Don't Laugh, People

Okay, so on my way home from Starbucks today (pulling out of the parking lot to be precise). Now, it's a short road to get back to the interstate, turning right out of parking lot and getting over into the left lane. A truck driver waived me out, so I started to pull out and signaled to get further over to the left lane. First lady was talking on phone, sped up, wouldn't let me over. Second lady, same deal. Finally someone was going to let me over, when the idiot girl in the car behind me who jumped out of the Starbucks parking lot right after me, jumped over and took my spot getting over. The two women who sped up to not let me over were both getting onto the interstate. The lady behind me who jumped out on my spot and cut me off, instead of having to turn left onto the interstate, was just going straight (which the right lane does). I've said for years that everyone is just in a hurry to go nowhere. So much so, that the stop at Starbucks consumes so much of

Okay, I know this damn topic has been run into the ground, but I've got to add some thought to it, especially after the transgressions of the past few days. It all started Wednesday when Albert Haynesworth showed up a day early to training camp to meet with coaches [Mike] Shanahan and [Jim] Haslett (and I'm sure the defensive line, linebackers, and safeties coaches were all present as well). Haynesworth committed to the team for training camp on Wednesday and was cool with being told he'd have to participate in conditioning drills in order to get on the practice field with the team. Apparently all was well. Haynesworth showed up 32 lbs. lighter than his standard 352, down to 320, he's looking like a 4-3 DT, or a 3-4 DE (which in all honesty COULD be the exact same position). This is enough to show me he's somewhat committed to this job. Haynesworth was asked to run three trials of a 300 yard sprint (this is more than most coaches would ever think to re

I'm very upset at the moment. I've just encountered via FB, another person who goes by the name Sly Stilla. I've been using the name Sly Stilla since I was about 11 years old (so roughly around 1998). This upsets me, because I never once saw someone else use the name on Myspace or FB, nor anywhere else for that matter. Any searches of Sly Stilla in Google normally redirected to myself. For a little background on the name, it all started from a fight during a game of basketball with some of my friends and a couple people who played basketball with us at the school behind where I used to live. This guy and I got in a fight over a hard foul (fairly commonplace material). He hit me and ran around the school, and a friend of mine told me to cut him off because he was just going to cut around. I ran up around the other side of the building and hid behind the corner, peeking around to make sure he was coming. I waited for him to get close enough, and then jumped out and

Okay, so in an effort to get a scrapbook of my trip together, I'm going through pictures of the vacation and memories are flaring up left and right. To point out the obvious, it's amazing what photographs can capture. It's more than just an image, it's capturing a moment which triggers the memory of a series of moments. Looking through this folder, I'm pretty much reliving every moment of the trip. I didn't get to partake in visiting every major landmark, and definitely not even half of the things worthy of visiting in London, or France for that matter. As a result of going back to the flat before rushing back out, I missed my opportunity to visit one of my favorite landmarks in Tower Bridge (we crossed it on bus plenty, but didn't go up in it to cross it at the top). We didn't walk on board the H.M.S. Belfast, or suffer in line (even in April) for Madame Tussauds. We didn't risk passing out waiting to buy tickets only to wait longer to take t

Born in 1987, growing up in the 90's in DC suburbs... Maryland had 2 directions to follow in professional football. The obvious choice (and quite obviously the one I went with) was to root for the home team, the Washington Redskins. And what better time, in the midst of a dynasty, Coach Joe Gibbs and his Hogs, Riggins, Monk, Green, Manley, Mann, Grimm... the Redskins had won three titles in the Joe Gibbs era, the third coming early in my life, 1991 vs. the Buffalo (Bitch of the NFC East) Bills. Then there was the disgusting, putrid, bandwagon love of the Cowboys so many had so quickly when Dallas won back to back championships (the two years after the Redskins). People so desperate to cheer for a winner, they abandoned the Redskins and cheered for the arch-rival. But in my home, my father was a rebel, in every sense of the word. My father ( Dixie flag tattoos, skullcaps, lighters, etc.) fits in with the South as well as anyone. People in the North would never confuse him

...I need viewers, comments, etc. Whatever I'm doing (or not doing) isn't working right now. Any ideas on what else I can do with the blog?