I am tourist, hear me whine

I can't believe it's been nearly a year since I really blogged...
Well, right now I'm on a 3 hour flight to Salt Lake City with the better part of a laptop battery and a fully charged iPod, and nuthin to do but get a little caught up... So here I am and you're my captive audience.
This is my first solo flight. I'm usually the brave one left to guard the homestead, not the one boldly going. Catching the bus was simple, and getting through security was a dream, once the MAN confiscated my Dr. Pepper. (Guess I forgot that a 12oz can is greater than 3oz...) Anyway, I'm sure it goes without saying that my flight was at gate 17 out of 18 and therefore at the far end of the terminal. What surprised me though, is that Gate 17 is actually FARTHER than 18. Thank you OHare. Anyway, I digress... So their I am, at my gate, a solid hour before boarding, and then I have to start making decisions. Flight is at 6pm which means there's no meal. I can deal with that. But now I have to decide which cleverly disguised 'restaurant' at the airport has food with the least amount of evil in it. You can pretty much kiss any actual nutrients goodbye. I've accepted that too. But that doesn't mean that I can't make an intelligent choice. After all, I have close to an hour, I should be able to find something so I start looking, full baggage en tow, because you know, I wouldn't want some loon to load up my carry-on with c4 while I'm not looking. First up, Starbucks. I asked myself one question, Do I want to have to pee in the next 3 hours? No Starbucks, QED. Next, McDonalds. Again, Do I want the runs while belted into an airplane seat? Then, after passing about 4 'bookstores' (i.e really expensive magazine racks) I came to pretty much the gates of nutrition hell, the OHare concourse food court. I believe Obi Wan said it best when he said, "No where in the galaxy will you find a more whetched hive of scum and villany than at an airport food court." So this is kind of like your average mall food court except it's totally evil. They know that if you're there, you're desperate. I'm pretty much convinced that their intention is not to feed, but to mock. Why else would you have a chinese fast food joint at the gateway of flight? Oh please, let ME sit next to the guy that's all MSG'ed up and quivering. That'd be fantastic. Otherwise you can pretty much choose from sugar, fat, or fatty sugar. And then I see Satan wrapped in a tortilla. Burritoville. Now come ON! Only the devil himself would offer a weary traveller a burrito before catching a connecting flight.
So at this point I panic, which is exactly what they want. They want you to rely on your fallback foods... so I step up to the counter of some Pseudo-Americana Grill, which btw, "Grill" is pronounced "boiled" at OHare. And before I realize what I've done, I've ordered the CornBeef. Yes, I wanted a meal that wouldn't leave me gassy, bloated, or uncomfortable for my flight so deftly avoided the burritos only to land face first into a Reuben. I've become what I detest.
So far though, my seatmates haven't keeled over, but I'll keep you posted as the situation "develops."

As a side note, Theresa's Bizarro twin is on this flight. Pretty much T's features, all just a little more pronounced and angular. She even has lighter hair layered over dark, which I believe is opposite Theresa's. Like I said, Bizzaro. But lest you think I only have eyes for T, I've seen about 45 guys that all match my general desciption. Brown short hair, meduim build, glasses... your basic throughbread Midwestern geek archtype. Yeah, this plane is full of us. It's like we're all going to the same convention or something. I swear, someday I'm going to rob a bank and make the police question about 75% of the Mississippi Valley, just to prove my point... there's too many nerdy white guys around here. Somebody's going to figure that out one of these days and start thinning our herd. How hard would it be to put up a sign that says "Magic: the Gathering tournament This Way" in front of a bear trap? Seriously, most of us are either too nearsighted to focus in on a large pointy object at our feet, or we would be too engrossed in tweaking our Decks to notice. Open season, dog. Open season.

Farewell to thee Mine Cheetos, I shall miss thee most of all.

