As far as Super Bowls go, that one was pretty sad to watch. As Shane pointed out, how is it that the League MVP now holds the record for the most interceptions in a Super Bowl? That last interception that was picked off by Dwight Smith was the final slap in the face for those poor Raiders. As I mentioned previously, I was hoping that Tampa Bay would win it, but still....you can't help feeling sorry for the Raiders for losing that badly.

The commercials continued their downward trend, with very few of them actually making me laugh out loud. Personally, I think commercials with man-faced women like Celine Dion driving a Cadillac have no place in the Super Bowl lineup. My favorite commercials were the Fed Ex/Castaway parody, the Reebok one with Terry Tate (this was, by far, the very best), and the Dodge Ram beef jerky one.

The ones I hated, as I mentioned, were the Cadillac ones (particularly the one with Man-Face), and the anti-drug marijuana can make you pregnant ads. Do we really need our tax dollars spent to rail against something that should probably be legal anyway?

Anyway, at the moment I'm watching the premiere of Jimmy Kimmel- Live. Remember when that guy used to do movie reviews on KROQ? That's now two former KROQ employees with late night tv shows. The other, of course, being that fucker Carson Daly. On the whole, Jimmy Kimmel was not too bad. At first I thought it was pretty lame, but as I watched it actually got pretty good.

So, I start school tomorrow. This is the first time I've had a class to go to in about six years. It starts at ten, but I am going to leave here pretty early, as I imagine parking will be hard to find on the first day of the semester.

This week I will also continue my search for a meaningful part time job. Yes, Erika, I will pop in to Starbucks.

I just returned from having my first ever Shabbat dinner at Danielle Lupkin's house in Los Feliz. Several of my old colleagues from the Shoah Foundation got together at her house Friday night and ate a wide variety of kosher foods...meats that had not been stored with milk, challah bread and so on. Since none of us are Orthodox, we were not too stringent on the rules. For example, we DID light the candles AFTER the sun had gone down. And, we all drove home afterwards. Driving on shabbes is a no-no.

I've always been impressed by Jewish traditions...they seem to have so much more relevance to their faith than a lot of the Christian traditions have to mine. A lot of Christian traditions and holidays have their roots in pagan and animistic rituals that were assimilated into Christianity by the Catholic Church during the Middle Ages. I mean, really...what do Easter eggs really have to do with the Resurrection?

As usual, gathering with the Foundation folk was great. It's funny to listen to the people who still work there complain about how bad things are. It almost makes me feel good about having been laid off. It's just not a happy place to work these days.

At any rate, today I went over to Cal State Northridge and purchased all my textbooks. It wasn't that bad, compared with some of the quarters at UCSD. I remember one quarter where I spent a total of about 700 dollars on textbooks. Yes...700 dollars for ten weeks of class. The worst part is, I think it was my senior year, so a strong case of senioritis prevented me from even opening most of them. The total for this semester came to $352.59. Not too bad for five classes.

It was sort of a nostalgic feeling to be searching through textbooks once again for the first time in six years...matching courses with books and so on and wondering why the hell I have to read that. Another thing that I had sort of forgotten about was, quite simply, the number of extremely hot women who populate college campuses. All I have to say is...damn it! Of course, now I am significantly older than most of them, but there's always the chance that there could be some hot latina in the credential program with whom I will get assigned a group project.

I still need to find some sort of part time job. It's coming down to the wire, so if anybody knows any leads, be sure to let me know.

Last night I watched my first episode of Dawson's Creek in about four years. I'm wondering what the hell happened. First of all, Dawson himself was not even in the episode. What's the point of having an episode in which the title character does not even appear? That's like Knight Rider without KITT. Or like that one season of Welcome Back, Kotter, where Mr. Kotter appeared in like two episodes because of some contract dispute. Or like that season of The Dukes of Hazzard, when Bo and Luke were mysteriously replaced by their two cousins who happened to look exactly like them.

Anyway...back to Dawson's Creek...when the hell did Pacey become a stockbroker? The last time I saw this show Pacey was barely passing high school. And, as near as I can figure, most of the show now takes place in California rather than North Carolina. Not that I'm really worried about it, because it will probably be about 4 more years before I see another episode.

