D-cycle

8:40am
B-Trip: Home

It's recycling day here at the ol' Pice residence. So I'm spending this D multi-tasking my way through a stack of old newspapers, making sure I'm not about to toss out something of monumental brilliance.

Nope. Nothing.


2:10pm
B-Trip: Home

This D could have waited, but I'm about to take a shower. (Admittedly, that portion of my morning routine is somewhat late today.)

The way I see it, it's better to squeeze out whatever I can now than to feel the urge in a little while and spend the rest my day wandering around aimlessly with an unseemly bunghole. Because, you know, fresh out of the shower my b-crack is a national treasure. Like Old Faithful. Or Elvis Stojko.

But probably more like Old Faithful.

(As you might expect, I'm eager to conduct some mass spectroscopy to make a definitive determination on this pressing matter, but the grant is still pending. Stupid Bush Administration! Why must you loathe scientific research?!!)

Meanwhile, I can hear Elle absolutely rocking out to the 'Grey's Anatomy' theme song in the other room. The earnest vocals bring an air of poignancy to this D.

Man, I gotta get this one right...

Ringy Dingy

8:14am
B-Trip: Home

All who know me agree that I am, if nothing else, a southpaw and a newlywed.

Standing on that lake shore in front of everyone we hold dear, I pledged my eternal love to Elle and symbolized it with a band of platinum. What hadn't occurred to me until later was the daily ritual that same ring would engage in for the rest of my days.

You see, I wipe with my left hand.

So each time yours truly Takes D, my ring has a front row seat to an event that, let's just say, I've been having some difficulty selling season tickets to.

And how many wipes does it take to 'cleanse the palate'? Five or so? (I'll have to get back to you on that.) Suffice it to say several times per D this emblem of my eternal affection must be shaking its head in resignation at the cruel hand fate has placed it upon. After all, its a ring. Rings are supposed to enjoy a glamorous existence. Yachts, castles, the odd casino fistfight....no way it bargained for this. And although you could say it's just along for the ride, this is a journey that would make even Mike Rowe wince.

Sometimes I think it's actually trying to tell me something. Maybe something like: "Grin & Bear It." After all, that's what being married is all about, right? Rolling up your sleeves and taking care of business?

No, wait. Sounds like it might be saying something else. (It speaks with a thick Armenian accent that's difficult to make out).

"Remove me when you Take D."

Oh. Hmmm...Did you guys hear something? I didn't hear anything.


5:15pm
B-Trip: Home

File this one under 'Extenda-D'.

If you couldn't tell, I'm going through a crossword renaissance. So although I just attended to the 'business at hand' in short order, I was already fully immersed in today's offering. Astonishing progress kept me from putting the puzzle down, which in turn kept me from finishing up.

It's times like these, I've noticed, when your better judgment has been entirely abandoned, that your body relies on certain evolutionarily-honed defenses to keep you from wasting your entire life. Thus, as I approached the fifteen-minute mark, my legs fell asleep.

You may have won the battle, Body, but I'm already working up my next D! I'll finish that crossword puzzle yet!

On D and Dying

8:14am
B-Trip: Home

Sitting here with my trusty Monday Morning D companion....the LA Times Health Section.

Reading about "graceful exits", all the rage amongst the elderly after Art Buchwald's recent passing. When confronted with a terminal diagnosis, more and more people are opting to spend their final days in the relative serenity of hospice care instead of exhausting all manner of aggressive treatments in a desperate attempt to squeeze out a few more days/months/years. The quality of life in which these people spend their waning time trumps anything modern medicine has to offer.

Why I felt like telling you this, I'm not sure. And quite frankly, I just read this article hoping to find an answer to a question that's plagued me for years:

Colostomy bag...awesome or not-so-awesome?

But no such luck. I did, however, come to the realization that I feel the same way about dying as I do about Taking D:

It's going to happen. Might as well do it on your own terms.


3:28pm
B-Trip: Home

Reading The Week.

