In recent years my interest in going to see the games has waned somewhat but I always try to catch a few innings here and there every night or so. This year has been a horrible year for the team. The best game that I saw in person was the All Star Game. This year’s team is so bad that they may even lose 90 games before it’s all over.

So here is my proposition:

Do you (all one reader of mine) believe that the Giants are capable of losing 90 games this season? They are currently 67-83 with 12 games left to play. In a nutshell that means that the team has to go 7-5 for the remaining games on their schedule. I predict that they will lose a total of 91 games this year, finishing up with a 4-8 record for the last week and a half. What do you say? Make your prediction.

If you haven’t been there already, go to www.vote756.com and cast your vote to decide the fate of Barry Bonds’ 756th home run ball. I voted for the first option; what did you vote for?

Go Giants.

When I moved from the City of Good Living, San Carlos, two years ago, down south to the Jewel of the South Bay, Sunnyvale, I was forced, by necessity and extreme inconvenience, to stop going to my new favorite barber shop, Guy’s Barber Shop in San Carlos. Before I found that shop, I was all about Clyde’s in Burlingame. New building zoning ended that relationship. I suppose the point I’m trying to make is that when I find a good barber shop I stick with it. As long as I have hair. Which won’t be much longer. Some would even argue that ended a few years ago. Anyway…

When I moved to the ‘Vale, I suffered through one horrendous haircut that left several bald spots on my increasingly balding dome so I vowed then to find another keeper barber asap. I usually steer clear of salons (too pricey and too ostentatious for my meager tastes).  I know that I’ve found the right spot when all the magazines are over 5 years old.

When the time for my next haircut was overdue by about a month I drove my truck down El Camino with nary a plan but a distinct goal to find my new barber shop. I did notice a strip mall kind of place off the El and as I turned towards it, I spied across the street a sign for Juno Salon. Now I know that I have already professed my deep unlike for Salons but I also noticed that the parking lot in front of it was relatively empty. I parked and walked in and I was seated immediately by a black haired with blonde highlights Vietnamese dude named Kevin. The price was right  ($8 for men’s cuts) and his clipping technique was awesome and my haircut looked fantastic. I left the Juno Salon knowing that I had found my new barber shop, err, salon.

Fast forward one and a half years of great haircuts with Kevin, including the all important wedding haircut. I enter the salon one day and I notice that Kevin is not there. I ask one of the women present where he is and they tell me that he is on vacation in Vietnam. They ask me if I would like a haircut and, of course I am at least a month overdue, so I say sure and take a seat. Well, fifteen minutes later and I am the proud owner of the second worst haircut I have ever had. I pay them (the price went up to $12 for men’s cuts) and I leave, hoping that the next time I show up, Kevin will be there.

As it is apt to do, the hair grows and I drive myself to Juno and cross my fingers. I enter the salon and I ask where Kevin is and the woman tells me he is still on vacation in Vietnam and if I would like a haircut. Now I didn’t want to be rude and press the issue but by my calculations, Kevin had been on holiday now for at least 6 months so I’m thinking that the Kev is not coming back. Oh, woe is me.

Because I am a nice guy (or a sucker), I sit in the chair and hope for the best. Unfortunately I get the worst. Bad haircut number three. I pay and I leave Juno Salon forever.

Kevin, if you are reading this, I’m sorry I had to bail on your shop, but my remaining days with hair are waaaaaayyyyy fewer than the days I’ve had hair on my head so I’ve got to cut my losses and  find a new salon, err, barber shop. So long and happy vacation, wherever you are.

Next time: So begins the quest. Again.

Monday was the First Day of School. It should be a national holiday. Personally, I enjoy this day because it feels so good to get back to something you have done for a long time (in my case, eight years) that you haven’t done in a long time (I last taught in summer school, six or so weeks ago). I also like this day because after I spend about 15 or so minutes going through rules and procedures, I launch right into my first teaching lecture of the year and when I’m done, I even assign homework. I love the First Day of School.

