The League wishes to make note of the horrific events of today in London.
I am unsure of what to say, other than that my sympathies, and those of all Americans, are with the people of London and the United Kingdom.
England will, of course, show the world why it is famous for its resolve and tenacity in the face of such adversity.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Mystery Albums from a Far-Off Place
So, occasionally being Chairman and CEO of The League of Melbotis has unexpected consequences. Sure, The League has not brought fame, money, women or even personal gratification… But occasionally material goods are gotten in a way which I don’t have to report on my taxes.
Just such an adventure began not long ago when The League made a trek to the mailbox.
The mailbox contained two padded media envelopes from two different people The League does not know. Quickly discerning that the albums were, in fact, from eBay sellers and bought by an anonymous source, The League was intrigued.
Inside envelope #1? Warrant’s 1990 album, Cherry Pie.
Yes, Cherry Pie. An album The League confesses he had never heard in its entirety. But was The League, age 15, really right to prejudge the band and album based upon bad hair and a video fraught with double entendre?
Well, let’s just say that while my initial feelings on the album were, perhaps, knee-jerk and reactionary to what was the oppressive nightmare of late 80’s hair metal. No matter the initial success of the record, the album has not aged like a fine wine.
While the title track, Cherry Pie, does fill my head with images of the video and model Bobbie Brown prancing about with a firehose against a white backdrop, the nostalgia ends there. From there, The League gets the same queasy uneasiness which he felt quite often circa 1990 as bands such as Warrant, Great White and Poison filled hour after hour of MTV’s programming.
The League’s fragile psyche was rattled with flashback images of sweaty glam rockers, rocking in unison.
Luckily, it is not just The League which has chosen to put the past behind him. It should be noted that Windows Media Player did not retrieve the album information as it usually does upon accepting any new album.
It should be noted that at some point and for some duration, Bobbie Brown was, in fact, married to that cheese-d**k singer you see in the photo.
Inside Envelope #2? The pain continues with Poison’s 1990 bow, “Flesh & Blood”.
Oh, holy hell.
There’s not a memorable song on this waste of 0’s and 1’s. Poison was a particularly asinine part of circa 1990 America, perhaps giving the rest of the world a pretty good reason to turn on the US of A.
Led by “Bret Michaels”, Poison was visually and musically indistinguishable from any other 1980’s metal band, save for wild man CC DeVille. CC was most memorable for lying on the floor during his screaming guitar solos and refusing to quit rocking even after becoming very pudgy and his styule of music was horrendously out of vogue.
Honestly, I’m coming up empty. This is a really, really shitty record. And if you bought it for your own listening pleasure between 1990 and 1992, you deserve every bad thing that ever happened to you.
Thinking the gifting was over, The League was surprised to receive a 3rd envelope from yet another eBay seller.
Inside envelope #3: Ugly Kid Joe’s 1991 musical travesty: As Ugly as they Want to Be.
The musical equivalent of Garbage Pail Kids, Ugly Kid Joe somehow stumbled their way into fame as, in the wake of the success of Pearl Jam, record execs abandoned their glitter-sprayed LA metal gods in favor of earthier, more flannelized fare. This effort was met with, as history has shown, mixed results.
Ugly Kid Joe was an overshot by a well-meaning record exec who confused earthy for stupid. Nobody asked for Ugly Kid Joe, anymore than anyone asked for Mr. Big, and yet, here they were. Constantly.
Honestly, The League has such bitter feelings about this particular band that we have bypassed a listen of this record. We heard the hit single, whatever it was, enough during our formative years that the very sight of the album cover brought back the nervous twitch in our left eye.
The little, hilarious, caricature on the cover of the album still brings back bad memories of trying to come of age in rural/ suburban Houston. Guys like this were a sort of omnipresent threat.
The League remembers this music with an extra dash of piss and vinegar as this was the original co-option of "college rock", which was, of course, transmorgified hair metal. This trend has not only continued, but led to travesties such as Avril Lavigne and "Hot Topic."
Just as we were all set to blog upon our gifts, what should come in the mail but lucky envelope #4.
