Top 10 Big Lembowski Ideas on Life

Football. Check. Baseball. Check. Hockey. Check. Bowling. Uh.......check.

Years ago, when I wasn't too busy ruining the credibility of a sports blog I used to write for, I wanted to be a bowler. As a kid, I was decent at killin' the pins. As a teen, I was a lil' better. And now as an adult, the only thing I worry about while bowling is where I parked my car and who it is that's with my ex a couple two-tree lanes down from me. But if I were "The Dude", I wouldn't have a care in the World, now would I? To have everything in my life so understandable, with people always there to help me up when I fall and point me in the right direction wouldn't be too bad of a thing either. Perhaps this film is more than a funny movie about a Dude and his rug? Maybe the point of the film was how to live a life? And for those of you who can't, won't or don't accept the fact that bowling is a sport, well, I'll let Walter deal with you later.
These are My Top Ten moments of The Big Lebowski.

10. Every Dude

Dude, could you only imagine how, like, easy it would be, dude, to call everybody that you knew, dude? Dude, you would never have a problem remembering any dudes, or dudettes, names, dude. It would be awesome, dude.

9. The scary guy everybody wonders about.

We've all seen him. The one cat who everybody is scared to talk to because he appears to be a little different. Or a lot different. And then it's a good thing you didn't talk to him.

8.The friends who are always there for you.

We've all got these guys in our lives. The ones who'll bust your ass every chance they get, but when it really comes down to it, they'll be the guy who is standing next to you before, during and after a fight breaks out.

7. The guy who thinks he's better than you.

Come on, no matter how good we were, or still are, at anything, there will always be the one douche bag who feels he is better than you on his worst day. Cock suckers.

6. Everybody has those weird feelings

The weird feeling that somebody is watching you, or following you through the store or some other crazy shit like that.

5. The hot girl

We've all seen her. The smoking hot beauty waiting in line in front of us at the store. Or in the car next to us at the red light. And we've all wished the girl would say something along the lines of what Bunny says in the movie. But, all we get is "Are you looking at my tits, asshole?" Making us learn we should always wear sunglasses.

4. The old smart guy

And all of us have, or have had, this guy in our lives. Could have been your dad, you uncle, a buddies dad or the weird guy who lived behind your house growing up. These old cats always know what's best for us, so shut up and listen.

3. Challenges

We'll face many throughout our lives, some harder than others to deal with. Whatever the case, don't back down from a thing, especially guys like Jesus.

2. Remember the rules

Always, in life and in sport, play by the rules. Cheating ain't worth it because 20 years down the road, when you look at the pictures of you getting the state championship medal placed around your neck, you'll remember that you should have lost that championship match, but ya' didn't 'cause you're a cheating shit bag.

1. Always remember who you are

No matter how good you get at anything, remember that you didn't go it alone. There have always been people who pushed you when you stopped (Mom and Dad), those who laughed when you lost and made you so pissed you worked much harder and got much better just to beat their ass (Egglund) and convinced you to do whatever it was you loved. (You know who you are.)

So Dark...And Worn...And Faded

My Greatest Teacher: Version 1

The battered shell of a beauty stood to the right of the oak before me, asking what it was that I wanted. I stood in awe, silence and fear trying to conjure up the courage to tell her it was her that I wanted.

In May of 1999, just after turning 21-years old and trying to recover from a broken heart, I worked a construction job which I loved doing. With construction, as some of you may know, there tends to be a little alcohol involved with those who work in the trade. The beauty was a 31-year old divorced mother of two who worked as the middle school secretary by day and as the sexiest bartender in the tri-county area by night at the bar we'd frequent after the long days of work.

As I sat with the guys I worked with back then, around the old wooden table next to the fireplace, playing cards and shooting pool, I'd glance over at her behind the bar from time to time and see her looking back at me with a smile. I watched her shoot down the attempts of others to buy her drinks and shots and the offers to take her to breakfast.

I can't say I blame them for trying to become the lucky one for the night. I say lucky one for the night because she was kinda slutty. But she was a dead sexy kinda slutty with natural blond hair, brilliant blue eyes, a 36 D chest, a size 2 waist and carried all kinds of sexuality.

