Entry 782: Back To Reality, Unfortunately

The Mariners lost on Monday night and got knocked out of the playoffs. They were ahead in both the series (3-2 after five games) and the final game (3-1 after six innings), and they squander away both opportunities. It wasn't an epic meltdown of historic proportions or anything like that, but still it sucks. It means I have to return to reality, and that is unfortunate because reality kinda sucks right now in my neck of the woods. The massive DOGE layoffs, followed by the government shutdown means a lot of people in the DC area are out of work or working and not getting paid. There isn't an end in sight, either. Neither side is eager to negotiate, and neither side has much incentive to do so. Reps think they can pin the shutdown on the Dems, and the Dems want to make it look like they are doing something in opposition to Trump.

Personally, I think the Dems should cave on this one. They don't have to frame it that way, of course, but I think they should pass a continuing resolution and kick the can down the road. Then they could say something to the effect of, "We held out as long as we could, but too many innocent people are losing their livelihoods in this game of chicken. So, we are going to reopen the government, but continue to fight against rising healthcare premiums." Then they crank up the healthcare stuff to 11, and that becomes the main story by itself, with clearly delineated sides. As it is now, when people start feeling the pain of increased premiums, it's going to get lost in the broader shutdown narrative. It's just going to look like a result of political squabbling -- a pox on both your houses. It seems smarter to me politically (and better for the country) to isolate healthcare as a single-issue fight. It's a likely winner for the Dems, and they could use some wins at the moment.

Anyway... in happier news, Halloween is right around the corner, and tonight we are going to not one, but two parties to celebrate the occasion. We've got an Addams Family theme going on. S is Morticia; Lil' S2 is Pugsley; and I'm going as Thing (the disembodied hand). Lil' S1 is doing his own thing, and he's not going to any of the parties with us, anyway. (One is at the house of Lil' S2's classmate, and the other is an adult party.) I was going to go as Gomez, but the ready-made costume was kinda expensive, and I didn't want to spend a bunch of money for something I'd only wear for a few hours. This is when it would be good to be an artsy guy, who could craft his own costume on the cheap, but that's the exact opposite of me, so I'll just settle for being Thing. Even that is proving to be a challenge, however, as I have to figure out how to connect the plastic hand to my shoulder. I guess I'll duck tape it? Seems like the only option. Although, glue might work. I just have to use a shirt I don't care about.

Alright, I'm running out of time, so I'll just mention one more thing and call it a post. I just finished Mark Lanegan's memoir Sing Backwards and Weep. If you are unfamiliar with Mark Lanegan, you are surely not alone. I barely knew who he was until I bought the book. He was the lead singer for Screaming Trees, one of the less commercially successful Seattle grunge bands of the mid-90s, who still managed to score a few hits you might remember, namely "Nearly Lost You" and "All That I Know". I was never particularly into the band, although I'm pretty sure I saw them play live at some shady club once.

The book is a trip. You never know how accurate memoirs actually are, but if even a third of the stuff he says is true, it's crazy. He grew up in Ellensburg, Washington--a place I've visited many times, as it's a convenient stopping point when driving across the state (also my sister went to college there)--and he did not have what you would call a stable childhood. It's weird how the reader's (or at least this reader's) feelings changed throughout the story for the first-person narrator. In the beginning, I feel super sympathetic toward him and root for him to overcome his difficult upbringing and make something of himself. Then, once he gets a little bit of success, he becomes such an insufferable dickhead, egotistical and self-loathing (a toxic combination), that I only want to see him get his comeuppance. Then, after he fucks it all up and descends into unmitigated junkie-dom, I just hope he doesn't die.* Like I said, it's a trip, and if you're into that type of thing, I recommend it.

*Clearly he doesn't die because he wrote the book, but then he did die a few years ago at 57. Not exactly a ripe old age, but much better than 27, like his buddy.

That's all for today. Until next time... 

Entry 781: Diwali 2025

Tomorrow is Diwali, the festival of lights in Hindu tradition. We had a party at our house last night to celebrate with some of our Indian/mixed family friends. It was a lot of fun--too much fun, perhaps, as I am feeling the effects today. It's not the alcohol--I know better than to overindulge in that department and usually adhere to a two-beer limit--it's the food. We (S) ordered way, way too much of it, and as a result I ate way, way too much of it, and since the moment I woke up this morning, my stomach has felt like a witch's cauldron--a gurgling, vile morass.