A curious addition to the previous arrivals, the anonymous gifter had selected Anthrax’s 1991 release “Attack of the Killer B’s.”
This album was not a new album. It’s a comp of Anthrax’s B-Sides and other obscure and unreleased material. And while The League was not so much an Anthrax fan himself, he at least felt that Anthrax was, at minimum, funny, if not as scary as they wanted to be perceived.
Curiously, this collection of B-Sides may have done more for Anthrax’s longevity and general warm wishes amongst Gen X’ers than any of their previous work. In a move well-documented by VH1 and MTV at this point, Anthrax had decided to join controversial hip hop group Public Enemy for a new version of “Bring the Noise” from PE’s watershed 1988 album, “It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back.”
Anthrax, not entirely by accident, brought hip hop to a generation of white kids who otherwise had given up on Hip Hop after Run DMC’s “Raising Hell.”
“Bring Tha Noize” also appeared on Public Enemy’s 1991 album, “Apocalypse 91: The Enemy Strikes Black” (an album which contains League favorite “By the Time I get to Arizona”).
Sadly, The League isn’t anymore into Anthrax now than he was in 1991. And, it should be mentioned for Madi that, for The League, memories of Anthrax and Denise D. will forever be intermingled. That dame was really into Anthrax.
The League was supposed to see PE in 1991 or 1992, but plans were scrubbed when the tour, double billed with goth-curiosity “Sisters of Mercy”, failed to sell enough tickets and the show was cancelled.
With several out of town visitors in for the show, the group got their money refunded and went to see Charlie Sheen’s “Hot Shots” at the North Oaks 6 Cineplex.
So, occasionally being Chairman and CEO of The League of Melbotis has unexpected consequences. Sure, The League has not brought fame, money, women or even personal gratification… But occasionally material goods are gotten in a way which I don’t have to report on my taxes.
Just such an adventure began not long ago when The League made a trek to the mailbox.
The mailbox contained two padded media envelopes from two different people The League does not know. Quickly discerning that the albums were, in fact, from eBay sellers and bought by an anonymous source, The League was intrigued.
Inside envelope #1? Warrant’s 1990 album, Cherry Pie.
Yes, Cherry Pie. An album The League confesses he had never heard in its entirety. But was The League, age 15, really right to prejudge the band and album based upon bad hair and a video fraught with double entendre?
Well, let’s just say that while my initial feelings on the album were, perhaps, knee-jerk and reactionary to what was the oppressive nightmare of late 80’s hair metal. No matter the initial success of the record, the album has not aged like a fine wine.
While the title track, Cherry Pie, does fill my head with images of the video and model Bobbie Brown prancing about with a firehose against a white backdrop, the nostalgia ends there. From there, The League gets the same queasy uneasiness which he felt quite often circa 1990 as bands such as Warrant, Great White and Poison filled hour after hour of MTV’s programming.
The League’s fragile psyche was rattled with flashback images of sweaty glam rockers, rocking in unison.
Luckily, it is not just The League which has chosen to put the past behind him. It should be noted that Windows Media Player did not retrieve the album information as it usually does upon accepting any new album.
It should be noted that at some point and for some duration, Bobbie Brown was, in fact, married to that cheese-d**k singer you see in the photo.
Inside Envelope #2? The pain continues with Poison’s 1990 bow, “Flesh & Blood”.
Oh, holy hell.
There’s not a memorable song on this waste of 0’s and 1’s. Poison was a particularly asinine part of circa 1990 America, perhaps giving the rest of the world a pretty good reason to turn on the US of A.
Led by “Bret Michaels”, Poison was visually and musically indistinguishable from any other 1980’s metal band, save for wild man CC DeVille. CC was most memorable for lying on the floor during his screaming guitar solos and refusing to quit rocking even after becoming very pudgy and his styule of music was horrendously out of vogue.
Honestly, I’m coming up empty. This is a really, really shitty record. And if you bought it for your own listening pleasure between 1990 and 1992, you deserve every bad thing that ever happened to you.
