Hola todos,
Conozco a una chica que tiene problemas con la lengua Espanol. Ella trata y trata pero no puede aprender todas las palabras. Cuando ella quiere decir algo, algo diferente siempre sale de la boca. Las palabras estan mezcladas. O la pronunciacion no esta correcta. O no es la palabra correcta en el primer lugar. Pero, esta bien. Esta bien porque cuando ella haga amistakes, sus ojos ensanchan. Sus senos tiran. Y su cara consigue un poca roja. Esto es la cosa mas mona que el mundo. Lo hace me rio. Sonrio por dias despues. Pero no sonrio porque ella haga amistakes. Sonrio porque la mirada en su cara durante esta momento es inestimable. Me gusta ella como un bebe se gusta bizcocho.
Suenos dulces bonita....
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
Won't the real New York Giants please shut up? Please shut up. Please shut up.
As a fan of the New York Football Giants, there are a lot of things that scare me about the upcoming week. The Super Bowl is six days away; we're playing an undefeated team; a team that beat us five weeks ago in what was our best game of the season; they have endless offensive options; their defense always makes the most timely stops; I could go on and on. But the day I've been worried about since early last week was tomorrow. Media day. I'm absolutely terrified of what these guys are gonna say next. They've been hamming it up since for the past week.
First there was the little pat on the back victory appearance at Madison Square Garden by Plaxico Burress and two other Giants the day after the win in Green Bay. Then, on Tuesday night, I literally switched from Lawrence Tynes on Letterman to HBO, where Osi Umenyiora was on Inside the NFL. And this is where it got a little hairy. Old Osi just had to let out that he feels Matt Light, offensive lineman for the Patriots, is a dirty player. Maybe not dirty all the time, but dirty when they played. Well, probably dirty all the time, but I can only speak for the time we played. Dirty here and there and STOP SAYING DIRTY OSI! Stop talking!
Then there's Antonio Pierce, who I absolutely love and who I generally love to hear talk trash, talking at the absolute wrong time. He's all over Mike and the Mad Dog saying that not only do they deserve to be there, they deserve to win. We're not just here to try and put up a good game, we're here to win. It sounds like just a little confidence when I write it here, but to listen to it....it was a masked way of talking trash to the Pats. And you could tell by his inflection that he wasn't really trying to mask it. I love Pierce because he's grown into our quarterback on defense and he calls good plays. He was the only one who sniffed out a screen against Green Bay that easily would have gone for a touchdown, if not for him pushing his way through two blockers and hanging on to Grant like his life depended on it until help arrived some 8 to 10 seconds later. The play summarized his career as a Giant, it epitomized what it had taken for his team to get where they've gotten this year and less than a week later he was finished talking about that and ready to talk about the Patriots. And talk he did. The good news: they probably weren't listening.
But they were listening a few days later when Plaxico decided to let the world know that the Giants recievers were just as good as the Patriots', better even. Oh, they heard that. They actually felt it. Randy Moss' hair stood on end. Wes Welker's biceps unwittingly curled. Dante Stallworth and Jabar Gaffney chest bumped at a gas station and had no idea why.
Lines are being drawn here. People are running at the mouth. The kind of verbal diarrhea that players look back on years later and say, "what was I thinking?" As a side note it should be mentioned that as all of this was going on, as the Giants were making appearances, talking to the media, popping up on late night TV, the Patriots were, that's right, practicing! This does not bode well. I was happy that they were coming in two touchdown underdogs. They could use the 'happy to be here with the great Patriots, but slightly confident that we know a little bit to at least hang in there'. You do that, then you go for the jugular. Now there can be none of that. There's no going back from you're dirty, we're going to beat you, our receivers are better, we're here because we belong. Now you've called out the champs, called down the thunder, and you have only to back it up. I just hope they can dial it back a little at tomorrow's all day meeting with the media. I hope that Coughlin can reel this thing in over the next six days and bring these guys back down to earth without damaging the confidence that has gotten them here. I hope that the ball is in Manning's hands, down six with a buck twenty-eight to go on the Giants 45. I'll take my chances with that scenario. I just wish that was good enough for my team.
