Monday, February 27, 2012

The Dodgers are insane

And in related news, rape victims are partially to blame.



First things first, I am NOT a Dodgers fan. Nor am I a Giants fan. I grew up watching the Angels and have long loved the Cubs. This isn’t a story about baseball, but about ultra-wealthy greedy people who try to blame others when it comes time to shell out money.
I guess I started thinking about this because spring training is underway. And possibly because I saw a bunch of Angels billboards with Albert Pujols on them. The billboard somehow made me realize that the Angels will kick the crap out of the Dodgers this year and that reminded me that I don’t like the Dodgers.
Remember Bryan Stow? He was the San Francisco Giants fan who received a major beat-down from a couple of low-life thugs in the Dodger Stadium parking lot after the home opener of the 2011 season. How bad was his beating? Stow suffered a major brain injury and in fact nearly died from it . He spent more than seven months in the hospital before being moved to a rehab facility and his life is forever changed.
That ultra-wealthy, greedy douche (and current Dodgers owner) Frank McCourt is trying to get out of paying Stow any money and has asked the federal court judge overseeing his bankruptcy case to disallow the claim. The Dodgers had this to say in their 37-page motion.
“The Stow claim is, when stripped to its core, based on the faulty premise that a landowner is an insurer of the safety of persons on its property.”
I’m not a law geek. I leave that stuff to my Muse (who went to law school to understand things like this), but here is what I do know. People shouldn’t go to a baseball game and worry about whether or not they’ll get beaten while on the stadium property. There’s an expectation of safety when you go to a game. Depending on where you sit you may expect to get hit with a foul ball, but not a shoe to the head while on the way to your car.
As a kid I used to go to Angels games all the time but we rarely went to Dodger Stadium. Why? Because the parking blows and there are only a couple ways in and out and it takes forever to go to or from a game. I still go to games as an adult and I’ve been to seven major league ballparks plus I’ve seen several spring training games.
Never once in all those years did I think that I would get my ass kicked in the parking lot. Even when I wore my Cubs jersey at Dodger Stadium. Or even when I wore my Cubs jersey to a game at old Comiskey Park, the former home of the Chicago White Sox.
I didn’t think I would get a beat down because you’re supposed to feel safe coming out of a baseball game with your son, daughter, niece, nephew, chick, dude or friend. You know there’s security in the parking lot and you assume that the people in attendance are going to leave you alone. But not at Dodger Stadium.
I’m now seriously rethinking getting tickets to see the Dodgers and Cubs this year which is sad because I love to see my Cubbies in person. I guarantee I won’t even think about going until McCourt sells the team. I’m not giving that dude a freakin dime.
Do I expect there to be security in every row? No. But I do expect that if there are questionable looking individuals or people who appear to be perpetrating evil or possibly planning to perpetrate bad deeds, they should be watched closer. Safety is an expectation everyone should have when attending a professional baseball game or any sporting event.
What ticks me off the most is the fact that from day one McCourt was a huge ass. Stow and his family spent a lot of money going to that game for tickets, parking, food, drinks and eventually a hospital stay, rehab and probably extra care for the rest of Bryan’s life. That was one expensive family outing.
What’s McCourts’ reaction? I mean, after he got pissed at MLB for seeing through the “robbing Peter to pay Paul” scam he was trying to pull with some lucrative TV contract between the Dodgers and Fox. In case you didn’t know, McCourt owns Fox as well. McCourt’s reaction was to push the blame to the victim.
According to my Muse, the bottom line is that McCourt is saying “It takes two to tango,” with the tango apparently being the fight. Only it wasn’t a fight. It was a beating. In front of the dudes kids. McCourt implying that Stow somehow provoked the beating by wearing his Giants gear is absolutely insane.
I dig Stow’s lawyer, Tom Girardi, for quotes like these.
“The last thing anybody would expect from a statement from the current bankrupt owner would be something about integrity, something about fairness, something about how do I correct the problem I caused?
and
“But steady as she goes with him, the same guy who siphoned off $189 million bucks of the Dodger organization and then put the team in bankruptcy, who got rid of security, who has more incidents of harm than any other team in baseball. Now this guy coming forward and saying forget about it.”
I know this isn’t all legal-ese, but in my mind it comes down to this. Bryan Stow and his family went to Frank McCourts house, then on the way out Stow got the shit kicked out of him by a couple of McCourt’s friends. I say “friends” because the assailants were Dodger fans.
If you apply the McCourt logic in other areas of law one could assume that rape victims are partially to blame. That, of course, is complete crap and it’s nothing more than sarcasm to make a point. I sincerely hope that Frank McCourt loses his ass in a big way, but even if he loses the case and has to shell out big bucks to Stow, the reality is that he will never live life in poverty. He may never be truly poor, but an average Joe like me can only wish that McCourt gets what’s coming to him. And then some.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

The baby at the gas station

You are truly rad. Your friend? Not so much.

