My dog has MANY health issues. Once in a while the poor little girl will battle with diarrhea. She is pretty good at waking me up and not having an accident in the house. Last night around 3:30 AM I heard a few whimpers from her – I threw on my coat, put on her harness, and we were off.
We usually take this path in between houses along our walk. There is a staircase with grassy areas – a pretty nice and secluded spot for a dog to take a dump. My dog decided that this was a good place to squat and pee – our walk would continue after this.
As my dog was concluding her piss, she scooted in front of me with her butt to the ground quickly – like she heard something behind us. She was scared. I turned around and heard something moving around in this tall grass. It arose from the grass, silhouetted by the moon – A COYOTE.
A few months ago, I woke up to the sound of a couple of coyotes tearing apart a cat in front of my house. It was horrifying.
Anyways, back to my story – there I am, 3:30 AM, wearing socks with flip flops (it’s a lifestyle choice I am proud of), camo sweats, and my purple East Carolina jacket. How in the hell am I going to protect my dog from this thing? My body reacts – fight or flight – and I let our the most guttural “RRRAAAAAAAARRRGH!” that I am able to muster. The coyote scooted off to the left, and me and my dog turn back quickly to head home.
Just as I wrap up the most animalistic growl my body can produce I see a man turn the corner. He looks pretty confused. It took me a few seconds to make the connection. Oh no, he took his dog out to the bathroom at the same time as me – I just screamed at his dog.
We had a good laugh about – nice meeting your Michael.
We are now almost 19 years removed from the game that propelled Kevin Love and Klay Thompson toward NBA stardom – and me to an award winning career as an elementary school teacher.
Of course, I am talking about the District 4 Little League All-Star Championship game between Lake Oswego and Murrayhill in 2001.
The gloves are off at this point. Kevin and Klay have had about a year to respond now, and still nothing. Only crickets. KLAY YOU WERE A NON-FACTOR IN LITTLE LEAGUE DUDE.
The 2019 calendar year has come and gone – providing another opportunity for all three players (Kevin, Klay and myself) to further their baseball careers. So where do we stand – from a purely statistical perspective?
Baseball Statistical Breakdown
The last time we looked at this there was a clear winner – Player 1 dominated every statistical category from 2009-2011 and 2017-2018. Were things similar in 2019?
Across the board Player 1 (me) continued to prove that they are the better athlete and ballplayer through the 2019 season – competing in an incredibly prestigious independent baseball league. Player 2 (Kevin) and Player 3 (Klay) did not even attempt to improve their game – although they do get credit for their consistency.
I hate to toot my own horn – but Kevin and Klay, I’m better than you guys at baseball.
I have learned a number of things throughout my time as an eligible bachelor. There are the worn-out and over-used ways to approach women, and then there are the productive and creative ways to approach women. Recently I have turned to the latter. I want to catch a woman’s attention and draw into their interests. I want them to gasp and say, “damn”, when they read my opener.
Without further ado, I have turned to the dating app – Hinge – to test my luck on the Portland dating scene. All messages appear as they were sent, I will provide responses in a future blog.
Alexis: She clearly is proud of her tattoos. What better way to catch her attention than to show a true interest in her body-art. Relationships are more of a partnership – she brings the art to the table, I bring the coloring book skills to the table. The question is, will she let me draw on her? Time will tell.
Rachel: She seems flexible. Flexible enough to find a way to not have to sit down on a disgusting toilet seat in a public restroom. Is she just showing off, or is she an innovator?
Chey: First of all – that can’t be a real name. She wants to be perceived as an artist, but I discovered what is really going on in this picture. The handprint on her back shoulder would have had to have been her right hand. There is no way her arms can bend like that. There was another party involved in this. That person is being held underwater against their will. Does she let them up for air, or does she continue down this path of no return?