As far as I'm concerned, it's the best magazine out there, summing up all the events of the past seven days into enjoyable bite-sized pieces. National/International news, pop culture, food, travel...everything you need. I like to start in the middle with the editorial cartoons, then flip back a page for the Wit & Wisdom quotes - the majority of which come from deceased artists and world leaders (which always blows me away...I mean, how did they get these quotes from Winston Churchill and Oscar Wilde last week??). Some things I'm not meant to understand.

I then digest the rest in no particular order. In many ways The Week is my personal assistant, keeping me up-to-speed on relevant goings on around the globe. Mind you, we're not talking writing quality on par with The New Yorker or Esquire. However, they do take pains to present left and right-leaning takes on each of the major stories, which saves me a lot of time. Can you believe I used to have to check in with Seacrest, Hadley, Ueberroth, Greenspan, and Saget just to see what was going on in the world?

Because now, f*ck those dudes.


7:20pm
B-Trip: Home

Ripped right through today's crossword puzzle as the chili I've been eating nonstop since yesterday ripped through me.

SuperBowel Sunday

1:00am
B-Trip: Home

Poor B-trip....You thought you were done for the day, but I ain't through with you by damn sight. I'm gonna get Medieval on your ass.

That's why I'm dressed as a reenactor. A 'viceroy', if you must know. One with a proclivity for the hammered dulcimer.

So sit back and enjoy this Baroque minuet. In the key of D.

1:40pm
B-Trip: Home

Reading a Good vs. Evil article on the SuperBowl. It seems the Colts became evil when their owners absconded from Baltimore in '83, swiping the team's name and uniforms despite promises that they would start anew in Indy. The Bears, on the other hand, are good because they were founded by the same guy who invented the league and have called legendary Soldier Field home for a generation.

The author goes into tedious detail in his attempt to establish the stakes in today's showdown, but I'm not buying it. To me, he seems like a disgruntled fan who grew up in Baltimore and harbors resentment against the Colts for leaving town when he was a boy. I would too, but I'd also have the common decency to mention that fact amidst my diatribe.

Artificially-inflating both sides just doesn't sit right. Particularly when you're concealing your own personal motivations. (See also: the War on Terror.)

For example, I should mention that, for personal reasons, I took exception to this paragraph:

By and large, the symbolic contest between good and evil rarely enters into the discussion of recent championships: The San Antonio Spurs, the Arizona Diamondbacks, the New Jersey Devils, the Florida Marlins, the Dallas Stars, the St. Louis Rams, the Carolina Hurricanes and even the Denver Broncos do not actually stand for anything. Bereft of mythology, supported by interchangeably bland fan bases, these teams stand for nothing.

It was affronted to see one of my favorite teams (the Rams) listed in this group, and also to learn that I'm an 'interchangeably bland fan'. Indeed, I challenge you to find anyone who can rival my particular brand of blandess!

But upon further review (ahhh, the joys of Taking D.....if for nothing more than the processing time it provides), this argument is simply wrong. Since he's talking about recent championships, he must mean the 1999 SuperBowl victors boasting "The Greatest Show on Turf". Upon hearing that term today, any marginal football fan would know it refers to the Rams of yesteryear. That alone leads me to believe the Rams stood for something. Sure that something may simply have been 'a revolutionary and precise offensive attack', but I doubt even Magic's Lakers or Gretzky's Oilers stood for 'Peace in the Middle East' or other similarly grandiose or noble concepts.

Further, his argument isn't even unique. Since I currently reside in the city from whence the Rams came, I assure you there are plenty of people here who harbor the exact same animosity toward them that this guy does about the Colts.

Oh, in case you were wondering....I thought the article sucked.

10:28pm
B-Trip: Home

Sitting here digesting the SuperBowl as my already-digested breakfast bids farewell. Clearly, the pageantry and excitement of the Big Game really kicks my parasympathetic nervous system into overdrive.

I realize this will come as a life-altering revelation, but here goes: I did not feel strongly one way or the other about these two teams. No hatred, nor unwavering affection. They both seem fine.

