Annals of incompetence (still better than OSU, not Oregon)

The first topic in this post might have been "Annals of 'No Chance'", something I'm pretty familiar with.

It involves a fairly involved conversation with an attractive woman, followed by me NOT getting a phone number. The next stop is killing myself for not doing so, leading to me calling the person who put me in contact with her and ending with me doing something that confirms whatever lack of confidence that I had in the first place.

I'm not sweating it. In fact, I really just needed something to write in my little blog here. But it's on my moment at the moment as I listen to BBC's Benji B show. Speaking of, one little tune I'm liking is this Thom Yorke track from his solo album being sampled by Kanye West and  Lupe "Sure I Had No Idea My Biz Partner is a Dope Dealer" Fiasco. If I want to become a music critic in the future, I guess saying more than "damn good" would help. But that's where I am right now.

Part of the reason I'm writing this now is the other annal of incompetence. That would be the thawing beef that's sitting near the sun. At about this time, that beef should be simmering in all sorts of juices and spices. Most notable of the things I'd spent time doing -- while ignoring the less than five minutes it would take to remove the blade steaks from the freezers -- was advising my buddy Natalie how to cover up for her absent boss. My winner was to tell the big boss that Pat or Chris or Stacey was taking a deuce.

(As androgynist names, why do I think of Stacey as the best of the group for ones that age well. I like my name and all, but Christian will be eventurally take over.)

But yeah, I was pretty hyped about doing a bit cooking. I'd worked on Thai Chile Beef in the past, with non-lethal results. My ingredients were lined up on the kitchen counter, and I had a better feeling about the order of stuff. It had to be about an hour ago when I went to the refrigerator looking for something red. Pick your explicitive. I probably used it. Yes, I need to work on my vocabulary a bit. True.

The plus of all of this is that I've been keeping an eye on the Oregon State-Michigan game in NCAA college baseball, in which the defending champion Oregon State team won 1-0. For those anyone unfamiliar with college baseball, one-run contests don't exist. Between the poor pitching, questionable defense and the metal bats, a viewer is more likely to see teams cross the plate more than 10 times in a game.

In fact, Louisville leads Oklahoma State, 16-2, with the winner going to the College World Series. This is in the sixth inning. And the Cardinals haven't gotten their turn at bat.

Because of the rarity of a pitching duel, I kept my buddy Dave (a huge Michigan fan) abreast of the game while also writing this. Is anyone going to score, I thought. Meanwhile, I realized that there wasn't much to tell about the party I went to last night, other than the phone number I needed to get from the woman I was talking to.

Sometimes, that's the way it works. You think that you're getting somewhere. Then you lose your nerve. Suddenly, your best hope is to ask the party host if she remember that woman's name. Or your steaks are hard enough to dent Brinks trucks, and your best culinary wish lies with the awful Chinese takeout up the street.

Then you look up and see that Oklahoma State's season's will end today, no less in a humiliation fashon. Seventh inning. Are things that bad?

There will be another gal to not asked out. And Yung's has a halfway-decent cheese steak with hots. Time to get there.