Kayla: Envision this, you and your buddies are out on the golf course, and you are having a great time. You have played a few holes – nobody is playing that well, but hey golf is golf. You make your way to the 7th hole – your pace has been great so far. You arrive at the next tee box and Kayla steps out of her cart. There she is in a dress that is not golf-appropriate and stumbling around in high heels. She is giggling. Her giggle is forced and just too loud. She sets her ball on the tee. It falls off. She laughs. She puts it back on the tee. It falls off – again. Finally, she gets the ball on the tee. She swings and hits the ball 50 yards up and to the left, like a choppy grounder to the shortstop. She gets in her golf cart and doesn’t even offer for you to play through. She giggles as she speeds off. No thanks, Kayla.
Audrey: Many women in Portland have back tattoos. All the more canvases for me to color on. Hopefully someone will bite, I am chomping at the bit for this opportunity. Audrey seems like the kind of cat that would be up for this.
Soledad: My money is on Soledad not using a Clorox wipe on this table after she sat on it. It looks like she has been drinking, probably dropped a juicy fart on this table after she stood up. Pretty disrespectful to whoever has to eat here after she left her (crop) dusting.
Sarah: You could have been the one, but your appetite is too ambitious for my wallet. Soup -$6.95, Salad – $9.95, Sandwich – $11.95. That is $28.85 for her meal alone. You know she’s got a $12.95 drink off to the side – out of the frame. That is over $40. Guess I’m not eating tonight.
Heather: Honest question – please respond.
Hailley: Girl, if you were working – you’d be fired. You can’t be that close to an edge without a harness on. Take one of the extra L’s from you name and give it to me. Your adrenaline-rush-seeking lifestyle is too much for me, and for that reason, our relationship takes a loss.
Madison: Look at that face, you know she farted just now. Below the frame of this image her ass is poked out and there is a tuft of her dress floating up – from the fart. I really appreciate how she is owning it. Possibly even in a foreign country. I hope she responds.
Mikhaila: Too easy, next.
Michelle: I am really hoping someday Michelle will be “MY WIFE” (Borat Voice).
Rachel: Many women are super into cross-fit. Like to the point where that is all they care about. They have their coaches and instagrams, and most of them are really on top of their game. They are all about doing things right. Not Rachel, her form is border-line reckless. That is not how you bench press, not even close. Next time I come across her on Hinge she is going to be in a sling. (That is not a threat, that is because I imagine she is going to tear her shoulder by lifting like this).
Dani: I am trying to imagine the scenario that led up to this picture, and there is no rational way for me to paint the picture. She had to just be like, “I am going to go over to this wall, and turn my head over my should to look at the camera. My butt looks good in this skirt but I also like my face. You get the best of both worlds. Thanks, Dad”.
Victoria: Your mother and father went all out last Christmas. They spent big money and got you the stand-up paddle-board you really wanted. That alone was already too much money. They talked and decided to take things further. They bought a life jacket so their daughter could be safe out on the open water. A life jacket that she doesn’t even wear. Victoria, if you don’t even respect your parents, will you ever respect me?
Zina: You can never be too careful nowadays. I can’t figure out if she is kissing food, a lizard, or a bird. Whatever it is, I hope she got permission. I would hate for her to be labeled as a sexual predator.
That’s all I have for now. Will one of these women be my wife? Will there be a part two to this blog series? Wait and see…
I was running the Oregon Zoo’s annual Turkey Trot – and I was struggling. As my brother and I looped back around and headed up the hill on our way to the zoo I saw something I would never forget.
The sun was gleaming through the frost-coated trees in just the right way, and there it was. A woman, in yoga pants. Pants that were much too small. Now that alone wasn’t the issue. The issue was that the fibers of her pants were being pulled in all directions. They were fighting to keep together, and losing. So much so that her black yoga pants took on a new look.
I was reminded of when you hold a $100 bill up to the light and you can see the water-mark of Benjamin Franklin – confirming your currency is not counterfeit. However, in this instance, the light shone through and unveiled an old-asshole that I was not hoping to see.
Let’s ignore the fact that I was in such bad shape that I was behind this woman. She seemed to be having a great time, and there I was, miserable. Was it because she was so much more comfortable than I was? It had to be the yoga pants.
