Softball - A Fat Man's World

The Red Robin softball tournament: A mystical fire where heroes are forged. A magical occasion where one small man can accelerate from zero to awesome in just under 2.5 seconds. That man. Was me.

Known only by the name that appears on the back of his blood and grass stained shirt, "Curly" steps up to the plate in the top of the 5th inning. This is the last inning in the game, and the score is tied. There is electricity in the air as the crowd stares at the home team's last chance at glory. The only thing standing between the pitcher's mound and certain defeat is a small, hairy man holding a large metal bat. As the mighty pitch soars high in the air, one thought runs through Curly's head: "Where did I leave my beer?" Remembering the lessons he learned while watching The Last Samurai with Tom Cruise, he quickly clears his mind, focusing it so intensely that it nearly pierces his skull. As the ball comes thundering down towards the plate, it is struck with a force unparalleled by any other in the universe. As he drops the bat and sprints towards first base, watching the center fielder run back in awe with his face painted a fearful, anguished red, he knows that life will never be the same, as his and everyone's world has been changed forever by the greatness of this moment. In a matter of seconds, destiny reveals itself and a hero is born: Chris Spiker.

True story. Anyway, we went on to lose the game cause our right fielder can't catch a cold (Though I hear he's had better luck with herpes), let alone a baseball. All in all, good times were had by most, although we would have liked to win at least one game. I guess, sometimes, even heroes fall short. As a side note, "heroes" and "herpes" have curiously similar spellings (Especially on a keyboard) while, sadly, their symptoms are so radically different.

In other news, I'm slowly getting tired of serving tables that speak no English whatsoever. Speaking some English is one thing, but no English whatsoever is entirely different. When a woman tries to order her 9 year old son a 2 ounce strawberry margarita, and your attempts to obtain a legal ID from the fourth grader are met only with hand gestures and frantic nodding, something is surely amiss. I thought briefly of ordering little Johnny Chan a triple, but the morally conscious sections of my brain prevailed on this particular occasion.

One more baseball story for all those sports fans out there. Practicing for the big tournament, we were fielding ground balls and throwing them to first base for the simulated "out" (Or, as more frequently occurred, the simulated "extra base hit due to throwing error"). I caught one at shortstop, loaded the ball into the rocket launcher I like to call my right arm, and fired a nuclear missile towards first base. My coworker at first went to catch the ball, but something went terribly wrong, and the ball got through him after hitting something (I figured it was his glove). A few seconds later, he was retrieving the ball, and fiddling with his throwing hand for some reason, with his back turned to the field. To make a long gruesome story short (But no less gruesome), the following had just occurred: The ball, traveling at an estimated 300 miles per hour, struck not the catching glove, but the index finger of the throwing hand (What was that doing in front of the catching glove...?), dislocating it completely at the second knuckle. At the fence, he tried to relocate his own finger (Being a medical specialist... Not), but apparently he pushed it the wrong way and actually SPEARED the finger's BONE through his own SKIN. I think the first thing he said was "Man... Dude my finger is whack man..." When he finally came around and showed it to me, his finger could have been mistaken for a little lightning bolt, had it not been for all the blood. You could actually see the bone coming out of his skin. Nuff said. Needless to say, I threw a little lighter for the rest of the practice...

Okay, the Oilers game is about to come on TV, so I'd better get going. So far, I've been unable to decide who I'm cheering for. I would love to see the cup in Canada, but really, I have exactly two favorite teams in the NHL: 1, the Flames, and 2, whoever is playing against the Oilers. The reason? They're from EDMONTON. What?... Well anyway, I decided to simply cheer for Canada and let everyone else decide what the hell that means. So... GO CANADA! Yeah... Beer time.

Spiker

-For those interested, here's a cute picture of Kelly and I on her 21st. Happy Birthday Sweetheart! http://www.geocities.com/spiker439/P6080065.JPG

Raincouver

I have begun building the Ark. I'm having trouble rounding up pairs of animals... I never really thought about it, but that must have been the hardest part for Noah, man... How the hell are you supposed to gather up a pair of friendly lions? I don't even think Ace Ventura could get two of each animal onto a fricken boat. I thought I might have found a pair of gorillas, but it turned out to be a curiously hairy Indian couple. If this torrential downpour doesn't stop soon, I'm just going to have to forget the animals, grab some hooters girls and sail away into the sunset. Oh, and there's room for Kelly, too...