Anyway....I've got this personal goal of leaving the United States at least once a year. I set this goal for myself in 2000, after returning from a trip to the United Kingdom and realizing that I had gone abroad in both 1998 and 1999 as well. In the summer of 1998, I did the typical post-college backpack trip through Europe. When I travel, I'm not the kind of person who likes to plan out an itinerary. I don't like making schedules like, "I'll spend three days in London and then go to Paris for four days..." I've always just sort of winged it...kind of deciding where to go on the spur of the moment.

This somtimes creates small problems, such as not being guaranteed a place to stay. In 2000 when I went to the United Kingdom, I decided to head up to Edinburgh over Easter weekend. Unfortunately, because it was a holiday weekend, there was not a single hotel or hostel room available in the entire city. While I was standing in the train station trying to figure out what to do, I met this wandering musician who was making his way from Berlin back to his home on the Isle of the Skye, north of Scotland. He was in a similar situation, and told me that he happened to know of a youth hostel in Glasgow, which was about 45 minutes away by bus. So, we hopped on the bus and headed over to Glasgow and managed to get a couple beds.

From Glasgow, I took several day trips to different cities that were nearby. Of course, I spent a day in Edinburgh, and also went to Sterling on Easter Sunday, where I attended services at this quaint stone baptist church and met this Scottish chap, with whom I still exchange the occasional e-mail. Anyway, after a few days in Glasgow, I decided to head up to Inverness...which, after visiting there, ranks among my favorite cities in the world. It's actually little more than a village, and it relies heavily on tourism for Loch Ness. I went to the Loch but, despite by best efforts, caught no glimpse of the monster.

One of my favorite things about travelling is the people that I meet while doing it. That is somewhat surprising, considering that, back home, I have to be forced to say hello to somebody I don't know. Travelling Matt is somewhat of a different creature, though. Travelling Matt can walk up to a complete stranger and strike up a conversation, have dinner with a group of strangers or whatever.

On quite a few occasions, I have ended up sleeping at the home of some kind European I didn't even know. For example, I once met this British guy in Nice, and he and I were going to go to this small town in the Swiss Alps called Boltigen to go mountain biking and stuff like that. Anyway, we decided to stop over in Geneva because he wanted to visit a friend of his who lived there. So, I tagged along and got to stay there as well, even though neither of them really knew me. I could have been a psycho or something.

Recently, I was disappointed to learn that I had remembered something incorrectly. See, the first time that I went to Europe, I wore this one shirt. When I went to England two years later, I decided to make it my travelling shirt, because I remembered wearing it on the way to Europe and, also, on the way to New Zealand. Well, last December while I was at a Christmas party in Temecula, somebody had some pictures of the trip to New Zealand and there were pictures of me boarding the plane in Los Angeles wearing a different shirt. I don't know what made me believe that I had been wearing that other one on the trip to New Zealand. Maybe I just wanted it to be that way, so I convinced myself that it was so.

Does that last paragraph even make one damn bit of sense to anyone?

Undoubtedly, the most important development of the last few days was the fact that I have now met, in person, Nathan Lundblad and The Foos. I showed up at their Winter Debauch in Pasadena on Saturday night and stayed for approximately two hours. I would have stayed longer, but I was more or less completely exhausted for some reason and wanted to get home so I could sleep. I arrived at their house at about 11:00, having just come from another party down in Whittier. Of course, the first party was just a dinner party, so there was no debauchery to speak of there.

Yesterday, Ryan Cox and I went to see Gangs of New York in Burbank, along with Nat Idontknowhislastname. After seeing this movie, I have come to the simple conclusion that Ryan and I, for the most part, simply do not have similar taste in movies. Immediately after we left the theater, Ryan and Nat proceeded to talk about how horrible that movie was. Meanwhile, I was thinking that I had been rather entertained. Granted, it wasn't my favorite movie, but I did enjoy it. Add to that the fact that Ryan and Nat both thoroughly enjoyed 25th Hour, while I was bored senseless, and one can conclude that Ryan and I do not like the same kind of movies. Well, there's no accounting for taste.

In other news, I was more than pleased to see the Raiders beat those sorry bastards from Tennessee. Now, as a true Chargers fan, I must once again turn my attention to rooting against Oakland. So, I'm hereby casting my lot in with Tampa Bay for the Super Bowl.