Thinking the gifting was over, The League was surprised to receive a 3rd envelope from yet another eBay seller.
Inside envelope #3: Ugly Kid Joe’s 1991 musical travesty: As Ugly as they Want to Be.
The musical equivalent of Garbage Pail Kids, Ugly Kid Joe somehow stumbled their way into fame as, in the wake of the success of Pearl Jam, record execs abandoned their glitter-sprayed LA metal gods in favor of earthier, more flannelized fare. This effort was met with, as history has shown, mixed results.
Ugly Kid Joe was an overshot by a well-meaning record exec who confused earthy for stupid. Nobody asked for Ugly Kid Joe, anymore than anyone asked for Mr. Big, and yet, here they were. Constantly.
Honestly, The League has such bitter feelings about this particular band that we have bypassed a listen of this record. We heard the hit single, whatever it was, enough during our formative years that the very sight of the album cover brought back the nervous twitch in our left eye.
The little, hilarious, caricature on the cover of the album still brings back bad memories of trying to come of age in rural/ suburban Houston. Guys like this were a sort of omnipresent threat.
The League remembers this music with an extra dash of piss and vinegar as this was the original co-option of "college rock", which was, of course, transmorgified hair metal. This trend has not only continued, but led to travesties such as Avril Lavigne and "Hot Topic."
Just as we were all set to blog upon our gifts, what should come in the mail but lucky envelope #4.
A curious addition to the previous arrivals, the anonymous gifter had selected Anthrax’s 1991 release “Attack of the Killer B’s.”
This album was not a new album. It’s a comp of Anthrax’s B-Sides and other obscure and unreleased material. And while The League was not so much an Anthrax fan himself, he at least felt that Anthrax was, at minimum, funny, if not as scary as they wanted to be perceived.
Curiously, this collection of B-Sides may have done more for Anthrax’s longevity and general warm wishes amongst Gen X’ers than any of their previous work. In a move well-documented by VH1 and MTV at this point, Anthrax had decided to join controversial hip hop group Public Enemy for a new version of “Bring the Noise” from PE’s watershed 1988 album, “It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back.”
Anthrax, not entirely by accident, brought hip hop to a generation of white kids who otherwise had given up on Hip Hop after Run DMC’s “Raising Hell.”
“Bring Tha Noize” also appeared on Public Enemy’s 1991 album, “Apocalypse 91: The Enemy Strikes Black” (an album which contains League favorite “By the Time I get to Arizona”).
Sadly, The League isn’t anymore into Anthrax now than he was in 1991. And, it should be mentioned for Madi that, for The League, memories of Anthrax and Denise D. will forever be intermingled. That dame was really into Anthrax.
The League was supposed to see PE in 1991 or 1992, but plans were scrubbed when the tour, double billed with goth-curiosity “Sisters of Mercy”, failed to sell enough tickets and the show was cancelled.
With several out of town visitors in for the show, the group got their money refunded and went to see Charlie Sheen’s “Hot Shots” at the North Oaks 6 Cineplex.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
We're booked for Beaumont.
Date: July 23rd, 2005
The League and Mrs. League are headed for the majestic Jefferson Theater in Beaumont, Texas for a screening of Superman: The Movie, followed by a screening of Flash Gordon.
WHOOOOOOO-HOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!
I expect to see all Loyal Leaguers in Beaumont for the screening. And to provide us with crate after crate of The League's favorite movietime treat, Hot Tamales. Seriously, without the Hot Tamales, The League will not make it through the movie.
So, this weekend, The League has to work on a presentation about Superman. Can you beat that?
Any ideas you Leaguers might have for filling twenty minutes would be appreciated. Otherwise, we're currently down to
1:00 minute synopsis of the film's history
1:00 on the new movie, Superman Returns
1:00 minute on Superman comics
17:00 minutes of me "flying" around the auditorium with my homemade cape and red briefs
And, you know, Steanso keeps promising to show up, and if you haven't seen Steanso in all his glory, my God, Leaguers... you are missing something. Just imagine latter-era Elvis: sweaty, dazed... take away the talent and women, add a foot of vertical height and a law degree, and VOILA!!!!!
