Have a Ball!

Warning: The following post contains possibly crude and certainly infantile language. Proceed at your own risk.

My friends Sean and Ashley live in Montana - big sky country - and like good Montanans they ski, hunt, fish, drink beer and play hockey. They recently started up a team in a local league and (not surprisingly) named themselves the Rocky Mountain Oysters. If you're not familiar with Rocky Mountain Oysters, learn more (and find a recipe). They're also known as Prairie Oysters, Mountain Tendergroins, Cowboy Caviar, Swingin' Beef and Calf Fries. So, yeah, they're bulls' nuts and people eat 'em. Montana hosts an annual Testicle Festival where you can get 'em served up just about any way you can think of. The festival's catchy tag line is "Have a Ball!"

So, how do I fit in to this nutty scenario? Well, every hockey team needs a killer* logo for their jerseys, so Sean called up his most favoritest graphic designer to help design some jersey art for the Rocky Mountain Oysters.

*Totally unrelated side note: Apparently, surfer-speak use of the the word "killer" to market healthy bread is fraying the fabric of our society and putting our children at serious risk. No, really. From the April PCC newsletter's letters to the editor in regards to Dave's Killer Bread:

“Great bread, we love it. BUT we, and many others, are contemplating approaching PCC to discontinue your line because the use of ‘killer’ and ‘bomb’ are not amusing and should be rejected as marketing ploys. We are pondering a boycott because we don’t want to normalize these ideas for our children or promote this kind of thinking in our culture or at our table."

Hmmm. There certainly seems to be a lot of pondering and contemplating going on. Maybe, as Jello Biafra would say, they and their children were forced to meditate in school. For some perspective, read about Dave's Killer Bread, his marketing ploys and his bread jihad and I'll let you draw your own conclusions. (Thanks to Beth for the newsletter tip!)

Anyway, keep your eye on the ball, nutty professor. So Sean emails his request and ideas and I jump right in and grab the bull by the...eh... I created some preliminary sketches for the team, including a very scrotal "M" which I was certain would be rejected by Ashley, but I included anyway to give Sean and myself a middle-school snicker. You can take a look at the sketches below (as always, click it for a larger image):

As expected, the design with the scrotal "M" was immediately cut (ouch!). They did like aspects of some other designs and I worked with them back and forth a bit to finally develop the finished product:


So, there you have it. Look out Montana, there's a new team in town and they're gonna put your balls on ice. And...testicle jokes ending in 1...2...3.

Though today is indeed April 1st, this is for real. Speaking of April 1, today marks six months since I quit the cigs. It's also now been about six weeks since I quit the gum. I'm nicotine-free, baby! Booyah!

Pregnant Dudes Shouldn't Smoke

So last night I dreamed I was pregnant. Yep. One in the oven, about to burst. I was in some town other than my own attending a family reunion of sorts and my mother, seeing how pregnant I was took me back to the hotel suite I had apprently booked and set me up with food, water and blankets. I didn't really question how or why I was pregnant, rather I was more concerned with how I was physically going to deliver this thing which caused this great round bulge in my gut. I convinced myself I would have to poop it out and grew incredibly nervous over the obvious pain which would accompany the delivery. And I knew, from my mother's actions, that this delivery would happen this night, in this suite. I could slap a "my baby was born at home" sticker on my car bumper. I was also incredibly nauseous the entire time and suffered a constant gnawing stomach ache.

Friends and family gradually arrived at the suite, and didn't seem the least bit surprised that I was pregnant and near delivery. In fact, they went about their socializing and I perceived tham as rather rude for talking and laughing and playing and bouncing around near me and generally invading my personal space. I caught myself thinking, "Don't they know I'm pregnant? Shouldn't they be acting like people do around pregnant...people?" I never did deliver, I just wandered around the massive suite trying to find a quiet place to rest. I didn't even wake up with a stomach ache or having to poo.

So why the odd dream? I hadn't eaten anything strange last evening and hadn't eaten anything at all since my ham sandwich dinner at around 6.

Today is day #10 with no cigarettes. Yay! After fifteen years of smoking this is obviously a major change to my daily routine, but why the odd dream on night number 9? Due to the non-smoking I have made some other changes including almost no alcohol (sure, a coupla beers over football on Sunday), more exercise (yes, I jogged. I may even jog again. I hate jogging, but it's pretty great to feel that increased lung capacity), I read read read since I'm not drinking beer and smoking on the porch, and I go to bed at an unreasonably early hour (I was in bed reading by 9:30 last night).

All significant changes to my daily routine, but I still am trying to wrap myself around this pregnancy dream. Was it my mother's nurturing? Was it my annoyance at my friends and family for doing what they normally do? A cry for attention? Odd nicotine withdrawl symptoms? I'll admit I sure did crave cigarettes in my dream, especially with friends stepping out to smoke on the deck - but of course I knew that a pregnant dude shouldn't smoke.