So, I made the mistake a couple weeks ago of sitting down at one of those blood pressure machines for the first time since high school. You know the one's I'm talking about, that machine innocently sitting in front of a pharmacy that calls to you and says, "Hey big boy, let me sqeeze your arm for a minute... unless you aren't man enough." Bear in mind that in high school, I ran crosscountry and could get my heart rate down to 48 bpm. So I did what any real man would do when taunted by a chair, I took the bait and insisted my wife check her blood pressure. "I'm always low," she says rolling up her sleave. "Yeah, me too." I said casually, not to be outdone, because you know, 15 years ago I was... So 45 seconds later, happy little green numbers popup and Chris is putting on her coat. "See, I'm always low." she quips. So now it's my turn, and I ever so smoothly do a little circular dance as I try to get my left arm out of my coat. Then I somehow manage to wedge into the seat with my winter coat lodged somewhere between my right arm and my spine. While trying to convince myself that I'm comfortable in the happy white chair suddenly, the life is getting wrung out of me one limb at a time I realize the absurdity of the situation. I have now willingly shackled myself to a chair in a public setting in the hopes of somehow out-bloodpressuring my wife. I know full well, that the trick to getting a good score is to relax. So while all the blood that wants to be in my arm stays in my torso, and my vision goes purple, I'm trying to tell myself that this is perfectly normal. Finally the deathgrip releases and my pale left arm flushes red, I open my eyes and see alarmed orange numbers BLINKING on high alert. As if to say, "By the gods man! Orange is one step away from RED!" Or more accurately, "I WILL CONTINUE TO BLINK THESE NUMBERS UNTIL YOUR WIFE COMMENTS."

"Borderline Hypertension, huh? Didn't see that coming" she says.

The chair smirks and with satisfaction, stops blinking.

So I've pretty much decided that knowing you have high bloodpressure is the worst thing possible for ever trying to lower it. So I do what all geeks do when they panic, I hightail it to the internet. For those of you who have never had the pleasure of looking for medical advice on the worlds largest hypochodriac network, let me tell you... Theories about hypertension range from "totally expected as individuals get older" to "You will be dead by the time you finish reading this senten... GAK!" Would you care to guess what the perscribed remedy is? Yep, you got it, diet, exercise, and keep your sodium intake in check. I'm pretty sure that's clinic-ese for "It's your own damn fault, deal with it" but whatever, I'll play your sick little game, stupid chair. So I did some more research. Do you have any idea how many things have soduim in them? Holy crap it's everywhere! I'm pretty sure if my iPod had nutitional information listed, it'd show soduim content. Finding out that all of my favorite foods cause hypertension was NOT helping the cause. But the kicker was Cheetos. The little 1 oz bags that are pretty much what you suck off your fingers when you polish off a real bag, contain 25% of your daily Sodium allowance. That means you could literally inhale a quarter of your days sodium just by walking next to someone with an open bag. Unbelieveable. It's like secondhand Sodium. Next time remind me how much I enjoy staying ignorant and tense.

Random Quote of the day from Brainshare, "If you fantasize about putting users in a blender, Get help. They're heavy."

The good, the Band, and the Ugly

Aw crap... there was a bunch of stuff I've been thinking about all day, and now I can't remember any of it...
Coupla things... I'll be playing at the Elgin EVFree Church coffee house this Friday, so that's cool. Molly won't be around, but at least the Dean's will be there and possibly some Belvidere folk lookin' for an evening on the cheap. :)
Also, Pam talked to me about playing for the Cancer WalkAThon again... I'm the first "musician" asked (at least that's what she told me... she knows how to play on my ego...) which means theoretically I get my choice of time slots. I'm kinda torn. There's something magical about whatever shift I had last year (Midnight to 2?) It was kinda cool knowing that even if I was really bad and annoying, at least I was keeping people awake... which was really what I was there to do. On the other hand, more people might come if I take an earlier shift... On the other hand some other band might not be willing to take a later slot... Maybe Jim will join me? Carp. Decisions...x3

