I had a doubtful feeling going in to the hair salon for what some may consider a procedure well outside the bounds of my race. But if I've learned anything in my life, apart from the fact that race should not divide people, it's that some things are worth overcoming that nervous, defeated feeling for. One of those things is the woman of your dreams. Another one is cornrows.
Sure enough, a box from amazon.com came today. Neatly packed inside were two gems of modern nerdhood. You see, my friend Michael Hoopes had a grand find last week... $15.00 Casio calculator watches! Needless to say, Andres (fellow hallway dweller) ran by me with plenty of tricky math problems and I conquered them easily with one hand and one wrist. But lest you believe that these watches really are nerdy, consider their refined edges and posh nature. Michael commented very thoughtfully on the clean design after donning his timepiece. I concur times a big number, Michael. And in fact, I can tell the world what that big number is, then add, subtract, multiply, or divide it, and all wilst over 150 feet below the surface of a local lake. If this doesn't start the people's engines, maybe photos from Casio's recent 5th Avenue add campaign will convince you that these calculator watches are true pieces of high de sin.
Last night Alex and I set up the tele and watched some Jazz preseason basketball. The great thing about the preseason (so long as important players don't get injured), is that there are many new faces. These are mostly guys without a prayer of playing in the NBA for any extended period of time. Among these unknowns, all desperately trying to prove to the Jazz world and to Jerry Sloan that they are next-level material, there was a familiar name. And when I saw this guy spot up from the three point line, it was only a matter of swishing twine to make me certain just who had taken the shot. (Backtrack with me for a second now) I didn't start caring about basketball for the second time in my life (following our romance in 1997) until about a year and a half ago. But during the 2004 NCAA tournament, my older sister, Maria and I ended up watching BYU vs Syracuse (I remember it being at her insistence) in what turned out to be perhaps the only Cougar loss I can look back on without any pain. Syracuse, besides wearing orange, being from New York, and having the greatest mascot in college sports, had a kid on their team that knew how to shoot. He probably wouldn't intimidate you if you saw him in person- he'll be one of those guys in 20 years who has to pull out the photos and newspaper clippings to prove to his kids he ever played the game, let alone as a Division I athlete. But oh how he played the game. Was he an all-time great? Probably not. His shooting percentages through college were solid, though perhaps not legendary. But to me, there has never been a better shooter. On that March day when Maria and I watched, cheering for the alma mater of our parents and grandparents, a small white guy who looked more like a a part of the BYU roster dropped more leather than a skinned cow. It's been so long now that I only had memory of this guy making an impressive number of threes. When I checked ESPN for the recap, I realized why his name has been in my head for all these years. 9-13 3-pointers. 43 points. In a Jazz uniform last night, this very man put his toes square behind the 3-point arc, rose up, and let fly some shots that some would call prayers. Maybe prayers for the other hopefuls. But when I saw this guy try for trey, I knew better. "This is Gerry McNamara" I thought with a smile. Swoosh
Sitting around this summer with my friend Kyle, our conversation turned to the Ultimate Driving Machine. So we started building custom Beemers on bmwusa.com. It was during this time-waster which I often use to get me through lectures that Kyle pointed out a nifty offering- one can request free brochures from BMW. FREE BROCHURES full of German-powered, Hoffmeister-kinked beauties. So I filled out the form and the Bavarians sent info to "Mr Ian Kershisnik." To say the least, BMW's prompt delivery of colorful, many-paged booklets about their driving machines made me very happy- so happy that I wanted to see them all the time. That's why they are all over my wall now, making me clearly the cooler roommate. Not so, Alex? Oh yes, and Mercedes didn't send me their brochures fast enough. I'm still waiting for them and I requested them in August. No room now, though. Maybe I can put them on Alex's wall... oh how they would pale in comparison.
This blog was born yesternight at the kind suggestion of my compatriot Michael Hoopes (he has a blog, too and these parentheses would probably love to have his blog's URL, but they won't get it because I don't know it yet). I wish I could do justice to this commencement post, but I must study flowers now for a class called Floral Design. Chapter 14 is titled, "Flowers to Wear," so you probably already figured out that I can't contain my anxiety to begin studying all about floral embelishments of the human figure.