Resurrection 2010

This Easter was particularly bright and colorful. I'm glad that our typical tradition of a meal and recounting a mysterious tale of a man rising from the dead was accompanied by play and laughter. What a perfect and appropriate combination. Here are a few snapshots of my day.







He is risen and so are we.

To see my other photos, click here! : Resurrection 2010

Observations

So, here I am - chillin' at the Roasterie in Brookside. Let me give you a snapshot of what's going on.

To my left, a middle-aged woman, clad in an obnoxious amount of green, who looks like Sophia Loren is trying to subdue a terror child. The volume control is broken on this child. Screeching anti-melodic tones brings him unending delight. A man, perhaps the lady's husband, attempts to counsel the child. His voice is high and raspy, as if he got kicked in the testis after having a cold for two weeks, and thus, carries no authority. The terror screeches on.

Pause ...

Hey, Jim and Bethany showed up! We enjoyed some coffee and tried not to snicker each time the poor fellow next to us spoke in soprano. They are hanging with friends tonight and playing Settlers of Catan. What a great game.

Thankfully, things have simmered down, and all of the folks who came in after the St. Patty's parade have gone home. But the Irish music plays on. Death by pennywistle. You can't help but tap your feet to the chipper arpeggios. But goodness, they're never ending. I think it's making people irritable. One of the bro-istas behind the counter surveys his patrons with wide, aggressive eyes, seemingly eager to whup the ass of the first person to give him reason. I try to avoid making eye contact with him. This is probably what it feels like to live in Dublin - happy music and scary guys ready to turn you into a pretzel before you can say "Top 'o the morning."

St. Patty brings out the best in all of us. Here's hoping you find your pot 'o gold. Whatever or whoever that might be.

Lightbox Photo Shoot

Cold! Brrr...
Originally uploaded by Tom Page

This is why you don't give Youth ministry or Missions people keys to anything ... Caley did a great job as our photographer! And HCC - if you see this, it was all Shibu's idea.

See our other pics here.

Ultimate Return

After several months of being sidelined with a rib injury - thank you, Skylar - I made my valiant return to the Ultimate Frisbee field.

I am out of shape.

Today was really fun, and wet, and muddy. Not only did we have to play against the formidable Kyle Blake (like always, what the heck?), we had to play against his NFL caliber brother, Dave ... Lord, have mercy. The first throw to go Dave's way when I was guarding him, resulted in me getting so manhandled that my only option was to climb onto his back, which I did. It was like trying to bring down a pachyderm. Graciously, Dave took this in stride and decided not to torment me for the rest of the match.

At the end of the day it was 2 wins, 2 losses. Our last win has an asterisk by it, because we ended early, but I was so stinking tired by that point that I didn't care who won the last game. Currently, my legs feel like they are filled with led. The hurt is gonna come tomorrow!

Never Say Die - Goonies Wallpaper

This is incredible! This made my day! This is the Goonies slogan, turned into a wallpaper! Someone please make this into a t-shirt, size medium, for me!

"Thank you, Mr. Willy (Frank Spohr). Thank you ... "

On Relegating Facebook

"Remember, remember the 11th of Novem ... uh ... January. The Facebook treason and plot; I see no reason why the Facebook treason should ever be forgot."

I finally relegated Facebook by deactivating my account. I understand that my digital imprint is still going to be out there, but that wasn't why I broke ties with the social networking giant. I went western show-down on Facebook, because it is the gateway drug to being a full-on creeper. Stalking is now socially acceptable, and that freaks me out. I wasn't worried about having to fend off strange, hairy, overweight, cheeto-crumb-infested maniacs ... I was worried that I'd become one.

Here's to old-school human interaction.

Cheers.

Separation Anxiety Kitty

Over the last week and a half, I've been house/cat - sitting for my grandfather while he is away visiting our southern kin. Usually, I love animals, yet as of just recently, I think I might actually hate them. My heart is not unlike others who ooh and aww when they see a pathetic feline begging for attention. However, if said cat has separation anxiety disorder, your empathy will steadily wan, followed by your normally humane inclination toward animals, followed by your conscience that keeps your barbaric instincts in check with your normally humane inclination toward animals.

