Happy Festivus, everybody!

I got a lot of problems with you people, and now you're gonna hear about it!

John Sidney McCain III. Back in my younger years, I thought you were a man of honor and integrity. But this past year has shown you for what you truly are: a vicious, senile old coot who's mad because the world changed while you were napping. Time to retire.

San Francisco Giants bandwagoners. On second thought, bandwagon fans of any successful sports team. You all suck.

Soccer player Nigel de Jong, probably the dirtiest on the planet. That kick you leveled on Xabi Alonso in the World Cup final made for scary and spectacular video, but on the field it was a colossal dick move. You're lucky you didn't break any of his ribs, asshole.

On that same note, the French national team for playing like children on the field and acting like spoiled brats off it. Grow up.

Whoever thought it was okay to take Blake Edwards, Leslie Nielsen, Peter Graves, John Forsythe, Rue McClanahan, Dennis Hopper, my fellow Eagle Scout Jack Murtha, J.D. Salinger, world's (un)luckiest man Tsutomu Yamaguchi, Richard Holbrooke, Elizabeth Edwards, John Wooden, Sparky Anderson, Bobby Thomson and Bob Feller. But thanks for taking Steinbrenner.

Car manufacturers that refuse to offer manual transmissions—and for that matter, lazy Americans who can't be arsed to learn how to work a clutch. It gives you a little workout and saves you gas, what's not to like? (And on that note, please watch this video.)

Bud Selig, for refusing to overturn the blown call that denied Armando Galarraga the 21st perfect game in Major League Baseball history. For a man who talks about "the integrity of the game," you sure are short on action.

Lew Wolff, majority owner of my beloved Oakland Athletics, for trying to move the team to San Jose. Although the way things are going, it looks like you'll be stuck in Oakland…with all the civic leaders you pissed off. Consider it a preview of Hell.

Larry Ellison, for not buying the Warriors. Could you please atone for this by buying out Lew's share of the A's? We'd still love to have a sugar daddy at the Coliseum complex.

My old friend James McCanna, for being all the way at the other end of California finishing up his master's at UC San Diego. Dude, come back home to the Bay. We miss you.

And finally, my girlfriend Roxanne—because I feel like I don't get to see you enough! I know this may sound sorta whiny, but 3-4 weekends a month and the occasional lunch in San Francisco doesn't seem like an adequate amount of time with you. I love you, teddybear. :-*

So ends my airing of grievances. Enjoy dinner by the aluminum pole, and happy Festivus!

I is a podcaster!

Forgive me for lapsing into lolspeak (and also for violating my promise to post here more often). But yeah, I am now doing a podcast and it's quite a lot of fun. It's called Cinematic Spin, and it's just me and my old friend Big Dave Senden reviewing movies. Our first victim was Tron Legacy, and we agreed that while the plot is skinny, it's not a movie you watch for the story. Here's where you can find it, and feel free to buzz us with feedback—our contact info is at the end.

New things! (part 1)

So except for a few revisions to old posts, I've been gone from this blog for the last…<checks calendar> well, way too long. And there are things that have happened since then! Good things, weird things, things that are deserving of explanation.

Wow. Roy Halladay.

Harry Leroy Halladay III is not human. There, I said it. How else to explain not just his perfect game back in May, but his 21-10 record and the fact that he just twirled the second playoff no-hitter in MLB history—in his first ever playoff start?

[Post deleted]

So yeah, there was a post here once. But I deleted it because I remembered its intended target/recipient demonstrated through their behavior that they were undeserving of the common courtesy it was based on. So it goes.

Catching up

I've neglected this blog for the last month, which is inexcusable. Thankfully, I am back and I have plenty of material for entries—for example, I just returned from a weekend trip to Ohio for my grandpa's 80th birthday, and oh the things I can talk about.
But I think I'll start off a little later today with a look back at my relationship with [name deleted]. It's her 23rd birthday today, and it seems like a perfect time for a post-mortem.

[UPDATED 11-3-2010] Eh. Nevermind that last part. She ain't worth it.

Breaking rules and breaking hearts

Never let a girl go to bed angry at you, and never let yourself go to bed scared. Two rules I seem to have done an awfully good job of breaking this past week.

I incurred Roxanne's anger with my words on Monday night and with my deeds last night—the first was during an IM conversation when I stated that I was tired and might have a hard time remembering what we said the next morning, and the second was a post on this blog that I had hoped would convey some of my feelings about her but instead felt like public boasting on a part of our relationship that really shouldn't be public. (It came down, and I edited an earlier post, after she sent me a message asking me to do so.) Maybe I'm getting borderline paranoid, but now I'm worried—scratch that, terrified—that I'm smothering this amazing and promising relationship in its crib.

I love Roxanne. Genuinely and without reservation. She's warm, captivating, charming, intelligent, outgoing and curious, and the 40 hours I spent with her this past week only deepened the peace and contentment I feel whenever she's around. I don't think I let it show, but I was thrilled and relieved on Thursday night when she told me my feelings were not unrequited, that she loved me too. Before we fell asleep that night, wrapped up in one another, I briefly wondered if I had broken my streak of dead-end or spectacularly soured relationships.
But right now, I'm wondering if all I've broken are those two rules and our two hearts.

Bless Me Father

So I've been grappling with this short story idea for a while. It started out as a joke of sorts, when I was having dinner with my friend Big Dave and I made a comment to the effect of "a hitman and a priest walk into a bar." Took us about 5 seconds before we realized that that would make a great story, possibly even a good script for a short film.
I started playing around with the idea, and settled on a hitman coming into a Catholic church to give confession. Then the hitman got a sex change because I figured female contract killers deserved their due—I'm pretty sure they do exist, but they're probably just as discreet as their male counterparts. Next was the idea that she's not just there to give confession; the phrase "Your turn, Father" got stuck in my head and I began wondering whether the priest was just another contract or something more personal for her.
Now I wish I had more to go on than this:

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. My name is Corinne Renaud, and it has been twelve years since my last confession. In that time, I have turned my back on God and His commandments, and I have killed. Men, women, rich, poor, the criminal and the clean-living alike. 127 lives have ended because of me, and tonight I wish to end this long and bloody run."
Corinne heaved a sigh of relief and fingered her rosary beads for a moment. She closed her eyes and straightened her posture, and as she rose, she couldn't help but smile evilly as the words came out:
"Your turn, Father."

Roxanne

So I just spent 23 hours with Roxanne. I wish it had been more.

Okay, some background first. Roxanne is this girl whom I've known for about 2 months and have been officially dating for the last 3 weeks. She's a UC Berkeley grad, intelligent, charming, very attractive, and a fantastic kisser, among many other qualities which I hope to elaborate on in future installments. Basically, every time I've been with her, I've come away wondering how it took me this long to find a girl this cool.
Anyways. Yesterday, she came over to Pleasanton for an afternoon/evening that included deep-dish pizza at Zachary's and the RiffTrax Live presentation of Reefer Madness, with plenty of cuddling/making out scattered throughout. It was fantastic, every hour of it. We laughed, we sang, we kissed, we fell asleep in each other's arms, and through it all I felt a peace I haven't experienced in far too long. She brings out parts of my personality that had been gathering dust for a while—lover, protector—and being with her reminds me that for all the shit in the world, there are still some good and beautiful things left.

I only hope she decides to stick around for a while.

First post. Whoopee.

Yes, I realize I'm late to the blogging party, but since I fancy myself a writer in some form in the future, I figured it'd be good to finally come in and have a regular avenue for venting about my thoughts/activities/whatever. So I shall start off with a little info dump, for those who barely know me, and speed right to what's going on in the here and now.

Info dump: Name's Scott (obviously). 25 years old and I've spent them all in a sleepy little mid-size California city called Pleasanton. Journalism/film student at Diablo Valley College. Made black belt in 2000 (taekwon-do), Eagle Scout in '03, and my first batch of bananas foster back in May of this year. Used to be a newspaper courier, but got laid off in January '09 after two years on the job. Can be incredibly self-deprecating at times. Horrible luck with dating, though that may be changing. Drive stick, and so will my kids. Big fan of red wine, Hong Kong action movies, stop-motion animation, World War II airplanes, the Oakland Athletics, the San Jose Sharks, the TV show Leverage, Chelsea F.C., and Monty Python. There's more, but I don't want to bore you.

Here and now: Carrying 12 units this semester, looking to transfer to San Francisco State or Cal State Monterey Bay in 2012 and graduate by my 30th birthday in '15. Doing grunt work for my mother's indie law practice to earn a little dosh. Dating an amazing girl whom I am incredibly lucky to have in my life—her name's Roxanne, I'll tell you more later on. Trying to get a small film company off the ground—also a matter for future explanation. And despite everything I have to juggle, I have this deep-set confidence that it's all going to work out perfectly. Or close to it, anyways.

Well, that's it for this first post. Stay tuned—I might actually write something interesting in the near future.