First there was the little pat on the back victory appearance at Madison Square Garden by Plaxico Burress and two other Giants the day after the win in Green Bay. Then, on Tuesday night, I literally switched from Lawrence Tynes on Letterman to HBO, where Osi Umenyiora was on Inside the NFL. And this is where it got a little hairy. Old Osi just had to let out that he feels Matt Light, offensive lineman for the Patriots, is a dirty player. Maybe not dirty all the time, but dirty when they played. Well, probably dirty all the time, but I can only speak for the time we played. Dirty here and there and STOP SAYING DIRTY OSI! Stop talking!
Then there's Antonio Pierce, who I absolutely love and who I generally love to hear talk trash, talking at the absolute wrong time. He's all over Mike and the Mad Dog saying that not only do they deserve to be there, they deserve to win. We're not just here to try and put up a good game, we're here to win. It sounds like just a little confidence when I write it here, but to listen to it....it was a masked way of talking trash to the Pats. And you could tell by his inflection that he wasn't really trying to mask it. I love Pierce because he's grown into our quarterback on defense and he calls good plays. He was the only one who sniffed out a screen against Green Bay that easily would have gone for a touchdown, if not for him pushing his way through two blockers and hanging on to Grant like his life depended on it until help arrived some 8 to 10 seconds later. The play summarized his career as a Giant, it epitomized what it had taken for his team to get where they've gotten this year and less than a week later he was finished talking about that and ready to talk about the Patriots. And talk he did. The good news: they probably weren't listening.
But they were listening a few days later when Plaxico decided to let the world know that the Giants recievers were just as good as the Patriots', better even. Oh, they heard that. They actually felt it. Randy Moss' hair stood on end. Wes Welker's biceps unwittingly curled. Dante Stallworth and Jabar Gaffney chest bumped at a gas station and had no idea why.
Lines are being drawn here. People are running at the mouth. The kind of verbal diarrhea that players look back on years later and say, "what was I thinking?" As a side note it should be mentioned that as all of this was going on, as the Giants were making appearances, talking to the media, popping up on late night TV, the Patriots were, that's right, practicing! This does not bode well. I was happy that they were coming in two touchdown underdogs. They could use the 'happy to be here with the great Patriots, but slightly confident that we know a little bit to at least hang in there'. You do that, then you go for the jugular. Now there can be none of that. There's no going back from you're dirty, we're going to beat you, our receivers are better, we're here because we belong. Now you've called out the champs, called down the thunder, and you have only to back it up. I just hope they can dial it back a little at tomorrow's all day meeting with the media. I hope that Coughlin can reel this thing in over the next six days and bring these guys back down to earth without damaging the confidence that has gotten them here. I hope that the ball is in Manning's hands, down six with a buck twenty-eight to go on the Giants 45. I'll take my chances with that scenario. I just wish that was good enough for my team.
Where have you gone Timmansonio.....?
Dear whatever readership still exists (all two of you),
My apologies once again for the prolonged absence. It's not that I'm lazy. I mean, I am, sometimes, lazy. But that is not the culprit this time. The culprit is pain. Anguish. Suffering. Ok, that may be taking it a bit too far, but I have been less than happy. You see, a couple weeks ago I hurt my back......again. This is the third time in as many years that I've had some kind of miserable, debilitating back injury and frankly the pain is never as bad as the depression. It generally makes me wonder questions like: if I make it to my 70s, will I be depressed all the time? Will I, as an old man, want nothing more than to jump out a window as opposed to feeling completely and utterly useless??? It's not a fair question, just as it's not a fair injury. This time around I did nothing to bring on this condition. I wasn't lifting a safe over my head or bench pressing my great uncle Lou or playing "Who can bend all the way over and come up with a cinder block using only his back muscles?" I was hardly even exercising. It was a Saturday and I went to the Y, got on the ellyptical (no idea how to spell that) machine for a half an hour, then went home and took a shower. Four hours later I was in blinding pain. I could hardly walk. And the following morning when I made the mistake of thinking things were better and tried to put on my socks, I screamed out in pain louder than William Wallace on the chopping block. And I wasn't yelling freedom.
