Nice try, Santa

Christmas morning.  Is there anything better?  Not in my book.  I woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.  And, man, was I excited.  I got even more excited when I saw the Christmas tree and everything under (and in the general vicinity of) it.

I immediately tore into the presents.  Surely, somewhere in this mess of Christmas joy was my lock pick set.

Hmmm, no lock pick set here

The slide caught my eye and I forgot about the lock pick set for awhile.  There was this dopey looking stuffed animal on top of it, but I just knocked him off.  I've seen slides at the park before, but I never knew you could get one for the living room!  I had to hand it to Santa.  I'm not sure what park he swiped this slide from, but I'm thankful.

Hey, thing, get off my slide!

But I wasn't about to let Santa off the hook so easily.  I asked for something specific, and he should deliver.  That's how this whole darn thing works.  If we don't stick to the rules, we're no better than the Europeans.

A bag of Chex-Mix and a tube filled with ball bearings?  Uh, thanks?

We got through all the presents, and surprise, surprise.  No lock pick set.  Another year, another unfulfilled wish.  Normally, this is where I'd launch into an anti-Santa tirade and remind him that I have a long memory and an Old Testament sense of justice, but it seems like he at least tried this year.  The slide is a definite winner, and I spent a good portion of the day climbing to the top and sliding down. 

Climbing to the top of my slide with a red block in my mouth.  Don't ask why.  It just felt right.

Oh yeah.  One last thing.  Santa left me a new friend, Professor Dogosaurus.  Professor D is a pretty good guy.  He's originally from Buffalo, New York and did his post-graduate work at Columbia.  I've already introduced him to Emilio, Esteban, and Benedict.  They got along fabulously, and I think we're all going to make a great team.  Me and Professor D are the brains, and Emilio and Esteban are the brawn.  Between you and me, Benedict is dead weight, but I keep him around for comic relief.

Hangin' with Professor D.

Overall, it was a great Christmas.  I got some great new toys.  I watched A Christmas Story on TNT at least four times.  Mommy, daddy, and Bailey played with me all day.  What more could a little girl ask for?

Oh yeah.

A lock pick set.

DING DONG DING DONG

It's good to be boss

Some of my more faithful readers may remember last Christmas when my Uncle Don and Aunt Mary Beth gave me Beastgore, my faithful triceratops.  Well, they've topped themselves again.  I am now the proud owner of two shares of Hasbro, Inc. stock.  Uncle Don and Aunt Mary Beth, I just want to assure you that I take my new responsibilities as an owner of Hasbro very, very seriously. 

It's like I've always said.  Successful toy companies don't just make toys--they manufacture popular culture.  With that mantra in mind, I've developed three company-wide initiatives that I would like implemented immediately.

Initiative No. 1: Define what we mean when we say "success"

Success in the 21st century will be vastly different than success in the 20th century.  The Hasbro of old may have been content hawking GI Joe action figures to Johnny McAverage and baby dolls to Jenny O'Normal.    Not the Hasbro of the 21st century.  The Hasbro of old may have patted itself on the back for being the second largest toymaker in the world.  But not my Hasbro.

When we at Hasbro say "success", we really mean complete and total domination of our competitors and anyone who would dare oppose us.  I'm looking at you, Securities and Exchange Commission.  This new attitude must be instilled in our employees immediately.  I'm therefore ordering that all employees report to a three week deprogramming/boot camp.

At this camp, our valued employees will learn valuable life skills, including (i) how to survive underwater when bound and gagged; (ii) close range combat; and (iii) a clear focus on achieving measurable and quantifiable financial returns on whatever project those employees are currently working on.

Initiative No. 2: More Stuffed Animals

Look, I'll be the first to admit that this animatronic stuff is pretty cool.  Heck, Beastgore is animatronic.  But Hasbro has lost sight of the power of traditional stuffed animals.  Some of my best friends are stuffed animals.  There's Benedict, Emilio, Esteban, Bunny Bear (he's a bear in a bunny costume), Raj, and Silly Bunny.  Also, some of my worst enemies have been stuffed animals.  *cough* Ghost Frog *cough* 

We need to refocus our energy on revitalizing this ciritical arm of our empire.

Stuffed animals, my friends, will pave the way to the top of the business world.

Initiative No. 3: Green Manufacturing

You can't swing a dead cat without hitting someone who wants businesses to be more environmentally conscious.  This is sometimes colloquially referred to as 'going green'.  Well, I think we should go green too.  But not the green everyone's talking about.  I ask you, what else, beside trees and grass is green?

That's right.  Money.

Effective immediately, we'll be moving our manufacturing operations to the poorest of countries and paying our assembly line workers a generous 5 HasbroBuck a day.  Once a worker earns 1,000 HasbroBucks, he can redeem them for a toy (valued at no more than 8 dollars) or he can exchange them for cold, hard cash.  Every 1000 HasbroBucks a worker earns can be redeemed for 4 U.S. dollars.

I'll have a more detailed presentation for the board of directors after the first of the year. 

But I have a lot to do before then.   Tomorrow's Christmas Eve, and you know what that means.  More breaking and entering from that crook Santa Claus.  You better bring my lock pick set, fat man!