I was running my thighs blood red, dwindling away in chafe city. I didn’t look, but I imagine that the inside of my legs took on the appearance of uncooked ground beef.
Yet, there she was, with her larger legs – producing more square footage of friction than I had. If you had put any tinder between her legs a fire would have started. Still, she was happily plodding along in comfort – despite her turd-cutter being on full display.
Exercising is hard enough. It becomes even harder when you are trudging behind someone, staring at their sphincter – without even giving your consent.
Finally we reached the peak of the hill, and soon the Turkey Trot was over. While I didn’t come away from the event victorious, I did have one big takeaway:
Comfort is king, and beauty is in the eye of the b-holer.
With each year of this life I learn more and more. As I get older I have discovered that the majority of the time I can get through things without carefully following the directions. I am a pretty smart guy, I have a Master’s Degree after all. I kind of just glance and get the main idea and move forward. This is a story of a time when I should have been more considerate of the suggested directions.
Before The Incident
It was a beautiful afternoon. I was spending time with my family and trying to do something nice. I had recently subscribed to Blue Apron, a meal delivery service. It seemed like it would be fun to try something new. I am also horribly reckless with my finances and fall victim to the simplest advertisements. On this fateful day I decided to take a meal over and cook for my family – Smoked Gouda Cheeseburgers with Summer Squash Slaw. My family was out back drinking and everyone was having a good time. I was opening up the Blue Apron bags, acknowledging directions, and seeing what I could whip up in the kitchen.
Thoroughly Wash Your Hands
Blue Apron directions are pretty easy to follow. Each meal comes with a two sided card. Directions are listed with corresponding pictures. This was my second delivery box of Blue Apron, I had it figured out. Outside of the excessive amounts of olive oil used in every meal these seemed to be pretty great so far.
Preparing the ingredients: – Wash and dry the fresh produce. – Halve the squash lengthwise, then crosswise. Cut lengthwise into 1/4 inch thick strips. – Peel and finely chop the garlic. – Thinly slice the mushrooms. – Thinly slice the cheese. – Halve the buns. (That’s what she said) – Roughly chop the parsley leaves and stems. – Cut off and discard the pepper stem: halve the pepper lengthwise, then remove and discard the ribs and seeds. Thinly slice crosswise. Thoroughly wash your hands, knife, and cutting board immediately after handling the pepper.
Of course, I didn’t wash my hands. Why would I? I already washed them before I started cooking. Why bother washing my hands again if I am in the process of cooking. It isn’t like I was going to contaminate the food, the pepper was going in the meal regardless.
I moved on, we are going to step #2; making the slaw. I don’t have time for washing my hands right now.
Make the Slaw, Cook the Mushrooms
I made the slaw – easy. No cooking involved. Just mix some stuff together. My next step was to start cooking the mushrooms while the slaw marinates. No problem there. Dump a bunch of olive oil in the pan and then throw the mushrooms in.
Is Something Burning?
Here is where things heated up. I was standing next to the stove, zoning out, cooking the mushrooms. All of a sudden, I felt an intense burning sensation slicing through my scrotum. I looked down. I am kind of tall – it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that I had put too much olive oil in the pan. My shorts could have caught on fire with some kind of splash back from the pan. That wasn’t it. The pain increased. My eyes were watering. The food was still cooking – and as I mentioned before Blue Apron is not necessarily affordable. I didn’t want to ruin the meal.
There I was in my parents kitchen, hoping around, eyes watering, testicles burning from the inside. At that moment, I didn’t know what to do. What does an adult male do in that situation?
“Mom, I need your help!” I yelled out the back door as I kept pressure on my crotch to keep the burning from spreading.
“With what?” She called over her shoulder, continuing her fun afternoon.
“I need someone to come watch the food while it cooks,” I replied.
“Your father and I are out here enjoying our beer and the weather, you said you would take care of dinner,” she called back.
“Mom, it’s an emergency,” I whined.