But again, the pain is not the problem. It's this feeling that I can't shake when I hurt my back. This old man-ish feeling. You start thinking whether this is how it's going to be. You start to question what you've done to deserve this, how you let things get so bad, who you pissed off to be twisted and tortured in this manner. The answer, of course, is nothing and no one. I usually start thinking about things like never playing basketball again, or any sports for that matter, or even being able to go for a jog when I feel like it. When I'm injured, I can't just throw on a sweatshirt and go out for a jog; therefore, when I'm old will it be the same way? I probably won't be able to jump up and go for a run when I'm 77 either. And therein lies the depression. It may not be enough for some people to be depressed about, but it's enough for me. And since I'm rarely depressed and the pain killing, muscle relaxing drugs do nothing but wind the spiral down further as my mindset chases it willingly, things tend to only get worse as time goes on. The lack of strength in the body leads to a lack of strength and will of the mind. Emotion runs wild. And not the kind of skipping through daisies emotion that usually accompanies a statement like that. Emotion runs wild in a negative way. When you start feeling like shit about yourself, you start to assume there's no reason others can or should like you. This is dangerous territory. Difficult to maneuver through the mind fields. Pun intended. One in this state is better left alone because contact with others often only makes things worse. Either you say stuff that you never wanted to say, and probably didn't really mean, or you spout off needy, lovey dovey stuff out of desperation for someone to say something back that resembles feelings for you. Either way, it's rarely pretty. But now, the lights have turned back on.
My back is not yet healed, but it is feeling much better. I no longer need the drugs that take the pain from my back and replace it with gunk in my brain. I am myself again. As such, I have returned to the blog to continue to rant about whatever crosses my path. I started this post by addressing you, the reader, but writing this was all about me. I needed to get the depths off my chest and pronounce that I'm back to normal. Whether anyone's listening or not. More to come....
My apologies once again for the prolonged absence. It's not that I'm lazy. I mean, I am, sometimes, lazy. But that is not the culprit this time. The culprit is pain. Anguish. Suffering. Ok, that may be taking it a bit too far, but I have been less than happy. You see, a couple weeks ago I hurt my back......again. This is the third time in as many years that I've had some kind of miserable, debilitating back injury and frankly the pain is never as bad as the depression. It generally makes me wonder questions like: if I make it to my 70s, will I be depressed all the time? Will I, as an old man, want nothing more than to jump out a window as opposed to feeling completely and utterly useless??? It's not a fair question, just as it's not a fair injury. This time around I did nothing to bring on this condition. I wasn't lifting a safe over my head or bench pressing my great uncle Lou or playing "Who can bend all the way over and come up with a cinder block using only his back muscles?" I was hardly even exercising. It was a Saturday and I went to the Y, got on the ellyptical (no idea how to spell that) machine for a half an hour, then went home and took a shower. Four hours later I was in blinding pain. I could hardly walk. And the following morning when I made the mistake of thinking things were better and tried to put on my socks, I screamed out in pain louder than William Wallace on the chopping block. And I wasn't yelling freedom.
But again, the pain is not the problem. It's this feeling that I can't shake when I hurt my back. This old man-ish feeling. You start thinking whether this is how it's going to be. You start to question what you've done to deserve this, how you let things get so bad, who you pissed off to be twisted and tortured in this manner. The answer, of course, is nothing and no one. I usually start thinking about things like never playing basketball again, or any sports for that matter, or even being able to go for a jog when I feel like it. When I'm injured, I can't just throw on a sweatshirt and go out for a jog; therefore, when I'm old will it be the same way? I probably won't be able to jump up and go for a run when I'm 77 either. And therein lies the depression. It may not be enough for some people to be depressed about, but it's enough for me. And since I'm rarely depressed and the pain killing, muscle relaxing drugs do nothing but wind the spiral down further as my mindset chases it willingly, things tend to only get worse as time goes on. The lack of strength in the body leads to a lack of strength and will of the mind. Emotion runs wild. And not the kind of skipping through daisies emotion that usually accompanies a statement like that. Emotion runs wild in a negative way. When you start feeling like shit about yourself, you start to assume there's no reason others can or should like you. This is dangerous territory. Difficult to maneuver through the mind fields. Pun intended. One in this state is better left alone because contact with others often only makes things worse. Either you say stuff that you never wanted to say, and probably didn't really mean, or you spout off needy, lovey dovey stuff out of desperation for someone to say something back that resembles feelings for you. Either way, it's rarely pretty. But now, the lights have turned back on.
My back is not yet healed, but it is feeling much better. I no longer need the drugs that take the pain from my back and replace it with gunk in my brain. I am myself again. As such, I have returned to the blog to continue to rant about whatever crosses my path. I started this post by addressing you, the reader, but writing this was all about me. I needed to get the depths off my chest and pronounce that I'm back to normal. Whether anyone's listening or not. More to come....