Meanwhile... I know what I was thinking... Friend of mine mentioned how exhausting it is to 'hang out' when you're with the wrong people... the ones who turn hanging out into hanging on... Boy Howdy. I'd like to say that it goes away as you get older and wiser and as your friends get cooler, but the truth is that the right person at the wrong time is often just as bad as the wrong person (regardless of timing.)
Back in the paleolithic era, when I was in the band, we were up in front 5 days a week and usually twice on Sunday. Then at night we were guests in somebodies house who we didn't know. Point is, the only time we didn't have to be "on" was when we were travelling, so needless to say, alot of emotion was released on the other band folk. But every once and a while we'd end up back in a town we had already toured, and sometimes even with the same host family. Even more rarely, they'd be cool and say something like, "Don't worry about entertaining us, whatever you need to do, do it. If you need to go in your room, put on your walkman and veg that's cool, we understand." Occasionally we'd believe them and it was wonderful, but for the most part you thanked them for the offer and hung out and watched whatever they were watching on TV and tried to be nice to whatever animal was sniffing your groin and made the best of it. You know, for the most part, it was great but sometimes it didn't matter who you were with, it was just the wrong time. And you excused yourself with a, "It's not you, it's me" look on your face. Sometimes you just had to assess the situation and realize that either you were the one in the worst shape or that the situation wasn't 'fixable' so there was no point in banging your head against some issue you could do nothing about.
The two main lessons were 1) You can't be 'ON' 24/7 and that you don't have to expect yourself to be. And 2) When you go 'OFF' it can be done gracefully or you can do it ugly. Trust is a big factor in the latter. If you can look the closest 'target' and say, "Listen, I'm done. If I say or do something inappropriate, it's not your fault and I apologize in advance." Just having someone that you can say that to tends to help reduce your likelihood of doing something you regret later.
Gotta remember that the next time I'm asked for marital/dating advice...
Alright, enough ... whatever you call this... I'm sure there's something more important I should have written about.

Creationism vs. VeggOutism

Well, today was pretty amazing after spending most of the working day being generally irritated and feeling overlooked and under paid, I had an amazing evening getting seriously Guitarded with Matt and Jim. It was perfect because Jim had already written a song and we had lyrics w/o a tune to another so we were able to just dive right in and start playing and trying to work up a melody. It was a blast and a great kick off for our non-existant band which we lovingly refer to as, "Five Taco Special" or "Them Taco" or whatever as long as 'Taco' is in the name.
A word about the word Taco: no slander intended, it's just a funny word, and thus has worked its way into just about every creative outburst I've had since Matt came back to the district. From 'The Sound of Tacos' to 'Revenge of the Taco Vendor Soundtrack' Tacos have been a persistant theme in my 'repetiore.' Fortunately, now that the BAND is called 5TS or whatever, we've been released from the bondage of singing about Tacos... although we still do sing about them on occasion, we don't have to. Incidentally, if we ever actually get 5 people in the band, we'll have to rename it... it would just make things way to literal.
Anyway, it was great to do something creative... it feels like it's been eons since I've allowed music to be created and really flow out. I like the computer stuff, but I've been really unbalanced for quite a while and this was really refreshing.

And since I'm feeling like giving a vocabulary lesson, here's one I fear: ChairAss

Beware of Good Lasagna

I wrote up a devotional for Church and since it's the only thing I've written in 6 months I thought I'd post it.
-Lee

If you were asked to freely associate the word "Holiday" what is the first word that comes to mind? Personally, I would blurt back "Food". Food means Cooking, and Cooking is a tradition that is loosely translated as, "Opportunity for failure" in the Gardner household. My mother is a gifted and loving woman, but I am reasonably certain that she was afflicted with a childhood disease that has permanently altered her perception of temperature and flavor. With my mother, meals were always hit or miss and holidays usually doubly so. My sister and I had a game called "Burnt or Frozen?" which was kind of like betting on red or black in roulette. The gambling analogy continues in that there was the possibility that dinner could "land on green" and be both. This was usually due to some unsuspecting bag of peas, happily minding its own business in the back of the freezer, getting called into active duty at the last second. Which leads us to the next critical flaw in my mother's cooking philosophy, creativity does not equal edibility. There are people who can improvise with ingredients, but my mother is not one of them. I'm just saying, just because you CAN combine leftover chicken and strawberry jello, doesn't mean you should.

