New Year's Resolutions 2008

One of my top resolutions: more street luge.

The Mill’s New Year’s Resolutions 2008!!

By now, you’re probably wondering what my New Year’s Resolutions are going to be in ‘08. You may be thinking, “Wow, I bet The Mill has made some very challenging resolutions, as that is his nature. His intensity is evident from his blog posts, and I’d imagine that this guy sets only the very highest standards for himself, and for those around him - including (and maybe especially) those who read his website.”

You must be clairvoyant, or at least somewhat observant. Or possibly completely and totally mistaken. Because the truth is you really don’t know me at all. Especially if you arrived at this site via a Google search for “Costco chainsaws” or “hot dog casserole. Go ahead and test it out. And while you’re at it, do a search for “Juicy Couture Magic 8 ball.” My site is like the 7th result down the page. No wonder I get upwards of 10 visitors per day. Including myself. And my mom. And Jaimi. And...and. Maybe my dad?

Anyway, for all you know, I could be a 5th grade Malaysian boy learning English for the first time. It’s possible. You wouldn’t necessarily be able to tell from the writing.

So you think you have a sense of what New Year’s resolutions someone might make. Well my friend, you may end up being rather surprised. For example, maybe you’d think that I’ve resolved to write more blog posts and read more books. Okay, fine. Lucky guesses.

But maybe you’d also think that I’ve resolved to focus more on the struggle for world peace. Or finding a cure for arm cancer, or something really serious like that. If that’s what you think, then you’d be wrong. Dead wrong. Arm cancer wrong.

I’m a self-absorbed kind of guy. I’m not really all that into world peace. Peace is nice, don’t get me wrong. But all over the world? All at the same time? No thanks. All of the bullet companies and whoever makes the Apache attack chopper would be out of business. And that means that people would lose jobs. When people lose jobs, household budgets tighten. And when household budgets tighten, edible delicacies don’t find their way onto the shopping list. And that shopping list not only contains items intended for human consumption, but also those intended for canine consumption. And is it the dog’s fault that you lost your job and don’t have the money to buy Milk Bones? You buy your human children milk and bread, but the poor defenseless doggies have nothing super-crunchy to eat as a snack.

Taking away his Milk Bone is no different than stealing candy from a baby.....

My point of course is - if you haven’t figured it out by now (which I find difficult to believe) - that true and universal world peace would make dogs unhappy. And nobody likes having a moody dog around the house. They piss and shit everywhere, chew on the furniture, and just generally act like assholes. No fun. Who wants that?

...And with nobody fighting with cool choppers like this Apache AH-64 Longbow, then we are stealing the treats out of innocent dogs' drooling mouths - according to my deranged logic.

So I stand by my New Year’s resolution of not striving all that hard to bring about worldwide peace this year. I will do nothing to prevent it, but just not go too far out of my way to enact it. Maybe, just maybe, if world peace literally fell in my lap, then I might seize it and decree it - on a trial basis only, of course. And see how the dogs feel about it after a week or so.

Here are a few other New Year’s resolutions (in no particular order):

1) Spend more quality time with my fantasy sports teams
2) Fix that damn squeaky door hinge
3) Get that pile of old banana peels and apple cores out of the corner of the room
4) Change that light bulb in Jaimi’s hallway (note to self: it’s like 12 feet off the ground, so have the paramedics waiting just in case)
5) Be kind to animals
6) Be courteous to the elderly
7) Lose 5-7 pounds of fat and/or add 25-50 pounds of pure adrenaline pumping, pulse-pounding muscle
8) Street luge
9) Eat more fruit
10) Kick more ass

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Do Nice Guys Finish Last? Week 9

(Again, an installment of my approximately weekly column for Love of Sports. This week, I needed to take a break from writing about my fantasy basketball team, "The Centerfolds." The season's just too long to write a weekly column. We still have 16 or 17 weeks left. I'm getting tired of writing about Yao Ming's mom baking cookies for the team, or how Ray Allen cries rather easily. Maybe it's a cop out. I don't know.)

Week 9 of the fantasy basketball season. My team, “The Centerfolds”, have been holding their own pretty darn well up until this point. But it’s a very long season, as I keep reminding myself, and anything can happen.

Case in point, this past week we lost.

