ANNIVERSARY WEEK KICKS OFF WITH SOME MEDALS

On Tuesday night, we had our three year Yat-Together Anniversary at Fresco on Maple. A tremendous accomplishment indeed. Who would have thought in August 2006 that we would have made it to August 2009? (Never mind the two months we didn't have one.) 

Not only did we make it, but we had perfect attendance for the big event. Ever the sentimental type, I bought eight medals at the Dollar General on Tuesday afternoon to award at the dinner. The medal band is red, white and blue and at the end, there is a gold circle. On one side is a big star, and on the other side, we have five stars with the word WINNER on it. 

After we ordered our food, I took out my medal and put it around my neck until somebody noticed the silly medallion. Which didn't take long. I then took out a box with seven other medals and presented them to the winners. 

For longest jazz musical written: Bode

For (ironic) perfect attendance: Amanda

For hottest worker at Saints camp: Christina

For most bi-friendly member of the group: Kevin

For most copies made: Greg

For best non-Loyola student: Stephen

For best tipper: Kelli 

Bode and I split the large chicken pesto pizza. Delicious. The main topic of conversation was hot and juicy but was later stricken from the record to protect the innocent. 

After dinner, I headed to the Palace for a movie, where I was introduced to Paul's girlfriend for the first time. Of course, then the movie started, so I can't tell you anything about her. Other than what I've read on her facebook profile using Paul's password. 

 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom couldn't wait Wednesday to tell me what happened on Big Brother. Apparently, someone's authority got overtaken when trying to kick somebody out of the house and their friend got booted instead. Something like that.

"Then, she just fucking went off. Wouldn't stop. She threw her mic in the pool and kept screaming. They had to kick her off the show. But she knew what she was doing. She thinks she's going to be the next fucking Amarosa. That's why she did it. To get famous." 

AS GOOD AS NEW

At 3:30 p.m. Tuesday afternoon, my phone rang with a number I didn't recognize. I answered it to learn that my car would be ready in 20 minutes at the body shop. Wow. That's a full week before they said it would be ready. 

Before we left, Tina said: "A little fucking damage costs a lot of money and headaches for everyone." On the way to the body shop, she said: "Now just pay more fucking attention when you drive." 

My beautiful car was parked in front of the building and looked like it was brand new. We gave it an inspection and didn't find anything. Tina was impressed with the work, especially since she was dreading the "grand unveiling." 

As I was about to pay the $500 deductible (out of the $4,250 of repair costs) and get my keys back, Tina came into the building and stopped me. She found something. We got a worker out there to show him. This led to a 15-minute discussion with the worker and somebody from Volkswagon on the phone.  

What was the cause of this ordeal that's making me go back in a week or so to get the new part? Yup, Tina realized that one of the bolts under the hood wasn't the same color as the rest. 

There you go. It's like nothing ever happened. Nope. I didn't hit a parked car with the left front of my car. Everything is back to normal now. Well, except the increasing of my car insurance. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom finished watching the entire season of Entourage. "Fucking took them five years to make that shit. I watched it in eight days." Then, a while later. "Fucking Turtle never took his hat off in the first four seasons. Then he takes it off. He shouldn't have done that." 

We run some errands. Mom sees a house has sold down the street. "Fucking home sold already. Only been one month." (There's still six houses for sale in the neighborhood.) 

Mom read the Jonas Brothers story in the paper. "Fucking Jonas Brothers celebrated Joe's 2oth birthday at a skating rink on the West Bank." 

Me: Well, they couldn't go to the French Quarter.

Mom: Why not?

Me: Got an image to protect. 

Mom: Bullshit. 

Mom has been enjoying a new program. "That show Dating in the Dark. Fucking hilarious." 

RANDOM THOUGHT OF EVERY SO OFTEN

Five times a week at the urinal at work, I get the chance to literally piss on my name. And I like to take advantage of that. 

PARTING SHOT

As she was leaving her post at the nola.com desk Monday night, Jelly stopped by her old stomping grounds in the sports section. She stood next to her old desk and said something to Bake. I interrupt. 