It was so good, though. We got massive trays of samosas and pakoras, and those two items are probably my very favorite appetizers across any cuisine. I like to drizzle on both the red and green sauce (which I think are tamarind and mint chutneys, respectively, but I'm not completely sure), so that it adds a little soft texture to the crunch and a bit of sweet and sour to the spice. I probably ate, like, ten total samosas and pakoras, and then I had my actual "meal," a massive plate of biryani and palak paneer with naan. Oh, and somebody brought homemade mango cheesecake, so I had to have two pieces of that, as well. It would have been rude not to.

Part of the problem is that I hate wasting food, so I overeat to reduce the amount of "waste," but I really need to get over that fallacious line of thinking. At some point, pretty early in the night, I reach the amount of food I need to completely satiate my hunger. After that, anything I consume is "wasted" the same way it would be if I threw it in the trash. From a utilitarian standpoint, it is not any better to dump food down my gullet than it is to dump it down the garbage chute. In fact, it's unequivocally worse because it makes my stomach feel bad and makes me fatter than I need to be.

But, like I said, that's only part of the problem. Another major factor is that I love eating (who doesn't?), and I can, at times, exhibit poor impulse control when it comes to delicious food. It's a vice, and it's really my only major vice at this point in my life. Well, that and drinking too much coffee. And as far as vices go, it could be a lot worse. I could be a compulsive (losing) gambler like Pete Rose or a heroin addict like Mark Lanegan. The last two books I read are about these two guys, which is why they come to mind. Actually, I'm not done with the latter book, Sing Backwards and Weep: A Memoir by Mark Lanegan (lead singer of Screaming Trees), but I'm pretty far into it. (I might give a fuller recap on this blog when I'm done.)

Oh, if you are wondering what we did with all the leftovers, I froze as much of it as I could, given our container and freezer space restrictions, and then S gave the rest away to a family we invited last night, but who couldn't make it. It's still way more than they will be able to eat, but if they throw it away I won't care, because I won't know. 

In other news, the Seattle Mariners are one win away from going to the World Series for the first time ever. They can clinch it tonight or, if they lose tonight, tomorrow night. If they lose tonight and tomorrow night, however, then their season is over. It's been an objectively glorious run thus far, but I haven't even been able to enjoy it like I should, so convinced I am that it's still going to end badly. What can I say? 40+ years of letdown can do a number on your sports-fan psyche. I only watched about a third of the last game live. Lil' S2 had a basketball game at the same time, so I went to that, and then S and the kids wanted to watch The Middle as a family, so I did that. When I turned it off, the Ms were losing 2-1 going into the 8th inning. I put my phone in a different room, so that I wouldn't be tempted to check the score or look at my texts from fellow Ms fans. When I finally saw they had come back and won, I wasn't even mad that I missed it. I was just relieved that they pulled it off.

Hopefully, I get that feeling of relief again tonight. It would be especially welcome, given that I have a super busy next three days at work--I have to go into the office everyday--and so I can't be staying up late fretting over baseball too much. If the Ms lose tonight and have to play tomorrow, it could throw a serious monkey wrench into my sleep schedule. So, come on Ms! Win tonight! Win for all the fans who have to get up early on Tuesday.

Until next time... 

 

Entry 780: Marathon Baseball and Schitt's Creek

Very tired today. I was up until 2:00 am watching the Mariners playoff game. In a previous entry, I said that I was just going to enjoy the Ms' playoff run and not stress about it, but the thing about that is that you don't really get to decide about the things you stress about. If you did, nobody would ever be stressed about anything. We would all just choose to not be! As soon as the Mariners started playing, it was like I was a child again, hanging on their every pitch and plate appearance. It's not an enjoyable way to watch to baseball, being so anxious, but I can't help it. Some sort of obsessive fandom got embedded in me when I was little, and I don't know how to get rid it, nor do I really want to, because on the rare (extremely rare, in the case of the Mariners) occasions it works out, it's pretty awesome.

And last night it worked out! On the brink of elimination, facing the best pitcher in baseball, the Seattle baseball nine scrapped their way to a 2-2 tie after nine innings. (It was the unlikely Leo Rivas who delivered the game-tying RBI. He was in the minors for most this season. In fact, I saw him hit a home run in a Rainiers game I attend with some friends and family.) Then, in extra innings, the Mariners proceeded to blow golden opportunity after golden opportunity, as the game dragged on and on and on. Thrice the Mariners had the potential series-winning run on second with no outs and couldn't bring him around. The probability of not scoring a run in one of those instances is 38%, so the probably of not scoring a run in all three is only 5%, and yet that's what happened. Thankfully, for as inept as the Ms' offense was, their pitching and defense was the exact opposite, and they continually hung zeros on the Tigers to get to the 15th inning.