UPDATE: It’s now being reported that the mother GAVE the baby to the woman at the gas station and that the baby was never actually dumped in a bag. Let’s go ahead and add “What kind of crazy bitch fakes this story?” to the mix.

I’m gonna start with the obvious and ask, what kind of a lowlife douche abandons a baby at a damn gas station? How much crack do you have to be smoking to think that’s a good idea? I mean, why not drop the kid off at a safe place on your way to the methadone clinic?
In case you haven’t heard, some soulless person abandoned a baby at a gas station in Long Beach Monday night. Picture this. You head over to the convenience store in a sketchy part of town to buy your Lotto ticket. [You don't win if you don't play.] Suddenly you see a bag against the wall and since you’re nosy, you look inside. There’s another bag inside the first bag so you open that as well. Imagine your surprise at finding a baby with the umbilical cord still attached.
I love the fact that in the video below, the woman rats her friend out by saying the friend told her to “just leave it” and the reporter doesn’t even flinch. If I was the reporter I’m pretty sure I would have bitch slapped the friend for being straight up mean.
All kidding aside, who the hell does something like this? I mean, if you don’t want the baby take it to a church or hospital. Just because you’re some kinda disturbed doesn’t mean your child has to die. I seriously cannot envision a single scenario that would end with me dumping my baby at a gas station. I can’t envision dumping her at all, but if I had to do it I would take her to a hospital or a fire station.
I don’t know what to say other than, I don’t get it. I really don’t. My Drama Queen is everything to me. She’s partially the reason I’m greying but she’s the reason I get out of bed every morning. If you think I’m mean with that greying comment, chill. You know every parent goes bald or gets grey at the amusement of their children.
When she’s in school I worry that she’s not paying attention in class or that she didn’t study hard enough for a test. When she’s at tennis I wonder if she’s paying attention to the coach so that she can reach her goal of going from frosh/soph to JV next fall. When she’s at home I worry that she may be trying to read her Kindle instead of her science notes. We worry because we care and we care because we’re parents. And because we want our children to have good jobs so they don’t have to put is in a home someday.
I hope they find the loser who did this and I hope that person never gets out. I won’t go so far as to say they should be shanked in the yard, but I could see it happening. The baby is alive and thankfully in stable condition at a local hospital. I pray that baby gets a home with people who love it. I’m totally at a loss for words right now, so I’ll keep it short and sweet. Thank you to the lady who took the baby home and called 911. You are truly rad. Your friend? Not so much.


Watch local news video

P.S. I’m in a slightly classier neighborhood. Slightly.

