My Adidas first to the weekend…

almost forgot …My Adidas led from the get go on Friday. No one even had a chance. Chick Hicks was moving well also but no chance…

See you Monday

Train races – Chick Hicks untouchable

Leaving a cloud of dust in his wake today, Chick Hicks came out of the train door second or third (couldn’t see initially), and a quick move to the outside, hands stuffed in his pockets and upper body motionless, powered past a despearate throng in today’s race. the interesting part of the race was watching some poser who will be known as Fatty McCarthy come flying off the train, barrelling by the conductor, and making it to the path first. he had a few people following him but within about 20 yards he was huffing out to a quick lead. As i strained to keep up with some of the leaders I watched Chick Hicks make his move around an annoying talking couple who do not understand train racing and think it’s perfectly acceptable to have a nicely paced jaunt from the train.

As they soon felt the sighs of legends like Diddle McDiddle and Chick Hicks behind them they did the only sensible thing and let them by. Hicks stayed left and went by McDiddle shortly after. By the time Fatty Mccarthy was approaching the first set of stairs, Hicks was coming up next to him and in his stiff automaton way, double stepped right by Fatty like he was enjoying a sundae at the malt shoppe.

Fatty was able to hold off Diddle McDiddle but it looked like he gassed after the stairs.

Some of you reading this post will think – “geez how could he name someone Fatty McCarthy…that’s sort of mean”. First of all, I call em like I see em, secondly, it’s not like I can really walk up to these people and say- “hey I write a blog that includes posts about how ridiculously fast you get off the train and try to make it to your car – what’s your name?” Something tells me that would not go so well for me.

Fatty McCarthy is so named because basically- he has a little chubby preppy guy look going. It’s a little bit like he deiced to live in the world of Andrew McCarthy circa “Less Than Zero”, not new Andrew ” the show with the cougars” McCarthy. The guy has a little junk in the trunk, lives in the khaki and blazer and loafer world, plays air Guitar when he hears “Hazy Shade of Winter”, ponders what it would have been like to go to Bennington, and wonders what Patrick Bateman is washing his face with these days.

oh Fatty, you have some work to do if you are going to catch the likes of Chick Hicks…

When you get on your train…

Does the conductor tell you the same aggravating story as to why you will be late getting home again?

Do you realize that over the course of a week due to the ineptness of the people who run your train, tracks, and transit system that you will be 45 minutes late total on your way to work, and at least an hour and ten minutes late getting home?

How many people sitting around you have to make the same call every day to a loved one to let them know that again, they will be late, through no fault of their own, but due to a broken down system that can not accurately predict what time you will get into the station.

How is it that if your train is 15 minutes late it’s still considered on time?

Why do we have to pay full price for this?

If train A is supposed to pass a certain station every night by a certain time so that train B can get to stations on time why hasn’t anyone from the transit authority let the people running train A know that?

Who is driving train A?

Who do I talk to about the inability of train A to make it to the station on time so train B doesn’t have to wait?

 Does it sound reasonable to charge over $200 a month for this service?

Red Sox win, Red Sox win.

Did anyone else catch the pre game fanfare this morning?

Dice K may soon be the most annoying pitcher to watch work a game outside of Mike Mussina who has turned his Kathy Smith back stretch into a seven minute ritual with each pitch.

I guess it was just Manny being Manny…

another contender

The more I think about train racing the more the gallery of all-stars grows. Somehow I forgot about this rookie in my initial look at racers but he demonstrates an interesting strategy. He is one of a select crew that actually get up a full stop ahead of our destination and make sur ethey get to the train door first.

Tailor on High is an interesting racer because he gets good position, moves quickly and might be someone to focus on as the spring settles in. So named because of his inability to wear pants that are long enough due to either poor tailoring or a lack of understnading in how to use a lower setting in his dryer Tailor on High is a racer I’ll keep an eye on as we move forward.

I don’t think Diddle McDiddle stands a chance in this possible showdown.

Introducing…train racers

I couldn’t resist. I honestly got a little excited thinking about the train racers and thought I’d share my thoughts on a few of them, and tell you a little about them.

Tonight I’ll introduce you to three All Stars of the train race world. These three are so exciting to watch because their styles are all their own. So diverse, so confident, and consistent winners. Racers who not only can get out fast, but also can pass, can make exceptional cuts when necessary, people who- if they get off the train first, kiss it goodbye, there is no chance of catching them.

 Let me tell you about three tonight.