At this point, about 1:30 am for me, I'm hoping the Ms score in no small part so that I can go bed. It's like 65% I want them to win; 35% I want to sleep. Turning the game off and finding out the result in the morning crosses my mind, but I quickly dismiss it. I wouldn't actually be able to sleep, anyway. I can do that for a low-stakes regular season game, not for a winner-take-all playoff game. So, I stay up, continuing to watch, vacillating between sitting down, standing up like I'm part of the crowd watching in person, swinging a back-scratcher like a baseball bat (as a kid I used to pantomime what I wanted to happen each plate appearance), and stretching -- might as well do something slightly healthful.

I get my wish, and the game ends shortly in spectacular fashion. JP Crawford, one of my favorite players, leads off the bottom of the 15th and flicks a single to center field. Randy Arozarena -- a guy who had one of the greatest postseasons ever a few years ago for the Tampa Bay Rays and has been downright bad this one for the Ms -- gets plunked on the first pitch. Cal "Big Dumper" Raleigh, the Ms best player, in the midst of a historically great season, then flies out, but it's deep enough to move Crawford to third and, after a bad throw from the center fielder, Arozarena to second. This turns out to be a big deal, because it leaves first base open, enticing Tigers manager AJ Hinch to intentionally walk Julio Rodriguez. On paper, it makes some sense, as Julio is the Ms second best hitter, and loading the bases sets up the double play (the Tigers have already turned two of them in extras) and creates a force at every base. However, as somebody who has watched the Mariners play dozens of times over the past few years, I'm not that upset Julio doesn't get to bat. For all his greatness, he frequently chases pitches and strikes out. I actually feel better about Jorge Polanco putting the ball in play than I do Julio. And Polanco does indeed put the ball in play. On a full count, he drills a single between the hole at first and second base, and that's that. Ballgame. Series. Ms win! Ms win! And I go to bed happy.

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In other news of nonsense, I finished Schitt's Creek a few days ago. Great show. I tried to watch it some years ago, when it first came out, and just couldn't get into it. I don't know why. But then a few months ago, S, a big fan of the series, got me to watch the first few episodes again with her, and this time I really took to it, so much so that I convinced her to let me watch the rest of the series on my own, so that I wouldn't have to wait for those relatively rare moments when we are both free to watch something together. I love all the characters on the show--not bad one in the bunch--but below is a list of my ten favorites with a quote from each of them. It's in approximate order from least favorite to most favorite, but ranking your favorite characters is like ranking your favorite songs. If I did this tomorrow instead of today, I would have a markedly different list.

10. Jocelyn Schitt: Once I found a bag of Roland’s ex girlfriends bras... BURNED them... except the ones that were my size. 

9. Tywla Sands: My Uncle Ken only has three fingers now, which is too bad because he's deaf, and he only speaks using sign language. But he made his choices. 

8.  Bob Currie: Hey, Johnny. Keepin' busy, or, uh, hardly workin'?

7. Stevie Budd: I don't think I've ever heard you use the word courage before outside of criticizing people's style choices.  

6. David Rose: I’m starting to feel like I’m trapped in an Avril Lavigne lyric here. 

5. Johnny Rose: Hashtag. Is that two words? 

4. Ted Mullens: I don't know about little, because I'm benching 225 right now, so it's not really something someone little... 

3. Roland Schitt: I'm sorry, taut? (Laughs.) What is that, old English? How 'bout I hold it tight?  

2. Alexis Rose: You try parallel parking in a burka, David. 

1. Moira Rose: Stop acting like a disgruntled pelican.

Until next time...     

 

 

Entry 779: Lousy Situation (With Updates)

Last week, I wrote an entire post, and then today when I hopped on Blogger to write a new one, I realized that I never actually posted the one from last week. So, I guess I'll just do that and call it good. I'll throw in a few updates though.

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I gave Lil' S2 a buzz cut last night, and he's not very happy about it. It doesn't look bad. If you saw him, you probably wouldn't think twice about it. He just looks like a normal little kid with a very short haircut. But compared to what he used to have -- a bountiful, Beatles-esque moptop -- I can understand why he's sad about the change. Unfortunately, however, he contracted a terrible -- like, seriously disgusting -- case of head lice for the second time in six weeks, so it had to be done. Well, it didn't have to be done. We could've stuck with the shampoo treatment, but that can be a huge hassle if you want to do it right, and you want to do it right, because there's not a lot of gray area between right and wrong. Either you kill all the lice and their eggs or you don't, and if you don't, then they multiply and you're are back to where you started. We did two rounds of the shampoo, but during the second S was still combing out a bunch of nits and eggs, probably all dead, but there were so many that we pushed for the clippers. Lil' S2 reluctantly agreed and then was almost in tears when he saw the result. Oh well, he'll get over it, and the wonderful thing about hair is that it always grows back... until one day it doesn't, but he shouldn't have to worry about that for another 20 years or so.