Jelly: Shut up, Gene. (And it felt like old times in the Triangle of Trust.) 

NEAR HOME RUNS AND DICE ROLLING

Saturday was an eventful day for me. Let's break it down.

10:15 a.m.: Wake up to the sound of a thunderstorm, putting Sports Saturdays in jeopardy once again. Have I done something to piss off the rain gods?

Noon: My dad and I arrive at the Jefferson Playground baseball field, with the rain miraculously a distant memory. I take three rounds of hitting, and pops takes one.

The fence in left field is 295 feet away. Pops got into one real good, and it landed about 20 feet shy of the fence. You can tell that in his day, he could have put the ball way out. As for me, most of my good hits were screaming line drives, though I did crush one that landed about two feet in front of the fence.

12:45 p.m.: Bert and Jacob show up, and Bert and I play catch until Kelly and Nicole arrive. The gals got there a tad bit late because Kelly drove past the field and ended up near New Orleans before calling Bert for help.

1:15: Bert, Jacob, Nicole, Kelly and I took turns hitting a softball on a little field next to the baseball field. I felt like a monster on that field. As far as defense, I made a nice diving catch of one of Nicole's hits and an exhilarating, long running catch of one of Bert's blasts.

The main thing I have to show for my afternoon of baseball/softball is four blisters on my left hand. The baseball bat I used with my dad doesn't have grips anymore, and my racquetball glove didn't exactly do the trick as a batting glove. Hopefully, that heals for football this Saturday.

3:30: After getting dropped off (I feel like I'm 15 again with peeps driving me around) at home and taking a shower, I (using Tina's car) met the gang (now joined by Paul) at McAlister's for lunch. I just snacked on some of Kelly's nachos because I had a bigger dinner with me for work.

4:30: Work time. Blah. Blah. Blah.

11: I meet Kelly, Bert, Nicole and some others at the Big Easy bar in Elmwood just in time to split some fries with Kelly. They had a trio of old dudes rocking some classic tunes. Not bad.

1 a.m.: Our group decides to take our party downtown to the casino. This wasn't my idea, but I said, what the heck, I'll go. And I had a casino first. I DIDN'T GAMBLE. Let me write that one more time in case it didn't quite sink in. On Saturday night at Harrah's, I DIDN'T GAMBLE.

I watched Bert win $107 at craps. Before Saturday, my experience with craps was only on the casino episodes of TV sitcoms, where a character always ends up at the craps table going crazy. Craps be complicated, but now I understand some of it.

3:30: After Nicole ran out of credits on some party themed slot machine, we headed for the exits by passing through the Masquerade. As soon as we walked in, a fight broke out. One dude must have made a move on another dude's girl because those two went at it, with a huddled mass surrounding them.

3:45: We were able to avoid getting caught up in the mess. I think the highlight of the fight was a chick trying to break it up by stepping in front of her man as both dudes had their fists up. Not smart. I was so exhausted from the day, I fell asleep in the back of Kelly's car on the way home.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

I walk out to the patio Monday afternoon.
Me: Your paint is peeling.
My mom: No shit.

Mom is upset with a soap opera. "Fucking Guiding Light has five weeks left, and they can't come up with any good storylines. Fucking sad."

Mom looks out the window to see the wet pavement. "Fucking rain."

Mom and I watched Millionaire from Sunday night.

-- On expert for the evening Connie Chung: "Fucking expert, my ass."
-- On a question about a cactus: "I thought cactus didn't have fucking water."
-- On an ad during the show for a new show called Shark Tank: "They come up with some bullshit every fucking year."
-- On getting a question correct about the colors of the google letters: "I don't even use it, and I fucking knew that."

DID YOU KNOW?

Did you know that Michael Vick is back in the NFL and signed with the Eagles? Did you know he went to jail for a dogfighting ring? Did you know that Obama's health care hasn't been met with universal praise? Did you know that tropical storm season has started to pick up steam?