Four days after the giddy excitement of the First Day of School came the nervous excitement of Parent Information Night (aka PIN nite). Imagine standing in a room, let’s say the library at school, and having the opportunity to talk for 15 minutes straight about yourself and your algebra program. I personally enjoy the rush and I try my best to entertain the audience while imparting relevant and important information regarding what their children will be learning in my algebra class this year. As I mentioned before, I do enjoy the rush, thank goodness PIN only happens once per year.

Last Friday evening, my Fantasy Football league held its annual draft. Being chosen with the number 2 pick overall, I picked Steven Jackson (over Shaun Alexander). My backfield rounds out with Rudi Johnson, Jamal Lewis, and Marshawn Lynch. My wideouts are Lee Evans, Larry Fitzgerald, Calvin Johnson, and Vincent Jackson, and my QBs are Jon Kitna and Philip Rivers. I traditionally finish one game out of the playoffs every year so I am hoping that this year will be my year to win it all.

Our softball team, the Gatos, got pounded into to slaughter rule submission Monday night. I made three errors in left field. Ouch. Bad game for me.

I got to drive a U-Haul from San Leandro to Sacramento yesterday. We (Ms Khan and most of her family) helped move her sister up to Sac-town. It’s pretty fun driving a big truck like that; a few times I caught myself going over the 70 mph speed limit and I had to slow my roll down. All in all, a 13+ hour day was actually pretty fun, but really hot (I do NOT miss living in the Sacramento Valley).

Last but not least, I had to say goodbye to my beloved Elmo Overhead Projector, as it burned it’s last replaceable light bulb during 4th period on Friday. I am so lucky that Ms Campbell had an extra overhead in her room that I could put to use, the only class that had to suffer my writing on the whiteboard was 5th period. So long Elmo; you served me well with distinction and honor these past 7 years.

So that was the week that was. Have a great rest of the weekend and I’ll see you on Tuesday.

Well, I would love to write a whole lot of everything in this spot today but considering that this is the penultimate day before school begins (and I am not coming in tomorrow), I have to bail on this entry in order to get the rest of my work done for the big day. All I want to say, here and now, is that I am very much looking forward to working with you all and teaching you algebra this year. I have heard a lot about your class (most of it good, I promise) and I hope you are going to find this year in math (and, more importantly, in life) fun, educational, and interesting. I know I will endeavor to do so.

Have a good weekend and I’ll see you Monday! Late.

Whatever. Just read on. Hopefully when you are done, this will all make sense.

I gave something of myself last Saturday afternoon. It was a thing that I had not given in quite a few years (actually, it was decades but who’s keeping track). My charitable mood was spawned earlier in the week when I received an email soliciting volunteers to make a voluntary donation at the Ladera Rec Center. Being the proactive kind of guy I am, well, that and Ms Khan signed us both up for it, I made it to my 1:30 pm appointment to give blood.

Now, the last time I gave blood (in the traditional sense of the concept; more on that later) was when I was a senior in high school. I recall that experience not to be a particularly pleasant one. The nurse who was administering the service missed my vein at least twice and I had to spend the next week walking around with three scars on my right arm (what’s the word for the other side of the elbow?). And to top it off, I tried to get up too quickly after the procedure and I quickly returned to earth with a crashing thud because I was short on fluids in my body.

So, it was with a little trepidation that I arrived at the mobile blood donation service operation for my appointment. From the second I arrived to the moment the entire blood-giving was done, I was thoroughly impressed with the entire operation. There were literally an army of people in white lab coats and clipboards scurrying about doing various jobs and generally looking busy. <>

After checking in with the guy sitting behind the laptop, I was brought to a semi-private area where the nurse asked me a series of personal and health related questions as they took a tiny sample of my blood from my finger. Then I was escorted to another private area where I had to verify my answers to the previous questions by placing a sticker on the questionaire.

That task being done, I was led to the most uncomfortable elongated folding chair I had ever seen. It was sort of difficult to get in but I managed. The nurse then gave me this thing (imagine the hand grip part of a crutch) to squeeze while she located a vein on my right arm. She then proceeded to drain me of a pint of my blood (which filled up in front of my very eyes in this little plastic pouch). FYI, I learned that a pint of blood weighs 1 pound.

