where as you may know, some serious shit goes down. A special thanks to Jelly for being the inspiration behind the daily segment. She said to me after reading an early blog: "Damn, you mother curses like a sailor." Ding. Ding. Ding. That's when I decided I would record mom's every cursing and put them all together daily for your enjoyment.

Back in college, I used to have a notebook to record the quote of the day (I might post some of them soon as retro quotes. Get excited.) I got the inspiration for that from Gillie, Kaila, Jenna and Kate who kept a quote board in their dorm. I even started a quote file at work. That's where the parting shots come in. I just stole the name from page 2 of the sports section. Sue me.

As for the Daily Top List, I like to make lists, mainly because it involves numbering things. Lists just pop into my head all the time. Some aren't fit to print. Not even here. Most of them are about wrestling. But the rest I'm sharing with you fine folks.

Well, it looks like the party is starting to wind down. Some of the guests have passed out. I knew I shouldn't have ordered so much Goldschlager. But before you leave, I offer a toast to you, my loyal readers:

Thanks for coming. Wait, no. That's what Marcus would say. Let's start over. To you, my loyal readers:

I want to thank each and every one of you for reading The Gene Pool. Then coming back the next day for more. And telling all your friends. You have told all your friends, right? I can't tell you how much it means to me to hear someone laughing at work and when I look over in that direction, I see The Gene Pool up on the screen. I appreciate all the feedback, both in person and on the comments. Sometimes, those make my day. I don't even mind when errors are pointed out to me. It lets me know peeps are paying attention. You keep on reading, and I'll keep on trying to bring the entertainment. Oh, man. I'm starting to really tear up here. This is like Stepmom all over again. Calm down, Gene. (Takes deep breath.) Anyway, don't give up. Don't ever give up. Damn it. That's how Marcus would end. Um, Um. You've been a great audience. You're all beautiful. Enjoy the rest of today's dip in The Gene Pool. Here's Tina:

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

Mom is watching gymnastics on Demand. "The judges are on the phone again? What the fuck?"

We have to wake up early Thursday to pick up the bricks in preparation for Terminix. "It hasn't rained in the morning in fucking weeks. It'll probably storm tomorrow."

About the U.S. women's gymnast who was supposed to be the best: "The main girl fucked up. They asked her (pretends to wave a microphone) how does it feel to fuck up. What's her name? Like Sacramento. Yeah. She fucked it up. At least the fucking Chinese didn't win everything. Ain't no way some of them are 16. Two don't even need a bra. Just have two dots there."

We step outside to go to lunch. "I can't wait for fucking summer to end."

Mom tells me about a person who told police he was only robbing the place so he could get the police's attention to be a snitch. "They got some crazy shit that goes down. Those reporters must get some laughs."

We're eating at a Chinese restaurant, and I say about something (I forget what): "That's a crazy motherfucker." Mom's immediate response: "Geez, Gene. Shhh."

KISS MY CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES

I'm not the brightest ray coming from the sun. Book smart? Yes. Numbers wizard? Yes. Memory like you wouldn't believe? Yes. Street and common sense? Ah, not so much. I've done some pretty bone-headed things in my day (sounds like a future daily top list), but I don't remember many of them because they usually are small moments. Not major catastrophes. But head-scratchers nonetheless. Two took place Tuesday at the T-P (I told you alliteration rules).

1) Marcus and JRap tell me about a one-liner Marcus had a few minutes earlier. When the punch line is delievered by Marcus, I just stare straight ahead at the two of them. I had no clue what Marcus meant. I thought about if for a few seconds. Nothing. Of course, they started mocking me a little bit because I wasn't catching on. Then, they explained it to me, and it all made perfect sense: I am a complete moron. Here's Marcus' wit in action:

JRap: We were talking about Hershey, Pa., where all the chocolate comes from (I did know that). Of course, Hershey is the guy who founded the company. I figure his name is Joe or something (It's Milton), and his wife might have been Violet. But then I ask Marcus: What do you think they named their kid?
Marcus: Chip.

Obviously, the SSBG was playing on chocolate chip (and maybe even chip off the old block). How could I not get that? Uffa. But here's why my mind didn't go to that. I eat a lot of chocolate chip cookies made by Nabisco. So my brain just ignored the possibility of Marcus meaning chocolate chip because Hershey's doesn't make Chips Ahoy, Nabisco does. Scary, eh? (JRap reads over that and says: "That's funny because right before we told you the joke I told Marcus I had a feeling that you wouldn't get it.")

