LOST and Karaoke.

I just finished watching LOST. While watching LOST, I was eating a handful of Cadbury mini-eggs. Lord, those are good! Anyways, that episode was probably the best episode of the show thusfar. I've been officially addicted for almost a year now. It just keeps getting better.

Speaking of LOST, for the past five or so days, I've been thinking about what song I could do if I were to ever sing karaoke. With a subscription to Napster, pretty much any song that pops into my head is fair game. I can download it, listen to it, maybe even sing along, and then make a judgement call. My realization is that I should never sing karaoke. However, why should that stop me from considering the "if I did" scenario? Oddly, I noticed many of my selections are probably not well suited to my abilities. Just by observing my Napster download list, I can see I'm sort of drawn to Motown or Funk. (My parents always were). I'd like to believe somewhere inside this white boy is a black soul waiting to sing out! Or white folks, like me, should just never attempt to sing certain songs in public. Regardless, let me share the more ridiculous (or brilliant) ideas I had. Feel free to comment or suggest.

1. "Brickhouse" by The Commodores
2. "Let's get it on" by Marvin Gaye
3. "I heard it through the grapevine" by Marvin Gaye
4. "Signed, sealed, delivered (I'm yours)" by Stevie Wonder
5. "Get up offa that thing" by James Brown
6. "I want you back" by Jackson 5

I just made myself laugh. Can you imagine me singing "Brickhouse" or "Let's get it on" or "Get up offa that thing" ? In the name of all that's sacred! I have no soul. Goodness. Plus, those songs require the singer to be cool or chill or suave. I'm none of those. Really, this is becoming more of a mental exercise every minute.

Predictions Final Four.

Statement: LSU vs. UCLA & George Mason vs. Florida

Prediction: Finals. UCLA vs. Florida

Prediction: National Champions. UCLA.

Thursday Night NCAA Basketball.

Two amazing games. Texas vs. West Virginia. UCLA vs. Gonzaga. Both games went to the very end. The VERY end. Like last seconds.

WV drills a three-pointer with less than 10 seconds left to tie the game. WV, who was trailing Texas for the majority of the game, breathed a sigh of relief (along with a burst of celebration) to have a chance in overtime to move on to the Elite Eight. However, Texas inbounds the ball, moves down the court to a scrambling WV defense, and feeds the ball to a player about 6 feet from the three-point arch. The unlikely shot goes up and in. Unreal.

Having trailed Gonzaga then entire game and still being 9 points shy with under 3 minutes left, UCLA pulls it together. The 'Zags led at one point was 17 points. The 2nd half was all UCLA. Farmar brings UCLA within 1 point. As the 'Zags inbound the ball to a full court pressing UCLA defense, the whole arena must have felt the intensity. UCLA strips the ball and scores a quick 2 points to take the lead for the first time the game with about 10 seconds left! UCLA recovers a bad pass / loose ball to seal the game for UCLA. 'Zags got a quick shot off at the end, but couldn't connect.

Judging from the adrenaline rush, I felt like I was playing. I mean, my basketball career at St. Robert Bellarmine was quite amazing. I had 3-points-- 1 free throw and 1 bucket-- in four years. Hey, that's a points per game average of 0.0625. UCLA recruited me (i.e. answered my begging and pleading with an offer of admission) for my physics abilities. But I told them, "Hey, I'm not all scientist, baby." Yea, that's right.

Kids Say the Darnedest Things.

It has been a while since my last entry. I am trying here.

A coworker told a great story about his son. We'll call my coworker, Jack, and his son, Henry. I'd hate to post a story about his family with the right names without his approval. There are some weird people out there in cyberspace. I can attest that some of them are probably reading this blog. You know who you are.