Lucy reviews ... The Unnamed by Joshua Ferris

Then We Came to the End by Joshua Ferris is easily one of my favorite books of this decade.  It takes place in an ad agency just after the dot-com  bubble burst and was hailed as the Catch-22  of the business world and Kafka meets The Office.  Throw in the narrative tweak of second person plural and you have something worth reading.

So how does Joshua Ferris follow up the brilliant Then We Came to the End?  Does he rely on narrative gimmicks and end up being a one trick pony?  Or does he hit another one out of the park?  The answer is neither.  But he does manage to hit a triple with The Unnamed.  The Unnamed is the story of hotshot New York attorney Tim Farnsworth.  He lives in a beautiful home, takes extravagant vacations with his wife, and works on the most high profile cases.  But there's a problem.  On occasion, he's compelled to walk great distances.  He walks until he collapses.  He has no control over where he walks, and he is unable to stop regardless of how hungry he might be or how treacherous the weather.

You know, as I recently learned to walk, I totally get this.  Walking is great!  I can get from Point A to Point B in quick fashion, or I can decide that Point B is suddenly boring and go to Point C instead.  So I didn't totally get what the big deal was when Tim had to battle his 'affliction' for the first half of the novel. Just enjoy the walk, man! That's what I do. Sometimes, I walk back and forth between my room and the kitchen for absolutely no reason. I don't know why. I just sort of feel like it sometimes. And no one's writing a book about me.

But then things got interesting in the second half of the novel.  Rather than trying to control the impulse, he attempts to allow it to run its course as he crisscrosses the United States on foot as his family begins to unravel at home.  The impulse or affliction or whatever you want to call it begins to take on its own persona as Tim weakens both physically and mentally.

In case you didn't know, books now have trailers just like the movies.  Here's the trailer for The Unnamed:



So, yeah.  It's not the most uplifting of reads, but it is an interesting commentary on the duality of human nature (that was a really English major-y sentence, right there).  It's another unique plot from Ferris, but he takes what could easily be a gimmick and turns it into something thoughtful. So is it worth your time?  Absolutely.  But it is huge departure from his previous work.  And you know what?  That's fine with me.  This just goes to show that Joshua Ferris is one to watch.  

I award The Unnamed 8.0 rattles out of a possible 10. Thanks to my pal Miriam at Hachette Book Group for sending a copy of The Unnamed. You can pick up a copy of The Unnamed on January 18, 2010, and I really recommend that you do.

See you tomorrow!

This Santa character is hard to get on the horn

I was at the mall the other day, and I saw Santa Claus.  Oh, I know.  I was stunned too.  Why in the world would Santa be wasting his time hanging out at the Washington Square Mall?  It isn't exactly in the best neighborhood, and there are a lot of empty stores.  I waited in line to ask him what the deal was, but then they tried to charge me 15 bucks to sit on his lap and tell him what I want for Christmas.  Well, that answered my question.  The greedy pig was at Washington Square Mall to squeeze a little green out of the hard working residents of the east side of Indianapolis.  Charging kids for the opportunity to give their wish lists to him?  Disgusting, if you ask me.

Moral objections aside, I still had to find a way to get my wish list to Santa.  If I didn't find a way to talk to him, how else would he know that I want a lock-pick set for Christmas?

So I did what any reasonable kid would do?  I ordered a background search on Kris Kringle to figure out a way to reach him.  Turns out that he keeps a winter place in Boca Raton.  Thanks to modern technology, the  whole North Pole operation is automated, so Santa doesn't really need to supervise.  All he has to do is show up on Christmas Eve and do his thing.  Anyway, I called the number.

Santa (answering the phone): Yeah.

Lucy: Uh, Santa?

Santa: No this is, uh, Guy. Guy Incognito.

Lucy: You're busted, fat man. I know it's you.

Santa: [Censored]

Lucy: Real mature.

Santa: What do you want, kid?

Lucy: That's more like it. What I want more than anything in the whole wide world is a stainless steel lock-pick set. Make sure it includes the 0.078 tipped tension tool AND the 0.093 tipped one.  Oh, and I want a nice leather carrying case too. 

Santa:  Alright, kid.  I need your address.  Can I put you on hold for a second while I grab a pen and paper?

Lucy:  Certainly.

(pauses)

Lucy: Santa?

(another pause)

Lucy:  You there?

(30 seconds pass)

Lucy: This is taking an awfully long time. I wonder if he's OK.

Guess how long I was on hold.  Go ahead, just guess.  That's right.  ALL NIGHT.  I didn't want to hang up because what if he was about to come back?  I finally fell asleep around five a.m. 

Is that any way to treat your constituency?  Santa may be in for a rude awakening come election year. 

In the spirit of the season, I've gone commercial

In case you haven't noticed, there have been some minor changes around here.  I've "monetized" this blog.  What does that mean, exactly?  Well, it means that Google is now placing advertisements on this site (below the most recent post and on the sidebar to the right).  When you click on one of those advertisements, this baby gets PAID.  So click away. 