Also, RHPT.com is going to show up. RHPT, Leaguers. Which is sort of like having Scooter from The Muppets, only more of a programmer and married to a person of tremendous mystery who is staying in Tennessee for reasons known only to her.
Date: July 23rd, 2005
The League and Mrs. League are headed for the majestic Jefferson Theater in Beaumont, Texas for a screening of Superman: The Movie, followed by a screening of Flash Gordon.
WHOOOOOOO-HOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!
I expect to see all Loyal Leaguers in Beaumont for the screening. And to provide us with crate after crate of The League's favorite movietime treat, Hot Tamales. Seriously, without the Hot Tamales, The League will not make it through the movie.
So, this weekend, The League has to work on a presentation about Superman. Can you beat that?
Any ideas you Leaguers might have for filling twenty minutes would be appreciated. Otherwise, we're currently down to
1:00 minute synopsis of the film's history
1:00 on the new movie, Superman Returns
1:00 minute on Superman comics
17:00 minutes of me "flying" around the auditorium with my homemade cape and red briefs
And, you know, Steanso keeps promising to show up, and if you haven't seen Steanso in all his glory, my God, Leaguers... you are missing something. Just imagine latter-era Elvis: sweaty, dazed... take away the talent and women, add a foot of vertical height and a law degree, and VOILA!!!!!
Also, RHPT.com is going to show up. RHPT, Leaguers. Which is sort of like having Scooter from The Muppets, only more of a programmer and married to a person of tremendous mystery who is staying in Tennessee for reasons known only to her.
In case you forgot, Lance "LiveStrong" Armstrong is trying to make world history. Again.
Lance is currently racing his heart out in the Tour de France.
The League stands in awe.
read more here.
Expect many links to Tour de France updates over the next several days.
Lance is currently racing his heart out in the Tour de France.
The League stands in awe.
read more here.
Expect many links to Tour de France updates over the next several days.
Happy Independence Day
The League is sorry to say we have been doing a poor job of keeping Loyal Leaguers keyed into events here at League HQ.
We're still in a sort of vacation mode, having only been to work for a day and a half in the past 10 days or so. We've been doing a lot of catching up on comics that we hadn't gotten around to reading, thanks to a busy schedule and a large influx of mini-series from DC (I should also point out that OMAC Project is getting very good, and will run through all 3 Superman titles in July as well as Wonder Woman).
We believe Flag-Guy/ Squidward across the street may be dead or vacationing as his usual display of patriotism wss nowhere to be seen this weekend. We, however, had our flags out, and could be said to be the most patriotic house on the block with our five tiny flags.
We also climbed onto the roof to watch the fireworks from Chandler and Tempe (from the roof, you can see for miles across this barren wasteland I call home).
Thank you, noble founding fathers, for coming up with a holiday upon which I can not work and see firey explosions from my roof (actually, this sounds like the situation for a lot of people in other lands, but we get to do it with minimal fear of shrapnel following the firey explosion).
Anyway, The League will be back on board this week, and we hope to write about the awesomeness of 80's/ 90's metal, and what it means when it shows up in your mailbox, totally unannounced.
The League is sorry to say we have been doing a poor job of keeping Loyal Leaguers keyed into events here at League HQ.
We're still in a sort of vacation mode, having only been to work for a day and a half in the past 10 days or so. We've been doing a lot of catching up on comics that we hadn't gotten around to reading, thanks to a busy schedule and a large influx of mini-series from DC (I should also point out that OMAC Project is getting very good, and will run through all 3 Superman titles in July as well as Wonder Woman).
We believe Flag-Guy/ Squidward across the street may be dead or vacationing as his usual display of patriotism wss nowhere to be seen this weekend. We, however, had our flags out, and could be said to be the most patriotic house on the block with our five tiny flags.
We also climbed onto the roof to watch the fireworks from Chandler and Tempe (from the roof, you can see for miles across this barren wasteland I call home).