“My Adidas” - has to be one of the top racers of all time. The intensity is relentless, the pace is breathtaking, the ability to take double steps is unparalleled, and is truly someone you can not catch if he gets out of the train first. the only way to contain him is to make sure to get your gluteus out of your seat and in front of him before he exits the train and really haul ass. if you are lucky, he might not catch you until halfway down the walkway. Called “My Adidas” not because he actually wears adidas sneakers but because for some unknown reason he wears old beat up sneakers with wide laces, untied and sticking out of the bottom of his dress-pants. this makes him look like an absolute tool but I swear I’ve never seen him wear another pair of shoes.

Chick Hicks – not a chick, but named for the “Cars” character with the mustache. This dude is all business. He is glum, unemotional, and very fast. His specialty- like My Adidas, it to get the front spot at the door, haul ass and take it from a sprint position from the beginning. While he passes well he has slowed down a little over the last few years, and while not easily caught does not have the raw speed of My Adidas. Does not like heavy jackets – and never has anything in his hands, never seen with a book bag, laptop bag, or even a soda.

Diddle McDiddle – I tried to talk to this guy once. He looked at me quizzically as if to say “I don’t speak, I am all business, and my mom told me not to speak to strangers and even though I am at least in my late thirties I still listen to my mom because I am a very lonely person”. This dude has some pent up rage. I try NEVER to get in his way. He huffs if you do, and I mean huffs. He will flat out sigh at you if you try to step in front of him. It is downright scary. great on the straightways but a little slow on the stairs. Runs out of gas a little on the second set of stairs. Never seen him take Chick Hicks out head to head.

Train Races

I can not even begin to describe the event….

They come in all shapes and sizes. There is strategy, positioning, bursts of speed, short lived sprints , and those who go for it all.

The end of the day walk from the train platfrom to the car is a time honored tradition, especially when your car is a quarter mile away, down a long narrow two wide passage, up three sets of stairs, and into a vast parking lot with one lane to exit.

If you don’t get out quick you will be stuck waiting at the stop sign to get out of the lot forever.

And these people all know how to get out of the train quick, and make the right moves to get to their car first.

years of ongoing observation of this phenomena has given me a window into their world. These are the elite of the elite. The fastest, the rudest, the most over the top, “I can get to my car faster than you can motherfucker” types you have ever seen.

Someone like myself can only aspire to waddle my arse nearly as fast as these speedwalkin, double step hoppin, kings of the suburban sprint.

over the next weeks i’ll introduce you to all the players and give you updates on just who is winning and who is falling off the pace.

GAME ON!

Game On.

Sox season starts tomorrow at 6am with a game against the A’s in Japan.  I will wake up and watch the first few innings before getting out the door.

I read about the Cask and game On being open at 5:30 am to let fans in. And people will be there. Boston.com predicts tomorrow will be a bad day for work in Boston.

There will be a bunch of people who will go to the Cask or Game On at 5:30 in the morning tomorrow. I am jealous of them. I do want to go and act like there is a real reason to watch the game there. I do want to tell people I know that I spent the first game of the season in a bar at 5:30 am and watching the Sox play in Japan.

But I won’t be there.

If I told you all the reasons why I won’t be there you would have already known most of them.

I can try to rip on the people there for many reasons. Try to call them homers, wanna be’s, phonys, whatever, but I won’t. You know why? Because I can actually say – I’d like to be there. I’d like to have nothing else better to do than grab my boys, my bros and start drinking at 3am, show up with a good glow and watch the game amongst members of the nation.

Eat some greasy breakfast or order calamari at 7 am, and drink diet coke until the taps are turned on at 8.

So Bless yer souls. Enjoy.

By the way, the combined cask/Game On capacity is somewhere around 1000 people I am guessing. There will be at least 7000 people who will claim they were actually there. Most of them will be BU/Northeastern/COF students. Most of them will not be there.

The season is starting.

Our entire season falls into the hands of our pitching. The ability of lester/bucholtz/beckett’s back and bartolo’s wild arm will determine what SEPTEMBER REALLY LOOKS LIKE!!!

Why?

I guess why not. When you ride a train for nearly two hours a day it gives you a lot of time to reflect, to think, to play games on your blackberry, to read the paper, to do work, and to look at people

If I take a moment to break each of these down they play out something like this…

You get to the train station after dropping your boys off at school. You had hyperinteraction in the 40 minutes leading up to getting to this train. You need to help get the boys dressed, out the door, into their mini classrooms, kiss them goodbye, knock on the window, and drive to the train. Get a parking spot in the lot near the train, or sneak a spot, or park far away and walk.

But then you get to the platform.

No one talks.

There is a lot of looking ahead. A lot of peering down the tracks because after all, if you do, the train will come, or at least it will come faster.

