Hello again to any and all who are reading this. It’s 7:20 pm on a Sunday evening here in semi-scenic central Indiana. Obviously writing on the blog hasn’t been a daily happening in most part due to homework. After last Tuesday’s musings I had four straight evenings of homework that was capped off with writing a seven page paper last night. The grade on that paper will determine the next three weeks of blog writing for me because if it is not the grade that I want (read: “A”) then I expect to be spending said next three weeks working on said paper. Oh, and a power point presentation to go with it. Plus the usual homework to go with it. In other words…..I’ll know tomorrow night what’s going on. But I also won’t be surprised if I end up doing the majority of the heavy lifting in the final two weekends because I tend to work better under pressure (read: I like to procrastinate) when it comes to doing school work. Where I’ve been doing school work since I went back to school in January 2009, safe to assume that I’ve got some experience on the matter.
Where no one wants to read the words “school work” anymore than they have to, I’ll gladly oblige and move on to random thoughts and news from the past few days….
*First a clarification of sorts from last blog. Not every individual who played varsity high school basketball in late 80’s/early 90’s Indiana had an ego or was an arrogant, self-centered $!#%^…..made reason for setting the tone like that when writing at 2 am in the morning was to show the example that The Son Tom Edens was not my favorite individual and in turn was a major inspiration for my two years of weight loss. The irony is that with the noted exception of one individual, I generally got along with those varsity hoops players who were in my school year in part perhaps because I went from their fat little f–k manager in junior Sonland (read: Noblesville Jr. High) hopes to Coke bottle glasses wearing basketball statistician the last two years of said Sonland (Noblesville High) time frame. Three of said individuals went to elementary school with me: starting shooting guard Gary Duvall (of whom put up with me and fellow stat man Young Adams when Young Adams wanted to go to said Duvall’s house after seemingly EVERY basketball game my senior year….which come to think of it provides some good material for future posts) and two lifelong friends who actually follow me on Instagram, @coryhaffner and @jason_sarber. Plus I cannot forget NHS’s second all-time leading scorer Tony Etchison (who for trivia’s sake came to my open house on graduation night with his then future bride Toby Stretch) nor the oldest brother of the current all-time leading scorer of said high school, trainer and lifelong friend @markcoverdale3. In other words best to not paint all people off a single stroke when describing how I felt about this Edens at the time. If anything it served as good motivation to stay focused and make some changes so I wouldn’t have a 47 to 48 inch waist my entire high school career. So for that, a thank you to said Edens. (Plus IIRC thanks to said Young Adams he’ll be part of said material for future posts. After all, Young Adams tended to talk any man, woman and stop sign when need be to see what was going on while I tended to, yes, be as vocal as a stop sign while he did the talking. Like I said, lots of future material-just need to organize it.)
*as for another clarification since I’ve mentioned dude in two straight posts….Steve Bowser wasn’t the only one who treated the fatter version of me like s–t during my first two years of Sonland English classes. Bowser was a part of six individuals in those classes that I allowed to have me thinking that I was subhuman, worthless and not worthy of life because I allowed them to treat me like s–t for those years. Combined with two blondish individuals who were in my gym class and thus you had the group of males who I again allowed to make me wish I was not on this planet. My nickname for them in non-curse words: The Eight Sons. If you were a Sonlander (re: NHS student) during that time period, no worries: you’ll be able to figure them out…especially if you were in those classes. If not, that’s another post or three to reference how I was fortunate to overcome their b—s— and be able to tolerate the Sonland as much as I possibly could.
BTW…and this is an important point…only ONE dude was nice to me in my frosh honors English class that didn’t look down on me or ridicule me. Said dude: Tony Etchison. Points I need to make: if everyone in that school year of mine had even 1/10th of the class that Etchison had (and still has to this day) AND if I had actually tried to stay social with people who were NOT said members of The Eight Sons during my first two years of the Sonland, then my life would have been a hell of a lot better off. Fortunately for me, I made the right decisions my last two years. And not specifically dealing with The Eight Sons for the majority of that time was one of them.
Enough about said Sons. Best for business.