I'm not sure which I hate more - the -40's in Calgary in winter, or the neverending rain of Vancouver. I've heard that summer here is amazing, but all I've seen so far from behind our sliding glass doors is rain and clouds. Stupid precipitation... It's rained for every single soccer game we've had so far. I would have written a letter of complaint, but I'm not sure where to send it - what's God's address anyway? I don't even think he reads his letters, the jerk... He only answers those stupid prayer things. What kind of management skill is that, diversify for God's sake... haha.

I've been absolutely soccer crazy for the last few days, with the world cup having started. I also started in a soccer league which is absolutely fantastic - I'm pretty much the only white guy on the team, so it's gotta be good soccer. So yesterday, I figured I'd do some training, get my fat ass in shape, so I donned my cleats, got my soccer ball, and went for a nice long run. I found a soccer pitch beside some school, and I practiced my shooting for a while. It was actually a decent day yesterday, with no rain (at least while I was out), so I took the old shirt off and was just running around, kicking the ball, sweating up a storm, having a gay old time of it. After doing some footwork drills, facing the net, for about 10 straight minutes, I turned around and found an entire junior high gym class standing not 50 yards from me, schoolgirls giggling and teacher staring nervously at this potential sweaty-soccer-pedophile. Apparently, school doesn't end for a week. I quickly put my shirt on amidst whispers of "Who's that" and "Why's he so sweaty", and ran home to my girlfriend.

Well, no soccer for me today, after yesterday's embarrassment, but I do have some softball; I joined the Red Robin softball team! I'll be playing shortstop or field, depending on how much everyone else sucks. I'm excited for the big tournament, which is tomorrow, where I get to drink myself into a coma while playing some half decent ball. Should be a grand old time!

Spiker

Work...

I've been serving at Red Robin for about three weeks now. It was the first job I applied for, and the first interview I got, so I pretty much just went for it. It's been good so far, it's my first serving job so it's been a lot of learning. Like, for instance, learning that everyone who goes to Red Robin is basically a piece of crap with legs, but you have to be nice to them anyway. I think there's this sign at the front door, that I can't see, that says "If you're a complete tool, ask to be seated in Spiker's section." Seriously. What kind of human wasteland orders a water with exactly three ice cubes and 5 lemon wedges? Apparently, anal retentive is a new fad. I'll fit right in...

I've also learned other stuff that's even more useful. Like today, I learned that the manager is always right, especially when the manager is completely wrong.
-"Chris, take that bracelet off."
-"Actually that's my watch"
-"Oh... Well it looks like a bracelet so you should take it off..."
-"But... It says on the wall there that you need a watch, and I tho-"
-"I'm too busy for this right now, we can talk about it later Chris."
-"Uhhh... Okay, but should I keep it on, or... nevermind. Skank..."

I also learned that even when they seat you 5 tables at the SAME TIME, you're still supposed to be able to take all their orders and bring them drinks within two minutes, because Superman worked at the first Red Robin, and if he can do it then you can too! Right... Superman was never that cool anyway. Name any other superhero that was ever felled by a rock. Call me crazy but what kind of panzy loses all his power when he gets near a green rock, seriously. This guy is worse than Goliath; at least David had to launch the rock at that guy, all you have to do with Superman is slip some in his Christmas stocking and he's done like dinner. Maybe throw a little in his morning tea. Shit, just send him some in the mail! Fricken Superman, GOD... More like STUPIDMAN... haha...

The truth is, the only thing I've actually learned at Red Robin is this: People suck. Sometimes, no matter what you bring out, there's a problem with it.
- "This is too... Perfect!... I can't eat this, it's like a piece of art! Bring me something edible, cabana boy!"
- "Oh, well... Okay, fine. But my name's act-"
- "Your tip is going down with each word, cabana boy..."
- "........ Be right back with your meal, sir"
- "...I'm a girl."
- "..................... "

Also, I've discovered that I am missing one crucial ability that every server needs to wait tables effectively; The ability to read minds. Because, you know, when the customer orders the chicken quesadilla, it's only because they're distracted by the pretty colored balloons at the adjacent table, and what they REALLY wanted was a taco salad with no beans and dressing on the side. Obviously, this misunderstanding is my fault. Does anyone know where I can buy a gun?...