“Jesus Christ can’t I just sit down and relax without one of you boys needing something from me,” she chirped.
“MY BALLS ARE ON FIRE, I THINK I SCRATCHED MYSELF AFTER I CUT THE PEPPER, I NEED SOMEONE TO WATCH THE FOOD NOW WHILE I GO SHOWER,” I screamed for all of the neighbors to hear.
“Gross! Why are you touching yourself while you are cooking? Don’t do that while you cook my meal,” laughed my Mom.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, someone came in to watch the food. I sprinted up the stairs with the speed of my 4.98 high school 40 yard dash time. I got into my parent’s master bathroom, slammed the door shut, and hopped in the shower.
I Probably Shouldn’t Have Showered
My parents had a pretty ideal shower set up for this unfortunate scenario. They have a larger shower with a built in seat, and a shower head on a wand. I sat down, spread my legs, and aimed the shower head where it hurt the most. The water was mildly warm, but my testicles and my legs felt like they were in an inferno. I now know how people must feel when they get pepper sprayed, except for in my junk area instead of my face.
The water from the shower had only increased the pepper-oil-burn square footage. Now my entire penis, balls, and inner thighs down to my taint were burning. I tried increasing the water pressure, maybe that would help. I tried different angles. I kicked my legs into the air, I was nearly breakdancing in the shower trying to get this to stop hurting. I tried soap, I tried shampoo, I tried conditioner. Nothing seemed to work.
I reached a point of no return. I ran to the window of my parent’s bedroom, naked, with the shower running.
“Mom, where do you keep the aloe vera lotion?” I called from above.
“You’re not using my good aloe for that!” she called back.
“Mom, please.” It was my final hope.
“Fine…there may be a generic bottle in my drawer.” She gave in. Hopefully this was the fix I needed.
Aloe Vera Is Not Effective
I got back into the shower, turned the water off, and just started slopping that aloe vera on my dick and thighs. I was being generous. I had to – I was in so much pain.
I sat there on the shower seat, my lower half covered in a transparent green shimmer, waiting for the pain to stop. While things cooled down, there was still a burning sensation. There was a wild transition from a hot-burn to a cold-burn. The aloe was not working. I used more aloe vera, squeezing the bottle dry, hoping that more was the answer to my prayers.
It wasn’t. I rinsed the aloe off, dried myself off, and sat there -dumbfounded.
I got dressed and went downstairs. I was limping, I have no idea why. There everyone was eating the Smoked Gouda Cheeseburgers with Summer Squash Slaw. I should have been receiving the gratitude for making the meal. That was my idea. That was my investment. But there was my Dad being thanked for saving the meal – while everyone laughed at me.
The pain lasted for a while. Finally things calmed down to an icy hot level of pain before going away.
So what did I take away from this? While Blue Apron is expensive, it is kind of worth it. I have learned quite a bit about cooking, and have discovered some food items that I never would have tried – but now enjoy. The Smoked Gouda Cheeseburgers were delicious, though I would have preferred fries to the Summer Slaw.
“I have no optimism that anything I do will end this diarrhea and I haven’t shit like a normal human since Sunday Morning.” – Me, to my Kaiser Permanente Doctor
As a pre-diabetic with a Coca-Cola addiction, Disneyland is a risky place for me to visit. There are not many places on earth that have as many temptations and justifications around every turn. Temptations being sugar-based food items, the justification being I am on vacation and walked a lot today. For some, Disneyland is a place of wonders. For me, I was wondering why I had such violent diarrhea.
When you’re almost 30 years old, there is nobody that can tell you what kind of garbage food you can or cannot buy from the numerous kiosks around the park. Even when your family tells you that you’re going to be sick, in your heart you know that you have trained for moments like this. Weekends laying belly up drinking two-liters of Coke have all been in preparation for this kind of sugar intake.
Long story short, I was not prepared for what was about to come.
After our second day at the park I went to bed, content. My family and I had a great day and we were looking forward to one more before heading home.