2) Derry and I are discussing Ken Griffey Jr. tying Sosa on the all-time home run list Tuesday night. Derry is glad Sosa is being passed because Sammy is dead to him. I still hold a soft spot in my heart for the guy. Derry: "The way he left ... he can KMA!"
Me: KMA? What does that mean? (I know, right. I think I might start using it, though.)
Jelly whips around in her chair: Kiss my ass!

Note: There was actually a third moment Tuesday night. But I can't tell you about it because it's related to a future entry. So, keep an eye out. Actually, I shouldn't tell you about it at all. It's pretty sad.

PARTING SHOTS
Jelly is approached by the parking attendant at the Algiers Ferry.

PA: You're beautiful. Have you ever been in a magazine?
Jelly: Yah. Fat & Sassy. (Not a real magazine, as it turns out.)

JRap and I are in the cafeteria, and he's deciding what to get to drink.

JRap: To tea or not to tea?
Me: Is that what you ask your wife when you want to go play golf?

Marcus reads that my dad canceled on me Tuesday night. Earlier Tuesday, I told him I couldn't come into work because I was going with my dad to the Zephyrs game.

Marcus: Luckily, I had Lopes as a fallback. (Pauses). Way back.

THE DAILY TOP LIST
This week's guest list is brought to you by Chuck. You can read his blog by clicking on his name under Stuff I read. Note: Chuck is from Atlanta. Here are his top five sporting moments that have ended with him shouting, "Damn it, Gene!" (If you want to be next week's top lister, e-mail me.)

5) 2003 SEC Championship Game. LSU vs. UGA.
I've known Gene about four months at this point. We are watching this together. Gene is rooting for the team coached by Nick Saban. I am rooting for the team coached by not-Nick Saban. Suffice it to say, the Devil was still more focused on the game instead of his lush, beautiful hair at this point. My team gets blown out, and Gene commences the ridicule. I remind him that some day he will get burned by this glorious set of hair (He has, twice in fact). Gene reminds me that this is the second time we have lost to them this season. I shout, "Damn it, Gene!" and start with the whiskey shots.

4) 2005 SEC Championship Game. LSU vs UGA.
My turn to celebrate as Coach Jesus (Richt) routs Coach 100x More Likeable Than Nick Saban (Miles). Keep in mind, I don't hate LSU, but I still must call Gene to gloat and revel in my victory, much the same way he had two years prior. Gene reminds me that the loss is demoralizing to a large number of people who lost their homes. I can't enjoy the victory anymore and shout, "Damn it, Gene!" loudly into the phone before hanging up and starting with the whiskey shots.

3) 2008. The Guillot living room. Wii Tennis.
After two hours of subtly begging, Gene asks if I'd like to play the Wii. I get ecstatic and boldly proclaim this will be like Federer vs. Nadal, and I'm Federer … uh, like before this summer. Gene makes quick work of me without even getting up from his seat. I hold back tears until I get home, quietly muttering to no one in particular, "Damn it, Gene!" The whiskey shots help put me to sleep.

2) 2005. City Desk. Random Thursday evening.
In my glorious, one-month stint as editorial assistant, I learned three things: 1) Weird people call the City Desk phone, 2) Edwin kind of scares me and 3) The area outside of the Sports Desk is where fun goes to die a long, silent copy-edited death. Those very few evenings would often be spent sitting next to Bruce, listening to him mumble some form of mild threat in my direction, watching the Sports Desk laugh and enjoy themselves and jealously thinking to myself, "Damn it, Gene!" I'm pretty sure Bruce was drinking whiskey.

1) 2003. Game 5: NLDS – Cubs vs. Braves.
My favorite team versus the team EVERYONE else in the world outside of St. Louis cheers for. Gene drove to Atlanta to see the game in person. Broke, I stayed in New Orleans and watched the game on TV. This apparently makes me less of a fan. I will hear about this until the day I die. The Cubs win and for the next five years and potentially going forward until the day I die and/or murder Gene for never letting me forget it, Gene watched the Braves lose at Turner Field. I turn the TV off and just start muttering, "Damn it, Gene!" like Howard Hughes at the end of "The Aviator." I don't even bother with whiskey. I just start mainlining heroin instead.

THE GENE POOL SAYS: Awesome. Liked the whiskey theme, especially the Bruce part. Plus, I've seen Chuck go to town on a bottle of whiskey. Not the prettiest of sites. Quick history lesson: "Damn it, Gene" was a catchphrase back in my Maroon days. Strangely, I hear that a lot at work too. ... Sorry that I've caused you so much grief, Chuck. You will always have 1995. And oh yeah: I beat Chuck at Wii, and I liked it. I liked it.