So Jack was on vacation with his family. He was taking his son to the resort's pool. En route to the pool, a 6-foot tall gorgeous blond strides past Jack and his son. She's absolutely physically stunning. This woman easily passes for a model-- the tall, gorgeous, statuesque type. The face. The look. The body. The whole package. And she had just left the pool. As she walks past Jack and his son, she's in a tiny little bikini. Jack observes Henry just starring at this bombshell the whole time. Henry can't take his eyes off of her! His mouth is open, eyes are bugging, completely engrossed. Somewhere inside, Jack is sort of proud of this.... a that's-my-boy sort of thing. Finally, the sexy blond makes off for her resort room. Henry immediately turns to his dad and says, "Daddy, did you see the size of her feet?!"

Saints.

Pat is a lovely person with whom I work. That's all you need to know to enjoy this first of, hopefully, many "Life With Pat" installments.

This incident happened today, St. Patrick's Day, 17th March 2006.

So I turn to Pat and said, "Hey Pat. It's your feast day today."
"Oh. I guess I never thought of it that way."
"Well, there sure aren't any St. Patricias," I said, with that "duh" sound in my voice.
"Oh come on, there must be one."
"Wanna bet?"
"I'll take that bet. What do I win?" Pat replied.
"I win a free lunch at the TroHo," I retorted. No one gets the best of me. The "TroHo" is what all the cool people in Bloomington call the Trojan Horse, a Greek restaurant on the square downtown.

Of course, like all other need to know items, I googled it. Within seconds, my jaw slams on the ground. The first hit on Google reads, "St. Patricia, feast day March 2nd..."

"Oh shit. I lose. Wait. If this saint is Lutheran or Episcople, it doesn't count. She has to be a Catholic saint."
"That was never part of the bet."

Suffice it to say, St. Patricia is a Catholic saint and Pat won. St. Patricia lived in Naples in the 4th century and basically renounced men in order to live a life of holiness. Yea, that's it. You know this lady's miracles were probably card tricks. Needless to say, she's a pretty crap saint... but nonetheless, a saint. What pope canonized her and ran away?!

Later that day, Maureen, a friend, called to arrange group plans for a St. Patrick's Day pub crawl. After that phone call, Pat passed me in the hallway on her way out the door. I turned to her and said,

"I wonder if there's a St. Maureen."
"Not this again. There must be," Pat replied emboldened with her morning bet winning.
"Double or nothing?!"
"You're on!"

Googled it and, voila, no St. Maureen. Sweet victory.

Not Dolly Parton.

So this past weekend, I saw Transamerica. First, I'd highly recommend the movie. The Mascia Two-Thumbs Up award. In short, it is about a guy, awaiting a transsexual surgery, who is informed of a potential son from his past. Typical Hollywood liberal bullshit, right? Wrong. The film never enters the realm of preaching. The movie stays honest. I think that is the best way to describe it. As a sidenote, the movie takes on one of my favorite qualities in all film history-- the journey. The story is told through this cross-country (or transamerican) journey with dad/mom and son from New York City to Southern California.

Now, as the credits ran, Dolly Parton sings a song called "Travelin' Thru." The song speaks directly to the soul of the movie. Plus, it is kinda catchy. Also, two weeks ago, I signed up for a subscription to Napster. I never thought this day would come. I never thought I would admit to such a thing. You guessed it... Dolly Parton now has an official spot in my daily Napster playlist. That is, of course, right after Metallica, Pantera, Megadeth and BURNING TOWER OF SATAN, FOOTBALL AND VERILIITY!

Try to contain your excitement.

I've been toying with the idea for a while. It seems uncharacteristic. No way does Anthony have a blog!? He sure does. I figured the walls of my apartment have grown tired of my rantings. In an effort to rectify that situation (and at the behest of the walls), I'm broadcasting my thoughts into cyberspace. Be afraid... once you get inside this mind, there is no way out. It's a scary place. Take my word for it. I'm a little concerned this blog will resurface in 2038 during my presidential bid. But that is a risk with which I am willing to live. As for more posts or entries, don't expect many. As a matter of fact, don't expect any. There... I dropped the bar to the floor. No way can I fail your expectations. I'd like to think I will stick with this for a while. But I know me... probably better than most.