Big time.

We barely even won a single statistical category, with a 7-2 loss against a vastly superior opponent.

I suspect it may have something to do with the addition of Stephon Marbury last week. Just by way of his presence in the fantasy clubhouse, lounging around smoking cigars and playing Xbox - it’s enough to degrade any fantasy team, especially one like “The Centerfolds”, otherwise composed of nothing but the nicest guys around the league.

All I can do is sit back and see if the addition of a guy like Marbury continues to impact the fantasy game play of the team as a whole. Of course, as always, I’ll be sure to keep you updated.

As I mentioned, we have a long ways to go before the fantasy basketball season is over, and the stress is starting to get to me. In fact, after this past week’s brutal beatdown, I can feel my peptic ulcer flaring up again. Not a good sign with 17 weeks left to go before the playoffs. At this rate, I’ll be nothing but a big, tense bundle of nerves, wrapped in a sheath of cramped muscles, and covered with a pallid, almost translucent, slightly yellowish film otherwise known as human skin.

So instead of again just rattling off stats, such as Yao’s 23 rebounds and 7 blocked shots last week (Both team highs - nice work Yao!), I felt it was high time to shift gears, away from my fantasy basketball team, if only for but a brief moment in time.

How does a serious fantasy basketball manager relax, and kick back? How do I get away from the daily grind of managing all the minutiae involved with running a top-notch fantasy team?

The answer? Lots and lots of beer.

Just kidding of course.

Actually, there are many activities that, much like a Calgon bubble bath, take me away from the troubles of the real world. And when I say “real world”, I’m referring to the fantasy basketball world.

For example, sudoku and crossword puzzles. They’re great fun, and strengthen your brain.

Then there’s television shows and movies. Those are also wonderful ways to take your mind off the stresses of daily life and work. If you don’t have a television or have never seen a movie, you should really give it a try. Highly recommended.

Finally, sometimes I like to go for a relaxing drive. Unfortunately, I live in New York City, and bumper to bumper traffic at 6 in the morning on I-95 or the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway is about as relaxing as driving gets around here.

In any case, I get to listen to my iPod while I’m in the car. Which reminds of another way one can escape their real world responsibilities for a time - listening to music. If you’ve never listened to music, it’s really great. Definitely give it a go.

Well, I hope this has been of some help to those of you looking for an effective way to manage stress. I really think my ideas on this topic (as presented above) are top notch. Go ahead and try them all. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed.

This week, I’ll be watching television and movies, listening to music and sitting in traffic. That should be more than enough relaxation to recharge my batteries, so I’ll be rested and ready for more fantasy basketball next week.

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A Final Letter To My Fantasy Football Quarterback - We Are The Champions!

The 2007 fantasy football season is officially over.

My team won the championship this year - in spite of the struggles of my original starting quarterback, Drew Brees of the New Orleans Saints.

As I’ve mentioned in several previous letters, Drew had an up and down season, to say the least. I started him. I benched him. I started him. I benched him. And finally, I allowed for him the chance to claim redemption - to start the final week of the season in the big championship match.

I had high expectations, and for some reason expected a fairy tale ending to my fantasy quarterback’s season. I pictured Drew Brees being carried off the field after a spectacular performance - not on the shoulders of his adoring teammates, but on the back of a unicorn, leaving a thin wisp of pixie dust in his galloping wake. Pure magic.

But it didn’t go so well for Drew this past week. He threw for 289 yards, zero touchdowns, and one interception. That’s crap for any week of the season, and even more so when playing for the league crown.

As it turned out, I could have simply not started anyone at quarterback and still come out victorious. But that says less about my team than it does about the opposing manager’s team. They blew, plain and simple.

Still, I’m proud of the team as a whole. And although my feelings for Drew Brees are mixed at the moment, I felt the need to write him one last letter this season. I didn’t want to keep my emotions bottled up until next year.

On a side note, this is one of my New Year’s resolutions for 2008 - to better express my feelings to professional athletes who are on my fantasy teams.

Dear Drew,

Happy New Year to you!!

We did it buddy. We won the championship. We reached for the stars and came down with a handful of red, yellow, and white-hot hydrogen and helium, burning at temperatures in excess of 6,000 degrees Celsius, so to speak.