Monday, February 20, 2012

Diversity

I am a diverse Motherf*****

I was tweeting the other day with my friend Tara about dating and I (for some reason) said that I was a “diverse motherfucker”. Tara replied back immediately and said that I should “use the term the ‘Renaissance Man’ on your online profile. You never know who/what you’ll attract with ‘diverse motherfucker’.”
I appreciated her concern and this got me thinking about myself. I am diverse. I’m also hip, cool, rad, eclectic, horny and occasionally even sane. I’m just me. Love me for who I am or kiss my ass. It’s your call. If you’re hot, female and single I would love it if you were to kiss my ass, but that’s a whole different blog post for a different time.
Why do I consider myself diverse? I have all kinds of interests and various personalities that come out at different (and occasionally inappropriate) times. I am a dude, but still can be a gentleman. I can throw down shots with the boys on a Saturday night as we talk about scoring with chicks (or our lack of game) and I know how to handle myself in church.
I like vanilla AND chocolate. Strawberry too. There’s not much better at 2 AM than a bowl of old school Cap’n. Crunch Peanut Butter cereal. A hot fudge sundae is off the hook, but hot fudge sundae Pop-Tarts are weak. Have I ever tried one? Shit no! How do I know hot fudge sundae Pop-Tarts are weak? I just do. There are some things that a guy just knows.
I like women (and occasionally women like me) and I am in no way gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that) and I am not at all ashamed to admit that I occasionally enjoy spending a quiet evening alone on the couch sucking down (down. Not off.) Jack Daniels, Jose Cuervo or Ron Bacardi.
I dig all kinds of music. Looking at my Top 25 Most Played list on my iPod I have Foo Fighters, Linkin Park, Sublime, No Doubt, Muse, Dropkick Murphys, Michael Buble, Daughtry, Black Eyed peas, Dee-Lite, Reel Big Fish, Brian Setzer Orchestra, Dean Martin and Disturbed. What I listen to depends on my mood.
I’m not big on rap, but I’ll kick on some Snoop from time to time. Why Snoop? That’s easy cuz—me & Snoop are just a couple of gangstas. I’m not a big fan of country music, but if you threw me on a tour bus with Carrie Underwood, Faith Hill, Shania Twain (vintage Shania, not recent Shania) or Miranda Lambert, I would do my best to try and seal the deal.
I love surfing and skiing. Back in the day we used to go surfing at the Huntington Beach cliffs in the morning, come home, shower and head up to Big Bear for some night skiing. Oh to be young again and think I was cool…
The last almost 20 years I’ve been a dad first and foremost. I’m a way cool dad, but I know how to drop the hammer when I need to, I know how to drop the hammer when I’m dating, but once again, that is a different blog post for a different day.
As we come to a close boys and girls I would like to leave you with another tweet from Tara. “You do deserve a hottie, and one who will love and embrace you for the incorrigible middle-aged man you are.” What does this have to do with the rest of the blog post? Nothing really. I just like reading it and am thinking about making it my personal mantra. Your thoughts???

Thursday, February 16, 2012

I know I'm not perfect..are you?

Please do not judge me, I don't recall you carrying any cross or dying for my sins.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Fall To Pieces

I keep a journal of memories
I’m feeling lonely, I can’t breathe
Velvet Revolver

Every once in a while someone comes into your life seemingly by accident, yet later on you come to realize that it was no accident. I have someone like that in my life. My Muse has helped me through a lot of tough stuff this past year and I can honestly say she has helped me somehow retain the small bit of sanity I have left.
I wasn’t going to do a Valentines post, but as I crawled into bed at 9:30 on February 13, I donned my headphones and pushed “Shuffle” on my Dope Tunes playlist. This was the first song to play and suddenly I knew I wasn’t going to bed because this was what I wanted to write about.
I can’t tell you how many times in the past 12 months I’ve felt like I’m falling to pieces, but I can tell you that every single time she has been there to either help me up or to offer me the encouragement to help myself. I’ve had a rough five years and I will be the first to admit that I can be a real tool at times; but when there’s someone (metaphorically) standing beside you with encouragement, it makes falling to pieces a whole lot easier to handle.
Look at the lyrics below, watch the video and be assured that when I say I feel like I fall to pieces, I don’t mean in a night club bathroom from a heroin OD. (I leave that to lead singer Scott Weiland.) My Muse has seen me at my worst and I’m looking forward to her being around to see me at my best. Fingers crossed.
It’s tough to keep something going when two people are separated by almost 3,000 miles, but somehow we’ve managed it. My message in this post is simple and its directed to my Muse. Thank you. You have no idea how much you mean to me.
It’s been a long year
Since you’ve been gone
I’ve been alone here
I’ve grown old
I fall to pieces, I’m falling
Fell to pieces and I’m still falling
Every time I’m falling down
All alone I fall to pieces
I keep a journal of memories
I’m feeling lonely, I can’t breathe
I fall to pieces, I’m falling
Fell to pieces and I’m still falling
All the years I’ve tried
With more to go
Will the memories die
I’m waiting
Will I find you
Can I find you
We’re falling down
I’m falling
Every time I’m falling down
All alone I fall to pieces
Every time I’m falling down
All alone I fall to pieces
Every time I’m falling down
All alone I fall to pieces
Every time I’m falling down
All alone I fall to pieces
                                  

Happy Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine's Day to everyone! A day to celebrate love! May those of you keep your love strong, and to those who are still looking, may it not be very long!

