Waiting for the bottom to drop...

It hit me last night as I watched Rajon Rondo writhing in pain on the hardwood after this mid-air collision with the Knick's Tyson Chandler sent him crashing to the ground, tailbone first:

I've been waiting for the bottom to drop out.

I have dismissed. I have tempered. Unlike one Mr. Rod Stewart, I have looked to find a reason to disbelieve. So, here I stand, guilty as self-accused, ready to confess my sins.

For the better part of the last month and a half, as I've watched my beloved Celtics win 21 of their last 30 contests - many against some of the top teams in this lockout shortened NBA season - I've been curtly and systematically dismissing endless streams of, "You know, the Celts might have one run left in em..." comments. In fact, I've been doing it so often, it's developing into a perfectly rehearsed monologue:

"Yeah, I know they look good right now, but nothing has changed... they still can't rebound... they're offense still relies too heavily on their jumpers falling... they still lack depth... the bench can't score and blows leads... Sasha Pavlovic is being counted upon for meaningful minutes... the same problems that existed pre- All-Star break persist, they just haven't been exposed. They will be. Ultimately, they'll give up too many offensive boards to a team they should have put away in a must win playoff game, and an abundance of second chance points will propel said team past the Celts and into the next round and relegate Danny Ainge to a long summer of, "Should I? Shouldn't I?," in regard to resigning KG and/or Ray Allen."

In fact, as recently as two and a half weeks ago, in a conversation with a friend, I stated that the only playoff-bound team the Green could take in a 7-game series was Orlando. I don't believe that now, and I didn't believe it then either.

"Been dunkin' since a young'n like..."

Unless you're a big NBA fan, like myself, or someone who happened to watch SportsCenter yesterday, chances are you haven't heard of Kenneth Faried.

Well, allow me to introduce you:

Faried, the Denver Nuggets rookie forward out of Moorehead State, has been all over ESPN and ESPN.com since posting a 27-point, 17 rebound game against the Warrioirs on Monday night. It was a breakout performance from the 6"8', 228 lb, dreadlocked force of nature, who has earned himself the nickname "Man-imal".

(As fitting a s "Man-imal" is, I'm still fond of "The Predator", and with his shot-blocking abilities in the post, think it's just as fitting: see here, here, here, here, and here for evidence.)

But to anyone who's been paying attention over the last few months, Faried's breakout game should come as no surprise.

The genius of "Big Beer"....

This morning, I stumbled across something that left me standing in awe of the brilliant marketing minds at Anheuser-Busch In-Bev.

Good people, I give you the DRAFTMARK Home Tap System.

What is DRAFTMARK, you ask? Well, in practice, it is essentially a mini-(mini) keg-erator that stores and dispenses roughly 11 "draught" beers from the convenience of your kitchen refrigerator. Or, as the FAQ section of the DRAFTMARK website explains:

"Draftmark is a high-end, affordable home draft system that offers beer drinkers a true draft beer experience.

Draftmark offers a completely different experience from what’s currently available. The system is a permanent piece for your refrigerator; you simply purchase new re-fills and continue using the draught unit you’ve already invested in. Draftmark also allows you to pour multiple brands, offering variety to you and your guests. You can easily interchange between Budweiser, Shock Top and Bass Pale Ale."

In actuality? DRAFTMARK is an ingenious device the shrewd businessmen at AB In-Bev have devised to bring the war for shelf-space, brand identification and your hard-earned dollars from the supermarket shelves, straight into your kitchen....

The greatest Kobe analogy ever...

Simple as this post's title - and as sharp and accurate as well - I give you the greatest ever analogy describing 2012 Kobe Bryant, compliments of Grantland.com staff writer Brian Phillips:

"Kobe's relentlessness has always been his most celebrated quality, but this season, he's starting to remind me of one of those space probes that somehow keep feeding back data even after they've gone out twice as far as the zone where they were supposed to break down. You know these stories — no one at NASA can believe it, every day they come into work expecting the line to be dead, but somehow, the beeps and blorps keep coming through. Maybe half the transmissions get lost these days, or break up around the moons of Jupiter, but somehow, this piece of isolated metal keeps functioning on a cold fringe of the solar system that no human eyes have seen.

That's Kobe, right? While the rest of the Lakers look increasingly anxious and time-bound, he just keeps gliding farther out, like some kind of experiment to see whether never having a single feeling can make you immortal. He's barely preserving radio contact with anyone else at this point, but basketball scientists who've seen fragments of his diagnostic readouts report that the numbers are heartening. It's bizarre. He's simultaneously the main character in the Lakers' drama and someone who seems to have nothing to do with the narrative logic of the post-Phil team. Whatever the Mike Brown era is, he's got no point of contact with it. Even Gasol and Bynum, his best supporting players, essentially just concentrate on not interfering with his flight path. Everyone stays out of his way, which is easy, because "his way" is a couple of billion miles from the rest of the Lakers."

It has truly been fascinating to follow Kobe and the Lake Show thus far through this shortened season; like watching the Titanic's band keep right on playing... except in this case the bandleader might be single-handedly capable of righting the ship before it's too late.