Perhaps I should explain in plainer language. I know that, while at Purdue University, you majored in Industrial Management - whatever the hell that is. Sounds like it probably didn’t require you to take many science classes.

Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that we went up there and grabbed those stars, but came back with severe 3rd-degree burns on over 70% of our bodies. Not literally, Drew. Don’t worry, I’m fine and you’re fine. Our hands and skin are fine. But figuratively speaking, this season has been a mix of severe pain and moderate joy.

The championship is what it’s all about. And we won that. We did it. You helped. Sort of.

Not really.

Actually, in retrospect, you single-handedly lost a couple matches for my team.

You - last season - trying your darndest to make a great throw and win the game.

You - this season - wearing flip-flops and shorts while sitting backwards in a wooden chair, and not trying particularly hard to do much of anything.

When it came down to the final days and weeks of the season, your performance and focus seemed to falter. Maybe it was fatigue setting in. Perhaps you were stricken with seasonal depression - the wintertime blues. I don’t know. And to be honest, I don’t really care. It’s irrelevant at this point.

You and I, we’re both football professionals of some sort. You - on the actual football field, executing the West Coast offense and throwing perfect passes when possible. Me - remembering to set my fantasy lineup on the computer before the games begin on Sunday, or Saturday, or even Thursday sometimes. So you can see how much pressure I’m under. And I don’t sit here complaining about how I screwed up this or forgot to do that, or mistakenly left my team without a kicker during Week 8’s matchup. It wasn’t a mistake. It was strategy, made to appear as forgetfulness.

“Keep ‘em guessing as to whether you’ll forget to put a kicker in your lineup.” That’s always been my motto.

Besides Drew, you shouldn’t be the one questioning my leadership, despite the occasional gaffe on my part. Need I remind you once again whose team won the championship this season? Answer: my team.

Lest it seem like I’m gloating, consider the following: you’re lucky to be on a championship team of any sort this season, especially one that dominated the competition practically from wire to wire. I’ve been very charitable to allow you this honor.

Wait, that still sounds like I’m gloating a bit. Sorry.

What I meant to say is that my team had a great season, and your team, the Saints, did not. So who’s better at football?

I am.

Damn it Drew, there I go again. Gloating. I don’t know why you bring it out in me. I’m not any sort of braggart under normal circumstances.

But here’s the thing. I had such high hopes for you this season, and you continually let me down. Yes, we ended up winning the championship. Thanks to my running backs (Joseph Addai and late season sensation Ryan Grant), my receivers (Chad Johnson and Brandon Marshall) and my OTHER quarterback (Derek Anderson). But not really thanks to you in any way. I guess your early season struggles paved the way for young Mr. Anderson to take over for part of the season. Can I really thank you for that?

I just thought we had something special Drew, after last season’s surprise performance. I picked you again as my quarterback. And when all was said and done, and despite my team’s glorious triumph, you let me down.

Never again Drew.

I leave you with the pride of having been part of a championship team, but the shame of knowing you let me down. Your former number one fantasy football fan.

Next season will be different, for you and for me. Perhaps I’ll hitch my team to your bandwagon if you have a really great pre-season, but it’s unlikely. The inconsistent play, and extreme highs and lows are too much for me to bear.

I’m still a young guy, and I don’t need a peptic ulcer. There’s plenty of time for that in the future.

So goodbye, fair Drew. Perhaps we’ll meet again.

I still remain,

Respectfully yours,

Your former fantasy manager,

And former big-time fan,

Massively disappointed in you this year,

But still hope you had a Merry Christmas and/or Happy Hanukkah,

Warmest regards,

- The Mill

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A Successful Rental Car Experience

I went to south Florida for a little Christmas vacation this past week, and to spend some time with Jaimi’s family. All in all, it was a great trip. Full of good times, and even better bargains. I enjoyed an abundance of delicious, home-cooked food - for free. And I got a few pairs of fabulously and deeply discounted designer jeans at the nearby outlet mall. When I tried these jeans on I just knew - it’s as if I was poured into them.