Anyway, what I..m getting at is that when my mom said, ..Your sister will be here for lunch. Why don't you come over too, I'll make lasagna," there's just cause for suspicion. Actually even when she says, "I'll make grilled cheese," you should proceed with caution. But as it turns out, on this day, the lasagna was good. Initially cold, but good. Really good. Too good. I was suspicious.

Now, my mother won't outright lie about her dark art mealtime techniques, but you do have to ask the right questions. So instead of brutishly saying, "The lasagna is really good, what's wrong with it?" I waited and gathered more information. You probably should know that my parents are retired and now spend a lot of time volunteering for various community projects. So when the conversation shifted toward the local food bank and the pattern of giving around the holidays, I started to put things together. "This lasagna is really good. Did you take it from homeless people?" I asked sensitively. This is the point at which I believe my sister snorted a still frozen pea out her nose, but don't quote me on that. "I think it's from Market Day," she replied providing an answer yet completely dodging the question. Now I knew I was on the right track so I continued to poke at my mother. "Don't the homeless like lasagna too? This IS really good lasagna." Cornered, all she came back with, "They were full." Huh? Laughable yes, but this logic clearly required further needling. "So.. you're saying we're eating some homeless person's leftovers?" I said as innocently as I could muster, but by this time she had formulated a better argument.

"Listen" she said, "Today we are dining in unity with our brethren, the homeless."
I was trumped and I knew it. "If it's good enough for them, it's good enough for you." She added. "And if you don't like it, maybe you should do something about it," which was a completely unnecessary thing to add. I had gotten the picture at the word "Unity."

It's my understanding that generally food banks and other public services have little problem with getting donations between Thanksgiving and New Years when people are still in "the spirit of giving." Reflect on Ephesians 2:4-7 and commit yourself to an act of kindness in the off season.

But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions..it is by grace you have been saved. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus.
(Ephesians 2:4-7)

Break the wrist and walk away. Break the wrist. Walk away.

You know... when I started blogging I kinda wondered what kind of writer I'd be given a clean slate. Well, I'm starting to get an idea. The good (or bad depending on how you look at it) thing is that apparently I don't write when I'm depressed. March was really rough. I don't know why exactly, I think it was just all the normal things adding up. The job, the lack of movement in the adoption, the constant grey, etc... But I didn't feel like writing, or singing, or any of the other stuff that I'd normally enjoy. About the most I did was watch movies and hang out with friends who are far more interesting and are dealing with more significant issues than my "general malaise." April has been better and I've been feeling more like myself. I blame the weather.

So you know when you go to the gym and you see that guy who just has absolutely no business going anywhere near workout equipment. Not the totally over-buff meathead who is obviously just parading around the gym to make you feel like poo. But the other guy. The one who gets winded at the drinking fountain and reminds you of Kip from Nap Dyn. Yeah, well you're reading his blog, so shut up. Chris and I recently signed up for the local workout joint. Wanna know why we chose this one?

Good: The treadmill and eliptical machines have individual tv's
Better: With Cable
Worth dragging my sorry butt to the gym: Includes the Sci-Fi channel!!!

So yeah, I'm the guy that joined the gym for the cable package. I *TOLD* you I had no business going near free weights. Nothing gets my blood pumping more than watching that lame-o "The Shining" remake while bulking up my quads. I think they're going to have to put up signs that say, "Caution! Awestruck Nerds sliding off treadmills!"