After removing the needle from my arm, she wrapped my “wound” with some pink gauze (it was chosen for me because it matched some pink and red stripes I had on my white collared shirt). I was then taken to the recovery area where I was fed two mini ice cream cup, a glass of orange juice, and a (few) cookies. (So much for losing that pound not five minutes earlier).

Fifteen minutes later, I was on my way back to school so I could finish writing my 8th grade algebra test. I had done my good deed for the week/month/year (I’ll choose one when I do something good again sometime in the future) and I had provided something that someone could use to save their life. So, I guess that feels pretty good.

It’s funny because my usual line is that I give blood at the dentist because I went through a period of my life that I neglected a trip to the dentist for about 10 years. When I finally got the courage to go again, my teeth and gums were in such bad shape that I bled profusely every time I went (which is every 3 months for these past 4 years). Things are waaaaay better now (I’ve actually grown accustomed to the pain and think of it as my penance for missing so much chair time in his office over the years) and I couldn’t imagine not going.

It’s nice now when I hear the phrase, “I’m giving blood”, that I don’t immediately think of the dentist. I can actually visualize the process I just described and be like every other person in the world that has given blood in the normal way. I am so glad I’m normal now.

Remembering that I dealt with this same problem about 6 months earlier, I retrieved from my garage an unused box of ant poison. The way this stuff works is that the ants will eat/drink/whatever this poison and drag it back to their colony and it will poison the lot of them. Allegedly (from what I read on the box), this stuff is not toxic to humans (provided we don’t consume it like halloween candy), so I snipped the ends of the plastic container with scissors and I set down two traps.

The next day I returned, hoping to see no ants, but I saw the near-opposite. There were about 50 or so ants snacking on the stuff (the package is clear so you can see in; it reminds me of animals drinking from a watering hole in the jungle). Some of them appeared to be dead but in retrospect they were just resting because when I returned again later I found that the poison watering hole had all but been abandoned.

Yea, the plan worked.

No, not really.

Two days of no activity later, when I awoke at my usual 5 am on a weekday, and I noticed that now there were like 300 ants frantically gathering around the watering hole. This time, a bunch of them were just laying around and not moving (very un-antlike) and others were climbing over them to get to the nectar. When I returned yet again later on in the day, the hole was abandoned except for the few that had managed to drown themselves in the intoxicating pool of alleged ant-death liquid.

Hoping that perhaps today was the day that no ants would be there when I awoke, I discovered this morning around five am that there were still about 3 or 4 dozen ants imbibing the bittersweet juice.

My question is this: Am I using the right stuff? Is this liquid only temporarily killing them or is it just knocking them out for a few days? Should I try other brands? Do I have to call an exterminator? It’s starting to rain outside these days and I vaguely recall ants seeking shelter when it rains.

Give me a shout out here and drop some knowledge on me. I am tired of having the ants for breakfast every other day.

I, of course, am referring to the kind of golf one plays on the screen of one’s computer. And it’s not even a “realistic” golf game; it’s actually a miniature golf game called “Crazy Golf”. And finally, just about ten minutes prior to my typing up this post, my day on the course finally arrived.

Allow me to explain.

I have been addicted to this game called “Crazy Golf” that is on this website called teagames.com. I discovered this site playing this bow and arrow game and I have sinced moved on to Crazy Golf. I have played this game a few times per day (and more on weekends) for the past month and a half and I have seen my scores steadily decrease as the days go by. (Remember, we’re talking about golf, so the lower the score the better).

I went from scores of +15 all the way down to my current low of -19. If you score low enough (meaning the lowest 100 players), you get the privilege of entering you name and score on their site for all to marvel at and be amazed by it’s lowness. Needless to say, I have been hopelessly obsessed with earning my spot in the pantheon of the superstar Crazy Golfers who have shot the lowest of the low rounds.

The only problem with this little obsession of mine is that lots of people play this game daily and my lowest score of -19 isn’t even close to making it on the board. There are people who play this game multiple times and score -29 and -30. (And this is on 18 holes!!!). So, when I finally shot a round that I thought really worthy of making the leaderboard, I found that I was not even close. Not by a long shot.

Until this afternoon (now, 15 minutes ago).