Also, when I do book reviews or recommend movies, I'll be provided a link if you want to purchase what I'm talking about.  I get a 15% cut of any merchandise I sell via these links.  For example, I'll be doing review of Stephen King's Under the Dome: A Novel and the forthcoming The Unnamed by Joshua Ferris.  If you decide that you want to buy one of these books, simply click through and purchase it. 

What does a baby need with so much cash?  Well, I've got expenses.  I have stuffed animals and toys to care for.  Benedict the octopus needs fresh salt water every week or so.  Emilio and Esteban--my twin polar bears--need tacos and sombreros.  Francis, my car, needs oil changes and gas.  These guys are expensive!  So help a baby out and click on an ad or buy a book, OK?  And don't even get me started on Christmas presents.  I don't even know where to start with that.  What the heck do you buy for a stuffed octopus?

Avatar is thinly disguised hippy propaganda

By now, you're probably sick of the Avatar media blitz. I can't turn around without seeing a billboard or an advertisement for this movie. The kids in my play group won't shut up about it. Adults are even worse, fawning over James Cameron and his "decade long labor of love" that is Avatar. Do these people not remember that James Cameron is the man behind that crapfest Titanic?

But I have to admit, it looked pretty cool. I didn't think for one second that it would live up to the hype, but I sort of hoped it would exceed my very minimal expectations. So I went into the the theater a bit conflicted.

The story takes place in a future where the human race is experiencing a major energy crisis. The answer may lie in substance known as Unobtanium, which about the stupidest name for an energy source that I've ever heard. You spend over 300 million dollars on a movie, and you can't take even ten minutes to think of a better name than "Unobtanium"? Anyway, "Unobtanium" can be found in large quantities on a planet with an equally ridiculous and heavy-handed name, Pandora. The problem is that the natives of Pandora -- large blue cat-looking things known as Na’vi – don’t want strangers messing with their eco-system or something. Which is totally unreasonable, by the way.

Sam Worthington plays Jake Sully, a crippled ex-marine sent to Pandora in a last-ditch effort to reach some kind of mutual agreement via the use of an avatar. Avatars are cross-breeds of Na’vi DNA and the DNA of whomever will be controlling them remotely. The Avatars look just like the Na'vi, which is a brilliant idea. We want to obtain the, er, Unobtanium, so what better way to do that than to infiltrate the Na'vi culture and bring it down from the inside?

At this point, I was sort of enjoying the movie, and I couldn't wait to see us humans wreak havoc on these completely unreasonable aliens. But then what does Jake Sully do? He goes native, and helps the Na'vi defend their world against its human invaders.

I started to see where this was going, and I didn't like it. The Na'vi are really just a bunch of blue-tinted hippies who sit around and worship nature and talk about how everything is, like, connected, man. Blah, blah, blah. I dozed off during this part because I knew what was going to happen. The Na'vi would drive off the human invaders, and the bovine audience filling the theater's seats would learn a valuable lesson of environmentalism or colonialism or something.

But then something completely awesome happened. Col. Miles Quaritch (played by Stephen Lang) gets together all of his warships and lays waste to Hometree, a gigantic tree that the Na'vi worship.

Needless to say, this bright spot is short-lived. Things play out pretty much as you'd expect.

So, did I hate the movie? No, I didn't. Visually, it was stunning. Pandora is without precedent in film history. Never have I seen a totally imagined world come to life in the way Pandora does in this movie. But the story just wasn't on par with the visuals. It wasn't a bad story, just an uninspired and forgettable one.

I award Avatar 6 rattles out of a possible 10.

On an unrelated note, I'm happy to report that this is my 100th post here at LEBSAB! So thank you to all who have been with me from the beginning and those who have jumped on the bandwagon along the way. I'm looking forward to the next 100, and I hope you are too. And how can you not love this face?

Christmas means one thing: REINDEER JERKY!!!

Christmas is a great holiday, and not just because of the presents and good cheer. You see, it's about so much more than that. If you're a good little girl or little boy, this guy named Santa Claus (who is a apparently a representative of the meat packing industry) delivers twelve reindeer to your house on Christmas eve. If you're a clever little girl (like I am), you can have your pick of the bunch. All you need is one of these:

And one of these:

Last year, I misfired and only managed to bag one of the second-tier reindeer (Donner, you were delicious). But this year, I'm going for that upstart Rudolph. Now, all you namby-pamby environmentalists are probably wondering what a 13 month old little girl is going to do with all that fresh meat. Just throw away what I don't eat after the carcass starts to spoil?

No way, Jose.

I make reindeer jerky, and it will last me all year (or at least until the Easter bunny makes his rounds).

If you want to make your own reindeer jerky, you should consider my own special recipe.

Ingredients:

1 teaspoon of liquid smoke
1 tablespoon of brown sugar
3/4 cup of soy sauce
1/2 teaspoon of ginger – grated
1/2 teaspoon of garlic – minced
1/2 teaspoon of pepper
1 teaspoon of salt
1 pound of Rudolph

Directions:

Put a portion of Rudolph in the freezer for about half an hour, just until firm. Slice steak across grain, about 1/4 inch thick.

Mix all ingredients together with the exception of the strips. Allow the ingredients at least 15 minutes for flavors to blend.

Add strips. Marinate at least one hour. For longer time, place in the refrigerator in a covered container or an air-tight plastic bag. Remove from marinade and place in your dehydrator until dry.