Monday, February 13, 2012

Niche dating is ‘wack

Once you’ve got a colostomy bag…


Raise your hand if you’re single and are on Facebook? OK. Thanks. Now raise your hand if you’ve ever tried online dating? Great. One more question. How many single people on Facebook see those bullshit ads on the right side of the page, click the ad yet somehow never see the person in the ad? Yeah. Same here.

If you’ve never seen these ads, they truly are amazing. Facebook was nice enough to take the time to tailor the ad just for me. Apparently there are a lot of large breasted women who are looking for 47-year-old single fathers. I know that Facebook has my back, because until late November the women were looking for 44-year-old’s. Now that I think about it, the year before they were looking for 43-year-old’s. Weird.
When I click on the site (which has pictures of women like the pair above) I see women. Lots of women. Do they look like the girls in the ad? Not a fucking one one them! I call bullshit and false advertising. That’s not cool. Not cool at all.
My favorite ad has to be the one for Christian Mingle. They explain, “If you’re looking for a Christ centered relationship, the next move is yours.” The next move is yours? I didn’t think Christians had “moves”. I thought their purity rings counteracted the urge to put the moves on anyone. Maybe I was wrong.
I’ve tried Match.com with limited success. The same with e-Harmony. I appreciate the effort that old dude and his company are putting in, but the reality is that I end up running into the same train wrecks that I do on the free sites. If I thought I was getting something for the cash, I could see it, but I don’t.
If you’ve ever done any Internet dating, you’ve likely run across PlentyOfFish.com. I will admit that I’ve met some nice people there. When I lived in Canada, I met Teacher on that site. I met The Nurse there as well. However, the overwhelming majority of people have been either crazy, strange, troll-like or a combination of all three.
I’m sure there are lots and lots of wonderful women on POF, but I can say that I have yet to meet more than a couple solid ones. I can’t tell you how many women have a profile that says they’re 42, but you would swear in court that she was 60+.
Let me disclaim this right now and say: I am in no way making fun of anyone’s weight, whether below average, average or above average. Anything I say is meant to illustrate a point and not ridicule. Shit, I need to lose 20, 30, 35, so no way am I cracking on people’s weight. That being said, people need to be realistic about what they look like. I tell people that I’m fat and they typically say that I’m not. “It’s no more weight than most people need to lose,” they tell me. I don’t buy that bullshit, which is why when I was online dating I put, “A few extra pounds” rather than, “Average.”
Just because everyone in your family is 60-80 pounds overweight, that doesn’t make you average. If you’re a little big, then say so. Some people are looking for that and if you’re stuck in, “Average”, you may get overlooked. If you don’t like being in a certain category, make it your goal to get down to the next level.
The beautiful thing is that you don’t have to spend months trolling through the big sites. For example, if you’re Jewish, there are sites for you. If you like crazy chicks, there is a site called Women Behind Bars. You can correspond with an inmate, then let her beat you, rob you and kill you shortly after her release. But not until you’ve bought her some cans and a new wardrobe.
Apparently there’s a dating site for Trekkies. I can’t even begin to tell you how stupid that is. If you’re willing to drop a grand for a lifetime membership, you can join Scientific Match and let DNA testing help determine your match. I don’t think Crazy Blind Date needs any further explanation, nor does Bi-Cupid.
If you’re into Ayn Rand, you can join Atlasphere.com. If World of Warcraft is your thing, then you will want to rush on over to DateCraft.com. As tempting as that may sound, please wait until you’re finished here before you do so. Thanks.
If your junk itches, drips or oozes, you can log onto STD Friends and find people who likewise suffer from chlamydia, gonorrhea or just plain ol’ crabs. My favorite one might just be Ostomate.com. Once you’ve got a colostomy bag, I would imagine that it’s hard to get past those first few dates, ya know?
What did I miss? Are there any more niche sites that I overlooked? Do you have any experience with any of these? Stories that you heard from, “A friend?” Spit ‘em out. Let’s hear them…

A real man makes everyday feel like valentine's day!

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Glee is bullshit

There are some things a guy just knows.

I’m in the car with Drama Queen Sunday evening and she asks if I have the song Gives You Hell on my iPod. I dig The All American Rejects and I told her I did have it. She asked if it was “The Glee version or the real one.”