Here is the Wikipedia entry on the disorder:

Separation anxiety disorder is a psychological condition in which an individual experiences excessive anxiety regarding separation from home or from people to whom the individual has a strong emotional attachment (like a father and mother). It becomes a disorder when the separation reaction becomes strong enough to impair people's ability to conduct their day to day lives and relationships.

My grandmother was the first bond to break for this cat. She loved having "Kitty" on her lap 24/7, and Kitty loved being there. Since grandma passed away, Kitty has only had the attention of my grandfather, who is only moderately affectionate toward her (for good reason), and that of the occasional drop-in friend or family member. And now that grandpa is on a furball-free vacation - broken bond number two - Kitty has entered into full-on disorder mode. Oh, happy day.

My official grievances against Kitty the cat:
1) Kitty must be touching me at all times
2) Kitty will only eat when I am near her food dish
3) Kitty sleeps all day when I'm gone
4) Kitty wants attention all night when I sleep
5) Kitty jostles the doorknob when I lock her out of my room at night
6) Kitty's meows sound like dying children
7) Kitty seems to be gifted with omniscience and omnipresence
8) Kitty is an evil manipulator
9) Kitty is merciless
10) Kitty is named Kitty

Since I am unable to function as a normal human being, I believe she is creating in me the converse disorder: Proximity Anxiety Disorder, which has entered me into an inescapable, demented yin and yang, cyclical, symbiotic love/hate relationship.

I'm like Harry Potter and Kitty is like Lord Voldemort.

The saga continues ...

Weed Eater

Monday, I took a moment to walk around a little lake by my house and just enjoy the small things. While I was taking a picture of an ant on a tree, this guy came up to me and asked, "You like taking pictures of trees?"

Uh, sure. I guess. My new friend told me that he was researching edible weeds, because he was convinced that all hell is going to break loose this fall. Something "big" will happen late this August and another thing will happen in late October. Jerusalem will attack Iran or something to that effect. The Dollar with be worthless. Food will be gone in a matter of hours. Millions of people will die of starvation in the cities. Also, Dinosaurs are a myth. The pyramids have hieroglyphs of space ships and airplanes. The City of Atlantis is real and still exists as a functioning society.

He cited: http://www.december212012.com/

It.Was.A.Trip.

Two-way dialog was tricky to achieve at times, because he wanted to explain every weed in detail, medicinal and nutritional properties. Poke weed, Stinging Nettles, Jerusalem artichoke, Plantain, Dandelion, and more. He made me take pics of them so that I would remember to look them up on the Internet. To my shame, I haven't looked them up. I probably walked with this guy for an hour, listening to his theories, asking questions about faith and life when I had opportunity. I felt bad for him, but I'll withhold most of my pity until we're through the fall season. Just in case he's right.

Life is so much more interesting outside of Cerner ... :)

Time to stockpile water, ammo, and fishhooks.

Office Mischief

Just a few moments ago my co-worker, Eric Ranes, was dialed into a phone lecture with probably 100 + other people, and as he took his phone off mute to respond to his name at the role call, I snuck up behind him with an abominable snowman action figure, which growls when you squeeze its tummy.

Speaker: "Associate A?"
Associate A: "Yes, I'm here."
Speaker: "Associate B?"
Associate B: "Yes, I'm here"
Speaker: "Eric Ranes?"
Eric: "Yes I'm ... GrrrrrRRRRRRRrrrr!!!!!"

That pretty much made my day.

Scribblenauts - I must have this

My co-worker just shot me a link to this Nintendo DS game called Scribblenauts. Check out the link! There is a preview video if you scroll down. This game might twist my arm enough to actually buy a Nintendo DS. We'll see.

SCRIBBLENAUTS - THE BEST GAME EVER - MAYBE...

The Mexecutioner

Yesterday I went to another Royals game, this time with my team from work. To celebrate the occasion, and having high hopes of getting on the CrownVision screen, I dressed up as the Mexecutioner. I've since realized that some people are spelling it "Mexi" - cutioner, but I wanted the emphasis on execution.

If you're not following - the Royals have a closing pitcher from Mexico, and he's been nicknamed the Mexecutioner, because he destroys people. The only problem is that he comes in to save games when the Royals are winning ... soooo ... he needs to make the most of his appearance. It might be fair to call him a myth or legend, since we so rarely see him.