But perhaps the most spectacular part of the entire trip - the highlight as it were - was the smooth-revving, sleek and powerful Pontiac Grand Prix rental car, from Alamo. Here’s my review of the experience:

Arriving in West Palm Beach, I quickly the noted the convenient location of the rental car counter. Its proximity to the baggage carousel allowed me the benefit of remaining within shouting distance of my travel companion, while I got the rental car and she waited for our bags. Not a bad start.

Next, the rental car lady was super nice. I had booked the rental through a UK site (best decision I’ve ever made) and was worried that they wouldn’t honor the pre-paid reservation once I got to the airport. The price I paid was literally one-third the price of any American travel site. It’s insane, I know. And so I kept waiting for the catch. “Sorry sir, we’ll need to see your UK passport in order to give you this price.” Or, “Sir, you’ll need to swear on the eyes of the Queen that you are a subject of the British throne before we can give you this low, low rate. Also, you must be uncircumcised to receive this special price.”

Despite my non-English heritage, the catch never materialized, and the transaction went off as smoothly as clotted cream on a crumpet. I even got an upgrade to full-size for an extra 8 dollars a day. I didn’t want to drive no stinking 4-cylinder vehicle. I need the power of a V-6. I knew I’d be spending a good deal of time accelerating around slow, elderly drivers, as they meander between two or three lanes at 20 miles per hour on their way to Bingo.

Hey Gramps, please try to keep your vehicle on the hard part of the road. Meaning, stay off the grass, and out of the water alongside the road. Also, get out my way when you see the Grand Prix looming large in your rearview!

The convenience of the experience only continued, and even increased, as the rental car shuttle picked us up right outside the baggage claim area. A well-groomed driver helped with our bags, even though I tried to do it myself. He seemed an expert at seizing your bags away from you, and scurrying up the two or three steps into the bus. All you can do is follow.

The rental car lot was divided into several rows, each one corresponding to a different class of car: Economy, Compact, Regular, Full-size, Grande, Venti, and Minivan. We were given our choice of any car in the full-size row. The keys were waiting. All we needed to do was choose and drive. It wasn’t easy.

There was the Chevy Monte Carlo 2-door - a big, heavily-muscled beast of a family sedan in cherry red. 2-door? No thanks. What if we need to transport passengers? Four-doors is more our style on this trip. A Chevy Malibu sat off away a few yards, looking lonely in its copper-colored skin and outdated styling. This was not the new, hot Malibu. This was the old boxy Malibu of potential brake-failure recalls, and surprisingly poor gas mileage. Or something like that. In any case, I hadn’t heard anything good about this car. So we passed.

Then it struck me like a debilitating deluge of Mahjong tiles. A shimmering, slightly unusual paint job. Almost like molten chocolate swirled with emerald dust and covered in protective clear coat. It wasn’t exactly beautiful. And it wasn’t exactly interesting, or pleasant to look at. But it was a Pontiac - a Grand Prix to be exact. As anyone born this side of the pond will tell you, they build excitement. Pontiac. We had a winner.

One word describes this marvel of high-performance engineering: Totallyawesome.

I inserted the key and gave it a twist. The motor fired up immediately. No lag. No hesitation on the part of this powerful beast. The interior was ensconced in a pleasing dark cloth-like material. Obviously durable, and obviously standard attire for this car. It still had that new car smell, which I love.

Driving Impressions: The steering wheel of the Grand Prix (pronounced “Grand Pricks”) was unusually large, and took a bit of getting used to. Turning radius seemed to be normal for an unnecessarily large, American sedan. Response and road feel were acceptable. The wheel did not shimmy at highway speeds. So far so good.

Starting Impressions: Acceleration was brisk and smooth from a standstill. Jaimi got a little nauseous when I’d accelerate too hard, so I let her off easy and kept it light on the gas. Although the Grand Prix really wanted me to air it out. I could tell it was begging for more action, and would have much preferred that I create a gas pedal sandwich as often as possible - substituting my foot and the floorboard of the vehicle for bread. The pedal being the metaphorical meat, or cheese and veggies if you prefer.

Stopping Impressions: Braking was smooth and confidence-inspiring, with very little fade even under repeated hard acceleration followed by hard deceleration. This is all relative of course, as I rarely got over 40 miles per hour, and typically slowed down from 40 to zero over the course of about 2 minutes. Still, the pedal felt nice on the bottom of my flip-flop.