PARTING SHOT
The Steelers sent us a press kit, and in it was some of Troy Polamalu's hair. We give the kit to resident Steelers fan Phil.

Marcus: You know, Phil. That hair's not from his head.

I'M ALL IN

On the front page of Sunday's sports section, I had my first published article since April 2007. And back then it was about the VooDoo, so I'm not even sure if that really counts or even happened. Actually, Sunday's article was the first story I've ever had on the front page. Woohoo!

For the rest of this item, I will attempt to write in Wikipedia style.

Concept of idea

While I was on vacation in Panama City, I spent one of the nights following the World Series of Poker through live updates on several Web sites. At one point, I was talking to Lopes when we realized the chip leader had a Saints hat on.

Lopes did some quick research and found out he was from Oakland, Md., and cheers for the Saints because he likes underdogs. We decided I should pitch the story to the sports editor in the hopes of writing a masterpiece.

A few days after I got back to work, I printed out a picture of Darvin Moon and showed it to him. Halfway through my spiel on why this would make a great story, he cut me off. "I like it. Do it."

Getting in contact with Moon

I couldn't have been more excited to do this article. It was about two things I have a crazy passion for: poker and the Saints. What I didn't anticipate was the difficulty I would have in tracking down Mr. Moon, who "disappeared back into the woods." His words.

The sports editor OKed the story July 20. I started my process July 21. I interviewed Moon on Aug. 3.

Step 1: I look up Darvin Moon on Yellowpages. One result for D. Moon came up in Oakland, Md. The old lady that answered, however, said she didn't know a Darvin.

Step 2: His local paper ran a story about him. I call there. I was told to call back the next day because the sports editor was busy all day with production. The next day he told me he wasn't able to contact Moon for the story and just used quotes from Vegas.

You get that? The town has 1,900 people. Moon and the sports editor probably live in the same freakin' subdivision. Can you say lazy? He did tell me that Moon's sister works at the local CVS, and he gave me that number.

Step 3: I interview ESPN poker commentator Norman Chad on July 24. He told me he had no idea how to contact Darvin. Neither did the ESPN worker who connected me with Chad.

Step 4: I call the CVS in Oakland, Md. The worker who answered accidentally tells me that Moon's wife Wendy also works at the CVS. I leave my name and number with that worker to give to Wendy. Nothing happened.

Step 5: On Monday, July 27, I call the CVS again. Amazingly, the person on the other end said: "Hi. This is Wendy. How may I help you?" I gave her the full spiel, and she told me she'd have her husband call me in the next day or so. Fine.

Step 6: By Saturday, I realize Darvin wasn't calling. I find a decent article on a poker Web site written about Moon while he was in Vegas. I e-mail that author to see if he has any contact information. I have yet to get a response from him.

Step 7: On Monday, Aug. 3, I call the CVS for a third time. I decided waiting a week was enough time for me not to sound like a total jackass. Try telling that to Wendy. She was pissed at me.

Wendy: Look, you can't keep calling me here at work.
Me: Well, can I have Darvin's contact info? And I can just call him.
Wendy: No. People have been selling his number. You were the one calling about the Saints, right?
Me: Yes. It will be a fun interview.
Wendy: OK. I'll have him call. But please don't call me here again. And don't call his mother anymore, either.

Interview and crafting

Later that night, my phone rang near deadline at work. I had no choice but to answer. Moon and I then rapped about the Saints and poker for 30 minutes. Moon was very matter-of-fact with his answers. The millions he has won and is about to win has had no affect on him. His life is cutting down trees, and he ain't letting no $8 mil get in the way of that.

Moon is a nice guy. He just doesn't want any spotlight on him, and that's why nobody can get in contact with him. I will cheer for him in November.

I spent my off day that Wednesday (Aug. 5) working up the story. I turned it in that Thursday night, and the sports editor read it early the next week, slating it for Sunday's release. On Friday and Saturday, Brick and Bake made some necessary corrections and additions, with Bake slapping a winning headline (OVERACHIEVING UNDERDOG) on it.