Anyway, here is a pic of me in the garb, but without my black bandito bandanna.




Needless to say, how could the CrownVision resist that? Around the bottom of the 6th inning I got about 25 seconds of airtime; the maracas were shaking on the Pepsi Party Porch and I was hamming it up for my brief moment in the limelight. I'd like to think that I inspired the Royals to step it up that inning - it was the only inning they scored a run - one run.

After leaving the Pepsi Party Porch, I got multiple high-fives and "F*** yeah, it's the F***ing Mexecutioner!" Not sure why people cuss when they're excited, but it was funny. One fan actually asked to take a picture with me. I humbly accepted.

Why Sidney Ponson Didn't Cut It

I was at one of the last games where Sidney Ponson pitched for the Royals, and I think he did pretty well, but I noticed something during his work out that might clue us in on why he was having so much trouble. I captured this phenomenon in a series of photographs. See below.

1) Here we see a focused and determined Ponson. About to throw some long toss and loosen up.



2) The wind-up. Good extension; still focused.



3) The delivery - tucks the glove; doesn't throw across his body. An overall good toss.



4) Whoops! What's going on out there? Focused, but not on baseball.



5) Screw baseball. I'm watching the 100-foot Homer Simpson.



I think our man has a little case of the, well, come on ... A.D.D. it up folks ...

P.S.
Dear Royals,

Please stop playing cartoons during our starting pitcher's warm up. Play nothing but Bon Jovi and ACDC music.

Thank you,

Tom Page

Jaspertacular

My nephew has some wicked dance moves. These aren't even his best. But they're still Jaspertacular. Enjoy.

Your Goose is Cooked 2.0: Sweet Revenge

So, about a year and one half ago, I blogificated a post called Your goose is cooked, which chronicled my run-in ...er... a goose's run-in with my parked car's windshield. It was funny and infuriating all at the same time.

::Connecting to present day::

The company I work for has lots of corporate grass space surrounding its building, and this area is strictly reserved for the landing, honking, pooping, and mating of Canadian geese. American and/or Mexican geese apparently have no right to the lush real estate. You have NO IDEA how many times, while walking from the parking lot, I've contemplated rushing the bunch of them, seeking revenge for my desecrated 1982 BMW.

Thus far, I've restrained myself from any such termination-inducing actions. But Karma has not forgotten me! One of these geese has apparently lost it's ability or desire to fly and has taken up residence in our back parking lot. Ha! It sucks to suck, goose! Welcome to the corporate world, where your friends take off just as soon as they land and leave you wading through all the crap they left behind.

We've named him/her "Goosen Von Christmas" for no particular reason, other than that was the first conglomeration of bad names we came up with.

(P.S. I don't really feel that way about the corporate world. I just thought it sounded clever)

Even though I constantly mock this goose, I have not yet worked up the courage to approach the fowl and take a really close-up photo. I prefer to remain outside of striking distance. This is the best I could manage:


Could it be the very same bird that drunk-goosed itself into my windshield? Perhaps.



But, probably not ...

Space Invaders

Sometimes it's fun to be creepy and spy on people at coffee shops. Today I've noticed a few interesting things ...

Saturday morning coffee goers are very happy. They want to talk to everyone, especially couples with babies. I just witnessed a man walk up to a group of four (two couples, each with a baby), who were in the middle of a fairly heavy conversation, and insert himself into their lives like he was good old cousin Eddie.

It was something like this:

Scene: Two couples sit at a small table near the front of a coffee shop, discussing economics and whatnot. Man 1, and Woman 2 are holding babies.

Man 1: "You see, if cars become more efficient, then that means we will need fewer cars made each year, and fewer laborers to produce them, thus unemployment increases."

Woman 1: "No, that's the classic Luddite fallacy. Technology that replaces a worker, doesn't necessarily mean that there won't be another job created for them elsewhere."

Man 2: "But, is it really the Luddite fallacy? Cars aren't replacing human labor, unless people in India are buying cars over riding rickshaws. I mean, I'm a Neo-Luddite for sure but ...”

Enter 50-year-old man. He notices the babies, walks up to Woman 2, and puts himself at the level of the baby and talks to it, interrupting the adult conversation.

Stranger: “Well, hello there! Aren’t you a special baby? Yes, you are! What’s your name?

