I know the appropriate thing to say is “He was such a nice guy.”  I honestly can’t say that.  The truth  is Mike was a bully.  There’s no getting around it.  As a rule I hate bullies, but I can say Mike was an exception.  When he bullied you it was never personal or malicious.  It’s just who he was.

It was in my best interest to keep one eye on Mike at all times.  In football practice he would throw dirt in my eyes or grab my facemask and headbutt me so hard I saw stars.  In the hallway he would grab me without warning and throw me several feet.  Coming from anyone else that would really piss me off, but it was different with Mike.  I could never really explain it, but looking back now I think I know.  Mike was just fun to be around, despite the occasional bruises. 

Today I was shocked and sickened to read Mike passed away.  There were no details on how or why, only that he was gone.  It’s hard to imagine someone with his tenacious energy going so young.  He was a fierce competitor and he left the game far too early.

All I can do now is remember the good old days when he would beat the crap out of me.  Peace out ya big bully.  I hope we headbutt again some day.

Funds for groceries are getting a little tight, so my girlfriend recommended I supplement my frozen Lean Cuisines with…what is the word for food that isn’t in your freezer or fridge?  I don’t even know, but she has stockpiled enough of these food type products to last us ten years.

The problem is that requires me to use the big white thingy in the kitchen.  I think they call it a stove.  My first attempt was oatmeal.  Not the oatmeal that comes out of a paper packet, requiring just a little water and one minute in the life support machine, also known as a microwave.  No, I’m talking real deal serious in your face steel cut Irish oatmeal.  The kind of oatmeal you wash down with whiskey and a pint of Guinness.

The directions read: Bring 4 cups of water to a boil, slowly stir in 1 cup of steel cut oats, wait 5 minutes for oatmeal to thicken and then simmer uncovered for 30 minutes.  I’ve always struggled with the word “simmer”.  Simmer on what?  There are 9 numbers on the stove dial, can’t you just pick one?  Simmer on 3.  I could work with that.  But no, it’s just “simmer”.  That’s like giving someone the directions “Drive down that road for a while, then turn right.”  Simmer is cooking with no GPS.

I opted to simmer on 5.  Seemed like a good compromise between 9 and 1.  Unfortunately I was too slow pouring in the oats and my 4 cups of water had boiled down to 2.  Ten minutes into “simmering” I smelled something burning.  The water had boiled off completely leaving my oatmeal black on the bottom and undercooked on the top.  I still ate all of it over the course of the next three miserable mornings.

When I told my girlfriend what happened, she bit her tongue, took a deep breath and said, “You know you can add more water right?”  Seriously?  That’s genius!  It wasn’t long before I put this gem of wisdom to use.  Tonight’s dinner was Stove Top Stuffing.

Step 1: Boil 1.5 cups of water and a tablespoon of butter.  Check.

Step 2: Pour in contents of package and stir.  Check.

Step 3: After five minutes, fluff with a fork and serve.

It didn’t actually say to “simmer” but come on, I know the drill now.  Two minutes into simmering my stuffing there was a familiar smell.  The smell of burning non-frozen non refrigerated food product.  Again, the water had boiled off completely, but this time I was prepared.  I poured in another 1.5 cups of water to compensate.  I waited for the infused water to gradually cook off, leaving a pile light fluffy stuffing goodness.

This did not happen.  The end result was a paste like substance chemically bonded to charcoal.  I should have saved it for the next time I need to use my caulk gun.  Instead I ate it for dinner.  Quite filling actually.

When I told my girlfriend what happened, she was stunned.  “There’s only three steps!!”  She reviewed them with me.  Steps 1 and 2 checked out fine.  However I missed three little words on Step 3.  “Remove from heat.”  Ok so first I’m supposed to be psychic in determining how to simmer, and now I’m expected to read every word on the directions?  Sorry, but I think I’m going to reserve my cooking talents for Lean Cuisines in the life support machine.

Freakin simmer.

Once upon a time there was a little TV.  Well, actually he wasn’t that little.  He was in fact a 42″ widescreen and while not the largest TV in the store still had a ginormous beautiful LCD screen.  But he was lonely.  All day he sat on a shelf, dreaming of the day he could make a family happy.  He fantasized about making children laugh with two foot hamsters, fans cheer with High Definition NFL action and husbands sit through ultra crisp Blue Ray chick flicks.

