Sand-tastic

Okay, there's nothing funny here. Sorry. But I just had to share this incredible video. Watch all nine minutes of it, seriously. It's pretty awesome. Now every time I go to the beach, I'll feel like I'm underachieving just by being in the presence of sand.

Tiger Double-Eagle Monkey

So me, Fitt and Matt Dees are playing Tiger Woods 2004, and we all double-eagle the same hole on virtually identical shots.

This is clearly the greatest accomplishment that will ever come to pass on Fitt’s PlayStation 2. We were all pretty excited.

So Matt says, “Dude, you should blog about it. Make it funny.”

Then I launch into a comedic diatribe about how Matt would make a great upper-management type at a 1930s newspaper. I began speaking in a 1930s gangster voice, playing the part of Matt. “Hey, blog man. They say you’re funny. Why don’t you see if you can punch up this double-eagle story!”

Trust me, it was funny at the time.

And in this inane story about a story, I have managed to get that first story (the double-eagle thing, if you’re scoring at home) into the blog despite having virtually no good reason to do so.

I am Matt Dees’ dancing monkey, and I have obliged his desires to see our 90-seconds of video-game transcendence glorified in my blog.

Now I must go eat a banana.

The Hesitant, Yet Artful Dodge-r

Today, I am officially a Southerner.

I had to drop my car off for a week of repair (thanks to a chick in my apartment complex who backed into my whole passenger side), and the good people at Allstate hooked me up with a rental car.

Enterprise, known by the slogan "We’ll pick you up," came and, well, picked me up. I just didn’t expect to get picked up in a pickup.

Nor did I expect that, since they were out of little cars most closely resembling my Hyundai Elantra, I would actually be driving off in the very same pickup truck, a Dodge Dakota.

When the very-hot girl from Enterprise who picked me up, so to speak, informed me of this, I said, very coolly, "Uh, yeah, sure, pickup. Yeah, no problem." As if I drove pickups all the time. I'm what the kids call "smooth."

She said it was either that or a minivan, and I figured Redneck status gave me ever so slightly more street cred than Soccer Mom status, so the pickup it was.

Of course, it took a little adjusting, as the Newtonian laws apparently apply slightly differently to a several-ton truck than they do to my regular car, which weighs about the same as my couch.

But once that was out of the way, it was fun. I even passed a minivan on my way home, and was glad I wasn’t the driver of it. "Sucker," I thought. "Ha!"

Wait, make that "Yeeeee ha!"