Illin' and Chillin'

So I've been feeling my throat slowly scratching more and swelling shut for about 4 days now. Yesterday was big as I had a seminar to get to, a presentation to give, and worship to lead, so I finally got through that and then slept for 12 hours. Chris was cool with it and called me in, which is good, because I wouldn't have called myself in until about 10, which is a full 2 hours after somebody probably would have noticed my absence.
Little hint though, if you ever find yourself hopped up on cold meds and have to speak into a microphone in front of church folk, try not to improvise any more than you have to. Otherwise you might say something like, "Hey, we didn't pray yet, and isn't that kinda like diving into a pool without your swimming suit?" ... I'm speaking from experience here when I say that it's really hard to create 'an atmosphere of worship' after saying something like that.
Anyway, when stuff like that comes out, I figure it's my body's way of telling me to lie down and watch movies sideways for awhile. Which I did. So I had a little Independent film festival today.

I watched 'Land of the College Prophets' and 'Save the Green Planet.' Neither of which you've heard of. LoCP is absolutely the lowest budget movie I've ever seen. No seriously. Nap Dyn at least had extras. This movie the lead guy wrote/directed/scored/edited/ starred and even played ninja #2. Yes, he was his OWN extra... Ok, I didn't see Blair Witch, so that might have cost less, but seriously, if I read the credits right, his mom did the costumes. BUT all that being said... it's really interesting to see what these guys did with no cash, and apparently a dream to make a movie. To me, that's the fascinating part.

Save the Green Planet is Chinese and not-so coincidentally, completely wacked. I got thrown off by the synopsys on the box, so they get points for not giving away the ending on the cover. I don't want to give too much away, because I know that chances are if you're reading this, you probably like movies with lots of mind games and twists, but here's the basic plot... The crazy main character is trying to stop an alien invasion. He captures a guy that he's convinced is the head alien, but also just happens to be his old boss. So the movie starts pretty innocent and light, but then takes this total Saw-like bender as he starts trying to get a confession and more info out of the alien. Seriously, creepy bath house and all... it's like they borrowed the set or something. Anyway, it starts out as a pretty straight forward, "Is he crazy or not" movie with the typical "when will the cops catch on" subplot, but then it just gets really messed up.

Anyway, if you're up for one of those, bendy 'HUH???' movies, I recommend Save the Green Planet, and don't be fooled by the smiling Chinese people on the cover. If you need a movie that makes you feel like you should be getting off your butt and out making your own movies, rent Land of the College Prophets.

Assuming No wind Resistance or other External Factors...

I've had a great week... I got to hang out with tons of old friends, got guitared, work was mildly satisfying, and despite my best efforts, I'm still alive.

Saturday night, I was heading back into Elgin to Brian's house for game night. In Belvidere, the streets were clear so I figured my chances of getting chased around with a kitana (AGAIN) were pretty low, and worth the risk.
But the drive was a total theater of the absurd experience... I do this drive every weekday, yet on Saturday, all the unwritten codes that commuters follow are thrown out the window. Saturday, you have to stay awake while you're driving because the other road zombies are wisely staying at home while the young, old, and insane are out in force. I guess I fall into the last category...

So I'm not even out of Belvidere and I end up behind a foreigner (Iowa plates) who, though I've never met and don't know their destination, I can tell you that I had a better clue of how to get them where they needed to go than they did. How? Because people from Iowa that end up in Belvidere aren't trying to get to DeKalb. They're looking for the interstate, and that, they were doing poorly. Driving 35 in a 45, creeping up to lights (making me miss the arrow) and picking the wrong lane forcing them to do that creeping merge thing. It's like the car is apologizing... Anyway, I watched the last part in my mirror because I passed them while they were still in the 'This way to DeKalb' lane. So now I'm on the onramp, which has an East/West split about a quarter mile in, and there's some guy sitting in his car at the split with a map in his lap. Which I might add, is past all the signs so it was really going to be a coin toss anyway, no matter how long stared at his map. So instead of trying to fire up to Interstate merging speed, we're all gawking at this guy who should have put an extra 5 seconds of forethought into his trip.

At the tollbooth, was Mr. "I'll stop in the IPass lane until I get the green light" and then at the Marengo exit I ended up between not one, but TWO cars that were driving like they were comparison shopping for the best gas price or something. I don't know, but they did a total Shriner's minicycle maneuver, crisscrossing each other then choosing different directions. Kinda like the Blue Angels except, in super slow motion...