Final Impressions: Usually, I beat the hell out of my rental cars, and return them as mere shells of their former selves. But the Grand Prix took what I gave it, and handled it with a smile. The trunk swallowed our luggage easily. It wasn’t too thirsty at the pump. It’s design was inconspicuous enough so as to appear almost invisible to the State Police.

I highly recommend the Pontiac Grand Prix rental vehicle from Alamo.

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Do Nice Guys Finish Last? Week 8

(The saga of my fantasy basketball team, composed of nothing but the sweetest, most generous gentlemen of the NBA - a weekly feature on The Love of Sports. We're not in first place, but we're not in last. We're somewhere in the confortable middle. This week I attempt to shatter my theory that this team of good guys can continue their solid play.)

Week 8 of the fantasy basketball season, and as I’ve mentioned before, it’s been a season of ups and downs. My team, “The Centerfolds”, again experienced a temporary fall from grace. We lost 6-3, getting thoroughly pummeled in rebounds, points, and steals. Our opponent played a superior game on many levels - and my guys simply didn’t deliver.

But it’s a long season. 82 games in the real NBA, and 21 weeks worth of madcap fantsy basketball action. There’s plenty of time for me, as the fantasy manager, to cure all the diseases that ail my team.

Speaking of diseases, we have something called plantar fasciitis festering in the fantasy locker room right now, spreading like the swine flu pandemic of 1919. I looked up this malady on WebMD, and it turns out it’s not a communicable disease or pathogenic infection of any sort. It sounds a lot worse than it is - it’s just a soft-tissue foot injury. Basically, it makes the bottom of your foot hurt a lot.

Still, with LaMarcus Aldridge as the latest victim, and Yao’s toe also hurting this past week, I fear it could be from some kind of airborne or direct foot-to-toe contact. I’m not taking any chances. All fantasy players must wear special antiseptic, Teflon booties over their feet at all times. No bare feet anywhere in the clubhouse or locker room.

Despite being bitten by the injury bug as of late, and suffering through a subpar performance this past week, I’m still very excited about my team’s prospects - as 2007 irreparably rushes to a close.

Now remember, this fantasy basketball season has been something of an experiment all along. Something never before attempted, but something that needed to be investigated – much like the first moon landing. Can these nice guys of the NBA succeed on the court as a fantasy team, just as they’ve succeeded off the court in their personal lives? So far, so good. We’re in 4th place out of 12 teams, with about one-third of the season behind us.

My hypothesis has always been that “The Centerfolds” will be able to compete at a high level all season long, with nothing but kind and well-mannered NBA gentlemen on the team. However, every proper experiment requires that the scientist/fantasy basketball manager introduce certain variables into the laboratory. If I add an outside element to the team, and if the results of the experiment remain the same, then I’ll need to revise my hypothesis. If, however, that uncommon element appears to alter the results of the ongoing experiment, then my hypothesis is strengthened.

As a necessary part of this season-long experiment, I’ve decided to mix things up now, as a way to ring in the new year. Now what, you might ask, could possibly shake up a fantasy team that seems so rock solid. “The Centerfolds” are emotionally stable, with strong leadership (me), and a tireless work ethic.

You’re probably thinking that the addition of some sort of bad influence in the fantasy clubhouse, like an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet, or an all-night casino/strip club would offer an interesting challenge to the harmony and well-being of the team.

Perhaps.

What about something even more pernicious than gambling, alcohol, and trans-fats?

What could possibly be more distracting and destructive than all of that?

Are you thinking what I’m thinking?

Yeah, you probably are: We’re getting Stephon Marbury.

Believe it or not, Hogbury is a free agent in my league, and I decided to put in a waiver claim for him. And this is the perfect time. What better Christmas present for my team than a gift-wrapped, walking, talking, ball-hogging, full-grown crybaby?

Oh, and then there’s the whole having-sex-with-one-of-the-Knicks-interns-in-the-back-of-an-SUV incident. Charming stuff, Stephon.

I look forward to this next phase of “The Centerfolds” experiment. I definitely want my team to keep winning, but I can’t say I’ll be rooting for Marbury on any given night.

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And Then There Were Three - The iMac Completes The Trifecta

iPod. iPhone. iMac.