I awoke that night – in a panic. The bathroom of the Airbnb had no idea what was coming for it. I sat on the toilet and evacuated my insides with a fury. I felt like I was going to lift off of the toilet like I was riding one of those water hover boards. After the initial barrage I thought I was done, but the worst was yet to come.
Just when I thought I had shit out my entire insides, the rest of what was left was coming out the other way. I hadn’t flushed the toilet yet because my two year old nephew was sleeping in the room next to the bathroom. I was trying to be quiet. Unfortunately there is no way to be quiet when you are in that kind of battle.
I really did not want to throw up. I had spent at least $20 on fountain Cokes that day and didn’t want to waste it. My vote didn’t count. It was coming.
I called for my mom on the phone. She was downstairs – it was a large Airbnb.
There I was, pant-less, on the bathroom floor. Almost 30-years old on a family trip to Disneyland. My head buried in a diarrhea filled toilet. This would have been a good time to evaluate where my life was at. However, there is not much time to think when you are firing from both ends.
My Mom entered the bathroom and scolded me. “I told you not to eat so much sugar, look what you did.”
“Mom, I think I’m dying,” I replied.
“Be quiet you are going to wake (Nephew) up,” laugh-talked my mom.
In walks my sister-in-law. She’s pissed. I’m still a mess on the floor.
“Be quiet – if you wake up (Nephew) I am going to kill you,” shush-shrieked my sister-in-law.
“I feel like shit,” I moaned back.
“I don’t give a shit, if you wake up (Nephew) you are staying up with him until he goes back to bed,” she said.
Everyone went back to bed. My battle continued for a while after that.
The Next Day
As I sat there grinding in the bathroom under the Hungry Bear Restaurant, I wondered out-loud if this would ever stop. Through the constant opening of the bathroom door I could hear the natural and unnatural sounds of Splash Mountain a few hundred yards away. I echoed those same sounds in that Hungry Bear restroom.
My family had come to the park earlier that day without me. I stayed in bed for a while hoping I would be able to join them later on.
I got up for the day feeling a bit better. I still had diarrhea – but could deal. My asshole was raw. My asshole was so raw that I bought a bidet when I got home.
I walked over to the park in the afternoon, alone, but was hopeful I could make it through the day. I had a breakfast of Immodium; nothing was going to end my family vacation early.
With my sandpapery-buttcheeks and toilet paper infused chafe-storm I was very uncomfortable. We only had one day left so I thought I could tough it out. I found my family and all seemed right with the world. We were at Disneyland – the happiest place on earth.
With a guh-gunk, my stomach dropped. I needed to get to the bathroom – fast.
As I entered the stall of the Hungry Bear restroom I knew that I had lost the battle. Little did I know – the battle had just begun.
The Flight Home
Luckily this was uneventful. I think the Immodium had finally worked. I honestly considered carpet taping my butt-cheeks together like Tony Siragusa – luckily it never came to that.
I came home, and it was like my body knew that I was home. I walked in the door and had to sprint to a toilet. Oh no, it’s back.
I am happy to work for a company that provides health insurance, and I totally abuse it. I go in for anything all of the time and demand they give me antibiotics immediately so I am cured. I think Kaiser Permanente knew they had me in a tough spot – they had the upper hand this time.
I missed work for a week. The doctor was concerned that I had diarrhea for so many days. They wanted me to submit a stool sample. I had to shit into a cup.
There is a weird feeling when you arrive at the doctor and walk through the waiting room with a generic brown paper bag. Everyone knows there is something gross in there that needs to be tested. I arrived at the desk of the lab, provided my name, and prepared to hand over the goods.
The guy at the lab said “ehhh,” as I handed him the bag and he gave me a dismissive wave. He made an elaborate display of putting his gloves on before accepting my deposit. I walked out of the waiting room, through the sea of middle-aged white-women staring at me, in a fog of shame.
My test result came in last night. However, I am unable to see the result. Where it should say “positive” or “negative” it just says “see note”.