Thank you, noble founding fathers, for coming up with a holiday upon which I can not work and see firey explosions from my roof (actually, this sounds like the situation for a lot of people in other lands, but we get to do it with minimal fear of shrapnel following the firey explosion).
Anyway, The League will be back on board this week, and we hope to write about the awesomeness of 80's/ 90's metal, and what it means when it shows up in your mailbox, totally unannounced.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
SUPERBOWL CHAMPS FLY COACH*
Early Saturday morning The League and Mrs. League headed for Sky Harbor airport here in the Valley of The Sun in order to depart for our loverly vacation at Muskego Point. Whilst waiting for our aircraft, Mrs. League and The League parked ourselves in Starbucks and tried to get caffeinated for what was going to be a long day of traveling. As is our wont, The League was lamenting the beaten down folks toting kids through the airport, truly a complicated task.
"They look like they've lost all confidence," The League stated. "But look at that guy. He looks like he has confidence."
And then it dawned on The League WHY that dad didn't look like he'd had all vitality sucked from him years and years ago. That guy is a two-time NFL MVP. And he's leading around a four year old girl in a silly dress.
But where do Superbowl Champs go? We tried not to stare at MVP, but the harder you try not to stare... You know? It turns out, we realized as we went to board, at minimum MVPs and their spouse and six kids go through Minneapolis, too. We kind of snickered, and then realized, Mr. MVP and his family didn't board with the first-class passengers. In fact, a minute after we'd boarded, Mr. MVP and two of his kids sat down two rows in front of us.
About two hours into the flight, the guy in the casino hat next to us began engaging Jamie in conversation. "Did you notice Mr. MVP?"
"Mmm-hmmm."
"Are you going to talk to him?"
"Oh. No."
"I am."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, I need to get a picture with him."
And then he held up his pocket-sized digital camera with a big, poop-eating grin.
I looked up at Mr. MVP, who was leaning over to talk to his kids as he'd been doing the entire flight, and I began plotting how I was going to run interference for Mr. MVP.
It didn't happen. When we deplaned, the MVP family exited before me, as well as Casino Hat guy. Fortunately, all Casino Hat guy did was pat Mr. MVP on the shoulder and welcome him to our fair city.
With a little bit of sadness, I watched Mr. MVP wander on off down the walkway, surprisingly large family in tow.
We met up with Doug in Minneapolis, grabbed our rental car, and located Doug's significant other, Kristen. 4 hours of road and a lot of trees later, we made it to Muskego Point. The in-laws were already there, and had decided we were coming in much later, and so were gone fishing. Jamie and I went to the store at Muskego Point, and related our story to the owners of the resort. And, I realized, upon retelling, seeing a famous person on an airplane just isn't that exciting.
My in-laws came in from the lake, Dick and I put our life vests on and went right back out. I caught a lot of blue-gill and perch, but nothing worth keeping. Still, it was nice out, and it's always nice to remember there is a place somewhere on earth with trees and water you can drink, and a surprising lack of khaki shorts and golf shirts. Just you, a lack of fishing skill, and a whole lake full of fish quietly mocking your attempts to eat them.
I'm not sure exactly when it was, but Doug said, "Mr. MVP is here."
"Que?"
"He's here. He's with his family in one of the cabins. It's supposed to be a secret."
And then I flashed back to the owner's reaction at my mention of Mr. MVP being on our flight, and it made sense. They're big sports fans, and they didn't even ask the cursory, "So, did you talk to him?" They sort of smiled and nodded and that was that.
Nonetheless, Minnesota is an exceptionally large state. With many small towns on, at last count, at LEAST 10,000 lakes. And yet here sat Mr. MVP. It was as if Mr. MVP was just begging to have me harass him.
So secret was Mr. MVP's visit, that while his kids were sort of omnipresent around the beach and zipping about the grounds, it took a few days before I saw him anywhere actually walking around himself. And I felt sort of bad for him. I mean, sure, he can comfort himself with his outstanding record and bags of money, but he couldn't even really leave his cabin for fear that us gawkers would assume it was okay to bother him while on vacation.