So functional. So modern. So easy to use. So Apple.

I now own all three. Proudly.

I picked up the shiny, new iMac up from my local shiny, new, glass-staircase-having Apple Store earlier this week. The computer's almost as cool looking as the store!

I haven't had much time to play around (see my last post on holiday party time for explanation), but as of today, I've figured out how to turn on the computer, click on various on-screen items using the "mouse" (included!), type words into text boxes using the keyboard (also included!), and power down the computer. It's all so easy. And just like the iPhone and the iPod, I am a cooler and better person for having purchased one.

Shadows created by the sultry glow of the iMac's brilliant 20-inch screen shroud my face as I write this blog post. I got the cheapest model available, but it still makes me feel and look like a million bucks.

Really though, I needed a new computer bad. My 3.5 year-old HP laptop was giving me the blue screen of death every other time I booted her up. "Ol' Bessie," I called her.

What could be worse than writing a perfectly amazing blog post, and then before you had the chance to click "SAVE NOW" the computer craps out on you? Nothing could be worse than that. Nothing in the whole world.

So I decided to switch back to Mac after 10 years of tooling around on Microsoft's unstable operating system. Now, I'm no Microsoft-hater. Bill Gates gives a ton of money to charity, after all (albeit only 0.00002% of his net worth).

But Macs are so sleek and beautiful. They're carved out of a solid block of aircraft aluminum, and sprinkled with pixie dust. Then Steve Jobs carefully kisses each and every Macintosh computer as it leaves the assembly line, in China - at the rate of 40,000 kisses per day by my estimation, and Apple's recent sales figures. Steve's lips must be chapped raw, and coated in aluminum dust.

So far so good. I hope to continue to explore my iMac's functions, and learn how to unlock its mystical secrets. I've found an Apple users' blog that claims a certain code entered at just the right time while launching just the right multimedia application will enable the iMac to reanimate the dead and/or see into the future. I don't know about all that. And quite frankly, the thought of zombies in my apartment scares the shit out of me. Although seeing into the future could come in handy, particularly during football season. The sportsbook is where the big money is in Vegas, after all.

I'll probably just stick to word processing, photo editing, email, and fantasy sports. But no porn or illegal music downloads. I respect my new iMac way too much for any of that.

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Holiday Season: Too Many Parties. No Time To Write.....

Or something like that. Tis the season to down massive amounts of eggnog/beer/vodka with one's coworkers/clients/friends. This is my excuse for not writing any posts over the past week - several holiday parties that I felt obligated in one way or another to attend.

That, and another one of Jaimi's friends got married, and I went along for the ride. This time in Puerto Rico. You mean The Shining Star of the Caribbean? Yeah, that Puerto Rico. It was nice to get away from the frigid Northeast for a couple of days, but it wasn't long enough.

However, as I believe all things have their bright side, I've found that my lack of writing and increased drinking has allowed me to plan ahead for my New Year's resolutions. I've created a much longer list than in years past - although nothing written down because, as I said, I haven't had time to write. In fact, I think that will be the subject my next post. Not the memorization of lists vs. writing them down. No, I'm talking about New Year's resolutions. And what they mean to me and to you. And why they're stupid. And why I always promise myself that I'll drop those extra 2 pounds, but can never quite get there. At least my iPhone loves me for who I am, and not how much I weigh.

Anyway, I will revisit this topic at a later date, as it is getting late.

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Do Nice Guys Finish Last? #6

(Yet again, my weekly column from The Love of Sports. Follow along as my fantasy basketball experiment continues. This team is composed of nothing but upstanding citizens. The table manners of a perfect English gentlemen. The hushed tone and demeanor of an elderly librarian. The honor and courage of a U.S. Marine. The height and strength of a mythical Titan. Roll all of these things into one sleek package - or, rather, 12 sleek packages - and you'd have my team.)

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Week 6 of the fantasy basketball season came and went with few surprises. My team, "The Centerfolds", won our weekly match-up for the fourth time, this one by a score of 6-3. We again dominated in rebounds, blocked shots, and points scored. And our only deficiencies were shooting and free throw percentage, as well as a narrow loss in the 3-pointer category.