Refrigerate for long-term storage.

You're not getting a penny of my money, Barry!

If you're like me, you'd sooner staple your own head to the carpet than give the government one red cent of your money. Last year, I went to great pains to avoid paying taxes. This involved a number of offshore shell companies, Swiss bank accounts, and a few other things I'd rather not discuss.

This year, though, I'm a little older and a little wiser. For instance, I can now say "Bad Bailey" when Bailey steals Cheerios from me and I can give Eskimo kisses. And you know what else? I've learned something new about the tax code! You can donate to worthy charities and take a deduction! Ha! Take that, Barry Obama!

But the problem is finding a worthy charity before the end of the calendar year. I was going to donate to the United Way, but they're kind of pushy. Then I was going to donate to the church, but I found out my contributions would go to pay the gas bill and fund the purchase of a solid gold backscratcher for the Archbishop.

So I decided to talk it over with Benedict, my stuffed octopus, and my new stuffed twin polar bears (Emilio and Esteban). Benedict was totally useless, but then Esteban spoke up. "¿qué sobre esa organización con la cual su papá ayuda hacia fuera? ¿Qué se llama?"

"Oh yeah," I said. "The Second Story! That's a great idea! Thanks, Esteban!"

In case you don't remember, my daddy is on the board of directors of an Indianapolis based non profit organization called The Second Story. The Second Story helps kids in the Indianapolis area form positive attitudes about creative writing and improve their skills as writers. And that's where my money went.

So if you're looking to cheat the government out of some of your hard earned money, please consider donating to The Second Story via the PayPal link at the upper right hand corner of this page.

If you want to know where your money will be going, just check this out:

And, in the spirit of Christmas, I'm promising daily posts until the big day. You'll be getting some new book reviews, my Christmas list, and lots of other Christmas related content.

Merry Christmas!

It's all just too much

Relax everyone. Just give me a break, OK? The last few months have been a real struggle for me. First, we went to San Francisco in October. Then Florida in November. It was stressful, and I've decided I don't much like flying. And let's not even mention Notre Dame's collapse, Charlie's subsequent firing, and the ongoing coaching search. Then there's the Steelers and their losing streak. Oh yeah, and I Drink Your Milkshake, my fantasy team, went on a three game skid and I lost to a number of vastly inferior teams run by a cadre of mouth-breathers. It's just too much for a little girl to handle! So I stopped posting for a bit. Can you blame me?

But now I'm back, just in time for Christmas. And I have a lot of catching up to do. So where to start? My birthday party? My 3 hours of screaming on a flight from San Francisco to Denver (which has gone down in Air Tran history lore as Nightmare at 30,000 Feet)? Or maybe, just maybe, I should tell you about my little trip to Norman, Oklahoma the other night.

What do you think?

Yeah, me too. Norman, Oklahoma it is!

It all started last Monday after Notre Dame Athletic Director Jack Swarbrick fired Charlie Weis. I was just sitting around, playing with Francis, my car (pictured below), when my cell phone rang. Guess who it was? Jack Swarbrick himself! Now, some of you may know that Jack and my daddy used to work together, so you might be thinking that he called to talk to him.

Me and Francis are pals

Lucy: I'll get my daddy, Mr. Swarbrick.

Jack: No need, Lucy. I called to talk you.

Lucy: Me?

Jack: That's right, Lucy. I've been reading your blog. That is, until you stopped posting back in October. And it gave me an idea.

Lucy: You've got my attention.

Jack: Since you've been flying so low under the radar lately, I have a mission for you. I need a new football coach.

Lucy: Yeah. Good job on canning Charlie, by the way.

Jack: Thanks.

Lucy: So, how can I help?

Jack: I'd really, really like to hire Bob Stoops away from Oklahoma.

Lucy: That's a great idea!

Jack: But the only problem is that I don't know what his buyout is. So I need you to do some, uh, breaking and entering. Is that OK?

Lucy: OK? I'd be delighted! I'm pretty good at getting into places I'm not supposed to be.

Jack: Well, Norman, Oklahoma isn't exactly the dishwasher or your doggy's waterbowl.

Lucy: I'm well aware of that. Is it safe to assume that my mission is to kidnap Bob Stoops and deliver him to some sort of deprogramming facility?

Jack: What? No.

Lucy (smiling): Oh, I get it. They don't call you Savvy Jack for nothing! Don't you worry Mr. Swarbrick. I'll hack into the OU database and financially cripple their football program so that Bob will have no place to go but Notre Dame.

Jack: Uh, not exactly.

Lucy (whispering): Jack, are you asking me to kill Bob Stoops?

Jack: Lucy, no! I just want you to break into their facilities and get me a copy of his contract so I can figure out how much to offer him and how much his buyout is.

Lucy: Oh. That's it? I can do that!

So, under the cover of darkness, with nothing more than my blankey, a crowbar, and two of my marine-themed stuffed animals (Benedict the Octopus and Guillermo the Crab), I drove Francis to Norman, Oklahoma.

Their security, by the way, was a total joke. Benedict and Guillermo held off the a few rent-a-cops while Francis created a diversion by leading half of the Norman police force on a high speed chase.