After spending countless hours watching Mr. MVP play ball, I am now proud to say that Mr. MVP has watched my awesome badminton skills. Leaguers, The League is a badminton phenom who expects the Olympic committee to come calling any day. Sure, I can't serve properly, but I am an intimidating force in the sand pit. May Mr. MVP tremble when he thinks of facing off against The League. More fortunate, Mr. MVP did not witness my astounding lack of talent at the hoop. Kristen outscored everyone else 4-1.
Other adventures of the vacation included just outrunning a large storm while coming in from the lake. The storm blew over many a tree branch and made the water quite choppy. We lost power, and spent the evening trying to make quesadillas in the fireplace. Also, we tried to decide whether we should confront lactose intolerance or let the milk in the fridge spoil.
The most exciting part of losing power was the loss of water from the filtration system. Which meant not only did we not have drinking water, but we couldn't flush the toilet. Which sort of balanced itself out.
Further, there was an attempt to tame the wiley water dragon brought to the cabin by Judy Q. McBride.
The attempt was a failure.
We went fishing several times over the three days while we were there. Jamie managed to catch an incredible number of perch, a good number of bluegill, and a nice northern.
The League fared not so well. While The League almost had two northerns, he was too busy running his mouth at the crucial moment to get the fish into the boat. We did get two pan friers, and many, many who were not big enough to eat.
Luckily, The League enjoys the act of fishing as much as actually getting anything. This is most likely an indirect result of The League never having had known true fishing success.
In addition, the League got some good reading done. Read Age of Bronze Vol. 1, Wrath of the Specter, and a hundred pages of Theodore Rex.
All in all, The League's batteries are recharged and we feel ready to slog through another month of work before heading off for sunny Beaumont, Texas where we will be attending the Jim D. Sponsored screening of Superman: The Movie.
Who knows what professional sports superstar will fly with me from Phoenix to Houston. Dare I dream...? A full two hours in the presence of Charles Barkley?
*Due to privacy issues, The League will not identify the Superbowl Champ who accidentally vacationed with us.
Early Saturday morning The League and Mrs. League headed for Sky Harbor airport here in the Valley of The Sun in order to depart for our loverly vacation at Muskego Point. Whilst waiting for our aircraft, Mrs. League and The League parked ourselves in Starbucks and tried to get caffeinated for what was going to be a long day of traveling. As is our wont, The League was lamenting the beaten down folks toting kids through the airport, truly a complicated task.
"They look like they've lost all confidence," The League stated. "But look at that guy. He looks like he has confidence."
And then it dawned on The League WHY that dad didn't look like he'd had all vitality sucked from him years and years ago. That guy is a two-time NFL MVP. And he's leading around a four year old girl in a silly dress.
But where do Superbowl Champs go? We tried not to stare at MVP, but the harder you try not to stare... You know? It turns out, we realized as we went to board, at minimum MVPs and their spouse and six kids go through Minneapolis, too. We kind of snickered, and then realized, Mr. MVP and his family didn't board with the first-class passengers. In fact, a minute after we'd boarded, Mr. MVP and two of his kids sat down two rows in front of us.
About two hours into the flight, the guy in the casino hat next to us began engaging Jamie in conversation. "Did you notice Mr. MVP?"
"Mmm-hmmm."
"Are you going to talk to him?"
"Oh. No."
"I am."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, I need to get a picture with him."
And then he held up his pocket-sized digital camera with a big, poop-eating grin.
I looked up at Mr. MVP, who was leaning over to talk to his kids as he'd been doing the entire flight, and I began plotting how I was going to run interference for Mr. MVP.
It didn't happen. When we deplaned, the MVP family exited before me, as well as Casino Hat guy. Fortunately, all Casino Hat guy did was pat Mr. MVP on the shoulder and welcome him to our fair city.
With a little bit of sadness, I watched Mr. MVP wander on off down the walkway, surprisingly large family in tow.