If you are like me you take joy in the small victories in life. So you rejoice that you know almost exactly where to stand to get on a train first. Is this important? Not even in the slightest. But if it’s your only victory in the day then perhaps in the completely neverchanging days/weeks/months it is important. Can being the first person on a train give you just a moment of joy to start your day in a positive way? I only hope not, but it has happened.

Now on the train.

I like to read the paper in the morning. I always have. And when I say always I guess I mean for as long as I have read the paper I have read it in the morning. I look forward to it. I read the sports first. Living second. And then depending on what’s happening the rest. I do read the comics. Last. Always last.

I don’t usually take much time to look around. I don’t even usually use my Ipod. I just read. When I am done I usually am hit by the fact that I have another 20-30 minutes until I get into town. So it used to be I’d fiddle with my treo, then it was the Q, and now the blackberry. Yup – look at me. I have a new smaller than yours and faster than your phone.

I used to play breakout. I used to play some game on the q that required me to click on colored dots. I tried to play Lingo. I thought I could crush the world in blackjack, and I even wanted to really like soduko. In the end playing games on a fucking phone for an hour of one’s day is about as miserable an existence as I could think of having. I mean seriously- isn’t there anything else to do with one’s time? Playing games with my thumbs for hours over the course of a week.

I played that aforementioned dot game over 2500 times in less than 6 months. I’d play that game at the last stop before my stop heading home. I’d play it sitting outside a store waiting for my wife. I’d play it on the crapper.

Are you kidding me. You have to do a little more with life than play mobile video games on the crapper!!

I make no bones about this blog. It is selfish. I have no idea if I will still be writing this in a week but I hope so because somehow I believe that writing may be a better outlet than playing handheld video games and getting some form of carpal tunnel in my thumbs.

Honestly, my thumbs can hit a rollerball in such a way as to put backspin on a ball on a game called Brickbreaker. Yes, backspin, on a paddled ball on a screen game. I am trying to think of the possible practical applications of this.

There is always the chance that at some poijnt in my life while in the defense bomb shelter I will be called upon to stop a nuclear warhead due to my skill in maneuvering a trackball over a maze and if I get through the maze in enough time I will stop the warhead from hitting some small town in Spain which will prevent an explosion the likes of which has never been seen that would have caused Portugal to become an island. So abandoning this skill developed with hours and hours of ubertracball work may come back to haunt me.and the people of Portugal, but it’s a risk I am willing to take.

Work on the train. Yes, I’ve done it. I try to email people on the train because I think there are better ways to spend your work day than replying to emails. So if you don’t get emails from me until 6:20 at night, marvel at how late I am working, but really just realize that email has become more of a burden than I ever expected. I take no joy in 100 emails in my inbox, and I take no joy in sifting through them. I can not express how many times I have told staff to pick up a phone or actually go and see someone. 

Email is no longer humorous. I remember writing emails 12+ years ago that were aimed at unwitty ex friends who sent mass emails with some dream of being funny, witty, perverse, or liked. Sadly, I fell into the roll of being the bigger dink who actually tore them a new one. How nice.

I do hope blogging gives me some sense of outlet. (The old ascot wearing nut next to me just sneezed spit onto me- no joke.)

See you soon. There is a lot to talk about.

Man I just love Glen Hansard

Man I just love Glen Hansard.

This week.

So yes. I watched the Oscars, and saw Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova win the Oscar for best song. Nice song. But then I went into that mode.

What’s up with that movie. Got to see the movie.

Rent “once”. Watch Once. Think- man what a great movie. Need music from movie. Tell everyone to see the movie. Don’t tell them why. Run into people who have seen the movie. “Isn’t that a great movie?”  How uncool is that to ask someone? What if they hated the movie but don’t want to tell you, or think it was OK and don’t want to disappoint you. Or they want to play along and so they say- “yah, good movie”.

When I think back on the movie. I wonder if it was really all that good at all? I think it just had a nice soundtrack that worked well for a Friday night at home with my wife for “wine and movie night”.

So then I went to Itunes and not only bought the soundtrack but the full length album that Glen Hansard put out called “The Swell Season”. Again- most of the songs are sung with Marketa Irglova. It’s a nice album. Good, earnest music. Nice harmonies. Nicely written and produced. Something you can play in the background at your suburban group dinner party and point out the fact that it’s not the soundtrack from “Once” but his other album. Instant cachet. Oh so hip.

I think if I were Glen Hansard and I read this I might try to fit the broken part of the guitar he uses over my head and shake me.

I know nothing about the Frames. I am tempted to listen to them because he has made me curious. I think it will also give me further street cred with the sub crowd who will marvel that I know the greater works of some singer songwriter they’ve never heard of.

 So Glen. I am listening. I do like your album. I know already I will listen to it too often in a short period of time. Just like I did to the Killers first album and Jack Johnson’s last album.