Meanwhile, I jimmied open the athletic director's office and swiped a copy of the contract (which can be viewed here). Guillermo and Benedict flagged down Francis, and we all hopped in and made it back to Indianapolis by morning.

And you know what is most interesting about the whole thing? THERE IS NO BUYOUT IN THE CONTRACT. Go ahead. Read it for yourself.

Stoops is Irish. Mark my words.

These are the fellows they say are pretty good. But I think we're better

Well, it's finally here. Notre Dame plays USC this Saturday at 3:30 p.m. EST. And guess what? I'll be watching the game in California. That's right, I'll be in the University of Scholastic Compromise's backyard, ready to heckle and mock any passerby who happens to be wearing cardinal red and gold. But heckling and mocking simply aren't going to cut it this year. I need to go above and beyond the call of duty and make a real spectacle of myself. But how to do that?

Hmmmmm.....

So I spent last night preparing a checklist of things I think will come in handy on this trip.

1. My wooden blocks (good for chucking at unsuspecting USC fans)
2. An airhorn
3. Benedict the Octopus, my new stuffed animal (he detests all things USC)
4. My Notre Dame cheerleader outfit
5. 18 lbs. of beef jerky to enjoy while holed up in my hotel room watching the game

The list was initially quite a bit longer, but then my mommy told me that most of what I wanted to bring wouldn't make it through security. But even without the blowtorch, I still think me and Benedict can cause quite a ruckus in California. Benedict has a naturally surly disposition, and I can't imagine what 6 hours on an airplane will do to him.

So watch out, California! Here we come!

Mailbag: Pumpkin Carving 101

I know, I know. I didn't post a fantasy football preview last week, I didn't post my thoughts on Notre Dame's JV team and its victory over the hapless Purdue Boilermakers, and I still owe you some book reviews. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Simmer down. I'm a busy kid, and my attention span is pretty short. Thankfully, though, the mailbag is full, and I can provide you with the answers to all of your unanswered questions.

Lucy, Where have you been all week? I've spent the last 96 hours hitting the refresh button on my browser window, hoping against hope that you'd provide an update. What gives? Vinay S., Mumbai, India

Vinay, I'm glad you brought this up. I spent most of last week preparing for a trip to Pennsylvania, and I've been recovering ever since. 6.5 hours is a long time to spend in a car, but I'm happy to say that my parents did everything they could to make the trip as painless as possible, including introducing me to Veggie Tales. Man, those songs are catchy. And they teach me all about the Bible and the talking vegetables that inhabit its pages!

Lucy, Did you win your fantasy football game? Or was there a letdown after your epic battle against Uncle Rick? Eugene T., Dearborn, Michigan

Eugene, I'm happy to report that I am now 3-0 in fantasy football and I am in firm control of my division. I Drink Your Milkshake is a juggernaut, and I look forward to seeing the looks on my competitors' faces when they realize that they've been bested by a 10 month old. My face, on the other hand, will look like this:

Lucy, Are you excited about Halloween???? You know what's best about Halloween? You get free candy! And you know what you do with the free candy? You make a giant pile out of it in your living room and eat it all in one sitting, no matter how much it hurts your stomach. Then you lock yourself in the bathroom and call Dr. Oz and cry. Oprah W., Chicago, Illinois

Oprah, I respectfully disagree with you. The best part about Halloween is picking out a pumpkin and carving it. In fact, that's exactly what we did today. I got all dressed up in orange and black and went to a pumpkin patch with Bailey.

There were so many pumpkins to choose from, but I finally settled on this one:

I've got to admit that I didn't quite know what to do with the pumpkin. I tried to eat it, I tried to play with it, but none of that seemed quite right. Finally, my daddy said that we should carve it. I was getting pretty frustrated with the pumpkin at that point, so taking a knife to it sounded like a great idea to me. But guess what? With a little care, you can carve pumpkins to look like things. Jack O'Lanterns, they're called. They can be a silly face, a sad face, a funny face, or a sort of scary face. You can carve scenes into them that have witches, kitty-cats, doggies, or really anything you want. It was a great time, and I'm now an expert pumpkin carver! Before I settled on a final design for my first pumpkin, I spent a little bit of time looking at my neighbors' pumpkins. I didn't want to duplicate anything, and I wanted my pumpkin to stand out. Finally, after hours of work, I finished my pumpkin and set it loose on my neighbors' pathetic attempts at pumpkin carving:

My Mommy thought that maybe I shouldn't have let my pumpkin go berserk in the neighborhood. "We have to live around these people, Lucy," she said. "Let's at least try to be nice." Well, I got news for ya, Toots. This little girl ain't here to make friends! I'm here to carve me some pumpkins!

Well, that's it for the mailbag. I've got some book reviews to post in the coming weeks, some Notre Dame football to discuss, and some pop culture to skewer. Oh, and did I mention that I can now say "Up"?

That's right. You heard me.

Up.