Reception

My article has been met with universal praise.

Loyola professor Dr. Larry Lorenz (via facebook): "Good story this morning, Gene."
Sports editor (via AIM): "Good story. My wife even read it."
Danny (via AIM): "Nice story today. I saw your byline and thought it was going to be a first-person account of your life. The Gene Pool in print."

The best comment on nola has come from Shane504: Good luck dude and thx for supporting the Saints. Now go get your money and come on down South and see our boys.

The best praise actually came from the Saints, who contacted the sports editor early Sunday to tell him they loved the article. Vice President of Communications Greg Bensel then sent me a text message. The Saints want to get in touch with Darvin.

I was happy to hook them up. I just hope Wendy doesn't yell at Drew Brees.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom is flipping through the stations and stops for a second on Air Force One. Harrison Ford calls the White House from the plane, but the operator doesn't believe him. Mom yells: "He's the fucking president, asshole!"

Mom opens some mail. "The 28th? You ain't giving me much time, motherfucker."

I'm watching Friday's episode of Conan featuring Shaq. "Fucking Conan has so much shit in his hair it goes back into place after he shakes it."

MOVIE WEEK IN REVIEW

Taken. 2008. Overall, I liked it. Great pace, solid acting and exciting action and story. Some of the background explanation sucked, and several times, there was no explanation for the next step in the hunting-down-the-bad-guys process.

I Love You, Man. 2009. Good bromance comedy. Enjoyed it, especially some subtle references to other things I like.

PARTING SHOT
Liam and I are discussing possible headlines for the PGA Championship.

Liam (getting it started): Sulking Tiger. ...
Me: Hidden Wang.
Liam (laughing): You mean Yang.
Me: Oh, right.

LOOKIE AT WHAT WE FOUND

Bert, Kelly, Paul, Jacob and I competed in a scavenger hunt hosted by the Palace on Friday night. We (and by we, I mean everyone but Paul, our captain) were excited about participating because it was free for us. Paul told us there was a team fee of $10, but he was paying for it.

We learned much differently at the start of the competition. It was $10 per team member. Paul ain't so good at the reading and comprehending. Don't worry. I'm signing him up at that Derek Zoolander school next semester.

The scavenger hunt commenced at 7 p.m. It ended at 1 a.m. (and really 3 a.m. if you count the two hours to calculate the scores outside in the back of the Palace.)

In the middle of the event (10:45 p.m.), we had to meet the organizers on the steps at the Jackson Ampitheatre for more instructions. Basically, there were about 1,000 things to take pictures of throughout the city (besides the movie, Metairie, French Quarter and Family Guy trivia), but with only a limited amount of time, we had to pick and choose what we did.

The highlights:

-- Kelly convinced three Wal-Mart workers to pose as Charlie's Angels. She did this by telling them the scavenger hunt was in conjunction with the Ronald McDonald House.
-- The word cock was written on my face. After the festivities, Bert said: "Gene, don't forget to wipe that cock off your face."
-- Kelly, Jacob and Paul recreated (well, sort of) the Beat It dance at Jackson Square.
-- We walked down Bourbon Street answering trivia questions and taking pictures of things like big boobs and strip club signs.
-- Jacob and Paul did something freaky with a dildo at Mr. Binky's in Elmwood.
-- My personal favorite moment: Paul and I chasing three ducks at Lafreniere.

-- And, last but certainly not least, we kidnapped a kid in the Wal-Mart. It's OK. We gave him back. But yeah, some random 6-year-old came with us around the store taking pictures before trying to find his parents when we left. Weird stuff.

We came in fourth place out of eight teams. Mediocre! Second place had 253 points, third had 245 and we had 238. Fifth place was less than 200. So, we were close to getting our money back for second place.

Too bad in-fighting wasn't part of the rules. We so would have won that portion.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

After I returned from the scavenger hunt at 3:30 a.m., I watched the Saints preseason game until I fell asleep. My mom walks in during the first quarter. "You watching this bullshit?"