I shot a round of -16 and, like every time, the site offers one the opportunity to enter your name to be saved to the board. When I hit enter to see if anyone had shot better than a -30, I was flabbergasted and amazed to see my name, jasonp, and my last round’s score of -16 sitting pretty atop the leader board.

Now, I’m not so naive to believe that this score is going to be on top, or anywhere on this board tomorrow, or even an hour from now, but for this moment, I am the King of the Links.

If it’s photographic proof you seek, open your eyes and behold the majesty of jasonp, -16.

I know, I know, it’s a little tough to see. Just squint and you may see it! Trust me, it’s there.

If you haven’t seen the show before, I’ll try and break down a typical episode for you here. Every epidode follows EXACTLY the same pattern so the only things that are different are the theme of the party and the color of the imported luxury automobile at the end. Now try and keep up.

A typical uber-wealthy teenager decides she/he HAS to have a sweet sixteenth birthday party to put all other sixteenth birthday parties to shame. First, child and parental unit go dress and accessory shopping, then child and other parental unit go car shopping. Usually the parent tells the child that they shouldn’t get his/her hopes up about the car but we all know that is a lie. Then, the child goes to school and makes a HUGE production of passing out invitations to all her friends and trendy cool kids as the camera makes sure to capture the look of disappointment on the faces of the uninvited and the unwanted.

Then, there is always some last minute drama, typically involving bad hair or a rumor about party crashers or the child being late for his/her own party or if the child’s big dance/performance number is going to go well. And then there is ALWAYS the issue about which big name celebrity is going to be performing at the party (and I always enjoy how some one-hit wonder local rap artist is THE big celebrity that the kids are coveting so much).

The night of the party comes and there is always stress and more drama as the child wonders if the party is going to be a success. As things ALWAYS work out for the kid and the psuedo rock star performs and the party guests go crazy and allow themselves to be taped for an MTV show saying how great the party was and how there will never be a better party anywhere on the planet (or known universe), the viewer knows that there is only one scene remaining in the show. The big car reveal.

The father of the birthday kid will say that there is one more thing to do and invites everyone outside. MTV cues up the dramatic classical music to accompany the slow-mo shot of the party guests feverishly running outside. Once there, the dad reveals to his surprised child that very same mega-expensive, shiny, imported sports car he was warning them earlier not to get their hopes up for. Then there is the obligatory hug and heartfelt thanks for everything moment and then the credits roll on another episode.

So, didja get all that? Good.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I do enjoy this show. It is very entertaining and I liken it to the television equivalent of rubber-necking; it is something that I cannot take my eyes off. Yes, I’ll admit, I am very judgmental about it and, even though I could never afford to ever in my life be able to host such a party, I am allowed to tell myself that I would never allow a child of mine to be that spoiled and catty and brutal and mean and oblivious to the world outside of their wealthy family.

Because this show has been on for a few years, I cannot say that the kids that are portrayed here are really like the way they appear on tv. They most likely are magnifying their personalities for the sake of being a famous person on tv but I believe there is a lot of truth to the way they are acting. They seem to be extremely spoiled and don’t seem like very good people at all. And the parents are just as oblivious; oblivious to the point that they are just as blindsided by the fame aspect as well.

I can’t tell if MTV is showing this “stuff” on tv as a cautionary tale to young impressionable children not to be like these kids are or is MTV just exploiting the fact that America in 2006 cannot get enough of garbage like this. Sometimes I get the feeling that the network is trying to portray these kids in such a way that it would be downright ludicrous for anyone to try and act like this in real life, but I don’t think the kids that watch this show can really differentiate real from not real; especially the ones with more money than they know what to do with and the privilege to match.

Now, in my perfect little world where I could make people do what I wanted them to do, (for example, I was an executive at MTV and the only way the show would be broadcast was if my wishes were granted; not a likely scenario, but just go with it for the sake of allowing me to make my point, thanks), I would force every kid that appeared on a particular episode to gather together and watch the premiere of the show in the same place. The best part about this idea is that we would NOT be watching it in Hollywood or in Times Square or in an IMAX theatre.