Uncle Rick's milkshake has mysteriously disappeared

I Drink Your Milkshake - 107.5
Indy Holy Rollers - 83.1

My post-game interview with Charlie Weis

Some people think that my life is just one long playtime, complete with all the candy I can eat and random gifts from hippies trying to make amends with me. "Here, have a balloon, man," they say. Of course, when a balloon is offered to me, I take it. But that doesn't mean that I approve of who gave it to me. Anyway, what I'm trying to get it at is that my life is hard work and I make a lot of effort to bring you the most exclusive content I can. I've contacted publishers like Random House and Little, Brown to bring you advance reviews of books. I give you insight into my fantasy football team. And now, I bring you an exclusive interview with Mr. Charlie Weis, the head football coach of the University of Notre Dame.

Lucy: It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Coach Weis.

Charlie Weis: The pleasure is all mine, Lucy.

Lucy: Well, let's get to it, shall we? After your narrow escape from Michigan State, there have to be a number of areas in which you'd like to see improvement. But what are you most proud of? What was the team's biggest strength?

Charlie Weis: I would have to say that I'm most proud of the Wildcat formation I installed this year.

Lucy: You're of course referring to the semi-effective formation where running back Armando Allen lines up at quarterback and takes a direct snap and runs the ball.

Charlie Weis: Oh, he can throw it too.

Lucy: Yes, we saw an example of that during the Michigan State game.

Charlie Weis: Or he can hand it off to Golden Tate on the end-around. It works because no one knows what he's going to do.

Lucy: Pretty tricky, Coach Weis. Moving on, it seems like you have some major issues on defense, particularly with basic things like finishing tackles and understanding what coverage you're in. How do you plan to address that?

Charlie Weis: That's a good question, Lucy. I plan on installing a version of the Wildcat formation on defense. Offenses won't know what hit 'em.

Lucy: Uh, how will that work exactly?

Charlie Weis: Armando Allen will line up on the defensive line and have the option to put on a heavy pass rush or drop into coverage. No one will know what he's going to do. That's the beauty of the Wildcat!

Lucy: ... OK. Well, let's talk a little bit about Kyle McCarthy's interception at the end of the Michigan State game.

Charlie Weis: Oh, that was a thing of beauty wasn't it? Before that defensive series, I went up to Kyle and I said 'Kyle, I need you to play like a wildcat on this series. Just think of what a wildcat might do--which could be anything!--and do it!' He looked at me kind of funny, but he went out and did the last thing anyone thought our defense would do.

Lucy: Make a play on the ball?

Charlie Weis: Exactly!

Lucy: You seem really taken with this whole Wildcat thing.

Charlie: It's great, isn't it?

Lucy: Uh, yeah. But what about Jimmy Clausen? Over the last four games, he is 62 of 91 for 951 yards with 9 TDs and zero interceptions. Shouldn't the ball be in his hands on almost every play?

Charlie Weis: Want to hear how I came up with the Wildcat formation?

Lucy: Uh, not really. I want to talk about your phenom quarterback and why you're taking the ball out of his hands.

Charlie Weis: We're transitioning him to play receiver. Maybe we'll run a trick play out of the WIldcat formation where he throws the ball. No one would expect that, see? Anyway back to the genesis of the Wildcat. I was out bird-watching this summer when I saw something in the distance, something primal and powerful, bounding across a field. I took out my camera a snapped this picture:

Lucy: That, uh, that's a kitten, Coach Weis.

Charlie Weis: No, that's just what it wants you to think. It's a wildcat. Just like my offense. It strikes when you least expect it!

Lucy: Can you explain why it has only been marginally effective so far?

Charlie Weis: Want to see a picture I just drew?

Lucy: What?

Charlie Weis: Check this out: Charlie Weis: BOOSH!

Lucy: Well, I guess this sort of indirectly answers a lot of questions about Saturday's game. Thanks for your time, Coach Weis. Any predictions about next week's game against Purdue?

Charlie Weis: Wildcat!

Lucy (closes her eyes and massages her temples): OK, I'm outta here. Good luck next week.

Showdown with Uncle Rick!!

I'm happy to report that I Drink Your Milkshake--my fantasy football team--crushed The Fighting McLuckie's [sic] by a final score of 104.8 to 69.1. Up next for I Drink Your Milkshake is the Indy Holy Rollers, which is managed by none other than my Uncle Rick (pictured below in a beret).

"I say, this non-football related periodical is mighty interesting."

ESPN projects Uncle Rick as the winner, but I've never put much stock in the opinions spewed forth by that rag. While I agree that this will be a closely contested battle, I have to think that I have a slight advantage at running back (Adrian Peterson and Steve Slaton), tight end (Dallas Clark), and defense (Pittsburgh). I'm also expecting big things out of Jericho Cotchery (Mark Sanchez will look to the veteran early and often), Isaac Bruce (who I picked up on waivers and will contribute immediately), and DeSean Jackson (with or without Donovan McNabb). Uncle Rick will be starting Tom Brady (who looked shaky against the Bills on Monday night) at quarterback and is relying on the unproven Darren McFadden and the inconsistent Larry Johnson at running back. Yes, he has Reggie Wayne, but Peyton will likely spread the ball around a bit more than he did last week. And his other big name receiver--Calvin Johnson--plays for the lowly Lions. He could easily be a bust this week.

Uncle Rick, you've punched your own ticket on this one. The I Drink Your Milkshake train is on a roll, and it won't be stopped by the likes of you.

