Sunday, July 6, 2008

Wimbledon Gentleman's Finals

This year is the third year that Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal have played eachother in the Wimbledon Finals. It's never been easy for Federer to beat Nadal here, but he does beat him, and the matches are some of the best to watch.

Their rivalry has a similar history on the clay courts of Roland Garros. Nadal has won the last four French Open championships, and Federer has been the runner-up for the last three of those.

While Federer is the reigning champion, Bjorn Borg is the record holder whose presence is noted at each match. If Federer wins this year's Wimbledon he will break Bjorn Borg's record of 5 Wimbledon championships in a row. And if Nadal wins (which I think he will) he will be on his way to reproducing Bjorn Borg's record of winning the French Open and Wimbledon for five consecutive years. Nobody since Borg has won the French Open and Wimbledon in the same year.

So far in this tournament, Federer hasn't lost ONE set. Nadal has lost one.

This morning is starting out to be quite an amazing match. They have been playing for 2 hours now. Nadal won the first game and the first two sets. I see these little wins as harbingers of a greater win at the end of the match. We'll just have to wait and see what happens, but as I predicted with Cousin James yesterday, I think that Nadal will win.

Blinded by the light.... Gesundheit!

After years upon years (25) of considering myself to be just like everybody else... I have learned that I have a genetic autosomal dominant trait that puts me into the 17 - 35% subset of humanity. This malfunction of mine is called photic sneeze reflex.

This reflex presents itself in several ways:
  • If I leave a movie theatre during a day where the sun is shining, I will most likely sneeze a handful of times. I remember a slew of sneezes coming out as I left the Chief Cinema after watching Sabrina. (Ford, not Bogart... goof.)
  • If I'm on the verge of sneezing... you know, when your brain and your body poise for a sneeze, but it can be a false alarm... well, this response I have to light helps me get that final push over the sneeze hill. When it happens, I just glance up at the sun, or a bright light. The worst is when there are no bright lights around. I can sometimes nudge out a sneeze with my cellphone or a computer screen.

I've tried to explain this to my friends. Some of them are bewildered. Most of all, my best friend, Nora Charles. She refuses to believe that this phenomenon exists. I've tried to demonstrate it, but she just laughs. So now that I've produced a Wikipedia as proof, maybe she won't be so incredulous.

For those of you within this percentile of humanity that share this reflex with me, let's celebrate our diversity by unifying. I want to hear about it. You can respond here in this blog... or just speak up in real life. If you want to start a Facebook group, I won't stop you.

Thursday, July 3, 2008

I sent this in email form to some of my friends... and they probably make up most of my blog readership, but for those of you who were not in that email list...

I was suffering from what looked like a zit right on my lower lip for the last few days. Since I recently shaved my beard, and hair has been funny, I've just thought of it as an ingrown hair. I was going to get to it with some tweezers at some point. When [my painter-boss] JB asked me about it, I shrugged it off as an ingrown hair. John told me it was probably something called "Morgellon's Disease" and that it probably came from fibers that the government distributes throughout the atmosphere. I assured him that it was an ingrown hair and as soon as I opened it, I would find a little hair.

Much in the way you see a small child go for and open a present on Christmas, John lunged at my lower lip, and he proceeded to pry open my sore. His eager face was mere inches away. It was very painful and bloody... and his hands are anything but clean. When it comes to his hands, they LOOK dirty... and they smelled like a mixture of caulk, paint, thinner, gingersnaps, and WD-40.

As I stood facing the mirror in the bathroom flushing my new wound with hot soapy water, I laughed when I realized nobody would ever completely understand the bizarre nature of the events that just took place.