Even after all the ridiculous things I've been through in the measly three weeks I've been working as a server, there is still one small victory, one shining star which seems to bring light to even the darkest of rooms, and seems to bring a pleasantness to even the very worst of days: At least I'm not working in the kitchen. BOOYAKASHA!

Spiker

Well Shit.

So I figure I've got a lot of free time on my hands, so I might as well start a blog, in case anyone is misguided enough to delight in the strange pleasure of reading about someone else's boring life. At least it kicks the shit out of a journal; those things are heinously lame, and why are they always pink? Do they make journals in any other color? Seriously.

I moved to Vancouver from Calgary about a month ago, and it's been a good time so far. I hear the summer is nice out here. It's been raining for two week straight so I guess... It must not summer yet? And I figured out I don't live in Vancouver at all, but some kind of suburb of Vancouver called Burnaby (Is it a completely different city?), which seems to have the same transit system. I think the Vancouver transit system actually extends all the way into Asia, which might explain why there are 47 Asians to every 1 white person here.

Anyway, I'm living with my girlfriend Kelly now. Making the transition from long distance to no distance at all has been difficult at times, but amazing and rewarding nonetheless. I'm happier now than I have been for a while. Calgary was alright, and I did enjoy school, but Kelly and I being apart was something like walking past the beach on a beautiful day and going to the tanning salon; what the hell is the point? Still, our time together hasn't been perfect; this has been no utopian paradise where the sex is free and the beer flows from the heavens like sweet, golden rain. Mind you the sex is still free... Did I just say golden rain? Isn't that like in pornos when people pee on each other or something? How the hell do people enjoy that shit... Anyway, like I was saying, there have been some relationship bumps this past month. No, I'm not talking about herpes. Sometimes Kelly and I are just of different minds I guess...

Let me give you an example. About a week ago, I was cooking dinner; a gorgeous, tasty and healthy gourmet meal for Kelly and I. Spaghetti at its finest. I was just finishing up cooking the chicken and veggies, right, when all of a sudden Kelly pipes up and says "Hey umm... You know there's an onion in the fridge..." Being an understanding and gentlemanly individual, I shot to the fridge and immediately began cutting the onion up for a quick last minute addition to my amazingly awesome pasta sauce. Suddenly, Kelly blurts out "Oh, you don't have to put it in though. I don't even really like onions. I was just telling you it was there..."

OKAY... So what the hell was that? In my own experience, if a woman says something like "There's an onion in the fridge", what she really means is "Put a god damned onion in the pasta sauce you idiot". In my studies of "women", I've found that they seem to communicate in what I have dubbed "Hidden meanings", where they don't say what they mean or mean what they say, and sometimes they actually just talk to confirm that they still have the ability to make sound. Apparently my studies were wrong, and as I was told after putting the onion into the sauce, a woman's verbal communication doesn't actually have any hidden meanings whatsoever. Who knew...

So, armed with this new knowledge, and ready to put it to use, I took my opportunity when later that day, I asked Kelly if she wanted some help with the dishes. She replied "Not really. Well... Only if you want, honey." Clearly, the uneducated Chris would have assumed that this actually meant "You should have asked 10 minutes ago you lazy slice of shit", but having had my epiphany with regards to female verbal communication, I knew that this was actually meant to be taken at face value. Confidently, I smiled and said "Okay, cool! Yeah, I don't want to at all, so you go for it sweetie." Needless to say, we did not have sex for two days.

So what have we learned from this experience? While a simple man would only have blamed himself, I realized a truth so profound it shook the very depths of my being: Women are completely insane, and if you don't know what they want, it's because THEY DON'T EITHER.

Well, other than that, things have been pretty peachy so I suppose I should stop complaining. Until next time :)

Spiker