Only time will tell, so I guess we'll just have to keep watching - on the edges of our seats.

Wait a second... did she just say...

The following is a true story. The names have been changed to protect… well, me.

It happened to a male friend of mine earlier today.

While talking to a middle-aged co-worker about her weekend, the woman mentioned that Sunday was her partner’s birthday.

Now, my friend has worked with said woman for roughly 6 months at this point, and though he probably wouldn’t consider her a “work friend,” they are cordial and will occasionally have a short conversation about current events, local happenings, restaurants, etc.

According to my friend, said woman is ultra-liberal, uber-artsy, metta-politically correct, and possibly a bit of hippie. Whenever she has mentioned her significant other in the past, she has referred to him as “my partner.” My buddy didn’t think anything of this, because she seems like the type of person who would say “my partner” in lieu of “my husband” or “my boyfriend”. During this morning’s conversation, however, a curveball was thrown.

Following up “It was my partner’s birthday on Sunday,” my buddy says, was, “but SHE wasn’t feeling very good, so we kind of had to reschedule our celebration.”

Now, my buddy is in no way, shape or form homophobic. However, he says this came as a shock to him. So, without further ado, here is his rapid, ranting, reaction:

So, immediately my mind kicks into high-gear. She’s still blabbing on, but I have completely stopped paying attention, and my internal monologue is going rapid-fire:

“Wait a second, did she just say SHE? I swear I heard she. Maybe it was “buts he,” you know, like baby-speak. Nope. There it is again. She said she again. She’s a lesbian? No, wait, she IS a lesbian. This kinda makes sense. Explains a few things.

Hold-up.

So she’s a lesbian. She just came out to me. She just came out to me? Who else knows? Is this common knowledge? Am I allowed to talk about this with other people? She always makes a point to say “partner” and not use a name. Is that cause she doesn’t want people to know? Why would she tell me? Did that just slip? Is she only telling me? Why would she think we’re that close? Does she think I’M GAY? I am not gay. I am not gay? Not last time I checked. When did I last check?

Snap out of it.

How do I react to her saying she? Do I stop her and say “wait, she”? Do I just nod and keep rolling with the convo? Was I supposed to have known this before? I’m just gonna roll with this. And speak of it to no one. Except Bill. I gotta tell Bill. This is the most awkward situation I’ve ever been in at work.”

That last part of his monologue had to be revised after a short conversation. We determined the time he told a gay guy (whom he didn’t know was gay at the time) that part of the reason he didn’t go to Emerson was because the first 3 guys he met on the tour were gay and he just didn’t think he’d fit in was more awkward.

We also determined that the “Did Tabitha used to be a dude?” conversation he had about one of his former editors was more awkward.

And for the record, yes, Tabitha used to be a dude. Poor Toby.

The Walker, and other people at the office who drive me bananas

There is an old, weird dude who works in my office.

You know the type; seems perfectly nice, decent worker - but he just has that weird vibe about him and he does these odd, idiosyncratic things that make you want to hate him.

Well, this afternoon a new wrinkle was added to my growing case against this guy: HE'S A WALKER!

If you work at any mostly sedentary office job, you're familiar with the group of people to whom I refer. These are the older, out of shape employees - who range from slightly overweight to morbidly obese - who spend their lunch breaks on "walks" to stay active and presumably drop the pounds.

They are also the same people who believe this walk entitles them to the extra bag of BBQ Fritos that didn't get eaten at a lunch meeting in one of the conference rooms. Look here jackass, either get serious about losing the thunder thighs or just admit that you're fine with being fat - stop the charade, cause it's pissing me off.

Anyway, normally I can somewhat deal with the walkers because I don't have to see them partake in said walking. But today it was raining out, so Old Weird Dude has spent his entire frigging lunch break doing laps around a group of cubicles - AND I'VE REACHED THE TIPPING POINT!!! I swear to all things holy that I'm tripping his turtle-necked, mustachioed ass on the next pass and then beating him to death with an industrial printer cartridge - SO HELP ME GOD!

However, this has gotten me to thinking - who are the other people in the office that secretly drive a rational, free-thinking, normal human being completely ape-shit?

Now, for clarification, I'm not talking about the people who outwardly drive their normal co-workers insane - like the middle-aged lady who has a 45-minute conversation with her "girlfriend" at maximum volume every day at 2:25 that only ends because those in the cubes around her have elevated the volume of their ahem-ing and harrumphing to the point where it can no longer be ignored. What I'm focusing on here is those people who you are otherwise all right with, except for the fact that you secretly want to bash their skull in with a sledgehammer for some completely inane reason. If that explanation doesn't make sense to you, you haven't worked an office-job for long enough.

So far, I've got the walkers, the "hipster aunts" - you know, the middle-aged, childless women who will routinely try to connect with their younger co-workers and prove their hipness by recanting stories about the "cool" things they have accompanied their nieces and/or nephews to (note that there are NO "hipster uncles") -  and the otherwise not bad chick who wants to educate everyone about reducing their carbon footprints and saving the environment.

But I know there are more I'm leaving out, so I'm asking for your assistance. What you got?