Not just for hunters and fishers anymore

You know what? I order most of my clothing from L.L. Bean. Yep, good old L.L. Bean. And for the most part, I love the shirts and the pants that I get from them. Good, solid clothing at a reasonable cost. I love it.


Come on, look at that photo. It could be an advertisement for Bean. With the Maine Hunting Boots and the cute little dog.

Yeah, I found it on the internet. I stole it. The dog's name is Miya. I feel terrible. I'm a thief. But I'm well-dressed.

Not to be confused with Ted Kaczynski . . . [Alternate title: It's not exactly an iphone . . . ]

So, I'm a man. Which means, among many other things, that I like little toys and gadgets. And I'm naturally pretty good with technology. That having been said, I am never among the first to buy and try new technological devices. I was very late coming to the cell phone party, and once I did, I even did that a little unusually, choosing a Virgin Mobile "pay-as-you-go" calling plan over other, more conventional calling plans. Anyway, all of this is back story to the fact that I recently purchased my second cell phone to replace, well, you know, my virgin one. Just my second. I know folks who get more than two cell phones each year. Anyway, I'm just going to let the visual tell the story, and then you, my dear and devoted readers, may commence with laughter or whatever it is that you do.

The photo on the left is my first cell phone ever.

The photo on the right is my new and improved cell phone.

See no evil, hear no evil

So, I'm just wondering. If the Pirates play a baseball game, and I don't watch it on TV or listen to it on radio, or know anything about the game, then did the game actually take place?


Yeah, yeah. I already know the answer. I suppose I was just fantasizing.


Damn that Sid Bream.

And this is what we've been reduced to . . .

I received this email this morning from my college roommate and best friend of many years ("Focker") who now lives across the state in Philadelphia with his lovely wife:

what type of toothpaste do you buy, and do you always buy the same one?

My response:

I change toothpaste all of the time. Presently, I'm using Crest Pro-Health and I rather like it.

FOCKER: you know, usually i like arm & hammer, but when it costs $4.59, and then you look over at a colgate or other brand that's selling for $1.89, what is a man supposed to do??? i can't really figure out the ingredients, so i assume they're trying to rid some inventory, and phase out the latest gimmick brand, so i just went with the colgate with "oxygen bubbles". can you believe it, "oxygen bubbles".

My equally as compelling response:

My dentist says that as long as toothpaste has baking soda, then they're all the same. I have not been impressed by Arm & Hammer's toothpastes. And they do cost more.

You just can't make this stuff up.

Which of these two fellows would you trust with your baseball team?

One of these handsome devils is Dave Littlefield, the General Manager of the Pittsburgh Pirates, and one of them is Matt. It's a nice photo, taken at the Pirate game this past Sunday. My only problem with this photo is that Matt is clearly using the wrong finger.

Footlong frankfurters for Father's Day

Let me just say a few words about sauerkraut. It's tasty, with that subtle bitterness that it has when it's made right. And it's a relatively good condiment for many meat dishes, from hotdogs to pork tenderloin. But as enjoyable as it is going in, that sauerkraut really does get its revenge during its exit strategy.

Maybe I should stick to barbeque sauce. One of my rapidly growing legion of readers emailed me that he had barbeque spare ribs for dinner yesterday, and he sounded pretty happy about it.

Barbeque sauce fever: catch it.

I'm feeling a little saucy

Today I only ask one thing, dear reader(s). Is there anything that doesn't taste better with barbeque sauce on it? Mmm, barbeque sauce. Just thinking about it makes my mouth water.

Plenty of good seats still available

Wow. The Pirates have won two games in a row (again, over the lowly Texas Rangers). And last night's starting pitcher Ian Snell was actually allowed to finish his masterfully pitched game (only the Pirates' second complete game of the season), rather than the standard "starter through seven, set-up reliever in the 8th, and closer in the 9th" format that has become the norm all around major league baseball. As Pirate fans well know, it's just that formula that has cost the team some devastating losses this season when our struggling (read: horrible) bullpen has blown saves and lost games late. And those losses really hurt, taking an obvious toll on the other players on the team. When will these managers learn? Sorry. Stupid question.

Just a moment in time

Did you see this? Bush was in Albania, where he is considered a heroic figure, for reasons that are well beyond my understanding. And while he was shaking hands with a crowd of people, he lost his wristwatch.

I couldn't help juxtaposing his experience overseas with that of our military in Iraq. Unlike those brave men and women, he actually was greeted by the people as a hero.

And, lucky bastard, all he lost was a watch. Hmm.

Woohoo! Back to just 10 games under .500.

BREAKING NEWS. THIS JUST IN. The Pittsburgh Pirates actually won a baseball game. The final score was 7-5 over the Texas Rangers of the American League. The Pirates' current record has them as the fifth worst team in baseball. How did they win, you may ask? Uh, well, the Rangers have the absolute worst record in baseball.

Pirate fever: catch it!