The other TV’s in the store told him he was crazy.  There was a recession and no one had money for fancy TV’s.  The Little TV refused to listen, but as the days went on, it seemed they were right.  Then one day, just when the Little TV had almost given up hope, a family entered the store.  They told the sales girl what they were looking for, and she pointed to the Little TV.  They smiled and said “We’ll take it!”

The next week was the happiest of the Little TV’s life, displaying football, and chick flicks and hamsters.  He delighted in making the family’s two little boys giggle with joy.  The older boy held his arms wide and claimed he could never go back to watching a small TV because he “needed to see the WHOLE show!”  The Little TV would have shed a tear if only TV’s could cry.

The Little TV was very content and everything seemed perfect.  But then the boy’s parents discovered an ad from the store boasting a TV with all the same features for a hundred dollars less.  “That sounds like a good deal to me.” said the boys’ father.  He called his awesome brother Steve who came over and helped take the Little TV back to the store.  After standing in multiple lines and talking to several employees, they exchanged the Little TV for the cheaper TV.

The store employees took the Little TV and placed him on the display shelf.  No one ever buys the display TV and the Little TV was devastated.  He missed the little boys terribly.  He knew he would never find a family so perfect again.  Several hours passed and he fell in to a deep dispair.

Just when all hope seemed lost, the father of the boys and his awesome brother walked in to the store.  The father was very red in the face uttering words never used on the boys’ TV shows.  As it turned out, the cheaper TV “with the same specs” was not at all the same.  It had inferior picture quality and a shaky DVD frame rate.  The father asked the sales girl what could be done.  She pointed to the Little TV.  He grumbled and said “We’ll take it.”

And they all lived happily ever after.

In honor of this year’s Orange Bowl, here are the highlights of my time working for ABC Sports covering Iowa Hawkeye Football:

* Eating cold pizza in the break room with Lynn Swan.

* Holding the parab mike on the sidelines, standing next to Big Ten linemen and realizing just how short I really am.

* Having my head almost taken off by our kicker’s practice kick into the net.  The ball bounces back like a shotgun.

* Having my legs almost taken off by our running back.  Keep it in bounds man!

* Listening to Keith Jackson grumble how awful Iowa was during commercial break.

* Getting yelled at by a foreman for trying to help with a carpenter’s job.  Unions suck.

* Getting encouraged to eat bagels  in the break room so we would all get $25/hr overtime.  Unions rule!

* Meeting Bob Griese and having no clue who he was.  Went undefeated, really?

* Meeting Joey, technical director of Monday Night Football and head of the Mafia (except for the Mafia part)

* Trying to identify the object the student section just threw in front of me.  Not every day you see a skinned severed pig’s head.

* Spending a beautiful sunny birthday on the thirty yard line, and getting paid lots of money to do it.

Good times.  Go Hawks!

My friends Pete and Dara have a something year old daughter named Grace.  She appears to be a normal child at first, running, laughing and playing.  One would never suspect her sinister secret identity.  “I am a half-vampire.” she confided in me.

I admit I found this hard to believe, until she laid out the cold hard facts.

FACT: When her two front teeth fell out, she tasted her own blood and LIKED IT.

FACT: Now that her front teeth are missing, she has been left with a perfect set of little vampire fangs.

FACT: Ok, there weren’t any other facts but still the evidence is pretty conclusive.

Not quite convinced though, I noted that she was walking in broad daylight and had yet to burst into flames.  “That’s because I’m half-human” she said.  Touche.  She is exactly like Wesley Snipes in Blade, only four feet shorter and white minus the kung-fu skills and ninja swords.

At this point your first impulse may be to stock up on garlic and holy water.  I assure you though, there is no need to panic.  Grace promised me she will not feed on other humans.   For now….

There was a knock at the door.  I opened it and it was Godzilla.  I said “Hey, GZ, what’s up?”  He said, “I’m here to fight the monster.”  I said “what monster?”  He pointed down.  I looked and sure enough there was a mutant zit on my belly the size of Mothra.