"Now wait a minute Scott," you may be shouting aloud to your computer screen right now, "didn't your team lose last week in a close competition? If I recall correctly, the score was 5-4, and you seemed concerned that your players weren't really 'bringin' the noise and bringin’ the funk' as the teenagers like to say nowadays."

Yes, that's true. I was concerned about my team…..For about one minute. Then I took a good look up and down my roster and noticed nary a weak spot. We're rock solid top to bottom, and left to right. Front to back and side to side. And....Well, you get my point. I knew that these guys could bounce back from their near victory of 2 weeks ago - and bounce back they did.

Kevin Durant, Andrew Bynum, Yao Ming, LaMarcus Aldridge, and Andre Miller provided the points, rebounds, blocked shots and assists. Ray Allen and Shane Battier again provided "The Centerfolds" with the necessary veteran leadership. Yi Jianlian did nothing, but more on that later.

If one were to ask in regards to my fantasy team, "What are your weaknesses?" I'd respond just like I do whenever I'm asked the same question in a job interview: "I have no known weaknesses." But every time I answer that question, I know in my heart of hearts that I'm lying just a little bit. Everyone - and every fantasy team - has a weakness or two. My own personal weakness is that I have no discernible weaknesses. Oh wait. There I go again. Actually, I'm a bit of a procrastinator. There, I said it. Now you know my weakness.

But in the case of "The Centerfolds", that weakness is a bit easier to locate and define. His name is Yi Jianlian.

Yi's a nice guy, don't get me wrong. In many ways he belongs on this team: He translates when Yao gets too excited and can only speak in Mandarin. He's great at making balloon animals. He cooks a mean Belgian waffle. The list goes on and on. But there are also a few things that he doesn't do, such as: score points; rebound; block shots; have fun.

My number one rule is "If you're not having fun, then you're not helping anyone." And this doesn't just apply to fantasy basketball. Come on, people. Life is a game.

Once I recognize your lack of fun-having, your days are likely numbered on my fantasy team. I knew it from Yi's shallow breathing and furrowed brow. He slouched during fantasy team meetings. He wouldn't even crack a smile at one of Yao's hilarious Barbara Bush impersonations. I didn't think it was worthwhile explaining to him why he was being dropped from the roster. He had to serve as an example. So I sent him a fantasy email, and told him to clean out his fantasy locker. A new player would be taking his place in the morning.

That new player? By his name alone, you'd assume that this guy couldn't possibly be a member of the nice-guy-infused Centerfolds team. He sounds more like a James Bond villain than a basketball player. However, after a look at his stats - and a quick FBI background check - I picked up Travis Outlaw and plopped him directly into Yi's old spot in the lineup.

It turns out that Travis is as nice as guy as you'll ever hope to meet, or have on your fantasy team. He'll help with the dishes, score 20 points and grab 12 rebounds, and then pick the kids up from soccer practice. Definitely an upgrade in the power forward position.

Sorry Yi Jianlian. There's a new kid in town. And his name is way cooler-sounding than yours. Travis Outlaw, welcome to “The Centerfolds.” I hope you make yourself comfortable and stay a while - and a score a massive amount of points and grab an insane number of boards while you’re here.

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Me And My iPhone

I got an iPhone for Hanukkah this past week. Thank you Jaimi!

It's pretty much the best gift possible. Here's why:

It makes me smarter, cooler, more interesting, and easier to reach via email, text message, or cell phone. It's easier to reach me now not because the iPhone gets a better signal than a regular cell phone, or works underground. Rather, I never let the thing out of my sight for even a second. Basically, I'm in love.

I reviewed the iPhone when it first came out back in June of this year. Unfortunately, my review was written from the point of view of someone who had never actually seen an iPhone in person. That made it marginally difficult to judge the merits of its many revolutionary features, or to discover inconsistencies and flaws in its user interface or physical design. That being said, my previous review was quite positive. And even now, I stand by that entirely uninformed review.

The thing lives up to the hype, and then some.

I could sit for hours and play with the photo viewer, shrinking and enlarging the pictures by dragging my fingers across the screen. The internet also looks ridiculously good on the iPhone. You get to see the whole goddamn web page, and not just a crappy mobile version that's available on every other cell phone out there. But just as with viewing the photos, the coolest thing about browsing the web on the iPhone is zooming in and out by using your fingers. It's insane. Right out of Star Trek.

