Rather than blog about one specific topic tonight, I decided on a brain dump after having a stressful week (month, maybe?). Here are some happy, philosophical, sad and irreverent thoughts that have been bouncing around in my head recently. Ready? Take a deep breath...
I believe the Cubbies rule more than most people, but even I think it's ridiculous that Carlos Marmlol freaking made the All-Star team after the way he's pitched this past month.
Are ideas ownable? When do they become yours? My boss took an idea that the Chief Creative Officer (CCO) of our company had for a new business project I'm working on and is trying to pawn it off as his own. How do I know this? Because I overheard my boss telling someone else that he had a meeting with the CCO who had a suggestion for a TV commercial. Lo and behold, when my partner and I presented work a day or two later, our boss was like, "That actually kind of works with an idea I had," and then proceeded to tell us the exact idea that the CCO told him. Shady. It makes me wonder how many of our ideas became his ideas when he presented them to the clients.
AVP beach volleyball is awwwwwwesome. I wish my beach skills were 8.31% of the skills of the pros on that tour. But at least all 5'9" of me got to meet and take a picture with 6'3" Kerri Walsh, who's the #1 women's beach volleyball player in the world. Take a look below. It wasn't awkward at all.
To keep my celebrity encounters rolling - on my way to catch the bus to go home after watching the AVP all day, I was walking on the bike path. I happened to look over my left shoulder, and right there next to me was Chicago Bears head coach Lovie Smith on his bike. I was like, "Hey! Lovie Smith." he was all quiet with a quick, "Yeah." I asked if I could get a picture with him. He obliged and got off his bike. Then he walked his bike in front of me to get on my right (not sure why), and, of course, ran over my flip-flop outfitted foot with his front tire. Luckily for me, he was walking his bike. Luckily for him, he apologized.
Today was my company's summer outing - a scavenger hunt/trek downtown, kind of like the Amazing Race, that ended with a barbecue. It was an absolute blast. We had to complete missions using problem-solving, video, photography, bartering and good old-fashioned charm. I might could have enjoyed it more had I not been called back to work, but it was still fun.
One of my friends from childhood passed away yesterday after a battle with pulmonary fibrosis. We had grown apart as we got older and he went to a different high school, but I've run into him on many occasions at some of the neighborhood festivals over the years. He had been on a waiting list for a double-lung transplant for the past few years, which unfortunately didn't come through in time. Even though he had been sick for a while now, the news still came as a shock. Death has a way of doing that.
Ok, you can breathe again. Goodnight. Sleep well.
-JT
I really have no comment. I just wanted it to be documented for posterity that this is what Aretha Franklin wore at President Barack H. Obama's inauguration ceremony while singing "My Country, 'Tis of Thee."
George Washington. A man with perfect curls and a great blush brush. Nice cheekbones.
Woodrow Wilson. No combover necessary! Nice jawline, nice three-piece suit. A refined gentleman.
Dwight D. Eisenhower. Just look at those baby blues. I like Ike.
John F. Kennedy. I'll be the first to admit, he was probably our best-looking President to date. Look at those perfect teeth! I wonder if he needed braces. 
Ronald Reagan. There is a reason he was an actor. He was hot in his earlier days! And he even still looks distinguished here. Look at his 'kerchief. Only classy men know how to pull that off without looking like a sugadaddy.
I'll be interested to hear your responses.
Well yesterday, the Backstreet Boys were here. Yes, those Backstreet Boys. They were scheduled to perform at 1pm in the huge conference room/meeting room on our main floor, and as much as I didn't want to go, I wanted to go. If for nothing else than to catch a glimpse of everything - the amount of people who didn't have work to do, the number of children whose parents brought them in, the amount of hair gel they use. Unfortunately, I got down there late and the room was packed. People were already spilling out into the hallway.
You would think it would have occurred to me a long time ago that I went out with someone who had the potential to be an Olympic athlete, but no, it didn't hit me until about 11:00 this morning.
I'm really picky about grammar. Like really picky. I get upset when people don't know the difference between
Joshua Radin. Remember his name. He's an acoustic alternative singer/songwriter. He plays and sings with an understated style that I can't really describe unless you see him live. And with him, less is more. It's this quiet style that has enough power to bring an entire concert hall, like the House of Blues last night, to complete silence. Wow.
The last time I was in Times Square, I got my picture taken with The Naked Cowboy. He had a publicist/manager with him who, in true Sopranos style, said that nobody could take a picture of or with him without shelling out some singles. So I did. I didn't want to be the reason for an unhappy tooshie.
Like every other parent on the planet, I've been having issues getting my son to even contemplate trying vegetables. No, I shouldn't say that. He likes those plain peas, carrots, and corn you get in a bag for $0.89 at the Jewel. But when it comes to fresh broccoli, cauliflower, squash, bell peppers, tomatoes, celery, lettuce, or zucchini, this is what he says:
I know there's a lot of talk going on right now about the whole Bosnia "I misspoke" thing, which probably is more important than mentioning that Hillary is long overdue for an appointment with her Botox specialist. But she is. Long, long overdue.
Looks like Jack's upset since 24 isn't airing until 2009. But this time, he's taking it out on his own people.
