I went to an NBA game and a fight broke out

Soapbox alert!

Ouch, not sure if many of you saw the ugly tape of last night's NBA game in Detroit. It was quite possibly the "most ugliest*" sports scene I have ever seen. It will be on the news over and over again in the coming days and makes the Rodney King L.A. beatings look tame. What a black eye this incident will leave for fans, players, and the general public. I personally am not a huge basketball fan, but I couldn't help feeling sad for everyone involved.

Basically (this is a very succinct description) a huge fight broke out with 45 seconds left in the game between bitter rivals Detroit and Indiana. The game was in Detroit and a fan threw a beverage at one of the NBA's most volatile players, Ron Artest, of the Pacers. He then thought it would be a good idea to run into the Detroit stands and throw punches at Detroit fans. Of course this led to a whole chain of unsightly events on the sideline which ultimately canceled the game and turned the arena into utter mayhem.

This sort of crap makes me shameful for what sports represents. There were kids at this game witnessing first hand the chaos on and off the court. If you don't happen to know, I play soccer and I am aware things can get heated while playing. I know tempers can flare in high profile team sports. It seems many athletes and fans are emotionally fragile. Last night's game will change the way I look at sports for a long time to come. What the fuck is wrong with people? ...athletes and fans alike. Remember that a Boston Red Sox fan died during the Red Sox playoff run this year in after hour celebrations. No one wins in last night's NBA debacle. Everyone looked like an ass and I hope to hell something like this won't happen again, but I sadly doubt it. People listen carefully: fighting doesn't solve anything and this will more than likely cause me to think twice before I decide to witness another professional sporting event in the near future.

* "most ugliest" was how one of the ESPN announcers, Bill Breen, described the melee last night.

Egan steps off his soapbox now.

Some good news, it's not currently raining in Seattle and it isn't expected to all weekend long! I did also save a bunch of money on my car insurance. Not really, but I thought it sounded funny.

Fahrenheit 206, eh?

206 isn't a reference to a certain temperature at which books burn, just a certain area code I live in. I feel like I should just burn all my books because all they're doing is collecting dust. It's rather frustrating since I do love books. I sort of have a minor problem where I like to visit book stores and can not leave them empty handed.

Today I visited a lovely bookstore in Seattle, Elliott Bay Books, and just had to buy How To Be A Canadian. I have watched lots of Kids in the Hall episodes over the years, memorized all the Canadian provinces, know how to pronounce Chrétien, know that Gretzky was the best baseball player ever, can tell the difference between the CN Tower and the Space Needle, know that Larry Walker was the best hockey player ever, and most importantly know that for some very odd reason Newfoundland is 4.5 hours ahead of Pacific Standard Time. I could go on and on, but I don't want to bore my fellow Americans. I figured How to be a Canadian could come in handy over the next four years.

I purchased that book because the topic seems interesting and hope to some day read it. I have many others that fit into the same category. My book queue is longer than my Netflix queue ever could be. I feel like an autumn squirrel gathering as many books as possible so some day in the future I will read them... or will I? Now that I have been introduced to blogs it might be time to introduce me to the bottle, weening me off the cyber nipple. There's just too much information to read on the net. It may have slown down my work productivity too, but the verdict is still out on that one. ....GUILTY on all counts!

Cake Bitch

I had have many nicknames in my life, but today I got a new one from my wife. I was referred to as Cake Bitch for my efforts. I happened to run an errand for her off-site meeting today by bringing her a Simply Desserts cake to their meeting location. My reward was the new nickname, Cake Bitch. Got me to thinking about other nicknames I have had in my 31 years on this corner of the globe.

Monkey Boy: earned by college buddies for a sober college prank. Needs to be seen to understand.
New Spontaneous Egan (N.S.E.): a classic rebirth of my hyper self.
Post Kaelyn Egan (P.K.E.): post college girlfriend rebirth. Started out dark and then morphed into NSE.
Snaggle Baggle: possibly my first nickname. Got this one in grade school from a kid on my soccer team. I don't know why!
Goldilocks: grade school nickname based on my blond afro.
Yves Diplieux: club name provided to lucky underage women.
E-FO: My Jennifer Lopez imitation and most widely used nickname currently.
Egy: (pronounced eegee) : given to my by my wife's friend's friend. Didn't annoy me in the least bit.
Dr. Egon Spengler: given to me after the Ghostbusters movie came out. It was the name of Harold Ramis's character.
Brownie Boy/Dessert Guy: earned by driving all over Seattle during college delivering baked chocolate goodies.

These are all the nicknames my brain can remember at this time. I have typically enjoyed my nicknames over the years and very few have been negative. I must admit Goldilocks was the only one that really got under my skin. Why couldn't my mom and dad just give me a decent haircut when I was young. I must confess I had an affinity for porridge long before that old dude from Cocoon told me eating it was the right thing to do.

