en bee ay?!?!

… [insert nba music here, even if it was written by John Tesh] …

Kobe? Felony sexual assault? Kobe Bryant? Where’s the camera hiding?

OK, now that doesn’t make a lot of sense. I hope, for everyone’s sake, that this is a scam of some sort. Doesn’t sound like it from the way it’s being reported, but I sure hope so.

And I will not be watching any Laker games next season if they sign Karl Malone. I’d rather watch the Warriors play the Nuggets than see him playing for the local teams. On a somewhat related note, I’m also hoping that they won’t let Bill Walton call any games any more now that his son is in the league. I’m doubting that will happen, but I do remain hopeful.

falling to pieces

… my life is falling to pieces … somebody put me together …

Just a quiet Sunday. I’ve been playing around with SpamAssassin lately, trying to reduce the large amount of spam that I receive on a daily basis — about 80 messages per day. Thus far, it looks pretty good, but the documentation leaves a lot to be desired. I’ve searched high and low for an answer to my question, but can’t find one anywhere. I guess that’s just the joy of working with free software — you sometimes get less than what you paid for.

I think I managed to do myself some damage yesterday diving on the sand playing volleyball. The front, right side of my ribcage is pretty sore today. It’s the same spot that I cracked years ago playing touch rugby on a pair of tennis courts — who put that damn net post there? Anyway, I suppose it’s promising that it only hurts when I sneeze or cough (and sometimes, move) — not spitting any blood, and nothing is moving around inside. Just hoping that it’s not something behind the ribcage.

I’m falling apart. Between my recent dentist and optometrist visits, I have to see a dermatologist soon to have a cyst removed from the top of my head. And now the ribs. I suppose I should know where my local emergency room is, just in case. 🙂

socal beaches

… I know it’s done for me … if you steal my sunshine …

The supporters of the Bombers threw the team a beach bbq today at Huntington Beach. The place was nuts — there were people queuing literally for miles just to park their cars in the lots. I gave up on that, parked a half-mile away and walked over. The weather was fantastic, the food was good and the company superb, as per usual. They really are a wonderful group of people — not just the players, but the girlfriends, wives, kids, friends, everyone!

For an Aussie it’s funny to hear all the time about how Southern Californians should be so proud of and love their beaches. Between you and me, they are pretty average. There is a huge flat expanse at the back of the beach, then a hump and a sudden drop to the water. So basically, unless you get all the way down to the water — about 200 yards from the back of the beach — you can’t even see it!

What’s worse, especially at this beach, is how much crap you find in the sand. Where we were today, they have a whole bunch of fire-pits, which are great for having a bbq or just sitting around with a group of friends toasting marshmallows. The problem is that people bring their own wood down to the beach, throw it in the fire-pit, burn it and forget. Months later, the city comes through with their bulldozers, lift up the concrete fire-pit walls and grade the sand, along with ashes and anything else left within. Think about that for just a moment — when you find old wood, what do you tend to find sticking out of it? Yup, nails. Rusty old nails. Rusty, old, 3-inch, tetanus-carrying, sharp as buggery, foot-piercing, painful as hell, belong on a building site, nails. I pulled three out of the sand in the middle of our volleyball court. Lovely stuff. Thank dog only one person managed to step on one. Hopefully he’ll head off for a shot tomorrow.

That said, the sight of hundreds of fire-pits blazing was pretty amazing (rhyming not intended, but a bonus for you, my bored reader). It reminded me of something out of a post-Apocalyptic movie. But now I know why there was so much crap on the beach (coals, dead embers, and of course, the nails!) and so much crap in the sky above the beach. This country has some amazing sights to see, but the pollution along the beach at sunset, preventing you from seeing more than a couple of miles along the coast isn’t one of them.

The beaches here might be a major part of the social scene, but they don’t hold a candle to the “natural”, clean beaches of home. I guess they just feel like a lot of other things in this town — false.

joining the mob

… and I knew if had my chance … that I could make those people dance …

And into the world of blogging rode the one.

Moved everything from my rinky-dink journal to blogger and it seems to be all happiness and sunshine.