I’ve been going to the same dentist since I was a kid.  He used to intimidate me when I was young, and that didn’t really change as an adult.  It’s only in the last year I’ve realized he is a little off.  I appreciate that.

A few conversation highlights between him, my not at all sarcastic hygienist Traci and me:

TRACI: Are you ready to see Debbie Downer?

DR. H: Debbie? ? I thought her name was Linda.

****

DR. H: Traci’s a real be-atch.

TRACI: Do you even know what that means?

DR.H: No.

****

TRACI: What about the holes in his front teeth?

DR. H: Yes, we’ll have to pull those.

ME: Very funny….you are joking right??

****

TRACI: My patient has to leave soon.

DR. H: So which of his teeth are you going to clean?

****

DR. H: Do you lift weights?

ME: Yes I do.

DR. H: I can tell because you’re built like me.

ME: Hahahahaha

DR. H: Why is that funny?

Just a few of my favorite moments from the greatest comedic writer/director of the 1980’s:

CLARK: When I asked you kids where you wanted to go for vacation, what did you say?
RUSS: Hawaii Dad?
CLARK: Shut up Russ.
- Vacation

*****
FERRIS: Cameron is so tight, if you stuck a lump of coal up his fist, you would get a diamond.
- Edited for TV version of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off

*****
CLAUDIA:  Those bells haven’t rung in years.
RUSS:  What do they mean?
CLAUDIA: They’re going to hang somebody.
RUSS: ….DAD!!
- European Vacation

*****
NEAL: Del… Why did you kiss my ear?
DEL: Why are you holding my hand?
NEAL: Where’s your other hand?
DEL: Between two pillows…
NEAL: Those aren’t pillows!
- Planes, Trains and Automobiles

*****
EDDIE: You surprised to see us, Clark?
CLARK: Oh, Eddie… If I woke up tomorrow with my head sewn to the carpet, I wouldn’t be more surprised than I am now.
- Christmas Vacation

Two sabertooth tigers argued bitterly about their dinner. Or to be more accurate, their lack of dinner. They had devoured the last of their cavemen days ago and now their stomachs were growling violently. The cave was empty and there was no meal in sight.

Suddenly, one of the tigers had an epiphany. “We need to see the Great Saber on the Mountain. He’s the wisest of all of us. If anyone knows how to find food, he will.” The other tiger agreed and so they set out on a perilous journey up the mountain. After seven days through blinding snow and howling wind, they made it to the top.

Sitting serenely at the mountain’s peak, the Great Saber asked “What wisdom do you seek, my young cubs?” One of the tiger’s responded “Great Saber, we have eaten the last of our cavemen and now we are starving. What can we do?”

“Ah” the Great Saber replied. “Listen closely, for I will now share with you the secret of happiness. Eat a man and you will be full for a day. Train a man to feed you and you will be full for a lifetime.” The tigers reflected on this and soon their eyes grew wide with comprehension. “Now go, my cubs” said the Great Saber, “share what you have learned and embrace of future of prosperity.”

One million years later, Muffin sits on the table staring intently at my food. He licks his lips in anticipation. An overwhelming urge ingrained in my ancestors compels me to break off a piece of sausage and give it to him. This is probably for the best. After all, it’s better to share dinner than be dinner.

Michael Curry was fired today, leading to mass speculation that Bill Laimbeer will be holding the clipboard next season. The consensus is that MC was fired because, like Flip Saunders before him, he was unable to earn the respect of his players. But can Bill?

Don’t get me wrong, I love Laimbeer and would love to see him coach the Pistons some day. The truth is his players are too young to remember the Bad Boys and sexist though it may be, will not respect his success in the WNBA. They do know him from his media days where he traveled with the team and was one of the guys. Tough to take orders from one of the guys, which certainly helped doom Curry.

In my unprofessional, completely amateur blogger opinion, the Pistons need an old guy. A Don Nelson/Jerry Sloan/Larry Brown type figure. Someone who will strike the fear of God in to them and not accept their “we can coach ourselves” attitude. If he’s not currently in jail for anything, I would give Bobby Knight a call. For that matter, hire Bill Parcells. I don’t care what sport you are in, you’re not going to slack playing for the Big Tuna.