So I'm finally off the interstate and in the clear heading east on 20. The road is a little wet and cold, but nothing I haven't seen before, and so I'm now going the socially acceptable speed of 10 over, but it doesn't matter because there's nobody anywhere near me anyway... Unless you count the two deer that had just cleared the road 20 feet in front of my car.

So yeah, I figure if I had not been 'encumbered' by multiple slow drivers, that probably would have put me significantly closer to those deer. I'm thinking like windshield close, and at that point there was an oncoming car, so swerving probably would have made a bigger mess.

You can interpret this account as you like, but if deer are good for nothing else, they reminded me of my own mortality when I was generally feeling in charge of my own destiny.

Of old friends and male bonding

Sorry I've been kinda quiet this week. I've actually been writing quite a bit and doing stuff with 'The Band' (more on that later) but none of it has ended up in blog. Two of my friends from high school emailed me, thanks to myspace, and I've found myself trying to find things to talk about with people that I haven't seen in 20 years. It was much harder than I thought... trying to find words that were witty, talking about myself without bragging or sounding like a jerk, asking questions that don't pry but aren't totally irrelevant. It's weird. These are people that I knew when I didn't know myself, so I'm assuming that there's alot I don't know about them anymore either. It's not like bumping into someone in line at the store, there's social expectations in that case... or more accurately, a lack of expectations. Email is totally open ended, though. Do you babble? How much do you reciprocate vs. letting them have the last word? I've found myself trying to 'type casually' but it's one of those things where the more you try not to think about it, the more you're aware of every possible nuance of what you're writing. Anyway, it was really cool to hear from them, so if you're reading this, Kudos for initiating! Sounds like things are going well for both, which makes me deeply happy. So like I said, I've been doing some thoughtful writing, just not in this blog.

Meanwhile, I've been hanging out with two guys from work who also have the need to get musically stupid every once and a while. We're really just writing and playing for ourselves, but the difference is that our 'sessions' and I use that term loosely, get recorded so that's kind of a twist. The advantage is that the 'You had to be there' factor is greatly reduced and there's more of a drive (for me anyway) to try and create something of value. The disadvantage is that spontaneous music by it's very nature doesn't pull any punches and can have very targeted subjects or audiences. You sing about what you're feeling at that moment and that doesn't always reflect your true position on a given topic. Nor should it have to...

Music, like any other art, is a journey. Either you're trying to go someplace you haven't been, or your trying to take someone with you. A lot of times you're just exploring, though, and you don't always want your attempts documented. Chris, fairly recently, threw out most of her art from college for that reason. They were explorations into areas of art that didn't end up being her direction. They didn't mean anything to her... they didn't have value because they were assignments or experiments, but not her creative path. Very few pieces still had nostalgic value when she took 'how much time did I spend on this' out of the equasion. I'm just saying that there's a difference between the journey and the destination, but it's the final result that always makes the first impression. People don't care what route you take if they don't like where you've taken them.

Anyway, I love the creative outlet, and I love tapping into that part of me that gets supressed 40 hours a week, especially since the results can be so surprising. I tend to have a moral hangover afterwards, though, and I have to reconcile myself to that somehow.

Kinetic vs Potential Energy: A tale of Two Snowballs

Ok, so on Friday I had two noteworthy snowball experiences.