– Me, to my Kaiser Permanente Doctor
The test was not performed, because the sample you submitted was formed stool (as opposed to loose stool from diarrhea), and the test is only run on liquid stool.
I really wish that test had been performed, as I am back to pissing out of my asshole today. I have no optimism that anything I do will end this diarrhea and I haven’t shit like a normal human since Sunday Morning.
– Me, to my Kaiser Permanente Doctor
Hi Buzz, I have ordered the test again as well as a stool culture and an ova and parasite exam to look for other infections from bacteria or parasites. You can come by the lab to pick up the stool tests.
– Kaiser Doctor
You fucking kidding me? They wanted me to do the “City Kitty” again? I would have to parade the brown bag of excrement through the sea of middle-aged white-women to the guy with the gloves?
You may ask yourself – what did you do now, Buzz? What was the plan?
My plan was simple. I got better over the next few days and totally forgot about it.
On a midsummer night in July of 2001, my little league dreams were shattered. Every all-star dreams of making the trek out to Williamsport and living out their fantasy of playing on ESPN against a team from Asia in the finals. However, a couple of future NBA all-stars discarded my aspirations that fateful night. I was on the team that lost in the district championship to the team Kevin Love and Klay Thompson played on. Looking back on it 18 years later, the question still lingers….who became the better baseball player in the end?
To keep this unbiased, as I am one of the dogs in this fight, I will make my arguments purely statistical in nature.
Baseball Statistical Breakdown
The best way to analyze athletes from a statistical perspective is to give a blind sample. I will provide season by season statistics to help evaluate each player, in the end I will reveal which stats belonged to who. All stats were from seasons in which players were 18+ years old.
Pretty easy decision here. Player 1 stands out the most. It appears that Player 1 may have been a bench player that season. While their at bats were limited, they had a pretty solid on base percentage. Not a bad batting average either. Like they say, if you succeed 3/10 times in baseball you are a hall of famer. How does 3.33/10 look Cooperstown?
Player 1 – 1 pt Player 2 – 0 pts Player 3 – 0 pts
Once again, there is a player that stands out. You would have liked to have seen more from Player 2 and Player 3 in the 2010 season. While the numbers dipped a bit for Player 1 this year, I have to say that it was nice to get, I mean, for them to get more playing time this season. Player 1 also dramatically increased their number of stolen bases this year.
Player 1 – 2 pts Player 2 – 0 pts Player 3 – 0 pts
I hate to sound like a broken record, but wow, more of the same. Player 1 doubled their amount of stolen bases. Player 1 was also able to get their homers totals back up this season. Player 2 and Player 3 struggled at the plate, not even producing a single at bat or plate appearance.
Player 1 – 3 pts Player 2 – 0 pts Player 3 – 0 pts
2012 – 2016
All three players took time off from baseball for five seasons. Maybe it was because they were struggling so mightily with the sport (Player 2 and Player 3)? Maybe they just wanted to be lazy because they graduated college and didn’t feel like being active any more?
2017 – The Return
Wow. Incredible. Five seasons without picking up a bat and Player 1 comes out of the gates with a .321 AVG and .446 OBP. This was probably a wood bat league, so it is incredible to see their numbers at this level after so much time off. While Player 2 and Player 3 matched Player 1 in HR and SB, Player 1 edged out both players in the all important triples category. Another point for Player 1.
Player 1 – 4 pts Player 2 – 0 pts Player 3 – 0 pts
You are only as good as your most recent game. In this case you are only as good as your most recent season. Player 1 was able to get their homerun totals back up to their regular number. While Player 2 and Player 3 remained consistent, it ended up not being enough in the end.
Player 1 – 5 pts Player 2 – 0 pts Player 3 – 0 pts
Blind Reveal – Who is the best baseball player?
Now you may be thinking, it is pretty obvious that one of the NBA champions is the best baseball player currently. Normally I would have to side with you there. However, as we have seen from our statistical breakdown, Player 1 is the runaway winner. The true identity of player one is….