I got my 1099 from the state unemployment office today. Once I get my W-2 from UCLA then that means I can file my tax return. Like every year, I am determined not to wait until April 15 but, like every year, I probably will. Seeing how much I collected in unemployment last year was kind of depressing. Not because it was such a little amount but because it was so much. I mean...was I really THAT unemployed? That certainly doesn't do much for one's confidence.

I start school next Monday. It will then become necessary for me to find SOME kind of job, as I cannot continue to collect unemployment while I'm in school. That's kind of a good thing, perhaps. It gives me some incentive.

I managed to get my name on the substitute teaching list for South Pasadena Unified last Friday, which is next to impossible to do. They didn't call me today, but it's a pretty small district with a rather large pool of substitutes. I've got to get myself on some other districts as well.

Ok...if anybody wants to buy me dinner to cheer me up, that would be nice of you.

I never thought I'd live to see the day when there would be no more bananas. Honestly, I never gave it much thought. Sure, I guess it might have occurred to me that at some point in the distant future there might come a time when the inhabitants of a space colony on Quasar 5 might wonder what these things called bananas, spoken of by the Ancients as being the Fruit of the Gods, might have tasted like.

But I never imagined that bananas might cease to exist in my lifetime. Yet...there it was. The headline on Yahoo news was quite clear, "Bananas' Days May Be Numbered". I had to check to make certain that I hadn't accidentally wandered over to The Onion, as that is exactly the type of thing they would write about as their humor continues it's dreadful downward spiral.

It seems that the Banana hasn't had sex in years. While I can certainly empathize with the banana's plight, it seems to me that the solution ought to be a somewhat simple one. Two banana trees in a dimly lit room with Barry White playing softly in the background ought to do the trick.

After reading the article further, however, I discovered that it was not that simple. The banana is sterile. While I suppose that Mr. and Mrs. Banana could perhaps adopt some other little plantains, that would not actually solve the problem that we are facing. No more banana cream pies. No more banana splits. No more peanut butter and banana sandwiches. No more banana flavored Quik. In my freshman anthropology class, I had even learned of an African tribe that makes a type of banana beer. I've never tasted it and now it seems I never will.

This is, no doubt, our own damn fault. Now, I'm far from being what one might consider an environmental wacko...but at the same time, I recognize that we have done a lot of harm to this planet...some of it irreversible. And so, the banana will be the latest victim of our hubris.

We've got ten years, so these scientists claim. Ten years left to enjoy this blessed fruit in whatever form we wish. Ten years to find a suitable replacement. Peanut butter and zucchini sandwiches. Eggplant split. None of it seems to work for me.

I can imagine, fifty years from now, being surrounded by my grandchildren and my daughter's adopted android, Timmy, at Christmas.

"Tell us a story, Grandpa!" They will cheerfully shout. "Tell us what the world was like when you were our age!"

I'll lean back in my chair with a far away look in my eyes and smile, in spite of myself. I place little Timmy on my knee, being careful not to spill any water on him, and tell them the story of how, in 2013, I had enjoyed my last banana.

Happy Birthday to my dear friend, Shane. If I were a good friend, I'd be up in San Luis Obispo right now, helping him celebrate the anniversary of his birth. If I were a good friend, I'd be there eating dinner and watching Gangs of New York with him tonight. We'd be up until the wee hours of the morning playing Risk and Monopoly. We'd giggle like little school girls while watching Simpsons reruns. But...since I am a horrible friend and did not drive up there for his birthday, I'll just have to wish him happy birthday here on my weblog.

Well, there's not much going on at this time. I'm working on getting my resume and a cover letter ready to send out to local school districts in an effort to get a substitute position somewhere. I have a friend who knows somebody who is in charge of hiring substitutes at South Pasadena High School, so maybe that will lead somewhere.

I'm amazed at how hot it is today. At the moment, according to the Los Angeles Times website, it is 80 degrees here in my zip code. My apartment is most likely significantly hotter than that, as it is on the third floor and in direct sunlight all day. Sure enough, I just glanced at the thermostat and it is about 87 degrees in here, in spite of the fact that the windows are wide open.

I'm looking forward to watching the AFC Championship game this week. Normally, as a Chargers fan, I'd rather be killed than be caught rooting for the Oakland Raiders but, honestly, my dislike for the Titans is that strong. Plus, I think it'd be really cool if the Super Bowl were a face off between the Raiders and Tampa Bay. Then we'd have a contest between pirates! Aaarh. Shiver me timbers.