Walk and Roll

I just don't understand it. Everyone made such a big deal about me taking my first steps, and they encouraged me to keep practicing. They bribed me with Cheerios and juicey boxes. They even stooped low enough to steal my blankey from me and then set it on the other side of the room so I had to walk over there to retrieve it. But you know what? No matter how hard I practice, things like the above keep happening--I'll really get going, and then I'll trip and fall. Heck, I was even saying "mama" at the same time I was walking. But then BAM! I get introduced to the floor.

So I've decided that this whole walking thing is for suckers. I can get around much better by being carried. But I see long-term problems with always being carried. Someday, my mommy and daddy will be old and won't even know where they're at, let alone be able to carry me to the fridge so I can have get some animal crackers. Being the inquisitive little scamp that I am, I decided to put my mind to finding a solution to this problem.

It didn't take me long to discover the Sedan chair:

Traditionally, the luxury of being carried by others was reserved for emperors and other nobility. So I see absolutely no reason why I can't make this work for me.

In today's economy, I doubt it will be difficult to find four able-bodied individuals willing to carry me around on a Sedan chair. I'll be accepting applications until October 15, 2009. Please include your curriculum vitae, a 1000 word essay described your load-bearing experience (double spaced, 1 inch margins, and 12 point Times New Roman font), and a self-addressed stamped envelope.

Notre Dame vs. Michigan: My Thoughts

UPDATE: Obviously, my prediction was a bit off. Who could have foreseen the complete and total incompetency (on both sides of the ball) that governed the last two minutes of the game? Or the phantom holding calls on the Notre Dame offensive line and the convenient failures to call pass interference on Mr. Donovan Warren, who was essentially mugging Golden Tate the entire game? Or the overturning of Armando Allen's touchdown run on questionable video evidence (the standard, by the way, is indisputable video evidence)? I don't like to make excuses--and Notre Dame certainly was not without fault--but Notre Dame was clearly the better team and should have easily won that game.

Although I was wrong about the final score, I'd like to point out that I'm not wrong about the Irish. They should finish the season at 10-2 and make it to a good bowl game. I look forward to next year's Weasel Stomping Day.

I'll get this prediction over quickly. Notre Dame is going to beat Michigan badly today. Michigan's secondary cannot cover the lethal combination of Michael Floyd, Golden Tate, and Kyle Rudolph. Notre Dame's linebackers are going to have a field day with Michigan's stupid spread option. Look for Notre Dame to jump ahead early and stay ahead.

Also, in researching this match-up, I came across some interesting information. Did you know that the wolverine--the mascot of the University of Michigan is also often referred to as a skunk bear? It's no better than a carnivorous weasel, really. If you've ever been to Michigan, you're probably not surprised that its population might choose to associate itself with such a lowly creature. And what does one do with a weasel? Why, you put on your weasel-stomping boots!

I DRINK YOUR MILKSHAKE!!!

As you're well aware by now, I think that football season is the best time of the year. Recently, Uncle Rick (who is kind and bearded) convinced me that it would be a good idea to dip into my 529 account and fork over 50 bucks to join a fantasy football league with him. I immediately went to work on my draft board, ranking prospects by statistical categories such as yards per carry, completion percentage, and average number of touchdowns per game (see above). I also had to come up with a name for my fantasy team. I kicked around a few ideas, but I finally decided to call my team "I Drink Your Milkshake" for a number reasons, the most obvious being my intent to take money from all the suckers in the league. See the below clip for a more in-depth explanation:

Also, on a less metaphorical level, if you did happen to have a milkshake in front of you, I would definitely drink it without your permission.

Anyway, I've decided to use LEBSAB as a forum to do some friendly trash-talking to my opponents in anticipation of the week's coming match up.

This week, for example, pits I Drink Your Milkshake against The Fighting McLuckie's [sic].

The first thing I would like to note about this match-up is my opponent's apparent ignorance regarding the proper use of an apostrophe. Look, buddy, I'm only ten months old and I know this. Either your team is called "The Fighting McLuckies" (note that absence of an apostrophe) OR you tell us why you've decided to make it possessive. Fill in the blank: The Fighting McLuckie's ________. If you can't fill in the blank, then YOU DON'T NEED AN APOSTROPHE. I really suggest that you take a look at Strunk and White's Elements of Style.

But I don't just have the edge in grammar. I've got the edge at (i) quarterback in Donovan McNabb; (ii) running backs in Adrian Peterson and Steve Slaton; (iii) tight end in Dallas Clark; and (iv) defense in the Pittsburgh Steelers. The wide receiver battle will be a bit of a toss-up, but even if I lose one or two of those match-ups, I should still come out on top.

Lucy Reviews .... What The Dog Saw: And Other Adventures by Malcom Gladwell

I'll be the first to admit that when I picked up What the Dog Saw: And Other Adventures by Malcom Gladwell, I wasn't sure what to expect. I'm not much of a nonfiction fan, and I had never even heard of Mr. Gladwell. It turns out that he's been a staff writer at The New Yorker for years and his modus operandi is simply write about what interests him. For example, in one article, he profiles Ron Popeil and the Popeil family's history of hawking gadgets on boardwalks and at carnivals. In another one, he describes how the American education system has a "quarterback problem" and proposes an interesting solution (which, it seems, has gained some traction in the last few years.