CASE 1:
The first happened when Chris and I pulled up to our friends' house, and I realized that this would be an excellent opportunity to bean the first person to open then front door. If it was Justin, the 13 year old of the house, I'd be gold, otherwise I'd improvise. My first mistake was a critical error in timing. I started packing a snowball at the end of the driveway instead of waiting until my scheme would be obscured by the front door. So while I'm walking up the driveway, rounding out my weapon of choice I see two eyes looking out one of the front windows. Crap, so I run up to the front door and try to knock causually. Surprisingly, noone's biting. I look through the window and the eyes are gone so I figure that they've now gone to fortify their position. At this point I realized that Chris had avoided the whole debacle and was already in the house. She had walked through the open garage, and into the house from the side. So I bolt to the garage, and through the laundry room... still armed, cocked and ready to administer a little Frozen Justice.
Now this is where things get interesting. Coming through the garage gave me a significant tactical advantage over anyone coming down from upstairs expecting to find someone at the front door, in this case, Brian. So I find myself behind enemy lines, with their counter-offensive launched and facing the other direction. Time to improvise. So here's my thought process:

"He's heading to the front... Holy crap, Brian hasn't seen me yet."
"He's 8 feet away, you can hit him. You can even aim for his head."
"Oh, he's going to remember this..."
"He can take a joke He won't think it's funny right away but he'll laugh about it later... well not as hard as I will, but... He can take a joke."
"Escape route, back through the garage. Clear."
"Can you hit someone who's back is to you? Any ethical problems with that? No? Just checking. Clear."
"Is that a kitana?"
"Here comes the pitch... Sweet Justice is about to be SERVED!"
"KITANA??!!?!! WTF?"
(Scenes from Kill Bill play in slow motion in my head as I see him trying to unsheath this three-foot blade in the narrow hallway between the stairs and the front room)
"Who brings a KITANA to snowball fight?"
"Is beaning a heavily armed man in the back worth possibly losing a limb?"
"WHO brings a KITANA to snowball fight?"
"This has Darwin Awards written all over it"
"WHO the hell brings a KITANA to snowball fight?"
"Screw it."
"Justice is going to have to wait."

I ditch the evidence, thwarted by superior firepower.

So what do you call it when you're standing there AGAIN with a snowball to dispose of, and ANOTHER happy black lab is sitting there smiling at you? It's just begging for a face full of snow, but it's owner is standing there with a sword? Is that Irony? Coincidence? Sigh... I swear I heard that lab laughing at me. Stupid Dogs. They're much more organized than they appear to be.

CASE 2:
So actually, we were just meeting at Brian's to go over to Sean's and help him move. Sean had just closed on his new house and we volunteered for the second shift of unpacking. So after hauling stuff around for a while, and getting the tour, we sat around crabbing about work and listening to stories about all of the stuff we just moved... like how his wife, a Disney fan, got 8 rolls of Finding Nemo papertowels as a gag gift for Christmas. Or how Sean keeps a bat in the bedroom, unlike the kitana I had previously encountered at Brian's... My problem is that I barely find my own stuff interesting, let alone anyone elses, but I guess I'm just not nosey like that.
ANYWAY, so we're leaving and I realize that this is another snowball opportunity. Unfortunately, I'm the last one out of the house and once again all the soft targets are safely in their cars before I can reload and assess the situation. So I'm standing there with a hunk of snow evaluating my options... I can throw it haplessly at a car... or drop it. And I ask you, where's a freakin Black Lab when you need one? That's when I notice Sean standing in the doorway of his brand new house, waving goodbye like a good host and not weilding a Bat. This time my internal conversation was totally short circuited and I let fly 'The-Glory-of-Snow" (It had to be named, you know, like all weapons of Legend...) to seek out it's destiny. I was standing at the street end of the driveway so Sean had plenty of time to calculate it's trajectory and dodge it easily. However, Sean was thinking like a warrior and not like a new homeowner as The Snowball stayed true to it's course and sweetly flew clean through the front door, and found its mark somewhere on the virgin carpetting of the dining-room. I suspect Sean watched the whole thing in slow motion. But the conversation went something like this:

Sean: I can't believe you did that! There's snow all over the dining-room!
Me (nonchalantly): Guess you shoulda taken that one for the team, huh?
Sean: Now I've got to get this all cleaned up before my wife gets back!
Me: Good thing you've got plenty of Nemo papertowels...

At which point we were all laughing so hard Sean was down on one knee and we could barely drive out of there.
That my friends is how a snowball fully realizes it's potential...