The Final Countdown

It's the final countdown
(epic synthesizer riff)


Unfortunately, this song does not have many words, just a super badass riff. So you can watch and listen for yourself:



As goofy as my reasons may be, this song has a lot of meaning for me. In high school, I was on the Academic Decathlon team (nerd). And if you've ever met smart boys, you know that they are weird, but not always in nerdy ways... they're just weird. For whatever reason, 70s and 80s hair bands were the thing with our boys. It was all about being "metal" and "slaying" (keep in mind, these are upper-middle class white boys in polo shirts and Abercrombie jeans). So, "The Final Countdown" by Europe was naturally our theme song before any competition. It was queued up on someone's iPod to play immediately before a competition, driving to a competition, or anything that had to do with competition, AcaDec related or not (for instance, the not-infrequent steak-eating competitions between the boys). To this day, the song reminds me of Academic Decathlon and the happiest times of my high school years. The Lair, cups and pitchers, what the goodyear, competitive Scrabble, and countless other moments of laughter, joy, and intellect are all invoked when I hit "play" when this song pops up on my iPod. Being around people like myself, who appreciate intelligent humor, literature, subtlety, and a good steak, makes me smile, laugh, and prepares me for battle (intellectually speaking).

It is, truly, the final countdown. As it stands, my MCAT is in 8 days, 18 hours, 50 minutes, and 2 seconds. We are under the double-digit mark. For most people, this would indicate panic time. However, I have taken a more relaxed, zen approach to it. And for those of you wondering who I am and what I've done with Kelly Joy, you're looking at her. I realize that there is absolutely nothing to gain from panicking, depriving myself of sleep, drinking 10 cups of coffee a day, and worry about memorizing every little detail...

A recipe for MCAT disaster.

I have spent this entire damn summer working my ass off to ace this test.

And I'm ready.

Let the countdown continue...

:)

Does this have any relevance to the MCAT? Not really.

Is it the most precious thing I've ever seen? Absolutely.

And on an unrelated but incredibly important note, precisely 2 months until my birthday :)

Take Me Out To The Ballgame

Take me out to the ballgame
Take me out to the crowd
Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack
I don't care if I ever get back for it's
Root root root for the GIANTS!
If they don't win it's a shame
For it's ONE
TWO
THREE strikes you're out at the
Old ballgame!


I. Love. Baseball.

Nothing says "summer" more than the crack of a bat, a giant hot dog with lots of onions and ketchup (mmmm :), an ice-cold beer (or so I've heard... I'll tell you in a couple months), and cheering for the boys in black and orange.

I love all my Giants, but here are a few of my absolute favorite boys:

Barry Zito

If you read about him on Wikipedia, 

you'd think he was one of the worst pitchers in baseball...

Just keep reading... you'll learn the truth :)

Tim Lincecum

2-time Cy Young Award winner

THE best pitcher in baseball. Period.

Colorado Rockies prospect, 2007: "Guys on our club who have been in the big leagues said he's the toughest guy they ever faced too... I'm not really sure why he's down here [in the Minor Leagues], but for a guy who was drafted last year... that guy is filthy."

Damn straight.

Buster Posey 

One of the best catchers in baseball currently.

And until recently was on a 21-game hitting streak,

just one hit short of Willie McCovey's rookie record.

And he's a BABE.

Marry me, please.

I love a man in uniform ;)

So imagine my excitement when, while watching a game on TV with my dear friend Michele, an advertisement for the upcoming home-stand against the "hated Dodgers"...

Me: What are you doing next weekend?

Michele: I don't have plans. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

Me: I really want to go!

Michele: I'll grab my laptop.

Ten minutes later, tickets bought and printed. Center field bleachers, Friday July 30th, the San Francisco Giants host the Los Angeles Dodgers. I could already hear the roar of the crowd (Beat LA! Beat LA!) and could barely contain myself for an entire week. Studying? Fail. Working? Fail. Doing anything other than thinking about how stoked I was for this game? Fail.

Friday finally arrives and Michele and I take off for the city. We were a little worried about time because we hit nasty Bay Area traffic, but as I told Michele, we would get there right on time because it is actually impossible for me to be late. Ever. I frequently leave the house running late (or so I think) and arrive at my destination twenty minutes early. Anyway, we got off the Bay Bridge around 6:55pm, and were parked and in the stadium by first pitch at 7:15. Skills.

First task: OBTAIN FOOD. Giants dogs, souvenir Beat LA cups, and sunflower seeds -- a recipe for success. Second task: Find our seats. Not too hard, considering there are only about 30 jillion people at AT&T Park and they are ALL walking too slow. But we successfully found our seats, enjoyed our overpriced-but-so-worth-it ballpark fare, and began cheering like crazy. At this moment...

                                       

One of the wonderful few ladies I know who is equally obsessed with our Giants :)

... little did we know what shenanigans would unfold before our eyes.