*speaking of business….starting new job tomorrow. The MBA might finally be paying off.
*your photo for this blog entry comes from my junior Sonland time in eighth grade honors social studies as previewed in my second ever Instagram post. It was Hat Day that day. Don’t look too hard to figure out which one I was. Sidenote: our teacher Mr. Bill Herman was the next door neighbor of someone else who figured pretty prominently in my senior year dealings. See the end of said post for who said neighbor was. (Hint: she looked good in a strapless dress.)
*goal for Tuesday is to do a post as there will be an anniversary of sorts previously referenced in post 2 involving @jennieb273. Hint: if one wants to see what a 1990 version of Dilton Dooley from the Archie comics looked like back in 1990, look out for my Instagram account that night.
*another Cincinnati Reds loss. Game was not on Fox Sports Indiana as most Sunday afternoon games usually are. Perhaps best I didn’t see it. Currently said Reds are on pace for a 99 loss season which as mentioned before means said Reds are the equal of Kelvin Sampson following NCAA regulations during his time coaching Indiana University basketball. Expect me to get more emails from the team in August and September advertising $5 tickets. Which actually works since I am a cheap bastard, come to think of it.
*the local NFL franchise begins training camp this week at one of my four alma maters Anderson University. We’ll see if they bring an offensive line this year. I highly recommend it if you want to keep Andrew Luck out of a body bag this season.
*as for those who follow the local NBA franchise that plays in Bankers Life Fieldhouse, for now my only words of advice are this: heed this warning and do not go to the Pacers Digest message board. In my humble opinion it’s gone to complete c–p over the years as those individuals seem to have not recovered from the proof that Roy Hibbert is in fact NOT the modern day Wilt Chamberlain. You would have not enjoyed their reaction when their now former coach (current Orlando media man Frank Vogel) did their best to solely cost them a playoff series this year against Toronto because on the whole those individuals (whom I generally call “The Board Boys”..yeah, it’s unoriginal but it’s also clean) actually consider the gent to be a combo of Red Auerbach, Hank Williams Jr. and Gandhi. Without going into a tirade, let’s just say I disagree with them. Thankfully that Paul George fellow seems to have a future in the NBA despite shattering his leg a couple years ago. For that I have hope that I may see the NBA World title in Indianapolis someday. And whether those Board Boys like it or not, those chances improved the moment Larry Bird or whomever currently gets down in the Pacers front office decided to end Vogelmania as opposed to giving said Vogel $30 million to run the late 1980’s Rick Pitino offense that I have seen since late 1980’s.
Pitino, BTW, is another post in himself as he was an integral part of my college years…as in at my first college. And yes, I’ve been to a lot of colleges. Such is the life of the single man, perhaps. Or perhaps I prefer it to keeping a dozen cats in the homestead.
*Lastly I plan on hitting a few of these topics in my semi-coherent babble down the road since this is the 25th anniversary of said topics: graduation night…..the end of the 77 Buick..the replacement of said 77 Buick….what was my version of The Decision two decades before LeBron James first took his talents to South Beach as I took my college education out of the Hoosier State…..the transition into college number one….the fraternity pledgeship at college number one….and some quality and non-quality happenings (read: not-so-historic dates) that came with said fraternity pledgeship at said college number on. Let’s just politely say those dates were good learning experiences.
Oh…and of course The Prom Date. (Yes, she was Mr. Herman’s next door neighbor. No, I did not visit said Mr. Herman on said prom night. Then again, that could have led to a good story for a time like this, couldn’t it?) After all, there’s only a dozen or so Instagram posts on that already. What’s posted there can be expanded upon with even more memorable comedy and non-comedy moments (though I just cracked up and remembering asking “THEN WHO IN THE F@@@ AM I TAKING THEN?” during one phone conversation..that was indeed classic). And if anyone can write 5,000 plus words at a single setting about their only high school prom, it would indeed be yours truly. After all I’m at 1,600 plus now with this very sentence.
A good place to stop for now. We’ll see if I can get things done on Tuesday as well.
Thanks again to all who took the time to read this. Best wishes to all for a good week and God Bless.