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Just when I finally pick a candidate
It all goes to hell. Well, not really hell. But not the way it was "supposed" to go either. It wasn't the fact that Obama won in Iowa that made me decide to vote for him in a few weeks. It was that speech. The victory speech he gave after the Iowa results were in. Three years ago Obama gave a speech at the Democratic National Convention that lit a fire under many a democrat. Put him on the national scene, made him famous. I later read the speech online and it was certainly impressive. But it was grand and general and designed to fire up the base of the party and it worked. Last week, though, it was the speech he gave after the Iowa win that ended up giving me the chills and I'm not ashamed to admit it.
It was not only smart and savvy and hopeful, but it was also pragmatic in some ways, it spoke to people on both sides of the aisle and it was outright inspiring. I actually started to believe there might be a politician out there who will do what he says he's going to do. (To be fair, I have something known in politics as raving TB - that's true-believerism) So I'm more inclined to favor a speech like Obama's than Hillary's robot like delivery and common sense attitude. So you can imagine my shock, which ran parallel to the shock throughout every major television news outlet, when Hillary WON in New Hampshire. It was supposed to be a coronation. It was supposed to be a blowout. A ten point victory at least. But the polls were wrong. People coming out of the booths lied (which is extremely odd in my opinion). And that's now known because the exit polls matched up with the pre-voting polls. Obama didn't win. People said they were going to vote for him, said that they did vote for him, but they voted for someone else. Interesting, those liars.
This race is far from over now. And in many ways it is again Hillary's to lose. I am feeling a little bummed out that I finally made a decision and then the guy lost, but there's a silver lining. On February 5 it will be Super Tuesday. For the first time in my life I will vote in a primary where my vote actually matters. In past years it was well decided by the time the Connecticut primary arrived, but not this time. There's the Nevada caucus. Then South Carolina. Then Super Tuesday. I'm excited to be involved in the process for once. I'm probably not gonna go volunteer or anything, but I might do a little selling. You may get a call, casual enough, from me asking how things are going. How life has been. What you're up to this weekend. Then....boom! Hit you with my political questions and badger you into voting for the half Kenyan, half Kansan. He can do it. And who knows, you can make it happen.
It was not only smart and savvy and hopeful, but it was also pragmatic in some ways, it spoke to people on both sides of the aisle and it was outright inspiring. I actually started to believe there might be a politician out there who will do what he says he's going to do. (To be fair, I have something known in politics as raving TB - that's true-believerism) So I'm more inclined to favor a speech like Obama's than Hillary's robot like delivery and common sense attitude. So you can imagine my shock, which ran parallel to the shock throughout every major television news outlet, when Hillary WON in New Hampshire. It was supposed to be a coronation. It was supposed to be a blowout. A ten point victory at least. But the polls were wrong. People coming out of the booths lied (which is extremely odd in my opinion). And that's now known because the exit polls matched up with the pre-voting polls. Obama didn't win. People said they were going to vote for him, said that they did vote for him, but they voted for someone else. Interesting, those liars.
This race is far from over now. And in many ways it is again Hillary's to lose. I am feeling a little bummed out that I finally made a decision and then the guy lost, but there's a silver lining. On February 5 it will be Super Tuesday. For the first time in my life I will vote in a primary where my vote actually matters. In past years it was well decided by the time the Connecticut primary arrived, but not this time. There's the Nevada caucus. Then South Carolina. Then Super Tuesday. I'm excited to be involved in the process for once. I'm probably not gonna go volunteer or anything, but I might do a little selling. You may get a call, casual enough, from me asking how things are going. How life has been. What you're up to this weekend. Then....boom! Hit you with my political questions and badger you into voting for the half Kenyan, half Kansan. He can do it. And who knows, you can make it happen.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
The Kenyan versus the Christian??
Well, it's settled out there in Iowa. Barack Obama has won the Democratic caucus while the Republican straw poll was won by Arkansas Governor Mike Huckabee. Both are slightly shocking right now. Both would have been laffable less than a month ago. The madness and unpredictibility of the election of 2008 has begun. See you in five days in New Hampshire.
For the Democratic story, go here:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/01/03/AR2008010302982.html?hpid=topnews
For the Republican story, go here:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/01/03/AR2008010303824.html?hpid=topnews
For the Democratic story, go here:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/01/03/AR2008010302982.html?hpid=topnews
For the Republican story, go here:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/01/03/AR2008010303824.html?hpid=topnews
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