Must see tv

Folks, don't miss the best "reality" show on tv. It's The Amazing Race on CBS. For those of you that love to travel and love to see relationships erode.. this is your show. For example, last night on the premier episode this loving husband proudly declared, "I am a dictator". It's not every day you get the pleasure of hearing someone make such a foolish statement. Check the show out! It's on CBS on Wednesday nights. You will get hooked if you aren't careful.

Sneaky bitches

So I am minding my own business last night visiting my old job at a local bakery called Simply Desserts. While I am there fraternizing with the hired help and making a hot chocolate, I hear my phone ring "unidentified caller". I decide to answer the phone anyways because you only live once. The voice on the other end of my cell phone claims to be Murphy. Surprised because I have never spoken to a person named Murphy in my entire life... I wonder how that could be.

Strangely the female voice sounds vaguely familiar. Bells go off in my head as I realize it ain't no Murphy. It's a fellow Taurus named Sally. Sally works near Simply Desserts and has been ordered by her friend/cohort/apartment roomy to contact me to get free goodies. This cohort's name is Sprizee and we had just talked a few minutes before. Cleverly Spriz contacted Sally to call me and beg her little heart out for sweets. Sally has been very busy and could use a little chocolate. Who needs an excuse for that sort of thing? I oblige and hand out a couple cupcakes, cookies, and a slice of chocolate fudge cake. I like to crave peoples appetites. Mmmm...Mmmmmm.... Mmmmmm...once there were these girls who got into an accident and couldn't quite explain it! Sorry broke into a little song by Canada's finest deep voiced singer Crash Test Dummies. Piece girls!

Dessert Boy/Brownie Boy/Cookie Monster

Les ironies de ma petite vie

The little ironies of my life. Today I conducted my 7th or 8th French interview for The Company. It's my job to screen the French candidate to make sure they can say more than "parr lez vooz fran sayz". I get a real joy out of talking smack about the candidate's momma and hope to hell they don't speak French. If they do then I am in a world of shit, but then we have a viable candidate.

The ironic part is that I applied for a job at a Seattle company about 8 months ago and was told I didn't speak French well enough. Yep, sacré bleu I say. Nevertheless, I continue to validate our candidates French skills for The Company. Denied by one company and continuing to scrutinize for another. The great part is I spent two weeks in France earlier this year with my wife sightseeing. Not once did we have any issues. Va te foutre ta mère! Not bitter, just think it's funny.

How to Dismantle an Atomic Blonde

I took an overnight trip to Portland with my good friend this past weekend. It was a college reunion of sorts as we met up with a couple other college buddies that call the City of Roses home. Two of us are married and two of us are single. It creates an interesting dynamic and makes me reflect more than ever on relationships. We decided it would be fun to go out for drinks and hopefully get our unwed friends to meet some nice women. Here are some observations about men in clubs I noticed. "Guidos" of the world take note as these are sincere dating tips for men!

> Move in packs and approach weak vulnerable women in smaller packs. This will improve the chances of all men in the pack and rarely intimidates the female species. Outnumbering the pack of the opposite sex by at least one is critical. This builds self-esteem with the ladies and allows for casual conversation.
> Wear collared shirts and make sure they are unbuttoned at least half way. Buttoning the shirt near the top is for losers and is a true sign you don't drive a muscle car. Note: Never wear your coat in a club as it will appear to be your security blanket.
> Talk about yourself often. Women love to hear your voice almost as much as we do. Women don't really care to be heard until comes time to give out their phone number.
> Sunglasses inside a club mean you are ready for business. Sure it might be hard to decipher if you are macking on Britney or a Brits knee, but at least you look like the shit. Perfect your strut to match the shades and voila.
> Since we are talking about shades, it's important to never wear your specs to clubs. Who wants to look like four eyes and they could inhibit your slick dance moves. Ever see a guest on the late night TV classic 5th Wheel with spectacles?
> In the event you have a small penis, focus on the big things in your life. Talk about your your monster truck, your bulging pectorals, enormous ego, music collection, and your extensive sexperience,
> ABC: Always Be Closing. Continue to focus on the task at hand. The night isn't over until you have sealed the deal. This may involve an act of chivalry*, but can lead to great rewards later in the evening/morning.

*chivalry: a gallant act to show your willingness to do anything for this beautiful baby. Such acts include opening car doors, offering her your coat in a downpour, sending her chocolate and/or flowers out of the blue, treating her to late night snacks at Taco Bell, and watching Ty knock down a wall on Extreme Makeover Home Edition while yelling loudly out his megaphone.

This past weekend once again causes me to shake my head and wonder. How the fuck did my wife and I ever meet in a club? They are cesspools. It's really intriguing to watch people and their techniques for meeting new people in clubs. I feel horribly for my single friends. Seems like it would be easier to meet someone worthwhile at the local Elks club rather than the local dance club. Just my random thoughts.