Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Here it is boys and girls, my last work trip to St. Louis. Actually, I can say my last trip to Missouri ever because, having seen there multiple times, there's no way I would ever voluntarily go back and visit. I would charitably describe the state as an armpit. But what does St. Louis have to do with Torcher the lion dog? I have no idea. But he looks as bewildered as I will look happy when I get on the return flight to California on Tuesday. Fifteen days to resignation day.

Yesterday was Saturday. And Saturday is a rugby day. And with rugby days, bring injuries. The injury d'jour is my eye, which I managed to smash onto some guy's knee while I was kneeling on the ground. Silly me. The eye is swollen but the double vision has subsided. Still, I imagine that my eye is in way better shape than his knee. Should be fun times when the cabin pressure makes my eye swell up like a balloon. Can't wait.

Tales of my St. Louis follies to follow...

Don't Feed the Monkeys

No apologies ... no funny YouTube clips ... Instead, on with the quick 5-minute synopsis of what's up with me.

* I started physical therapy on my shoulder this past week. Long story short, it's messed up from years of weight lifting and rugby (AC joint sprain, scar tissue, and likely rotator cuff/labrum damage). Fortunately, it will be just fine with some PT, which is good since I need to defend my rugby team MVP award. However, I'm starting to think that my physical therapist might be a bit of a sadist. She seemed nice enough at first, but halfway through the session, she's got me in some sort of crazy arm bar and she's digging her thumb into my shoulder like she's trying to push a cork back into a wine bottle. Jesus, you would have thought I asked for a happy ending or something. Anyway, I wouldn't disclose anything other than name, rank and serial number, so she finally gave after what seemed like 1/2 hour of torture. I'm sure this week she'll try something new, like bamboo under the fingernails which she'll disguise as some sort of acupuncture.

* I went to two baseball games this past week (thanks JFS and CRM for tickets) and saw five future Hall-of-Famers play - Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Ken Griffey Jr., Alex Rodriguez, and Derek Jeter. I also saw a couple of borderline candidates (Jorge Posada, Johnny Damon, Joe Torre) and a bunch of all-time stars (e.g., Willie Mays, Willie McCovey, Juan Marichal). Which is great because there's no way on God's green earth that I'm shelling out $600 to sit in the bleachers during the baseball All Star game. That is highway-fucking robbery. It's a goddamned exhibit game, folks. No sane person should have to drop a grand for some crappy All Star game that they can watch on TV. Jesus christ are the tickets also made of gold and entitle us entry to Willie Wonka's chocolate factory? Where's my golden goose?

* Lastly, I'd like to wish Mr. Chips a happy 12th birthday. I'm not really certain what his exact year or date of birth is, so I picked June 26th out of my ass. But the little fella could use some cheer after the year he's had -- IRS audit for failing to report income and file 6 years of back taxes ... losing his tenure due to plagiarism and other unspoken scandals at the university ... battling numerous chemical dependencies and suffering numerous relapses ... not to mention being the subject of a bitter custody dispute. Fortunately, the parties were able to put it all behind them (he said "behind") and actually brought Mr. Chips to New York this past year. Here are a couple of G-rated pictures of Mr. Chips from our April trip:

Here's a photo of Mr. Chips, who was exhausted after 7 blocks of driving. Come to think of it, the three Mai Thais he had at lunch probably didn't help matters either.




Here's another photo of Mr. Chips, who's now awake and evidently ready for a little action.



Happy birthday, buddy! Daddy and ..., uhhh, daddy are very proud of you! Next year -- Amsterdam!

Carl Lewis Clearly Not The Baddest Dude Alive

I used to think that Carl Lewis was the baddest dude alive. Until I saw this video of Sébastien Chabal. Chabal, who could double for Rob Zombie's HGH-laddened twin brother, plays flanker and #8 for France's national rugby team, which will be hosting the Rugby World Cup in less than three months.

Chabal, whos's listed at 6'3", 253 lbs, is affectionately referred to in France as "l'homme des cavernes" - "the Caveman." He's also been called the "anaesthetist," which he seems to demonstrate in the first half of the video clip.

I simply call him the baddest dude alive. Step aside Carl, there's a new tough dude wearing a leotard in town. And his name is Sébastien Chabal.

In all seriousness, this dude is bad. There are two hits against the New Zealand All Blacks (which are also full of BAMFers) in this video clip, both of which look very painful. Certainly not for the squeamish or amy anti-violence members of my audience.

Hump Day

I think I am starting to crack working from home. I've actually named the herd of 2 to 3 deer that regularly run through my yard right in front of my office. This is "Bojangles" (what did you expect, Rudolph?).

She (or he) has two friends - "Muffin" and "Grandmaster Flash" - that also regularly traipse through my yard. They're great pets because I don't have to feed them and they pretty much take care of themselves. How convenient is that?

So I went and saw my orthopedic specialist who prescribed an MRI for my still-not-improving shoulder. Which was fine because I'm not exactly thrilled with having a left arm like Kevin Spacey's character in "The Usual Suspects." Actually, it's not that bad but still it's been pretty bothersome and some things irritate the shit out of it.