It's a hole in one (head)

So, the young, inexperienced, and frankly, undeserving Mayor of Pittsburgh is just plain fun to watch and see what kind of trouble he can get himself into. The U.S. Open golf tournament is being played at Oakmont Country Club this weekend, just outside of the city, and a story in today's Pittsburgh Post-Gazette said this about the exuberant Mayor:


When reporter Megan West for The Golf Channel checked in with city hall and said she was coming to get "local flavor," Mr. Ravenstahl was all over it.

He led a tour of the city, touted the April finding that the city was again the Places Rated Almanac's Most Livable City, and was filmed knocking golf balls from Point State Park into the rivers.


Now, let's just stop and imagine that image. Mayor of Pittsburgh. Standing in beautiful, lush Point State Park. Right at the tip of the city, at the very confluence of our sparkling three rivers. Hitting golf balls into the water for The Golf Channel's cameras.

Not only is it against the law to pollute the waterways, but this fellow touts himself as "the green mayor."

As a friend of mine said in an email, "He’s the green Mayor – not talking environment."

I was green with envy that I hadn't thought of that line first.

And some of us think with our boxes

So, FF and I were sitting around on this beautiful summer, Sunday morning, drinking coffee and chatting, and she asked me what I thought about an older woman dating a younger man. I said that if the two people involved were happy and comfortable with each other, than I didn't see any problem with it. Then (as I had expected), she expanded on her query to reveal that she was attracted to a younger man that she has recently gotten to know. She is 31 and this fellow is 20. We talked a little bit more about the situation, the pros, the cons. And then, knowing that FF is eager to meet and date a nice guy, I said,"You have to think outside the box if you want to get someone into your box."

We think with our hoses

So, I've been living in my condo (once referred to as a "cool, great space" by FF) since December 2005, and sometime last year, I joined the condo association's board, which consists of the president, the vice president, the secretary, and the treasurer. I am the treasurer. Now, this little band of condo owners is quite a group of individuals. I already have countless stories that I could tell about each of them and the interactions that take place between them. Most of our communication as a board is done through email, which by itself is somewhat humorous because we all live in the same big house, just in separate units. But since virtually all communication is done via email these days, that's the way we do it, with an occasional board meeting thrown in for good measure.

As the relatively new treasurer, I peruse budget statements for the building, and I occasionally am asked to approve certain landscaping invoices. Just this week I was asked to approve a bill for $40 for what was called "put hoses out" on the invoice. So, after a little email exchange between members of the board about the hoses in our expansive yard, I wrote a funny little email just to the secretary, who I occasionally joke with about the tone and nature of some of our group emails.

Now, what makes this all amusing (since I know you've been waiting for something in this post) is that the secretary is a priest, presumably Catholic, who has a pretty good sense of humor. Oh, and he obviously works out a lot, because he is in very good shape, particularly for his age. FF calls him "buff." So, my email read, "Too many hose jokes here to even attempt one, I'm afraid, Father." This was his reply: "I haven't heard a hose joke in a long time."

I still haven't stopped laughing. Thank you, Father.

Michael Vick: After further review . . .

You know, it's been a few hours since my last post, and nothing particularly noteworthy has happened since then, aside from some light house cleaning around my condo and the still in-progress download (dial-up) of R.E.M.'s first greatest hits album. However, in that time, I've come to the decision that I might not be satisfied with just putting people like Michael Vick in jail. And since I know that that would never happen anyway, I think that the only thing that would truly satisfy my anger, my outrage at dog cruelty would be to put him in a little makeshift box that serves as the arena for dog fighting and then beat him with a baseball bat (since football doesn't really have anything equally cudgel-like that I could use). Either that, or I'd use said bat to do some serious damage to his Cadillac Escalade. Either way, I'd still be able to sleep at night. Sometimes, as even a story in the Bible suggests, an eye for an eye is the only true justice. Amen to that, brother.

The occasional soapbox pontification

So, dog fighting and betting has recently been in the sports news because the highly overrated quarterback of the Atlanta Falcons Michael Vick has been linked to the underground activity that is apparently quite common among certain factions of our society. Listen, I don't have anything clever to say about this topic. Dog fighting, dog cruelty, hell, animal cruelty of any kind or in any form is just plain wrong and frankly, uncivilized. I wish there was more room in our overcrowded jails to put those who engage in these kind of activities away for lengthy sentences that would reflect their level of wrongness. But since there isn't, people found guilty of animal cruelty usually just get a slap on the wrist and a fine. If it were up to me, people like Michael Vick would go away for a while, and I wouldn't have any trouble sleeping at night. And, I'd be willing to bet that more than a few Atlanta Falcon fans would thank me for ridding them of their troubled quarterback.

You can always get through a Friday . . .