It took me five months to do so, but I finally finished Desolation Angels by Jack Kerouac. Of course, I did take a break for quite a while to read Watership Down, and decided to return to Desolation Angels a couple weeks ago. Normally, I'm a huge Kerouac fan...but this one just didn't do it for me. I've now started reading a book recommended by Nathan Lundblad, called Name of the Rose, but I'm wondering if it will have to be put aside once I start school full time on January 27th.

I just remembered something that I'd been meaning to post about for a while. Last Tuesday night (actually it was early Wednesday morning) while Shane Ross, Ryan Cox, Nat Idontknowhislastname and I were driving down Santa Monica Boulevard after having seen 25th Hour at the Arclight in Hollywood and having eaten a late meal at the Yukon Mining Company, we saw this car speeding toward us in the opposite direction, followed closely by about 15 police cars. Overhead, news helicopters and police choppers were circling, following the progress of the chase. And there we were, in the midst of all the action. So, after three years of living in Los Angeles, I finally witnessed a police chase up close and personal. Frankly, I'm surprised it took that long. When I first moved up here, during my first month, I saw three SWAT operations in progress. As a country bumpkin from rural San Diego County, it was rather strange. I thought it was the norm to see that kind of thing that often but, since I haven't seen any since then, I guess not. Or maybe they continue to happen all around me, and I am now completely densensitized to them.

Happy Saturday. I'm sitting at home watching the Pittsburgh Steelers and the Tennessee Titans battle it out on the gridiron. As usual at this time, my team is also sitting at home watching the game and wondering how exactly did they blow it again. I'm not too concerned about who wins this game, but I am sort of rooting for Pittsburgh, simply because I dislike most things about Tennessee. Back in 2001, I took a vacation to Washington D.C. and had a layover in Memphis. I was in the airport for 45 minutes and, during that time, I saw six people without teeth. Unfortunately, I am not exaggerating. Add to that the fact that if you lose your wallet they kill your dog and that pretty much keeps me away from there forever.

There's a couple of things that amuse me about sports fans. The thing I find the most amusing is when they speak about their favorite team using the word "we". As in, "We went to the Super Bowl last year" or "We ran the ball 99 yards for a touchdown." I'm never quite certain how to explain to these fans that they actually had nothing to do with it. Fan X, as an individual, did nothing to assist his team's linebacker in intercepting that pass or in sacking that quarterback. All the fan did was sit on his couch and watch somebody else make the play. Don't get me wrong, I catch myself doing it too on those few occasions when the Chargers don't suck. Back in 1994, I was caught up in the "we're going to the Super Bowl" frenzy...even though I personally had nothing to do with the blocked field goal attempt in the AFC Championship Game.

Another thing that amuses me is how fans treat players who leave their favorite teams. Jerry Seinfeld described it best when he commented that we're "rooting for laundry." Jerry Rice, for example, was once the most beloved man in San Francisco. Then, one day, he heads across the bay to Oakland, dons a silver and black jersey and becomes instantly hated by all those fans who formerly adored him...just because he's wearing a different shirt!

In other news, my roommate recently purchased a Playstation 2. (He says he got it from some guy who stole it from the home of a Caltech Grad Student.) I'm guessing he did it because he wants to see me fail all my classes this semester. The presence of the Playstation has revealed a slightly irritating quality in his personality. Apparently, he's one of those people who comes in while somebody else is playing a game and starts saying things like, "Oh, no...go that way! There's two guys around that corner. Look out! No, don't go there!" I realize such people think they are being helpful but...how about just letting the rest of us play our games. It's like those people who walk up to a chess game in progress and say, "Why don't you capture his queen with your knight?"

Oh well...at least there's one in the house now...it's quite an upgrade from my now antiquated Nintendo 64.

I suppose that it is long past time for me to make my first post of the year. I had originally planned on writing this long post on December 31...kind of a "year that was" sort of thing about my life last year...like you might see on the Fox News Channel, but without any mention of the War on Terror™. However, I think I can sum up my year for you rather quickly: Unemployment, crappy job, Katie Pearson, Oktoberfest, unemployment. That pretty much describes 2002 for me. Here's hoping 2003 will be better.

Anyway, I'm still down in Irvine, although I will be returning home to Montrose tomorrow morning, when my brother and his wife return home. Yet another housesitting job successfully completed. These gigs really are quite boring, when it comes down to it. But, once again, it is free money.