Apparently, section B141 was the place to be. We lucked out and had aisle seats, which made getting up to go to the bathroom or get food about a million times easier. BUT, when a very drunk Giants fan started waving his "Beat LA" shirt in the face of a (probably also drunk) Dodgers fan in the aisle RIGHT next to us, suddenly the aisle seat was less appealing. A fight nearly broke out between pissed and drunk (piss-drunk? yes) rival fans, and that's when I got cozy with the SFPD. I feel like they should have introduced themselves before essentially crawling on top of me -- Michele had to pull me in closer to her to prevent me from being trampled by seven tough-looking SF cops. They don't mess around. ESPECIALLY not at Dodgers-Giants games. The instigator was ejected from the game, and I went back to enjoying my hot dog and a damn good game. 

The Giants were hitting home runs like there was no tomorrow, and though Timmy struggled a bit (see 2 paragraphs down), he still recorded strike after strike, most of them looking. If my high school coach taught me anything, it was to always go down swinging. I don't mind if the Dodgers get caught looking at perfect pitches though :)

While we watched our boys pulverize the Dodgers (at least for the first 8 innings), we also had the pleasure of sitting behind the most vulgar fan I have ever encountered at a sporting event. I mean vul-GAR. No, sir, I don't want to hear about how the other team should suck your _____.  Neither did the little elderly couple near us. Nor the really pissed off Dodger fan with the blue face sitting right next to us. He very loudly shared many worse vulgarities, but common decency prevents me from telling them here. Just know that they were bad, and Michele and I got to witness it all. Lucky us. And he wasn't even drunk... So imagine how excited we were when he got up to go get a beer!

In the meantime, we sighed sighs of love and admiration anytime Buster Posey came up to bat, and we got a little frustrated with our boy Timmy -- he was not pitching his best game. But he got them out of some sticky wickets, so we forgave him. Now if he would just get a haircut, we'd be in business.

We met up with Jake and Kyle during the 7th inning stretch!

                                    

And lucky for us, upon our return to B141, we found the greatest of all gifts: a drunk girl sitting in the seat of the vulgar guy in front of us. Apparently, she was drunk, lost all her friends, and got arrested. She cried a lot and got un-arrested (I didn't think it worked like that) and wandered into our section. Vulgar guy said she could sit with him and his buddy as long as she was willing to squish. She obliged. And then, in true vulgar-guy fashion, he offered to have her sit on his hard... lap. And the worst part? SHE OBLIGED. 

                                      

Certified HOT MESS.

And the single best facial expression my camera has ever captured.

Me: How many more beers until she goes home with him?

Michele: None. She's already there.

Sure enough, she whips out the phone and gets his number. But after awhile, drunk girl gets bored with vulgar guy's shenanigans and moves on... to the TWEENS in front of vulgar guy.

NO JOKE. These three boys were probably between 16 and 18 years old. And there was definitely one out of the three who was lightyears more attractive than his peers. But, in true drunk/skanky girl fashion, she doesn't go for the hottest one; she goes for the most desperate (read: tweenest) one. And he is all about it. He's holding her hand, putting his arm around her. She whispers drunken nothings into his ear, biting his earlobe (ew. Please get a room. Actually don't -- that's not legal). Michele and I are cracking up, wondering if this kid even has his learner's permit yet. He managed to seal the deal eventually and we had the displeasure of seeing the tween make out with the drunken hot mess. Better than cable...

But NOT better than the game! All this nonsense is happening right in front of us, making it very hard to focus on the fact that, in the top of the 9th inning, the Giants are blowing it big-time, allowing their 6-2 lead to shrink to 6-5 with bases loaded. FOR GOD'S SAKE, JUST GET YOUR SH*% TOGETHER!!! After 2 unsuccessful pitching changes, a brand new (like, "as of 6/30/2010" brand new) bullpen pitcher with a record of ZERO saves (not comforting) by the name of Chris Ray steps in with 2 outs, bases loaded. The go-ahead run is at second base. F*%@. NOT the best time to be testing out the newbies, Bochy. In the nail-bitingest out of my life, by some miracle of God and baseball Ray pulls it off. 6-5 victory. Ray gets the save. The Giants get the win, inching ever closer to the coveted 1st place spot. San Diego, enjoy the top while you can... it won't last long.

Michele and I made the drive back to Davis in style, belting show tunes the whole way home. You know you want to be our best friend. 

Me: We can even sing all the harmony parts!

Michele: Well... we're trying.

We're really cool :)

To make Friday's victory even sweeter, the Giants went on to sweep the Dodgers in front of sold out crowds at each game. Keep it up boys! Like I've said before, I'm incredibly superstitious when it comes to baseball, so I won't say what I'm thinking right now... Sorry. But I will say this: I can't wait for October!

And now, dear reader, I leave you with this, a quote from an advertisement on the Giant's website for this past weekend's series against the Dodgers: "I would root for the Red Russians over the Brooklyn Dodgers." Damn. The longest-standing rivalry in the history of baseball... gotta love it :)

                                     

The cup says it all.