The Stanford Axe - Right In The Neck, The Neck, The Neck

I discovered something this weekend that is pure awesome. The University of California Berkley (Cal) and Stanford each have something called an Axe Committee and these two committees meet up during the annual "Big Game" between Cal and Stanford.

The "Big Game" took place this weekend and, like, 20 kids from each school lined up across the field from each other and stared each other down West Side Story style (minus the snapping and dancing). The Stanford kids were wearing sunglasses like they belonged in the Matrix and the Cal kids were all dressed in snazzy gold and navy stripped polos, sort of like discolored bumblebees.

And they just stared at each other. Some of them took it more seriously than others.

One of the Standford kids looked like he was ready to rip the axe right off of the plaque and start using it on his Cal counterparts. It's a serious undertaking, staring down other co-eds on behalf of an axe. I'm guessing that only the best and brightest students are honored with admission to the Axe Committee.

Why all this fuss over an axe? Honestly you could pick up a brand new axe down at the Home Depot and you wouldn't even have to stare down an employee to get it. Well maybe; it is Home Depot.

So in an effort to turn over a new leaf, I decided to do actual research for a blog post. So I wikied the Stanford Axe. First, I cannot say enough how much I truly love wiki. Seriously, I love it. This is the real thing people. Love.

So here it is, the Stanford Axe originally came into play back on April 13,1899. I know, right? It's an ancient axe. There were these students called yell leaders (I'm assuming these students were the louder version of the staring committee) I bet you can't guess what yell leaders do.

Oh, you guessed.

Ok so during a rally, the yell leaders used the axe to behead a scarecrow dressed up like a Cal student and according to Wiki yelled this:

Give 'em the axe, the axe, the axe!

Give 'em the axe, the axe, the axe!

Give 'em the axe, give 'em the axe,

Give 'em the axe, where?

Right in the neck, the neck, the neck!

Right in the neck, the neck, the neck!

Right in the neck, right in the neck,

Right in the neck! There!

I know, I could stop right there. Could it possibly get any better? Why yes, yes it could.

Two days after the axe made its debut, Cal students stole the axe, and a chase through the streets of San Francisco ensued. That's right, students ran through the streets of an American city wielding an axe and no one stopped them. Ah, 1899, those were the days.

Of course, I'm sure you assumed that since Stanford houses some of the top brains in the country, they stole it back, and you would be correct. Thirty-one years and twenty-one Stanford students later they finally managed come up with a successful plan to reclaim the axe that included temporary blindness, tear gas and three get away cars.

Now, no one steals the axe. Not since the two schools went all peace treaty about it. Whoever wins the "Big Game," gets the axe. BORING. I want a high speed chase. I want to tune into ESPN and see the discolored bumblebees running from the Neo wannabes. I want to see a scarecrow get beheaded. Why doesn't anyone care what I want?

Don't worry. I have a plan. Ryan taught Bella how to have staring contests. It is my intention to make staring a regular part of our homeschooling. By the time she's college age, she'll be a master starer and I'm certain both Cal and Stanford will be recruiting her. Then she can make me proud by creating chaos and stealing things.

John Mayer Vs. US Weekly

This morning I heard an interview by John Mayer in which he said that for his last album he created a secret studio inside a house somewhere so that the paparazzi couldn't find him and give him a "defensive heart." He felt that as a result of this was that his album came from a more positive heart. (I'm not making this up) The interview segment ended with John Mayer calling out Us Weekly by claiming that his (John's) writing is better than anything printed by US Weekly. That no one would look back to US Weekly and reread their stuff but that his stuff would last forever. (because it's music)

I'm sorry to John, but I think it's safe to say that at some point in the future we will most definitely be looking back at what US Weekly taught us. Maybe not on purpose, but one day you are going to be flipping channels and stop on VH1 and I Love 2009 will be on and you won't be able to resist. You'll sit and reminisce about all of the wardrobe malfunctions on DWTS and think about how Kayne West picked on that cute little blond girl. Oh, the memories of all those sleepless nights spent wondering if Katie and Tom would go the distance will come rushing back. Yes, US Weekly has definitely made it's mark.