So I called my health care provider who shall remain nameless (hint: unscramble the following letters to spell their name: "Untied"). The conversation went something like this:

Me: "Okay, so what's the MRI going to cost me? I presume it's covered under the Premium health plan."
Untied: "Well, it looks like you'll have to pay a $250 deductible plus 10% of the cost of the procedure. Insurance will pick up the other 90%."
Me: "I'm sorry, I must have had a bad connection. It sounded like you said that I'd have to pay about $400 for a simple MRI."
Untied: "Actually it will probably be closer to $500."

Sadly, they are serious. I ask myself, why the fuck am I paying for health insurance? I might as well self-insure. I'm sure an unemployed homeless person would have to pay less for a goddamned MRI. And at the end of the day, I'm going to shell out $500 and all I'm going to get is someone telling me that my shoulder is messed up and I should lay off the rugby and start taking ibuprofen. Thanks for the expert advice.

Pass the Vicodin Please

I know I sound like a broken record, but again I have to apologize for the utter lack of posting on this site in recent weeks. First, it was the birthday weekend. The birthday debauchery weekend was followed by my rugby team’s second trip to Maggotfest in Missoula, MT (more to follow below). I returned from Missoula after midnight on Sunday night. After a one day respite, I’m on another plane which is headed towards St. Louis, MO (fuck yeah!!). Oh well, at least I get free coffee and frequent flyer miles.

Maggotfest this year was fun, but not outstanding. The rugby games overall were somewhat mixed. We arrived Thursday night and went straight to the pitch in Missoula to play a “friendly” game against the home team. We traveled about 10 hours that day to get there and we arrived at the pitch (a/k/a the field) about 10 minutes before we were supposed to play. I was expecting and hoping for the advertised “friendly” game since we were traveling with only 16 players (you need 15 to play rugby) of which only 4 of them were starters. We were all exhausted and some of us had been drinking on the 3+ hour drive from Spokane to Missoula, so I figured that it was going to be ugly.

And I was correct. The Maggots absolutely rolled us. It was the most lopsided rugby loss that I had ever participated in. I scored our only try (worth 5 points), while the Maggots scored 100+ points. They stopped keeping track on the scoreboard. Most of our team quit midway in the game and the other team just kept running at us. I really don’t fault them for continuing to play, but they probably could have subbed out some of their key players earlier.

The lowlight of Thursday was followed by the Friday highlight of river rafting on the Lochsa River in Idaho. I had a total blast. The enjoyment was mitigated somewhat by the fellow rafter who insisted on yelling “Wooo hooo!!” EVERY time we hit a rapid and who complained that his feet were freezing. No shit, the river water is in the low 40s. Everyone’s cold and wet, stop being such a pussy.

Saturday’s games represented a better showing, although we had trouble scoring points all day. It was frustrating knowing we had a better team but playing down to the lower standards of the other teams. After the second game, I was counting down the minutes until my flight left on Sunday.

The highlight on Saturday was reuniting with some of my friends from Colorado to play against a ridiculously good team from Park City, UT. Like our game on Thursday, Fort Collins was playing against a team that was way out of its league. Unlike our team, though, Ft. Collins played with a lot of heart. They still lost, but they played hard and never quit. I got to “whore on” late in the second half, right before one of their players entirely faked me out and beat me to the corner to score a try. Good times. I did manage to tackle a U.S. Eagle rugby player (meaning a player who plays international level rugby for the United States) without breaking anything further on my body.

Sunday came and saw one final game, which most participants played hung-over to a 0-0 tie. Ahh, rugby at its highest. The highlight of Sunday was one of our large players (280+ lb.) who managed to play most of the game in a Winnie the Pooh costume. Classic. We headed out to the airport shortly after finishing our last game and bid a fond adieu to Montana.

Five games in four days + whitewater rafting - adequate sleep = a tired David James. I caught some sleep on the flight to St. Louis and managed to fall asleep again this evening in my hotel room but still feel exhausted. I’m putting the official over-under on my total caffeine intake at “a lot.” Keep your fingers crossed dear readers.

Pictures and more fun stuff to follow ....

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

The "Good" - we won our first rugby match of the season, beating the Marin Reds 11-7. It's a great feeling to win the first league game of our 8 game season, esp. since we weren't so great last year. We have a game this weekend against another good team before we play the Division 3 USA rugby national champion the following weekend.

The "Bad" - somehow my face managed to awkwardly collide with some 300 lb. guy's fist/forearm/paw when he went to high tackle me. Gosh, I am so clumsy sometimes! I managed to bust up my mouth pretty good so, suffice it to say, my lip balm modeling career might be on hold for a bit.

The "Ugly" - because Derek will certainly insist on seeing a photo of said injury, well here you go. My daughter summed it up nicely when she said "Daddy, it looks a little bit ... worse today."

Thank you dear child. You have to love the refreshing honesty of children.