Devin Hester's kickoff return for a TD was thrilling (particularly since I spend my NFL seasons following the special teams-challenged Rams), but the rest of the game seemed to follow a predictable script with those allegedly evil Colts coming out on top. (Somehow I don't see a book like this being written about them.)

Only two commercials caught my interest:

1) Snickers

-Starts off hilarious with the kiss, but the chest hair-pulling didn't quite do it for me. Seems like there were a million better ways to go for something 'manly'. You start with the chest hair, but you gotta build on it.

The YouTube post claims you can vote for alternate endings at www.snickerssatisfies.com, but I was unable to find that portion of the site. My futile search left me...hmmm, how should I put it? Oh, yes....unsatisfied.

(I did, however, come across a series of Blaxploitation shorts about Instant Def, an eclectic hiphop crew determined to 'keep it real'. They get magical powers after a tragic accident at the Snickers factory.)

2) "The Late Show - SuperBowl of Love"

-Serendipitous, well-executed, & funny.

But my enduring memories of this SuperBowl will surely involve the bizarre spectacle of seeing two rock legends perform in the rain.

At first I had no sense of how hard it was raining. But a close-up of Billy Joel's fingers caused me to marvel over the sparkly piano keys. Did Elton John loan him the Baby Grand? I soon realized those sparkles were raindrops and spent the rest of the national anthem ruminating over how strange it was to see a piano out in the rain.

The monsoon, however, waited for the headliner. Prince has been rocking the house for thirty-plus years, and has apparently been sleeping in Dick Clark's patented self-preservation chamber. The guy does not age! But best of all, despite his mythical status he's still a gamer, seemingly at his bad ass best in the purple - err, I mean pouring rain. But I suspect it's no big thang to the Artist Currently Known As. He was born to perform...and lives in Minnesota, for Heaven's sake. He'd suit up in thundersnow.

I enjoyed the sheet thing and was on the edge of my seat expecting one of Prince's two high-heeled dancers to slip in a puddle and be sacked for a loss. But they managed to stay on their feet despite furious wiggling and jiggling and therefore deserve, if not mad props, then certainly some that are at the very least, borderline distraught.

Bush Dump

9:30am
B-Trip: Home

The Bush Administration, as the past several years have shown, likes to get sneaky with the media. My favorite instance was in June '04. "Fahrenheit 9/11" spent the weekend breaking box office records. In the days leading up to the film's release, as it became clear audiences intended to flock to this movie, you may recall that Cheney wrestled some of the headlines away by telling Senator Patrick Leahy to "Go Fuck Yourself". But the weekend wore on and even that sideshow couldn't keep the entire country from buzzing about Michael Moore's film. The Bush squad needed something big. Even bigger than the F-Word.

I'll never forget NPR's top story when my alarm went off Monday morning:

"The U.S. transfers sovereignty to the Iraqis.....TWO DAYS EARLY!!"

That's right. 'Sovereignty' was supposed to be transferred - an arbitrary step made out to be a big deal at the time - on June 30. But apparently things were going so well we decided to give the Iraqis their country back early. It enables us to "seize the initiative" over the insurgents, Tony Blair said at the time. As I sit here Taking D, it appears we may not have held on tightly enough to that initiative because insurgents clearly seized it back at some point. Forget body armor, our troops need some of those sticky Jerry Rice gloves.

Could this be the root of our current problems? Maybe the Iraqis weren't ready! We gave their country back too early!! They needed those two days to finish filing!

Anyway, it seemed obvious to me (though I've never seen it reported) that the preemptive sovereignty swap had double-upside for the Bush Administration: a) It gave the impression of progress in Iraq, while b) forcing the 24-hour news networks to spend less time digesting Fahrenheit 9/11's success. After all, they were now behind the 8-ball needing to explain this 'historic' step to the masses.

Another stratagem in the Bush Team's media manipulation mandate demands that any official 'Bad News' gets dumped on Friday night. That way, no one's around to answer questions about it for a few days and hopefully it will end up being ignored. If not, on Monday you can give the impression that you worked on the problem all weekend and now have things under control.