Even though John was wrong about no one caring about US Weekly in the future, he could very well be right about being a better writer. I think that thought deserves further consideration. Let's examine a few quotes from each party before we draw our conclusion.

First Us Weekly's take on love and parenting:

The worst part about making a sex tape? For Pamela Anderson, it was having to tell her kids about it...So, she sat down her sons, Brandon, 12, and Dylan, 11, for the talk. (Find out what Pamela Anderson's bra size is!)
"I just said, 'Look, Mommy and Daddy were massively in love, we videotaped everything, everything was videotaped, and you’re probably going to hear about something at school,'" she recalled.

Very touching and moving US Weekly. Can John Mayer possible be any better than that? Let's explore his lyrical genius.

On love (to be fair most of his lyrics are about love and sex so I just went with his latest single, Who Says):

Who says I can't get stoned
Call up a girl that I used to know
Fake love for an hour or so
Who says I can't get stoned

Well John, the answer to your question is the United States Government.

On parenting (it is important to note that John doesn't have any children):

On behalf of every man Looking out for every girl
You are the god and the weight of her world
So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Even though there is no practical advice in these lyric (such as how to talk to your kids about sex tapes), I like how he speaks on behalf of every man. How he shares that it's heart's desire to look out for every girl...I actually think that the original lyric to Who Says read, "Look out for an hour or so" but they substituted "fake love" at the last second.

This is a close fight. Who is the better writer? The literary genuis of 2009 is...?

This Is All My Fault

Pick yourselves up off the ground. I know the title of this post shocked you for no other reason then I am clearly taking responsibility for something. No, it isn't the firing of the Bills head coach today. I had nothing to do with that...even though the coach was planning on benching Trent in favor of Fitzpatrick next week, I swear I had nothing to do with him losing his job.

Let's get back on track shall we? I was taking responsibility and you were all, "It's about time." 

Earlier today I was making a pumpkin pie and Braden decided to help me. That's one of the amazing things about little kids, they want to help. They are eager to participate in your life and will nag you to let them until you give in. So I put everything out that I needed and started to dump delicately add ingredients and Braden did something that reminded me that kids are always watching everything we do. As frightening as it is, kids learn their behaviors from us. They are an accurate and terrifying mirror of who we are when we think no one is looking.

He ran back into his room and returned with a friend. Then he did something you've all "seen" me do before.

He cooked with a toy.

I can't help but wonder if his future wife will be disturbed by this practice or just grateful that he knows his way around a kitchen.

I'll be honest, Kareem hasn't been as useful in the kitchen since he lost his lay-up arm. He just hasn't been the same. Of course that being said, the dinosaur's tiny claws can't grip a spatula to save his life. No wonder he's extinct.

As a personal note to Mr. Punk, that is not a dinasour. That is Mikey (notice the orange stripes) as seen in the final TMNT episode when he and the other turtles transform into dragons of some kind and then unite (Mighty Morphin Power Ranger style) to form Master Yoshi who then defeats the Shredder.

I don't have to take responsibiltiy for Braden believing that the dinosaur is a ninja turtle. Clearly that's T.V.'s fault.

Be Careful Little Fingers What You Type

My heart is heavy tonight, Internet Buddies. From time to time, I post something of a more serious nature, but mostly I try to keep it light. I try not to preach or say something that might offend someone, but somethings just must be said. Somethings simply cannot be ignored.

After I wrote and posted yesterday's post about the Bill's players needing to get hair cuts, my boy Kawika Mitchell (he of the Pepe fame) tweeted this:

Ka_Mitchell55: And to whom it may concern... I got a lil trim. What u think? LOL

and this:

Ka_Mitchell55 Got hurt. Strength was suppose to b n my hair. Chop it and start over. Clean start. Rebuild

He went from this: (Seriously Kawika, a goatee. I thought we talked about this)

to this:

Clearly I should be more careful what I write. One stroke of my keypad, and I could cause the Macerena to become a national craze again and no one wants that. Seriously, something that awful could end civilization as we know it. Fortunatly for each of you, I choose to use my power for good and not for evil.
Since this experience has shown me how important it is that I choose what I blog about more carefully, I've chosen to donate my services to the CTRTWOG (The Coalition to Rid the World of Goatees), and I urge you to donate razors to this cause. I personally vow to carry a BIC with me everywhere I go so that if I should run into a man/boy sporting a goatee I can rid him of it immediately. This is an opportunity, your opportunity, to make a positive impact on society. Please join this cause. Together we can rid the world of the goatee. This I swear.