I knew I wouldn't have the same level of sexual skill as she, but when she asked me, I didn't let my lack of knowledge, or experience for that matter, hamper my choice to accompany her home after the bar closed.

When we finally got to her house, it took a total of 30 seconds before she started taking her clothes off and ordering me to do the same.

She told me to lie on the bed.

She was the second partner I'd ever had, so I really didn't know too much yet. I knew where things went, but that was seriously the most of it. She taught me how to watch a woman while the act was happening and how to feel, how to touch and how to taste, too. All while not feeling, touching or tasting anything.

She covered it all.

Each time we had finished, we'd lie together in bed and talk. She told me how her ex used to beat her. And why she never went to college. The dreams she held for her little girl and boy. How she still held hope that somebody would come find her and she'd fall in love again.

The tryst's continued until February of 2000 and only stopped because of a wreck I was in. She gave up on me as I lie dying in a hospital bed. She thought I was as good as dead. She moved on. Can't say I blame her.

So now, ten years after the classes I was in with the sexiest teacher I've ever had have ended, I wish I could go back and thank her. Thank her for teaching me that hope, and love, and compassion are in our lives each and everyday. And to thank her for teaching me more about life, than she ever took credit for

My Greatest Teacher: Version 2

The battered shell of a beauty stood to the right of the oak before me, asking what it was that I wanted. I stood in awe, silence and fear trying to conjure up the courage to tell her it was her that I wanted.

In May of 1999, just after turning 21-years old and trying to recover from a broken heart, I worked a construction job which I loved doing. With construction, as some of you may know, there tends to be a little alcohol involved with those who work in the trades. The beauty was a 31-year old divorced mother of two who worked as the middle school secretary by day and as the sexiest bartender in the tri-county area by night.

I knew I wouldn't have the same level of sexual skill as she, but when she asked me, I didn't let my lack of knowledge, or experience for that matter, hamper my choice to accompany her home after the bar closed.

At the bar, she continuously slid pints at me for no charge. Perhaps she was trying to build me up to lengthen my endurance level in bed, which would be put to the test later in the evening. Perhaps she knew she'd be taking on the role of instructor, I, her student. I never asked why she kept giving me the free pints, and she never brought it up.

As I sat with the guys I worked with back then, around the old wooden table next to the fireplace, playing cards and shooting pool, I'd glance over at her behind the bar from time to time and see her looking back at me with a smile. I watched her shoot down the attempts of others to buy her drinks and shots and the offers to take her to breakfast.

I can't say I blame them for trying to become the lucky one for the night. She was a slut. But she was a dead sexy slut with natural blond hair, brilliant blue eyes, a 36 D chest, a size 1 waist and carried more than enough sexuality.

When we finally got to her house, it took a total of 30 seconds before she started taking her clothes off and ordering me to do the same.

She told me to lie on the bed.

She was the second partner I'd ever had, so I really didn't know too much yet. I knew where things went, but that was seriously the most of it. She taught me how to watch a woman while the act was happening and how to feel, how to touch and how to taste, too. All while not feeling, touching or tasting anything.

"Go slower. Now faster. Down a half inch. Over a bit. Pull my hair. Smack my ass! Twists my nipples! Lick my pussy! FUCK ME!"

She covered it all.

Each time we had finished, we'd lie together in bed and talk. She told me how her ex used to beat her. And why she never went to college. The dreams she held for her little girl and boy. How she still held hope that somebody would come find her and she'd fall in love again.

Those tryst's continued until February of 2000 and only stopped because of a  wreck I was in. She gave up on me as I lie dying in a hospital bed. She thought I was as good as dead. She moved on. Can't say I blame her.

So now, ten years after the classes I was in with the sexiest teacher I've ever had have ended, I wish I could go back and thank her. Thank her for teaching me that hope, and love, and compassion are in our lives each and everyday. And to thank her for teaching me more about life, than she ever took credit for.