This technique has been obvious to anyone paying attention and has apparently even come up in testimony during the Scooter Libby trial. It's pretty savvy, but a weekly downer every Saturday morning for those of us who still bother reading the newspaper.

Today's headline: U.S. Spy Chiefs Say Outlook In Iraq is Grim.

Behold the charming first line: "Iraq is unraveling at an accelerating rate, and even if U.S. and Iraqi forces slow the spreading violence, the country's fragile government is unlikely to deliver stability to its people during the next year."

Makes the old 'surge' seem kinda pointless, doesn't it?

Anyway, six years of these Saturday morning headlines have become rather depressing. It's never anything like: "North Korea: No Threat Whatsoever" or "Bush Articulater, President Learns Fifteen New Words" or even "Condi...Ticklish!".

Instead, it's always some dickover they hope to slide past you.

The Bush News Dump....starting off your weekend with dismay, since 2001!


3:39pm
B-Trip: Home

Reading an article in the Business section about the selling of 'virtual' items on eBay. It appears eBay will be banning this practice as it relates to communal online games like World of Warcraft. Essentially people auction off codes that will give your character in the game a better shield, titanium abs, etc.

I don't know anything about the game, but obviously if you're willing to part with some cash you can save the time it would take to 'earn' the reward legitimately. I imagine you start out the game looking like Napoleon Dynamite but quickly come into contact with people who've been playing for years and now resemble some all-powerful hybrid of Godzilla and Boba Fett. If you end up having to battle this person, a map to the Sarlacc Pit might be worth fifty bucks...know what I'm sayin'? No? Oh, well...

Maybe there's something to this....has anyone tried selling 'confidence' online? What about 'sense of rhythm'? Surely 'the ability to slam dunk' would be a huge hit.

Who am I kidding? You can't get rich selling nothing. Not unless you're Halliburton. I should stick to the tried & true.

Anyone want a penile enhancer?

Groundhog D

9:00am
B-Trip: Home

Reading about Climate Change and SF Mayor Gavin Newsom's affair.

If I wake up tomorrow and find this day repeating itself over and over again for all eternity, I promise I'll try harder to make this particular D more riveting.


10:25pm
B-Trip: Home

To my knowledge, Elle & I are the only people who watch a program entitled 'What About Brian?'. I think it's on ABC.

It's a flawed show, full of melodrama and disappointing plot twists. The casting is ok, but not perfect. In short, the show is a weekly effort in unrealized potential. It's a J.J. Abrams show, and though the runt of his litter, Elle ensures I never miss it. And I admit...like the Iraq war, at this point I'm in so deep I might as well keep going. That said, I am man enough to admit that getting involved in this program was a mistake. One that I would not repeat. I don't care how bad a man Saddam Hussein was. But I digress...

The show, a relationship drama about 30-somethings in LA with a penchant for poor decision-making, has a catchy theme song entitled "Calling All Friends". A band called Low Stars is responsible for the ditty and have made it available for your listening pleasure on their MySpace page. Who knows? Maybe if you become their 'friend', they'll call you. (The portion on "What About Brian" picks up at the 1:19 mark.)

To hook the viewer, the opening credits (and theme song) typically don't kick in until at least 10 minutes into the show. Sadly, delaying them this long often makes the opening credits seem a spoof of itself. Many times after a big 'moment' at any point during the show, Elle or I will sing out "Calling All Friends!" since we've become so conditioned by the song's mid-story placement.

Anyway, I'm sitting here trying to get the song out of my mind. Not having much success. It's a wussy song along the same lines as the 'Friends' theme, but it grows on you, eventually lodging into your temporal lobe like one of Khan's earworms.