Petition

Ah, Buffalo Bills football today. I don't even know where to start. I'm going to sum it up for you. We suck. We suck oh so bad. OH. SO. BAD.  With only three minutes left in the game my boy Trent got benched for the ugly backup (you remember him). Why? Well, there are a few different opinions on this. I know you are interested, so let's gloss over them.

1. Trent is a delicate flower that might get hurt, and we don't want him to get hurt in a game in which there is no longer a chance for us to win;
2. Trent threw an interception and our coach actually believed that the ugly back-up could make up the 17 point deficit in less than five minutes (He didn't);
3. Our team is so dysfunctional that our coach has given up figuring out how to win and is just putting whoever is standing closest to him on the field and praying;
4. The coach felt bad that I had watched suffered through this game and pulled Trent from the game so that he could stand on the sidelines with his hair blowing in the breeze.;

I would have thought that reason number 4 was the right one, but Trent just stood on the sidelines looking all angry with his helmet ON. Of course after I watched his press conference my suspicions about Trent's hair were confirmed. It's too long. He needs a hair cut. I noticed this about a few other players this past week too. They all need haircuts. How come they had five days off and none of them bothered to stop by a salon? I am disgusted. If I was the coach of this team, I'd cut everyone's hair.

At this point in the football season every fan believes that they can coach better then the real coach, play better then the real players. Everyone believes they are smarter then the people running the team they root for. The truth here is that the Bills are a mess, and while others think they have the answers, I know that there is only one thing that can save this team now.

Haircuts.

Just look at him from today's press conference. Hair all grown over his ears and neck. Are those his eyebrows or his bangs? Are boys allowed to have bangs? Don't even get me started on the goatee. (Really Trent? Is this your freshman year in college?)

So I've decided to start a petition to get the players on the Bills to get respectable haircuts (or at least trim up around the ears). Maybe we should stipulate NO GOATEES as well. Have some pride, boys.

Here is where you come in. You can join in the petition in the comments section. Make grooming suggestions. We can fix this team together. I might even send this petition on to the actual coach of the Bills. I'm pretty sure he's desperate enough to try it. We can't let this continue.

What My Christmas Letter Would Look Like If My Life Was Based On The Show Private Practice

Dear Friends,


    As you can imagine, I was shocked to find out that I was pregnant even though I was sleeping with two men. I wasn't sure if the baby was my co-worker's (the acupuncturist) or my boyfriend's. Fortunately they were both great about it and decided to share fatherhood responsibilities. Saved me a bunch of money on the paternity test actually. Just as we were getting that all sorted out my best friend (you remember her, the Fertility Specialist) starting sleeping with my brother and he was diagnosed with a rare brain tumor. Thank God my ex-husband is a world re known Neuro Surgeon. All better.

The stress of dating my brother behind my back and dealing with his tumor and their subsequent break-up must have been too much for her because she accidentally implanted two of our patients with each others babies. Whoops-a-daisy.

The excitement never stops over here, just as we were getting all the baby mama drama straightened out, one of our other patients stopped by my place and performed and unnecessary C-section on me and stole my baby. I almost died, but don't worry about us. I've made a full and speedy recovery and someone returned my baby to me. So it's all good.

I really can't complain. At least I'm not that single father with two daughters that stopped by our practice. One of his daughters was really sick and dying and if he decided to go in and comfort her during her dying hours he would catch what she had and die as well leaving his healthy daughter with no one to care for her. Such a decision. He chose to die. That day sucked. Oh, that reminds me I should purchase a new toy to donate to Toys for Tots so that lonely orphaned child gets something under the tree.