My New Favorite Sports Reporter

Sarah Spain was born August 18, 19?? (my guess is 1980, since she graduate high school in '98. Unless she was quick smart and graduated early, which might make her born in '81, which might make her 29. I really don't think she was held back a grade because of her college GPA, but we'll get to that later) in Cleveland, Ohio and raised in Lake Forest, Illinois. She is a graduate from Cornell with a degree in English. Hope you weren't thinking she was all body and no brains 'cause she grabbed her diploma with a GPA of 3.8. She is also a giant fan of the Cubs and Bears. Brains, beauty and a loyalty to Chicago sports? She may possibly be the perfect woman.

Sarah caused a stir a few years back when she tried to auction herself off on eBay to a lucky bloke who spent enough cash to take her to the Super Bowl to watch her beloved Chicago Bears play the Colts. Before eBay pulled the auction off its site, even though Sarah clearly stated "I am not an escort. I am just offering my companionship in exchange for a ticket to the biggest game of the year", she received bids up to $20,000.

She moved on from that episode to a career as a movie actress with roles in Souvenir, La La Land, That Ying Yang Thing and The Playbook.  She's an accomplished writer (love her in the RedEye), radio host (SportsCenter anchor for ESPN 1000) and television personality, but most importantly, a professional fan.

She stands 5'11 and weighs in at a buck-fifty, but as far as her measurements go, you know, what size bra she wears, that info is top secret, only known by herself and her man, I assume.

Though she hasn't had a peep hole film made of her (yet?) like Erin Andrews, you surely can imagine the debate of which would be the better film to see.

Enjoy the pics.

november twelve(comma) twenty(hyphen)ten

this is a test(comma) do not be alarmed(period) what i(apostrophe)m trying to do is write everything down(comma) to get it all out(period) there will be no punctuation in the following words i write(comma) but like i(apostrophe)ve previously said(comma) nothing but words(period)

it might be hard for you to follow(comma) or you just might be brighter than the average bear and have no problemo at all reading what i fell like typing(period)

anywho(comma) today is november twelve(comma) twenty(hyphen)ten and it is currently four twenty ocho in the afternoon(period) i have a date with a swell gal tonight and hope both parties involved(comma) both she and i(comma) have a splendid good time with one another(period)

it seems we will go throw balls down a wooden lane to knock over some ivory pins to start the night(comma) but not too certain where the adventure will go from there(period)

o(period)k(period)(comma) this is harder than i thought it would be so this post is done(period)

bye(hyphen)bye(period)

I Forgot to Forget: Part 2

this was written March 16, 2010...tonight, i feel an update may be in order.

I told her as she walked down the hall and out of my life how I'd love her always and forever. how she'd never escape my heart and the door to our home would remained unlocked, waiting for her to come back through, no matter when the day was.


Her last suitcase lugged behind her as she told me to get over her and move on. The last words shared in person.


For a lengthy time I didn't want to move on without her, so I didn't. I thought there might have been a chance of her changing her mind, or her heart, and she'd come back home to me. Maybe somewhere still inside her, she'd find the courage to tell her mother, for the first time, she wasn't going to do what she wanted.


But she hasn't changed her mind and she hasn't told her mom to fuck off and, more likely than not, she'll keep thinking and living the way her mom tells her to.


A few months after she left, I felt I was over her so I took a look around. As I assumed, I witnessed nothing to catch my eye. Sure, there were a few girls who grabbed my attention for a few minutes and blah, blah, blah but after talking with them for a bit, I realized they were all talking about shit that meant absolutely nothing to anybody beside themselves.


So now I sit, a little over a year since she left, still thinking about her everything because I have forgotten how to forget. How to forget her most importantly.

The way those dark eyes looked when we kissed with our eyes open, the tone of her voice when she whispered i love you's into my ear in bed, the way she'd bite her bottom lip when surprised, the things we did together at her house, at my house and at OUR house, each and every time we would forgive each other after a fight. 

Except the last one. We didn't forgive each other after the last one.

UPDATE 

Seen a picture of her the other day, she still looks amazing. She was with her new guy. She looks happy. I'm happy for her happiness. And I'm happy for me. Because I started over too. And it feels fucking great!