The tricky thing about theme songs, I gather, is that they have to be pretty solid to hold up to the repetition each week. For every 'Cheers' theme, there's a hundred "Calling All Friends"es. Maybe that's why 'Lost' opts simply for a sound effect. The stakes are that high. I'm not sure why, but it does not appear you can swap out a bad theme song midway through a show's run. You gotta get it right from the get go. If not, you could be stuck with the same stinker season after season.

Here's what I'm wrestling with:

"Calling All Friends"
by Low Stars (Theme songs from 'What About Brian?')

I'm calling all friends, people I met on the way down
I'm calling all friends, people I don't even know.
Calling on high, I wanna believe there's a way now.
I'm too tired to pretend
I don't want to be alone, I'm calling all friends.

The guy's obviously lonely. What do you do when you're lonely? You call a friend. But that's not enough for this guy. He calls all of his friends. Every single one. And this degenerate doesn't stop there. He starts calling people he doesn't even know. I can't imagine that goes over well.

This is one annoying bastard. I'd be willing to surmise the root cause of his loneliness stems from his all out assault on the decent people of the world's AnyTime minutes. Nobody wants a friend like that. Imagine being one of the suckers in his Five.

No thanks.

Feb-BREW-ary

At the start of any new month, it behooves the soul to take a look back: What did I accomplish? What areas of my life could I improve upon? How many D's did I take?

The soul's nosy like that.

While I continue to search for answers to the first two questions, I got the last one all squared away:

91.

Wow...could that be? 91 D's??!! Sure seems like a lot. I mean, if each of my D's drove in a run I would have damn near cracked the Top 50 RBI Leaders in 2006. (Sadly, Orioles catcher Ramon Hernandez and I remain on the bubble.)

I suppose if you're on a 3-per-day clip, such clutch-hitting numbers stand to reason. But still...

(For the record, I realize I've not yet posted all 91 D's just yet. I'll get there. It's just a little difficult getting motivated to sit down at the old laptop and conjure up the specifics of that D you took three weeks ago.)

But that's why it's important to always take copious notes! I'll regurgitate soon.


8:10am
B-Trip: Home

You ever sit on the toilet, pondering just what could possibly be unique enough about this particular b.m. to share it with the world?

You sit there thinking: "It's just an everyday Morning D. What could possibly warrant reporting?"

Anxious and stressed, you may not notice when Divine Intervention comes your way. As per usual, it occurs in mundane fashion. This morning, it was the parting of my neighbors.

Donna & Ken are a charming couple in their 50's and lovely neighbors. Ken is a grizzled New Yorker, while Donna is an active Texan with blond hair and an adorable drawl. She always seems to be heading off to tennis, mountain biking, or any number of physical activities. It wouldn't surprise me if she still gets carded.

Anyway, I hear her say goodbye, presumably with a Jai-Alai basket slung over her shoulder. Seconds later, the door swings open and Ken shouts after her:

"Honey, have you seen my manbag?"

From what I could gather, he said it with a straight face. Such ability is I gift I do not possess. Certainly, they both heard my laughter blurt through the bathroom window.

The classic Seinfeld episode came to mind, so I did some research on this manbag phenomenon. It's not pretty. First, consider their witty slogan: 'If it's not a Manbag, it's a purse!'

I got news for ya...It's still a purse.

Manbag (actually Man-n-Bag, due to some surly ManBag rights holder, I'm sure) comes in three fashionable styles: Axible, DayTrek, and Messenger. Each of which is as Sold Out as it is ridiculous. Guess you'll have to hit the black market for that perfect Valentine's Day Manbag.

I realize we all have a lot to carry around, but I'm quite certain that real men don't carry 'manbags'. Nor 'murses'.

They haul gunny-sacs.


3:50pm
B-Trip: Home

Another Working Man's D. All at once. In & out. The quintessential weekday afternoon maneuver.

That is, for someone like me on a constant search for his next dollar.

When gainfully employed, of course, I like my workday D's more casual.

Because there's only thing better than Taking D...

Getting paid to Take D.


11:05pm
B-Trip: Home

Another quickie. A Drive-Thru D.

But I still hung around for a few moments to get my Scooter fix.