Woman 2: (slightly perturbed) “Her name is Anna.”

Stranger: (ignores Woman 2 and maintains focus on the baby) “Ooooh! Anna. That’s a pretty name. You’re a pretty girl aren’t you?”

Man 2: “Like I was saying, I’m a Neo-Luddite but…”

Stranger: (to baby) “Luddy-duddy-fuddy-whuddy. Yes, uh huh, luddy-duddy! Can you say, luddy-duddy? Oh, yes you can, uh huh!”

This seriously took place before my very own eyes. (more or less)

Childhood Sports Movies Power-Rankings

At lunch today, a few co-workers were discussing some of the more prominent miracle-plays to happen in our favorite childhood sports movies, and that inspired me to create a top-ten power-ranking. These rankings are solely based on how awesome I think something is in comparison to something else that is not-so-awesome.


10. The Underhand Toss
Film: Rookie of the Year
Synopsis: Our teenage hero, who gained Big League pitching strength after breaking his arm and having it heal super-strong, loses his ability in the big game. He only needs one more strike, and since he can't pitch for crap without his magic muscle arm, he does the underhand toss as a tribute to his mom's softball days and K's the big bad mighty Casey on the opposing team. Lame.

9. Miss Jonathan Brandis
Film: Lady Bugs
Synopsis: A girls' soccer team really sucks, so the coach puts in his girlfriend's soccer-star son - dressed in drag. He/she whups-up on everyone and gives the team some confidence, so they can eventually win on their own. Also, still in drag, Brandis sneaks into a girls' slumber party/skinny dipping event - this deserves an honorable mention.

8. Michael Jordan does Stretch Armstrong
Film: Space Jam
Synopsis: While playing golf with Bill Murray, Michael Jordan gets sucked into a cup on a green and is transported into Looney Toon land. He is forced to play against martian cartoons, who have hijacked NBA players' abilities. On the last play he stretches his arm like 50 feet to almost dunk/weak layup for the win.

7. The Crane
Film: the Karate Kid
Synopsis: Some kid gets beat up a lot at school, so his karate teacher tells him to stand like a bird and then kick at people, and it actually works.

6. "Get In Your Home"
Film: Happy Gilmore
Synopsis: Adam Sandler tries to get his golf ball in the cup via forceful verbal confrontation; it does not work. So, he gets a hockey stick putter and that works pretty well.

5. Jamaican Bobsled Team
Film: Cool Runnings
Synopsis: Jamaicans are pretty good at push-cart races and running, so a handful of mediocre athletes decide to run and push a sled on ice ... in Canada ... in the Olympics.

4. The Knuckle Puck
Film: D2: The Mighty Ducks
Synopsis: Some kid from the hood figures out how to defy gravity with a hockey-puck, making it impossible to stop. This kid-actor now does bit parts on SNL and gets paid in goodburgers.

3. Science vs. Nature - led by Squints
Film: Sandlot
Synopsis: A beast is holding a Bell hostage ...er, sorry wrong movie ...is holding a ball hostage that was signed by Babe Ruth. The schmuck kid that took it from his step dad's trophy case and actually played with it ("...and actually played with it"?) is lucky that he has faithful and smart friends that help him get it back. Benjamin "squints" Palladorus, plays lookout as the crew works a colossal erector set machine, complete with catapult. They try to launch the ball out of the beast's yard. But, the beast apparently has massive hops, and can jump out of the atmosphere, so he stops it ... and the Sandlot team loses.

2. The Flying-V
Film: Mighty Ducks 1 and 2
Synopsis: Emilio Esvatez is from Minnesota, so he likes geese, so he comes up with the "Flying V," otherwise known as the wedge. This juggernaut formation is nearly unstoppable, that is, until the team meets Iceland in D2.

1. The Annexation of Puerto Rico
Film: Little Giants
Synopsis: Rick Moranus is coaching against his brother's team, the Cowboys. His own team is pretty bad, so they rely on quick thinking and Divine intervention. To win the game, the kid that is smarter than John Madden (not a big accomplishment), computes some facts and figures on his Apple Green-screen, and "poof" the Annexation of Puerto Rico is born. The QB hikes the ball and sets it down behind the Center, who picks it up and holds on to it while everyone runs around trying to figure out where the ball is. Once the coast is clear, the 250 pound 8 year old starts his 90 yard trot to the endzone. He gets hammered, but the ball pops loose and gets lateraled a few times and then the kid who never gets to see his dad, sees his dad in the endzone, and of course, he gets the ball and now has the motivation to run into the endzone, so he does. Game, set, match - Little Giants for the win.