Earlier today, I was hiking in the desert with one of my co-workers, I'm not sure what he does at the Practice. General medicine maybe. He's always there, just not sure what he's doing. Anyway, we were hiking and I was telling him how much I miss sex when we stumbled upon an injured man and his pregnant wife. Apparently these two lovebirds had accidentally driven off a cliff and she was stuck in the car. Of course she was due today. Some people will stop at nothing for free medical care. Naturally, since I'm a world re known OBGYN, I had to deliver the baby in the car. It wasn't easy since the car kept falling further and further down the hill while we were in it and the pregnant lady kept freaking out. Seriously at one point I said to her, "We are both scared, but if you don't listen to me and do what I say, you will die." She shut-up after that. Then I rocked that delivery.

Well I guess that's about it for this year. Nothing too crazy, just much of the same as last year. Have a safe and healthy holidays, but if you can't then call me at 1-800-IMAMAZING and my friends and I'll will swing by and save your life. Miss you all.


Merry Christmas

Christmas Cookies, Milk and Rehab

I come from a family of bakers. And cookers. And eaters. If you don't know the difference between bakers and cookers, then clearly you are neither and I will shed some light on it for you. Baking requires measuring spoons and cups and with cooking these things are optional. I prefer to use my palm when measuring for cooking, but find Kareem's palms are best when baking. Do you understand now? I'm a born teacher. I teach people. Your life is better because of me. You are so lucky.

One of our favorite secret family recipes is a cookie recipe that we made every year for Christmas growing up. It's so good it's evil*. I'm not kidding. It's one of the seven deadly sins. Making it and eating it. I guess that makes it two of the seven deadly sins. It's that evil. A few years ago we discovered that you could freeze these cookies. I believe that my mom did it in a vain attempt to get everyone to stop eating them before Christmas. Turns out, they are even more awesome frozen, and we ate them even faster.

As I sat down to blog tonight, I thought, "What should I write about?" Actually I didn't think that at all. I just sort of decided to share our secret family recipe with the internet because no home should be without the most awesome cookie ever created at Christmas and also calling it a secret family recipe might have been a bit misleading since it's not a secret at all. Plus, it's not so much a family recipe as much as a recipe my mom found in a children's magazine when she was a kid.

Without further ado:

Peanut Butter Creams

I wish I could find a way to make this font all pretty and swirly.

These cookies really deserve a swirly pretty font for their name.

Ingredients: 1 1/3 cups of creamy peanut butter

1 14oz can of sweetened condensed milk

1 bag of chocolate chips (you can use mini-chocolate chips but I prefer the regular)

powdered sugar (also known as confectionary sugar, same sweet white powder1 just two names, like Ricky Bobby)

1It is important to note that although I refered to powdered sugar as "sweet white powder," I in no way am condoning adding cocaine to your cookies, but if you do let me know how that works out.

Do not, I repeat DO NOT preheat the oven. These are no-bake cookies.

All right, we are ready to mix our ingredients. First, carefully and cautiously combine the first three ingredients in an appropriate sized bowl. Obviously, by carefully and cautiously, I mean dump them into the bowl.

Stir.

Pour some confectionary sugar into the mix. Maybe, like, half a cup. I don't know. Eyeball it. Ask Kareem if it looks good. He's got a pretty good eye for these things.

Stir.

Continue adding the sugar until your dough takes on the consistency desired (The consistency desired: It is no longer sticky, yet still holds together if you should, say, try to roll it into 1  inch balls).

Separate the dough into 1 inch segments and roll it into 1 inch balls. Set the said balls on wax paper to dry.

And there you have it, the not-so-secret recipe that has fattened up my family for generations. I shared it with you because I love you, which is also why I'm strongly suggesting that you never make this cookie. It's highly addictive (even without the cocaine). You might find that once you've consumed these cookies you no longer care about things like housework, personal hygiene, your children or your spouse. Only the cookie will matter.  Before you know it, you'll find yourself down at your local gas station at 3 am purchasing milk. (Did I not mention that these cookies are extremely sweet and require that you have a gallon of milk on hand at all times?)

Please disregard this recipe or you might end up on a plane to rehab in Arizona wondering where it all went wrong. It's only because I care.

*The cookie has informed me that if you don't forward this recipe to twenty of your closest friends in the next 24 hours it will come after you and your loved ones. I recommend you take the cookie seriously. Unfortunately, Kareem did not.