I took a brief hiatus from housesitting for a few days and went down to Vista. I left Irvine on December 30, and drove down to the home of Ryan and Mandy Yingst, where I had the privelege of seeing their newborn daughter, Macy Michelle Yingst, for the second time. I had seen her on the 22nd also, when I went to a Christmas party in Temecula. She's one of the cutest babies I've ever seen. There's a picture of Macy and Erika on Shane's blog. Go look at it.

So, down in Vista, my time was spent with a great number of people who had not all been together for quite some time. On Monday night, I hung out at Ryan and Mandy's house, along with Shane and Erika, and Eric and Tisra Fadely, who were visiting from Tennessee, along with their two year old son, Grant. Grant's a pretty cool kid, also. He replies yes to every question he is asked, even if you ask him if he shot President Kennedy.

New Year's Eve was somewhat boring. The early part of the day was pretty cool...I went over to Eric's parents' house in Fallbrook, and had dinner there and got involved in a game of Axis and Allies, that did not go too smoothly because the game kept getting interrupted. Around 9:00, I went over to the Yingst house to find a group of revelers who were more or less half-asleep. I think we were barely able to stay awake until midnight.

On New Year's Day, Shane and Erika and I went over to Adam and Alicia Young's house in Fallbrook for breakfast. We stayed there until about 3:00 and then went back to Erika's parents'. I ended up falling asleep on the couch while Shane and Erika went to visit Shane's mom. I woke up in confusion, having forgotten where I was. It took me a few seconds to figure it out. I hate it when that happens.

Anyway, New's Year Day proved to be a much more fun evening than New Year's Eve. A large group consisting of Shane, Erika, Ryan, Mandy (and Macy, of course), Adam, Alicia, Lisa Taylor (Mandy's sister), Kristen Figley (another San Diego friend who has remained heretofore unmentioned) and I all went out to dinner at Fidel's in Carlsbad and then went back to Ryan and Mandy's house and ended up playing games until well after midnight. It was quite good to be around all those people again. Sometimes I really miss living down there. Perhaps after my credential is done I'll get a job teaching at Vista High School or something. Or I could go back to Fallbrook High School, and be sort of a Mr. Kotter character.

On Thursday, Shane and I went over to Ryan's and convinced Adam to come over also, and we spent the day playing X-Box, which just rules. My previously mentioned lack of game-playing skills was obvious. Anyway, late in the afternoon, everybody else went over to San Marcos to see Catch Me If You Can, but I had to come back here to pick up the dog from Jaime's parents.

On Saturday night, I had my second annual holiday get together with my old college friends, known affectionately as the Angry Men of Portola. It was the first time that all six of us had been at the same event since Ryan Stottlemyer got married in 1999. Hot shot young lawyer that he is, he and his wife recently purchased a fairly nice home here in Irvine, which is where we had our dinner.

I just read over all of that, and it's really somewhat boring. I guess that's what happens when I wait so long and try to cover too much material all at once. Oh well.

There's something else that I've been meaning to post for a few weeks but just haven't gotten around to doing it. A couple weeks ago, I had a dream involving two people whom I have never actually met, but have seen pictures of. I'm referring, of course, to Nathan Lundblad and the one commonly referred to as The Foos. It seems that I was invited over to Nathan's house, for some reason or other. When I arrive, he tells me to have a seat, which I do, and then he offers me a drink, which I accept. I look over at the couch, and The Foos is sitting there, not saying anything. That's actually all he did in the dream...just sat there. Most likely because I know absolutely nothing about him.

Anyway, after consuming my beverage, I realize that I am starting to feel a bit queasy. It occurs to me that Nathan has slipped me a mickey! As I realize that I cannot move, the front door opens and in walks this little green alien. I look questioningly at Nathan, and he, in typical evil genius fashion, begins to tell me why he has drugged me. It seems that Mr. Lundblad is completely incompetent as a physicist, and all his experiments end in failure. In order to make up for this shortcoming, he has made a Faustian deal with a group of aliens. They help make sure that all his experiments succeed and will help him develop his doctoral thesis. In exchange, however, he must provide them with one human male medulla oblongata per month. He tells me that it won't hurt a bit, and begins to cut into my brain, at which point I woke up.

Needless to say, I will be wary of any invitations from Nathan Lundblad in the future...