Also, I can't wait until they activate the function that allows you to use the iPhone as a stun gun. I heard it's in the next software upgrade. Steve Jobs is such a genius.

In the meantime, though, I'll still be able to use my iPhone to shock would-be assailants by way of its brilliant user interface, and stunningly beautiful LCD screen.

By way of example, here's a picture of me holding my iPhone with a picture of me on it:

Yes, that's a picture of me holding a picture of me. I took both of these pictures with the iPhone in my hand. Sound impossible? Think 'wormhole', which the iPhone was also able to open for me, along with local weather and sports scores.

If I were walking down a dark alley, alone and obviously vulnerable to attack, and someone jumped from behind a pile of trash - grabbed me by the throat and pinned me to the side of the dumpster opposite the big pile of trash - then I would simply whip out my iPhone (much like I'm demonstrating above) and let the goon check his/her email and play around with the iPod function while simultaneously checking stock quotes, and the current time in Bangkok.

Then, as the criminal was distracted by the astonishingly easy-to-use touchscreen display - and because the iPhone, when out of Wi-Fi range, accesses the internet via the relatively slow EDGE cell phone network - I'd have plenty of time to subdue my mugger with a combination of choke holds and heart punches. And as luck would have it, I would have learned these self-defense techniques via a Chuck Norris Podcast, just before getting out of the subway.

In other words, the iPhone just saved my life. And even without the stun gun function, it could save yours as well.

So yes, I'd say that my updated iPhone review (after having actually used one for a little while) remains quite positive.

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The Mill's Refer-A-Friend Drive - Results Are In: Color Me Unimpressed

A couple weeks back, I decided to launch an exciting new promotion on my website. For no more trouble than you sending a few friends, colleagues, enemies, or relatives to my blog, you'd get the chance to win a free t-shirt. Did I fail to mention that this shirt would be free? And that you wouldn't have to pay for it? And that it's a real t-shirt that you'd win, and not just a digital image of a shirt? Was that not made clear?

Perhaps not. I apologize. The thing is, only two people referred anyone to the site who actually left a comment on my original refer-a-friend post (see November 18, 2007). That was the whole idea. If the referred individual didn't leave a post, I'd have no idea who referred them, or that they were even referred to the site in the first place. I suspect that no one else was referred.

So thank you to my Cousin Pam, and to my work associate Dennis for being the only people to participate. I will announce the winner at the end of this post.....Don't skip ahead unless you want to ruin the surprise!!

I suppose the contest could have been more of a failure. At least no one left any hateful comments. And so this whole ordeal leaves me wondering whether I should try again.

Was it the t-shirts? Are they lame? Even the dog would be embarrassed to wear it?

Would you rather have a key chain, or maybe a coffee mug?

How about a Nintendo Wii?

A snowmobile? Or a desk calendar? Seems to me a desk calendar would be more useful.

Let me know what went so terribly wrong, and if there's anything I can do to improve the response next time around - if there is a next time, that is.

And now to announce the winner of the 1st ever Mill's Refer-a-Friend race for the free t-shirt.

And the winner is........

But before I announce the winner, I'd also like to mention that I know it's hard enough for all of us out there in the real non-digital (analog?) world - what with the traffic and the high taxes and the crime and the lousy weather, etc. etc. So I understand if you didn't have the time, friends or thoughtfulness to participate in the referral-a-thon. I ain't mad at ya.

So without further ado. The winner of the November 2007 Refer-a-Friend drive to survive is none other than our wonderful friend Dennis Hui!!!!

That's right Dennis. Congratulations. You truly are an officer AND a gentleman. You beat Cousin Pam by one referral. Final tally: Dennis 2, Cousin Pam 1. Better luck next time. Especially to those of you who didn't participate. If you're lucky, you'll get another chance!

Dennis will need to let me know his preferred shirt size, style, color, font, and what he wants the shirt to read on the back. Alternatively, I've come up with a new design - more stylish than a t-shirt, and yet also much more comfortable. If you wear this while driving, you'll probably fall asleep at the wheel:


So Dennis, let me know if this is the design you'd like. Not sure if it's available in adult sizes, but judging by your recent luck, I'd say the chances are quite good.

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