No, the absolute best place for these people to gather together and watch the premier of their episode of insipid, overproduced, greed-filled opulence, would be in some small village in Africa, or in some coastal village in Thailand, or in some farming village in Guatemala, or in the heart of the poorest neighborhood of Bombay. Oh yeah, and all the villagers and locals would be a part of the premier party. It would be really interesting to see if the mood of the original party would be the same as the premier party or if it would, for some reason, be slightly different. If those kids (and parents) had any humility at all, I would hope that the MTV cameras caught that on film and tacked those scenes onto the end of the episode. In my heart of hearts, I believe that those kids (and their parents) would tone their act down a little; at least while the cameras were rolling.

How’s that for “My” Super Sweet Sixteen?

So, are my intentions clear here, or what? Good. Now, read on.

For as long as I’ve been alive, I have been allergic to dogs (and cats and horses; frankly any animal with fur is on my allergy list). Whenever I am exposed to a dog in a confined space I get a serious asthma attack within about ten minutes of initial contact. In the past, my only antidote to the attack was to leave the area where the dog was located and within an hour or so, my breathing would return to normal. Why not use an inhaler, you ask? Well, for whatever reason, when I was a kid and first found out about my problem, my doctor never prescribed one and so I’ve learned to just deal with the situation as I have described it above. With the commercial availability of Claritin a few years ago came major relief for me. I could actually spend hours at a time in the presence of a dog and not suffer much at all. Of course, I would be a little congested when the pill wore off, but overall. things were looking up for me.

Now that you know all about my history with animal-related asthma, I just want to point out that while I have nothing against dogs, I could just as easily spend my life avoiding them and be a-okay. In fact, when I am out in public, and this I swear happens to me every time, dogs seem to be able to sense my allergies and subsequent avoidance of them, and they flock to me like I am wearing a suit made out of marinated steaks.

This little routine even happens to me when I am at school on the weekends, nights, and during the summer. If you’ve ever been on campus during school hours, you will notice that we are a relatively dog-friendly campus. But things are just ridiculous on the weekends and at night during the school year. There are easily 15 to 20 dogs a day roaming around this place, with and without their owner nearby. Just a few weeks ago, when I first started working for the year in my classroom, around 5 pm-ish, this dog ran right up to my classroom and started barking at me. This woman, I assume she was the owner, who was up the hall, asked me if I was a teacher, explained to me that the dog is just territorial and was guarding it’s turf. Well, lady, I hate to tell you, but this is actually MY turf, thank you very much.

There is also this GIGANTIC brown poodle that gallops around this place like a dinosaur did during the jurassic period. I swear this “horsie dog” (my pet name for this thing) literally gallops across the blacktop and has a not-so-nice temperament when relating to other dogs.

But the best was a few years ago when I was working in my room and I heard the familar sounds of the jingle jangle of dogs roaming through the halls and for whatever reason I got up out of my chair and walked to my classroom door just in time to see a dog drinking from our school water faucet that the owner was holding in the on position for the dog. I mean, doesn’t the vision of a dog lapping water from a water fountain seem appetizing to you as a thirsty, water drinking human? Incredulously, I stood there, loudly cleared my throat to get her attention, and I watched as the embarrased pet owner quickly and quietly left. I couldn’t believe it either.

At least to everyone’s credit who uses this school as their personal doggie park, there aren’t a lot of noticable dog-bombs unpicked-up around campus. But then again, I don’t get out onto the large expanse of green grass we have here all that often, either.

Gotta love the dog and pony show.

We started yesterday morning and, I have to say, after having taught 10 periods so far this year, that I really do enjoy working with these students. It is day 2 and we’ve already had our first homework assignment and homework quiz. We’ve also heard two lectures about order of operations and exponential notation so far also. Very cool stuff indeed.

And the best part is that it’s Friday and tomorrow is the weekend. It’s funny how weekends don’t mean so much when you aren’t working; except that you get to hang out with your working friends. The ironic thing about this weekend (and pretty much every weekend from now until the end of the school year) is that I will log just as many hours as I did during the week. Oh well, it’s the life of a public school teacher.

Remember how I mentioned earlier that I had already taught ten periods of class this year? Well, the bell signaling the end of my prep period is about to ring and I need to get ready to put the eleventh and twelfth periods in the book as taught classes in about two minutes. Adios.