I quickly glanced over at her with a look of sheer…I don’t even know what I was feeling at the moment. I was disappointed that my daughter would even consider that I had the Glee version of anything on my iPod. I was also feeling frustrated that a bunch of losers would take a perfectly good song and F it up. I was also holding back laughter. That was quite possibly the dumbest question I have ever been asked.
I glanced at her, then back at the road and asked, “What the hell would make you think that I have a Glee song on my iPod?” She responded with the typical teenage reaction. “I don’t know…..”
“Glee is just High School Musical done on a weekly basis,” I reminded her. “If I think High School Musical is stupid, why would I have Glee music on my iPod? Have I EVER indicated that I had an interest in watching that show? In fact, when you’ve asked if I wanted to watch it with you, what was my reaction?”
“You said, hell no!” She replied. Damn right I said hell no. If my internal filter hadn’t been switched on I probably would have said “Fuck no”. I’m a hetrosexual male in my late 40's. Why would I have an interest in watching Glee?
For the record, that was a rhetorical question. I don’t need your answers on why I should become a Gleek. I will never become a Gleek. I understand chicks who are Gleeks and I guess I can understand homosexual males who enjoy it, but I don’t get how a straight male could think it’s anything but stupid.
You’re probably all asking, ” Benjamin, how many episodes have you watched?” I will answer you honestly and say, “Absolutely none. Not one single minute.” How do I know I don’t like it if I’ve never watched it? There are some things a guy just knows. That’s all I can say.

                                         

P.S. The only nice thing I can say about Glee is I like how they use the fingers to make the “L” in the name. That part they totally got right….

Friday, February 3, 2012

Other priorities

What do you have?
Here’s a great story for you. My ex, Baby Mama, is behind on paying child support to me. When we first split she was hurting financially so I didn’t pursue the issue. I was trying to be a nice guy. Almost nine years later she decided to step up to the plate and pay what I deemed an acceptable amount per month. That lasted only a few months.                                   

The bottom line is she’s past due on what she owes and I’ve been leaving messages for her with no response. On Tuesday I finally got a call back. Strangely enough it came right after the voice mail I left her saying that if she didn’t return the call that evening I would call her work tomorrow (she works outside of the office) and leave a message saying we need to talk about her unpaid child support. If you’re gonna tell me that I legally can’t leave messages like that, save it. I’m not interested in hearing it.
Once Baby Mama returned my call I was told she has “other priorities” and that she wasn’t going to explain what those priorities are. “Uh,” I stammered. “OK.” There was a moment of silence and I said I had a question. “Do you realize that your daughter is your first priority?” Baby Mama told me she understood but that she still had other priorities.
This whole situation totally baffles me. She went almost nine years without paying child support and went periods of months and years with no contact whatsoever. I can’t describe what I’m feeling other than to say it’s a combo of anger and sadness. I mean, how does a person seemingly care so little about the child they carried for nine months?
You want to talk about priorities? How’s this for a priority. Near the end of our last strike in 2003 I wasn’t working and was waiting to get approved for food stamps On several occasions I would go two or three days at a time without eating so I could make sure my daughter had plenty of food. Apparently every parent doesn’t have that kind of commitment to their child. I find that sad.
I was talking with my daughter this evening and I mentioned that I couldn’t afford to pay for something I said I would. She asked why and I told her I simply didn’t have the money right now. “What about the money from my mom?” She asked.
After taking a deep breath, I told my daughter that her mom was behind in paying me and that she wasn’t sure when we would be giving me more. I hated telling her that, but she’s old enough to know the truth. The first thing she asked was, “Is my mom mad at me?” That question was like a knife in my heart. When she was younger I made up reasons to explain why her mom wasn’t around and that nearly killed me. I told my daughter that I was very sure her mom wasn’t mad but she was welcome to call and ask.
I’m choosing my words very carefully in this post because I don’t want to come off as overly bitter or opinionated. If I seem that way, sorry. My goal is to stay factual and don’t say something I’ll later regret. You have no idea how hard that is for me at this moment. I mean the “say something I’ll later regret” part. Being factual is easy.
“Benjamin,” you ask. “Is there a point to all this or are you simply venting?” Yes there is a point and its a simple one. I don’t have a priority. I have a daughter. What do you have?