I tell mom about the setup for the scavenger hunt and going all over town. "That ain't no scavenger hunt. That's bullshit."

After a storm Saturday morning, the sun came out. "Fucking sun."

PARTING SHOTS
We run a photo in the paper of some girls playing a football game. (The New Orleans Blaze won something called the International Bowl. Woohoo!).

Liam: Chicks dig the the long ball.
Bake: Chicks did the pigskin. Pig and a poke.

We find out that hairpulling is allowed when tackling in this women's league.

Liam: I'd have short hair.
Bake: Then they'd tackle you by the short-hairs.

BETEEN ME AND YOU

On the way out the building Thursday night, I noticed a sign posted on the door of the cafeteria. That can only mean one thing: They're going to be stripping and waxing floors at some point this weekend. I was right; it's happening Sunday. 

Actually, a sign such as that posted also can mean something else: The cleaning crew person who posted it has a 50-50 shot at making a mistake somewhere on the sign. And this my friends landed on the good side of that 50-50. 

Turns out, leaving the "w" out isn't that uncommon of a mistake. I googled the word beteen, and it yielded 103,000 results, with the first page of stuff all involving the between misspelled as beteen. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

Paul let my mom borrow his seasons of Entourage. Not surprisingly, she loves the show. "I need to own this. It's fucking great." 

Mom is frustrated with my lack of production. "Don't want to lift a fucking finger." 

Mom and I are discussing friend finder on the Internet. I tell her if you google friend finder, you also get results for adult friend finder. "That's for fuck buddies?" 

Mom went to Wal-Mart today. Her first curse about that place in a while: "Fucking Wal-Mart. I bet there were five things I couldn't get. Fucking out. Such bullshit." 

THE STUPID CALLERS: FROM THE FILES OF T-P SPORTS

Like the Naked Gun title.

Brick received a call Thursday night about a recent sports murder. 

Caller: Did Andre Ware get killed a couple weeks ago?

Brick: No. Steve McNair. 

PARTING SHOT

I had to be the last one left watching the Pirates-Cubs 17-2 game in the ninth inning. 

Bob: To this day, I even wear a jockstrap to watch games. It's just more comfortable. 

Len (after a pause): T-M-I. 

YA'LL JUST WAIT 'TIL NEXT YEAR

After the recent skid (losing six of seven), it might be safe to declare the Cubs' season over. I'm never one to completely abandon ship, but I ain't holding my breath. 

Instead, I decided to do a statistical breakdown based on Derry saying they had no chance because they can't beat good teams this year. Let's look at some numbers. 

Cubs record vs. winning teams through May: 10-11.

Cubs record vs. losing teams through May: 15-13. 

Cubs record vs. winning teams since May: 9-22. 

Cubs record vs. losing teams since May: 24-9. 

Within the division, the Cubs have a winning record against every team but one. Guess which team that is? Yeah, the only winning team in the group: the Cardinals. 

We've proven that the Cubs are the definition of mediocrity here. The good news lies in the breakdown of remaining games. 

Games against winning teams left: 12.

Games against losing teams left: 37. 

If the percentages of their record (vs. losing and winning teams) since May keep up, the Cubs will finish with a record of 89-73. (Also keep in mind that this would be the Cubs first streak of three winning seasons in a row since 1972.) 

Wait, maybe it ain't over quite yet. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom was upset when I first greeted her Thursday. "I've got a fucking mess in my backyard." 

Mom and I watched Wednesday night's edition of "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?" A contestant didn't know what coin was the thickest, guessing a quarter. "It's fucking change!" 

Mom sees that Lauren Conrad has written a book with another one on the way. "Everybody's got a fucking book. Why can't I write a fucking book? I can write one about how shit life has been." 

EAT FRESH AND OFTEN

On my 8.5-mile drive to work, I pass four Subways. Four. I think that's two too many. In comparison, I pass two McDonald's and that's the only other place that doubles up. 

PARTING SHOT

I read that Sean Payton is looking for a new house. 

Me: Tell him to move to my street.

Liam: Why? So you can run into his parked car?