that pigskin sport

Dear seven people that will read this over the next four months,

I am not dead. I’ll pause a moment so you can shake your head and sigh…  Okay, done shaking?  Actually, I’ve been extremely productive these past few months and as a result have neglected the site like it was my red headed step child asking for Christmas presents.  Please, save the hostility.  I can picture most of you now, “But Adam, does watching Hulu and eating Doritos really count as productivity?” And my answer is: Of course, what a stupid question.  The second season of Paradise Hotel isn’t going to watch itself while lying in a cooler ranch flavored crumb pile.  Sorry for that visual.

Recently, Headtrip has undergone some server changes.  In the process of switching hosts, the databases which contained two years worth of posts were never backed up and ultimately lost.  But hey, who’s counting?  Well, besides me while crying myself to sleep to the thought of 24 months worth of writing lost somewhere in cyber space. What does this mean for the site? Basically, I’m starting all over again.  A fresh slate like the original Headtrip I helped start back in 2002… except with a worse social life… which I didn’t think was possible.  Really, you should probably just think of my life as those 30 second Adidas commercials, Impossible Is Nothing. Except instead of flashy shots of Ali knocking out Frazier and Kevin Garnett hitting game winning shots set to heart pumping music, it’s more like me blankly staring at a computer screen for half a minute as silence fills the background.  Same difference, right?

Over the past few months, not too much has changed for me.  I still spend my days wasting away in a carpeted box somewhere in eastern Wisconsin.  Actually, for past readers of the site, I’ve since moved on from the Windowless Factory in Wisconsin to bigger and better places.  Now I spend my days in a Mostly Windowless Office Connected to a Factory in Wisconsin. Clearly, a huge promotion.  By the end of this decade I plan to be working in a Somewhat Windowed Office in Wisconsin.  Hey, a boy can dream, can’t he?  I got a joke for you. What’s the difference between an office cubicle and a padded mental institution room with a computer? The answer… the Hello Kitty calendar I’m allowed to hang up on casual Friday.  Let’s  just say that if little 8 year old Adam could see me now… he’d probably take a baseball bat to my head.  Actually, he’d probably chop me in the knee and THEN hit me in the head once I fell down.  I’m a lot taller now.

In an effort to expel my creative and, um, other frustrations, I’ve taken to writing again.  What can I say?  It’s easier than working out.  Plus, I’m lazy. Honestly, I have no idea what I will write about this time.  I figure, I haven’t known what to say for 23 years, so I’m about due for some sort of thought process.

With the clean slate I’ve been given, I’ve attempted to conjure up some unique and fresh ways to re-launch the site.  Initially, I figured I’d say my kid was stranded in a weather balloon that flew away from me and use all the free publicity to plug the site.  However, I soon realized that the act of sexual intercourse was involved in the pro-creation process and that only  “meteorologists” can own weather balloons.  Darn the man and his rules keeping me down! Plus, the Heene’s screwed things up for the rest of us, so now I’d just look like a copycat.  Story of my life.

Ultimately, I settled on writing an unnecessarily long first post that really provided no substantial content and left most readers more confused than anything.  In fact, I think it’s working all ready.  Potato salad.  So sit back, relax, and wait four more months for me to post again.

Sincerely,

Adam