So, since last night included some drinking and other partying, the actual conversation is a little bit blurry. But I can bottom line it for you, even though that will hardly do it justice. FF and I were sitting at Gullifty's, enjoying some cocktails and jazz, and we were talking about some of the women that have been in my life and some of their personal problems. After some clever, witty banter that I wish that I could recall verbatim, I declared that having a vagina is not easy. And there you have it, folks. Pearls of wisdom from the mind and mouth of Dave. Stay tuned for other, equally as compelling gems sure to follow.

Did you miss me?

I'm back. Wow. Haven't posted in a long time. That's not good. And it's not like I was doing anything particularly important or time-consuming during that time. Oh, well. Better to look forward rather than backward. Or something like that. So, on with the show . . .


From an email exchange with FF (female friend) this afternoon:


Dave: Do you realize how many changes/additions that I've made to my wardrobe just in the time that I've known you? It's practically a complete turnover.

Seriously, I'm digging the tropic weight fabric. It's so perfect for warmer weather, but it's not that linen crap that so many men wear in the summer. I hate that fabric. It has no shape. And on a man who already has no ass, no shape is no good.

Today in Dave's email inbox

Pittsburgh , PA --Pittsburgh Steelers football practice was delayed nearly two hours this morning after a player reported finding an unknown white powdery substance on the practice field. Head coach Bill Cowher immediately suspended practice and called the police and federal investigators.

After a complete analysis, FBI forensic examiners determined that the white substance unknown to players was the GOAL LINE. Practice resumed after special agents decided the team was unlikely to encounter the substance again this season.


Funny stuff.

A Farewell to Arms

Dear Mr. Rick Santorum:

As last night's fairly resounding defeat at the hands of Bob Casey, Jr. demonstrates, the people of Pennsylvania have decided to go in a different direction. In fact, your buddy Donald Rumsfeld resigned today after yesterday's Election Day results in favor of Democrats all over the country. We are not digging the war in Iraq or the nearly three thousand American lives that have been lost while the Iraqi people were not busy "greeting us as liberators." We've also decided (at least for the time-being) that we don't like your very narrow notions about what constitutes a family. Of course, you and your wife are free to keep procreating as you two work together to have one of those good kinds of families. We are, however, going to have to ask you (albeit reluctantly) to return to your home in the Penn Hills community of Pittsburgh where your litter of children can attend the local public schools. In the meantime, enjoy your last couple of months in the Senate. Make sure that you exchange email addresses with your buddies George, Dick, and Condi. We know that you guys with continue to be BFFs even though you will no longer have any power and no one will ever have to listen to you speak again. Like you, they will have plenty of free time on their hands in about two years.

Seal of Approval

So, this morning I’m at the place where I get my haircut, and the couple of older gentlemen who always seem to be starting their days by sitting around the waiting room shooting the poop with the owner start to stir because a parking enforcement officer walks by the front window. One fellow sticks his head out the door to see whether he got a ticket. He’s parked in a ten-minute loading zone, so he’s good for now. The other guy walks swiftly after the officer to make sure that he puts some money in the meter before she reaches it.

Meanwhile, I notice a big, very shiny black Cadillac (the newer, boxier kind) making a three-point turn in the middle of the street. Now, not only is this maneuver illegal, but it’s a stupid thing to do on such a busy street. But this guy’s not done. He pulls his big, very shiny car up to the curb in front of an optometrist’s office, puts on his flashers, and strolls into the shop. Now, this is a very clearly marked area with No Parking signs and bright yellow lines painted up and down the curb in front of this shop. Apparently, this gentleman’s glasses or the like were not quite ready, because he was standing in front of the shop’s glass door looking out onto the street with his hands in his pockets.

In was then that I recognized him as Pittsburgh’s own version of Johnny Cochran. Jim Ecker. Prominent defense attorney to the guilty scumbags of Western Pennsylvania. I also notice that he has a funky license plate. It is a Pennsylvania plate, but it has some kind of seal on it. He continues to stand in the doorway of the shop while a parade of cars and buses swerves to go around his glorified hearse parked out front.

My business completed, I leave and head up the street to where my car is parked. I had put a quarter in the meter upon my arrival because I’ve learned my lesson that 25 cents is a small price to pay to park for a short time rather than risking a $16 ticket. I mean, really, that’s like throwing money away. So, I drive my car past Jim’s Caddy and sneak a peak at his official-looking license plate. It turns out that the seal is a Fraternal Order of Police seal, like the stickers that so many people put on their cars after they make donations to the FOP, hoping that the stickers will somehow prevent them from getting potential tickets. I’m here to tell you folks that, although this story has taken me a long time to get to the punch line, I can safely say that at least on this day, the seal worked.

I watched the parking officer walk down the street right by Jim’s car without hesitating for a second before she turned the corner and headed toward other parked cars. If that had been my car parked in front of that shop with my hazards on while I waited inside, that officer would have run, no, sprinted toward my poor little car to slap a nice big ticket on the windshield. Damn Jim Ecker and his special treatment. He defends child-molesters and murderers. I know, I know. I’m sorry. He defends alleged child-molesters and murderers.