But it is the titular essay--What the Dog Saw--that fascinated me the most because, lately, I've been wondering about Bailey. For months, I assumed that Bailey and I were pretty much alike. We both walked on all fours. We both like to drink out of the water dish (although when I get caught doing that, I get yelled at). And we both enjoy competing for mommy's attention.

But guess what? We're not the same. Bailey's an entirely different species. I started to piece this together after I learned to walk and when I realized that I didn't go to the bathroom in the neighbor's yard (usually). So this naturally made me curious about how Bailey sees the world.

Well, this book answers that in an incredibly fascinating profile of Cesar Millan, the Dog Whisperer. Why do dogs respond to him and not their owners? What do they see that we can't seem to see in his body language?

Some other gems in the book include essays on ketchup, hair dye, the paradoxes of intelligence reform, why smart people might be over-rated, and how one man foresaw the recent economic collapse and made millions.

After reading these essays straight through, Mr. Gladwell's formula becomes sort of predictable ("Here are two seemingly unrelated things--let me show you how they're actually very closely related"), but no less enjoyable for it. In fact, it is sort of fun to try to guess how he is going to connect, for example, Chase Daniel, the former Missouri quarterback who had contended for the Heisman Trophy, with our country's much-needed education reform.

I give What the Dog Saw: And Other Adventures 8.0 rattles out of 10. If you've ever wondered about why you can buy hundreds of varieties of mustard, but only one type of ketchup, or if you are just interested in an in-depth look at what appears, at first glance, to be minutia, then you should pick up this book. It will be released on October 20, 2009, and I imagine most booksellers will have it. Or you could just click any of the links here and pre-order it on Amazon.

Thanks to Miriam at Hachette Book Group for passing What the Dog Saw: And Other Adventures along.

I have a few other reviews in the coffers, including Resurrection: The Miracle Season That Saved Notre Dame by Jim Dent and Netherland by Joseph O'Neill.

Also, check back later today when I unveil something new here on LEBSAB!

Falcon Punch!

In your face, Nevada!

Thanks to Jimmy Clausen, Michael Floyd, Golden Tate and the rest of the Irish, I spent much of my afternoon in the above pose.

What a great day! And you know what? This is only the beginning. I can barely wait to see the Irish humiliate Michigan in Ann Arbor and make Rich Rodriguez cry like a little girl (again).

Stay tuned this week, because I have backlog of book reviews to post and a new feature I'm launching here on LEBSAB. It's under tight wraps, but check back on Wednesday or Thursday for the big unveiling.

You know what I like best about football season? I get to act like this:

Grrrrrrr!!!!

Countdown to Kickoff: 6 Days

Only six more days until the return of Notre Dame football. The wait is sort of making me go bonkers (see below).

My daddy suggested that I get involved in some sort of cause. You know, like helping the poor or volunteering at the Humane Society. "But Daddy," I said. "I already have my neighborhood outreach program. What else is there?" He told to look around and that I would be surprised to see what's out there. And, man, was he right. It wasn't long before I came across the most inspiring, wondrous cause. My jaw dropped in amazement and my bottle fell to the floor. I was so moved by what I was seeing that I immediately went through my daddy's wallet, took out his American Express card, and made a large donation. So what is this amazing cause, you ask?

Because you gotta nuke somethin'

After my daddy noticed the $4200 I donated in his name, he gave me permission to go back to obsessing about Notre Dame football.

So I've been amusing myself by watching highlights from last year. Maybe the most amazing highlights came from freshman receiving sensation Michael Floyd.

Mark my words. The lethal combination of Michael Floyd and Golden Tate will give fits to defensive coordinators, and I expect them to combine for over 3000 yards and at least 20 touchdowns. Anything less will make me angry. And you wouldn't like me angry.

Countdown to Kickoff: 7 Days

I was at the apple orchard today with my mommy and daddy (see the humiliating picture above), and I realized something: picking apples is a lot like catching a football. It takes lots of concentration and a tremendous amount of hand/eye coordination. My first few tries didn't go so well. I didn't keep my eye on the apple and I missed entirely. On my next few tries, I kept my eyes on the apple, but I got so excited that I twisted my body and my daddy almost dropped me. And guess what? No apple.

I was getting frustrated because I really, really, really wanted to get one of these buggers on my own and it just wasn't happening. But then I had an idea!

Because Notre Dame football has been on my mind lately, I said to myself "What would Golden Tate do in this situation?" He sure wouldn't let himself get distracted by shiny things or the sound of his own babbling. No, he would just reach up and grab the stinking apple is what he would do! The below video immediately came to mind:

And guess what? On my very next try, I grabbed that apple! By the end of the day, I was a pro at apple-picking. I could to the one-handed apple pick, the behind the back apple pick, and even the no-look apple pick (see below).

So thank you, Golden Tate. If not for you, there would be no apple pie, no apple butter, no dried apple chips, no apple soup, no apple sandwiches, no apple juice, no apple sauce, and no apple sticks at the Perry household this week.