We met up with Doug in Minneapolis, grabbed our rental car, and located Doug's significant other, Kristen. 4 hours of road and a lot of trees later, we made it to Muskego Point. The in-laws were already there, and had decided we were coming in much later, and so were gone fishing. Jamie and I went to the store at Muskego Point, and related our story to the owners of the resort. And, I realized, upon retelling, seeing a famous person on an airplane just isn't that exciting.
My in-laws came in from the lake, Dick and I put our life vests on and went right back out. I caught a lot of blue-gill and perch, but nothing worth keeping. Still, it was nice out, and it's always nice to remember there is a place somewhere on earth with trees and water you can drink, and a surprising lack of khaki shorts and golf shirts. Just you, a lack of fishing skill, and a whole lake full of fish quietly mocking your attempts to eat them.
I'm not sure exactly when it was, but Doug said, "Mr. MVP is here."
"Que?"
"He's here. He's with his family in one of the cabins. It's supposed to be a secret."
And then I flashed back to the owner's reaction at my mention of Mr. MVP being on our flight, and it made sense. They're big sports fans, and they didn't even ask the cursory, "So, did you talk to him?" They sort of smiled and nodded and that was that.
Nonetheless, Minnesota is an exceptionally large state. With many small towns on, at last count, at LEAST 10,000 lakes. And yet here sat Mr. MVP. It was as if Mr. MVP was just begging to have me harass him.
So secret was Mr. MVP's visit, that while his kids were sort of omnipresent around the beach and zipping about the grounds, it took a few days before I saw him anywhere actually walking around himself. And I felt sort of bad for him. I mean, sure, he can comfort himself with his outstanding record and bags of money, but he couldn't even really leave his cabin for fear that us gawkers would assume it was okay to bother him while on vacation.
After spending countless hours watching Mr. MVP play ball, I am now proud to say that Mr. MVP has watched my awesome badminton skills. Leaguers, The League is a badminton phenom who expects the Olympic committee to come calling any day. Sure, I can't serve properly, but I am an intimidating force in the sand pit. May Mr. MVP tremble when he thinks of facing off against The League. More fortunate, Mr. MVP did not witness my astounding lack of talent at the hoop. Kristen outscored everyone else 4-1.
Other adventures of the vacation included just outrunning a large storm while coming in from the lake. The storm blew over many a tree branch and made the water quite choppy. We lost power, and spent the evening trying to make quesadillas in the fireplace. Also, we tried to decide whether we should confront lactose intolerance or let the milk in the fridge spoil.
The most exciting part of losing power was the loss of water from the filtration system. Which meant not only did we not have drinking water, but we couldn't flush the toilet. Which sort of balanced itself out.
Further, there was an attempt to tame the wiley water dragon brought to the cabin by Judy Q. McBride.
The attempt was a failure.
We went fishing several times over the three days while we were there. Jamie managed to catch an incredible number of perch, a good number of bluegill, and a nice northern.
The League fared not so well. While The League almost had two northerns, he was too busy running his mouth at the crucial moment to get the fish into the boat. We did get two pan friers, and many, many who were not big enough to eat.
Luckily, The League enjoys the act of fishing as much as actually getting anything. This is most likely an indirect result of The League never having had known true fishing success.In addition, the League got some good reading done. Read Age of Bronze Vol. 1, Wrath of the Specter, and a hundred pages of Theodore Rex.
All in all, The League's batteries are recharged and we feel ready to slog through another month of work before heading off for sunny Beaumont, Texas where we will be attending the Jim D. Sponsored screening of Superman: The Movie.
Who knows what professional sports superstar will fly with me from Phoenix to Houston. Dare I dream...? A full two hours in the presence of Charles Barkley?
*Due to privacy issues, The League will not identify the Superbowl Champ who accidentally vacationed with us.
The League is now back in town. But don't expect too much out of us until the weekend.
We had a wonderful time in the crazed woodlands of Minnesota. Lots of driving today. Lots of flying. Lots of driving and picking up pets. Lots of rest needed to make up for the restful vacation.
Jamie caught a nice fish. I did not.
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