Skip to main content


I run. I'm not a runner.

I run. I'm not a runner. There's a difference.

I have no desire to run a marathon, a half marathon, or even a 5k. My desire to run is directly correlated to my desire to eat more later.

In fact, for motivation, I dangle an old photo of myself on a stick in front of me.

Until I graduated college, I had never run farther than a mile.  Part of the reason is because no matter what point I'm at in the run, I'm wheezing like an asthmatic pug. But most of the reason is because running sucks. It does. Just admit it. Everyone admit it. Running does not feel good. I feel horrible doing it. I look horrible doing it. And I'm horrible at it.

The idea of a runner's high sounds great to me. Yet, I've never gotten it. I've felt good while running before, but it's never outweighed how good I feel sitting on the couch playing video games. But after college, I needed to lose all of the weight I gained by feeling good on the couch playing video games.

So I started runn…

Bai Bai, N.Y.!

A few months ago, I sang Vitamin C's "Friends Forever (Graduation Song)" to the Statue of Liberty, left New York City, and moved to Nashville.

Looking back, I never saw myself living in New York for any amount of time, especially not the four years that I did. Rewind back those four years, before my NYC excursion. At that time, Texas was the only place I called home. And I couldn't wait to get out. So four years ago, I left Texas. I put on my newsboy cap, sharpened my rat stick (The Rat Attack™), and moved to New York City.

I quickly realized that leaving Texas finally helped me appreciate Texas:
40 degree wintersFriendsFamilyCheap beer

But Texas still had its downsides:
400 degree summersFriends getting married at age 21, then never seeing them againFamily reminding you that your friends got married at age 21 and asking when you last saw themNot enough beer to deal with your family's reminders 

So I left Texas and moved to New York City.

I get asked all the time i…

Furry Fandom: Spike

It's been a while since my last Furry Fandom post. But all that time I was just waiting for the perfect candidate to disrupt my life and rob my brain of its sanity. And here we are. Thanks to a tip from a buddy, I've caught a mascot red handed (or red pawed? I dunno it's been a while since I've written about mascots.)

This culprit is responsible for stealing my sanity, eating it up, and soft serving it on my mind's yard for me to dream-step in it.

Round Rock Express

His name is Spike.

He's the Round Rock Express minor league baseball team mascot.

After reading more about him, my brain simply can't comprehend how he got the job. So I'm here to expose why the Express should have stamped his résumé with "Do Not Hire."

Exhibit A - Lack of Job Loyalty

His bio page lists him as 13 years old which in dog years is WAY past retirement age. So why is he still working?

A quick read over his bio page unveils that he arrived in Round Rock by simply jump…

Gonna Be A Bumpy Ride

I hate flying.

Well, I actually just hate being in the air.

Leading up to a flight, I don't get nervous. I don't choose to drive cross-country instead of taking a plane. I don't get queasy when I'm sitting at the gate and they start boarding.

It's the in-air turbulence that makes me curl up into a ball, triple check that my boarding pass doesn't say "Oceanic Airlines", and rock back and forth humming "Three Little Birds."

Part of it may be related to my fear of heights which I've self diagnosed as more of a distrust of the structural integrity of things. I was a Psych minor in college so I'd say the diagnosis is about as accurate as you can get. Don't tell me that the skyscraper swaying in the wind actually helps make the building more sound. Don't tell me that the Ferris wheel cars never unhinge and fling towards the heavens. Don't tell me that what feels like crazy turbulence in a plane is actually just a few inches of …

Madness in North Texas

Ever since I was conscious of sports and my inability to play them, I’ve been a pretty typical sports fan. I like sports. A lot. And every typical sports fan has a typical sports bucket list. Attending the Final Four is on that list. This past weekend, I was able to check it off mine.
Knowing I would be in Dallas the week before the Final Four, my buddy asked me if I’d like to have his extra ticket to the Saturday games. After I facedown Tigger bounced around my apartment for 5 minutes, I told him, ‘YES’. 

We took a car/train/bus combo ride to Arlington (or as Charles Barkley calls it "North Dallas"), making a stop at the sponsored pre-game tailgate. We were able to continue the drinking that we started on the train…for $9 a beer. To make matters more inconvenient, it started pouring rain. We quickly emptied our savings accounts for multiple rounds of beers and found shelter under a tent. As we huddled together under cover, sipping beer and avoiding rain, I couldn’t help bu…

Makin' A Da Pizza

In an attempt to keep our relationship hot so hot, my girlfriend and I started making homemade pizza.

I'm Italian. I've lived in New York City for 3 years. I thought we could just figure it out as we went along hahahahahaha.

Some pizza knowledge must have rubbed off by now. Right? That's how I learned things in college - by rubbing up on someone in the library. What I learned was that I wasn't allowed in the library anymore. But unlike calculus and biology, learning how to make pizza isn't Matrix'd in by osmosis or friction. Trust me.

Our first two pizza attempts weren't that bad. It was the blind leading the blind but we still led each other to The Promised Land of marinara, mozzarella, and pepperoni.

On our 3rd attempt, we had friends over to join. These friends have a pizza stone and one of those huge wooden pizza spatula things. Oh God. What had we gotten ourselves into? This was the big leagues. I had no pizza skills, no moustache, and no believable …

Top 5 Plays For A Superb Bowl Sunday

Superb doesn't look like a real word. Just look at it. Really look at it. Superb. To be honest, I don't know why I didn't just capitalize SUPER in the title instead. It's right there. If only there was some way to fix it. Oh well.

Here are 5 ways to have a happy good fun time watching the SUPER(b) Bowl this Sunday.

Bet That
I don't really care if the Seahawks win. I don't really care if the Broncos win. But one of them has to. Because that's how sports work. I would know. I'm a man. Like a really good one too.

So how do you make the game interesting? Bet your friend some money. Or bet your "friend" some money. "Friend" in the second case is a bookie. If you don't have the money to bet, throw some personal belongings down. The game will be hard to ignore when your first-edition mint Charizard card is on the line.

Shoosh Everyone During Commercials
I brake for Super Bowl commercials. Who cares what the announcers during the game are…