Alternative Calendar

A few months ago I went into a Hallmark store and asked for a 2008 wall calendar. They basically had two: Football ... or ... Kittens. I like most men my own age chose kittens without even blinking an eye. However, as the kittens "hung around" (i slay me) more and more, their disturbing pro-fuzz constitutions began to haunt me. They would meow things like, "Vengence for all lolcats! Give us justice! Down with icanhascheezburger.com! No taxation without repurresentation!"

I was at a loss. What to do when your kitten calendar makes you fear entering your own room? Give in? Forsake all lolcats? Make like a kitten and be weak and annoying? No you've got to show 'em who's top dog. You fight back. You take matters into your own hands.

You do this:



Now the only thing I hear the calendar kittens say is, "Ich liebe Deutschland!"

Just cuz I need a new post

I don't really have anything to type that is of any importance at all, so I'll just be random.

Today I was in a meeting where I doodled cows being sucked up by spaceships rather than pay attention to the conference call. I felt bad at first, but I already had a grasp for what was being discussed, so I drew Sci-Fi scenes.

I'm pretty sure that out of all animals on the planet, aliens steal cows the most.. And here are my reasons why:

1.) It's probably hard to find milk in space. They for sure have some sort of cosmic, chemical substitute; but who really wants that?

2.) From a liability standpoint if you're an alien, dropping a cow due to tractor beam malfunction, is less likely to get you sued than dropping a rhino or a sperm whale.

3.) Availability. Cows are everywhere. 6 out of 7 continents have some sort of cow creature. You can pretty much set your spaceship on cruise control, hit any old land mass, and find yourself a cow. Even though all cow types are special, it's a widely known fact that E.T.s prefer bovine from the Midwestern United States.

4.) Cows are dumb. Whether they're chewing cud on the ground, or chewing cud on a spaceship - as long as there's cud to chew - they're occupied and content.

5.) In the early 80's the rest of the galaxy discovered the Steve Miller Band, and realizing that there would never ever be "space cowboys" until there were cows in space, aliens were quick to fill this niche gap among the greater intergalactic culture.

Perhaps cows do jump over the moon (via spacecraft that is).

::Tom, nerding out::

Stuff White People Like

Recently, I was tipped off about this fun little blog called Stuff White People Like. It's pretty awesome - and scary if you happen to be of the Caucasian persuasion (i.e. being white), because you'll find yourself saying, "Oh, I really do like/say that type of thing."

There are about 90 items on the list thus far, which includes coffee, film festivals, non-profit organizations, yoga, Mos Def, shorts and more!

Here are a few things they should add to the list:

1 COPS
2 Bumper Stickers
3 Nalgene Bottles
4 Performance Fleece
5 Blogs about white people

Chaos at the snackerie

Yesterday, as I was minding my own business at a local snackerie (it's French, like 'McDonalds'), these two femme fatales seated themselves at my table. Honestly, I feared that I was on the verge of experiencing a well-crafted hoodwinking or purse snatch - though I don't carry a purse, nor do I have enough money to necessitate owning one, and actually should never need one on account of my masculinity, but this is all egregious verbosity.

After I queried the intruding vagrants, much to my chagrin, they assaulted me with scandalous propaganda. What could I do, but avert my eyes and take a fetal yet mobile position? So I made use of the little known martial art of Roly-Poly Chai Tea, where one forms an impenetrable outer shell, but leaves room for his/her appendages to proceed.

(Note: Many over the years have incorrectly observed this maneuver as 'crawling,' but it is not.)

Once I had secured a favorable position and was no longer out-flanked, I turned to my assailants and accosted them with irreverent vernacular. But they were persistent. Burning with patriotism, I felt it was my duty as an American to capture their image via camera phone and render it to the local authorities.

The task proved difficult, but I feel that the evidence will be sufficient to determine their identities. ALERT YOUR NEIGHBORHOOD WATCH, AND DO NOT CASH CHECKS FOR THESE WOMEN: