My First Football Game - Playing with Numbers

So I went to my first professional football game last night. Come to think of it, that would make this my first football game period. I have come to the conclusion that professional football is 95% hype. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed it and had fun. My favorite part was the marching band at halftime. I also enjoyed watching the guy that was sitting in front of me. Every time the Bengals made a good play (a rare occasion) he would stand up and do the Incredible Hulk pose. He looked like he was going to go into coronary arrest. I also enjoyed the fireworks at the beginning, watching the smoke billowing from somewhere outside the stadium (I think someone torched a car) and the excitement when that one player ran real far with the ball. I don't know who he was or exactly what he did but I stood up to watch. Ok, let's have some fun with numbers.

- The minimum wage for a rookie in the NFL is $285,000 ($14,250 per game)

- The average wage for a professional cheerleader in the NFL is $50 per game
- There are on average 24 cheerleaders performing for the entire game.
- So... an NFL rookie earns approximately 1200% more per game than all 24 cheerleaders combined.

- A bottle of water a Bengals game costs $4.25 (25 cents per ounce)

- A gallon of gas cost $2.50 per gallon (2 cents per ounce)

- So... bottle of water at a Bengals game cost 1250% more than gasoline.

- The average parking space within one mile of the stadium is $25 per day

- The average size of a parking space is 180sq ft

- The average size apartment is 1,050sq ft

- The average cost of an apartment (in Cincinnati) is $550 per month

- The avereage parking space at a Bengals game cost 832% more than the average apartment.

- I was at the football game

- My brother was at the same football game

- Each of us did not know where the other one was sitting nor did we go looking.

- We ran into each other after the first quarter.

- There were approximately 45,000 people there.

- I actually don't know what the chances of this one are.

- The Bengals are a professional football team.

- Chances of them performing like one this season, unlikely.

Color Theory 101

Betsy Ross never took a class in color theory but even she knew that you don't put blue on red. That's why she put all of those white stripes there. You've got to keep them separated. Here we are, over 200 years later, and for some reason people still insist that blue looks good on red. Unlike Betsy (and my customers), I did take a class in color theory. I also have years of experience in graphic design along with two degrees (yea, just Associates). And you know what, blue does not look good on red, or vice-versa. I can't even count the times people insist that blue will look good on red, or yellow will read well on white or even the occasional orange and red combo. These are bad choices people. Why won't you believe me? Please for the love of God people, stop butchering my designs with your terrible color combinations.

Weeble Wobble is Not an Insult (in my mind)

I must admit, I once told a pregnant friend that she looked like Buddha. In my defense she was sitting cross legged and smiling. Ok, I have the feeling that I'm not helping my case here. You see the problem is I think much differently than most people. Ok, so that's not the entire problem. The second part of the problem is I also speak portions of my mind that most people know to keep to themselves. I've been known to tell pregnant women that they look like weeble wobbles or are looking a bit lopsided. In fact, I may or may not have said one of those two things as recently as this week.

Ok, before I get beaten down my a mob of angry mothers, let me try to explain the inner workings of my brain. Try to understand that even though this may not be logical to you, in my mind it makes perfect sense. In my mind telling a pregnant women that she looks large is not meant to be an insult. Never in my life have I told a women that she looks fat (my sisters excluded). In my mind large is not the same as fat. I am merely pointing out that she looks like she is about to have a baby. Having a baby is a beautiful thing. Well, maybe not the act of having a baby, that's kind of gross and bloody and usually the baby looks all pruney and cross eyed. But, after a week or two, having a baby turns into a beautiful thing. So I say, be proud of your watermelon shaped protrusion because soon it will be gone and in its place you will have a tiny, pruney cross eyed human that will eventually turn into a cute baby. Weeble wobble is not an insult.

All that being said, I here by resolve to cease making unsolicited comments about the physique of my pregnant friends.

and Now you know, Beer is not a Food

I just bought a book called Essential Lessons in Human Physiology and Hygiene for Schools, printed in 1898. I found it in a bin of books at the thrift store. It cost me 25 cents. Along with the great illustrations, here are the things that I've learned:

1) Wine is not a Food
2) Beer is not a Food
3) There is no alcohol in well baked bread
4) All tobacco users, especially chewers, are great spitters, and in this way they waste much saliva.
5) The skin consists of two layers.
6) A cold bath may be taken every day, if no chill follows. Everyone should take a warm bath at least once a week.
7) Wait 2 to 3 hours after a meal to take a warm bath or 3 to 5 minute for a cold bath.
8) Give the scalp a thorough washing and rubbing at least once a week.
9) The brain of an idiot is usually small and imperfectly developed.

List of 100 life goals number 42

List of 100 life goals number42: Preach in home church. CHECK

Over the weekend I got the opportunity to teach/preach at the three weekend services at my home church, Vineyard Westside. When I was writing my list of life goals earlier this year I reluctantly put this on the list. I wasn't reluctant to put it on there because I didn't want to do it, or I was afraid to do it. Because I did and I wasn't. The reason I was reluctant is that this was one of those goals that was for the most part out of my hands. I like to set goals that I know I can accomplish on my own. This one was for the most part up to God and the church leadership. Well, God said yes to goal number 42 and I preached the three weekend services. It was awesome. I really enjoyed it. If you missed it and have some free time here is the podcast
http://vineyardwestside.com/2009/08/podcast-peace-dan-thoms/

Old Lady with a Mowhawk

Have you ever seen an old lady with a mowhawk, a homeless man with a louis vuitton purse, a baby drinking a wine cooler, or a dog with pierced ears? These thing are not normal. Old ladies are normal, mowhawks aren't incredibly rare. However, seeing both togehter is bizare.

When I ride my new bike people look at me like an old lady with a mowhawk. My bike is a normal road bike and I'm a regular westsider. However, people who ride road bike usualy wear spandex shorts and pointy helmets. I wear jean shorts and a t-shirt. Two regualr things that, in most peoples minds, just don't fit. I had one guy slow down today just to look at me. Well, you can stare all you want because, as sexy as it may look, I'm not wearing spandex shorts!

This is Only a Test

I design signs for a living. It's not really to exciting but most of life isn't. Along with all of the other signs I design, I design quite a few church signs. When I design a sign it is important to put the most pertinent information the largest. Therefor when I design a church sign I like to make the pastors name small. The smaller the better. This is also an interesting test of sorts since it is usually the churches pastor who is ordering the sign. Will they ask me to increase the size of their name, and if so by how much? It may be wrong, but whenever a pastor tells me to make their name dramatically bigger, I tend to form a negative opinion about their church. What do you think?

Killing the Introvert Within

I've said this before but I am an introvert. And I'm not just borderline introverted. The last test I took put me at somewhere over 70%. That being the case, I generally avoid situations that force me to be surrounded by strangers. I think the perfect ratio for a crowd is 75% friends, 25% strangers. That being said, going to a party at a strangers house where I only know 2 people would normally be out of the question. That just sounds uncomfortable. However, in an effort to kill the introvert within, Saturday, I did just the opposite of my first inclination. (that's what George Costanza would do) I went to a party at a strangers house where I only knew two people. (I should also mention that I only have physically talked to those two people one time and mostly know them from facebook)

I gave myself a pep talk on my way there. I said, "you will be fun, you will be outgoing, you will be extroverted." And you know what, I had fun. And why shouldn't I, I'm a fun guy. Although one girl did imply that I was boring. She couldn't have been serious though. It was probably the Bud Lite talking. I am not boring. Talking is one of my skill sets.

Afterwords I analyzed myself and this is what I found.
1) I tend to find a place at a party and stay there. I'm not much for walking around and trying to meet new people. I prefer people to come to me.
2) I have nervous habits that included needing to hold a beverage or eating chips during awkward pauses. I drink when I'm don't know what to do so I guess it's a good think I'm not an alcoholic.
3) It takes me about an hour to become talkative.
4) I don't speak Portuguese or Spanish.
5) A 14 to 1 ratio of girls to guys at a table isn't so bad.
6) I have no sense of time and will stay at a party until 2am talking to people who used to be strangers.
7) I like strangers.

And now for some more Brazilian facts.
1) Brazilians shower at least once and often twice a day unlike Americans who are dirty.
2) I Brazil the bacon is not nearly as good as it is in America.
3) A caipira is the Brazilian equivalent of the American redneck.
4) In Brazil people generally don't come home from the clubs until after 6am.

The Dream

Last night I had a dream, an odd dream. As soon as the dream ended I woke up and thought to myself, "Perhaps I should write this down." But, I was tired and decided that if the dream was of any importance I would remember it in the morning. And I did. Here is the dream.

Scene 1: I find myself in a large room, a basketball court, a gym. As I later discovered it was a church's gym. Next to me stands a small boy and in front of me is a crowd of teenagers, or perhaps they were kids. I'm not sure. The one thing I am sure of is they were angry and they were violent. They wanted to kill the kid that was standing next to me. I pleaded with them that this was wrong, that they should just leave the kid alone. I stepped in front of the kid but it was no good. There were too many of them. They pushed me out of the way and attacked the kid. Throwing him to the ground they kicked him in his side, beating him mercilessly until he was dead.

Scene 2: It's the next day and I find myself in the same church. This time I'm in a smaller room, most likely a Sunday School room that comes off of a longer hallway. My sister Faith is there and I'm telling her what I saw and asking if I should tell someone. She is apparently more logical than I am and says yes. We walk down the hall and into the church entrance way. I can see people in the auditorium and I'm not sure if church was just starting on ending. I find my father and tell him what I saw. He suggest I tell one of the pastors but since they are not available I tell the person handing out the flyers, she is related to the pastors and that somehow makes her in charge. I pull her aside and tell her what had happened. "I think it happened here, here at the church, I think. " I tell her. I'm visibly upset and a bit disoriented.

Scene 3: I'm in a white van, my father is driving. We are in a caravan of 3 white vans. The other two are in front of us, the one in the very front being different than the others. As we pull up to a small house I look out the window and see 12 white donkeys standing in two rows, staggered inward. They look ghostly. It scares me and I turn my head but when I look back they are gone. I don't remember counting the donkeys but for some reason when I wake up I think that there were 12. The next thing I know we are in the house and something happens. I see something. Maybe a ghost. I'm not sure. I can't remember anything after this point. I can't remember what happens inside the house.

So, what does it mean? Why did I have this dream? Why 12 white donkeys? Why was that kid beaten to death at church? What happened in the house? Any ideas?

Existence - Predestined or Not

Would I exist had my parents never met? Biologically I am a combination of both of their genes but are we related spiritually? Do my soul and spirit share their spiritual DNA? Would my spirit exist in another body had they never found each other? Was I destined to exist one way or another or was this the only way?

I think about these things when I hear people who had premarital sex and in turn have a child say things like, "But it if had not been for them I never would have had my baby." Perhaps they wouldn't have had that baby but would that person have existed anyways, somewhere, somehow. Perhaps not. Maybe it doesn't matter. I don't know. What do you think?

Not just a Survivor

Two. That's the number of times I've sent audition videos in to Survivor. I used to be a huge fan. In the course of over 10 years I rarely missed a show. I wanted so badly to be on that show. And after every season a good number of the props would go up for auction on eBay (another one of my favorite things.) Unfortunately for me, the prices that the props brought were always outrageous. Today, however, I finally bought some. A guy on craigslist sold me props that he had previously paid over $1,700 for for $100. That's what you call depreciation.

Can you believe that God baited me with Survivor props? He did and that's how I met Bob, at least that's what we are going to call him in this blog. Bob was 50 years old, overweight, a slow talker with glassy eyes and Bob wanted to talk, so we talked. Some people have no one to talk to. I have the feeling that a lot of people have given up on Bob. Most people probably consider him to be a lost cause. Bob was selling all of his stuff because he was being foreclosed on and had no where to go. He hadn't paid his mortgage in months and the IRS was after him for back taxes. He had spent all of the money that he had and all of the money that he didn't have. Cash advances, credit cards, bank accounts, all exhausted. $250,000 spent on crack. He told me that he wasn't smoking crack anymore but was now addicted to prescription drugs. He had taken so many for so long they didn't do much for him anymore. In fact, he had taken some a few hours ago. On top of his drug problems he had mental issues, suffered from depression, and had physical problems. I could hear the hopelessness in every word. He said that when he ran out of money he would probably end up overdosing and that would be the end of him. He would have no money and he would have no home so what was the point?

Bob needed someone to listen. He also needed someone to encourage him and at that moment in time, that person was me. I told him that there is hope and that no matter how bad he thinks his life is, no matter how little he ends up having, there were people in the world who are much worse off than him. I told him about the kids that I had met in India, homeless and like him, drug addicted. I told him about the happy families that lived in houses smaller than his garage. He told me that he didn't think he would live until he was 30 and now that he was 50 but he was certain that he couldn't possibly live much longer. I told him he was wrong the first time and perhaps he would be saying the same thing at 75.

"You can make it," I said.
"You think," he replied.
"Absolutely."

Say a prayer for Bob (even though that's not his real name God will know who your talking about.) I invited him to church and you never know. He could come. In God's eyes there's no such thing as a lost cause.

Your so old that...

I just want to apologize for this post in advance. I went to a concert and fireworks at the park tonight and spent a lot of time thinking of old jokes. I really do love old people.

They announced from the stage that Green Township was celebrating their 200th anniversary this year. I'm pretty sure that some of the folks in the audience were founding members. I couldn't help but to wonder how all of these people were going to stay up late enough to watch fireworks. Somewhere there's a nursing home with a full staff being paid time and a half to take care of no one. Seriously though, there were a lot of single chicks there. Strangely they all had the same nickname, Great Grandma. If you like short term relationships than this was the perfect place to pick up chicks. Pretty much any relationship is a short term when your that old. Some of them were pretty lively though. I saw a few dancing or as I heard one man quip, "Getting his moneys worth from his new hips." They had a pharmacist working the beer booth . The last think you want at a concert is for half of your audience to go into cardiac arrest from a bad reaction between their medication and alcohol. If I was more of an entrepreneur I would have rented two booths. The first one would have sold old fashioned salt water taffy, the second one, denture cream. There was a cover band playing oldies for a lot of the time. Or as the guy behind me called it, "the devils music." I tend to agree.