Update: The first day after this happened, Lil' S2 wore a hat the entire day, but now he and everybody else has gotten used to it, so it's not a big deal. Plus, hair grows back pretty fast at that age. In a few weeks, we will probably have to take him to the barber for a clean up. The thing about buzz cuts is that they grow back even everywhere, which looks weird once it gets longer (baby chick look). At some point, you need to get it reshaped by a professional to avoid the goofy stage between short and normal.  

In other news, the distractions in my life are working decently well to keep me sane amidst a world of craziness. It's a tightrope walk to keep yourself informed and stay vigilant without descending into complete doomerism. Sports is my main form of self-medication. I've been able to maintain a steady workout schedule since school is back in session, so that's good. The main thing there is avoiding those nagging injuries that put you on the shelf for a few weeks at a time. I've come up with an ingenious plan to that end: Don't go as hard. That's it--don't run as fast; don't lift as much; don't punch as hard, at least not all the time. I gotta pick my spots now. Because I only go to my gym twice a week (for scheduling reasons), I typically double-up and take back-to-back classes, one martial arts/self-defense class, and one strength and conditioning class. When I first started doing this, nine years ago, it was no big deal. I could pretty much go max effort the entire time and be okay. Now, I just physically cannot do that anymore. I have to scale back during the first class or else I won't be able to survive the second class without pulling, straining, or popping something somewhere in my body. The instructor has noticed too. Sometimes he'll encourage me to be more aggressive and push myself, and I always say okay, but in my head I'm thinking: Nah, I'm not going to do that right now. You'll understand why in 20 years. Hey, if it's good enough for Lebron James, it's good enough for me.

Update: Of course, almost immediately after writing this, I violated my own rule and tweaked my back. We were doing front squats and the RX (recommend weight) looked a little heavy, but I decided to do it anyway, and while I was doing the last set, I felt something strain in my right lat. It's not that bad, thankfully, but still... annoying. Go moderate or go home! That has to be my new motto.

But as the intensity of my own athletic endeavors has ebbed, the ferocity with which I spectate others playing sports has remained steady. And it's a pretty good time to be a Seattle sports fan. The Seahawks are 3-1 through their first four games, having not quite blown it Thursday night against the Cardinals, and the Mariners--the perpetually not-quite-good-enough Emerald City nine--have not only made the playoffs, but they won the AL West for the first time in 24 years. Not only that but they earned a first-round bye, and they somehow have the best odds to win the World Series according to FanGraphs. Now, to be an M's fan is to repeatedly get the rug pulled out from under you, so I'm completely ready for--expecting even--the disappointing collapse, but there is something freeing in that mindset. There's nothing that can hurt me too badly anymore. It's like when I worked as a dishwasher at Pete's Barbecue Steakhouse and the dishes would pile up (because they were too cheap to adequate staff us), and all the servers were mad at me, even though I was going as fast as I could (and they weren't exactly offering to come back and help), and I'd reach a zenlike state where the negativity was just background noise that I could easily drown out (sometimes literally with the Mariners game on the radio, ironically). That's where I am now with the Ms now. They probably won't win the pennant, so I'm just going to enjoy their success now, while I can. If nothing else, they effectively put a stake through the heart of every Astros fan last week with this ridiculous play, and that is some glorious schadenfreude that nobody can take away.

Update: The Mariners play their first postseason game tonight against the Detroit Tigers. M's are heavily favored--they are clearly the better team--but in the baseball playoffs, random variance rules supreme, so the Tigers could easily win three games in a row and that would be that. And of course the games are on FS1, the one major sports channel not offered by my TV package (Sling Orange), so I begrudgingly upgraded (Sling Orange & Blue). It might not be that costly though. I think I can cancel before my next billing cycle, and only get charged about $6 for the prorated upgraded. That's totally worth it for at least three M's games (especially if they win!). Also, I now get NFL Network, so I can also watch the Browns against the Vikings tomorrow morning. It's a terrible game, but it is football.

Alright, until next time...