One Sorry Blog

Breaking Up Is Hard to Do
By Julie Nisbet

It might come as a surprise to some to learn that although I am a self-admitted TV Slut, I haven’t had many long-term relationships with TV shows. But then again, I’m a TV Slut, not a TV Serial Monogamist. It’s a big deal for me to commit to watching a show at the same time every week, and it’s hard not to be bitter when those relationships end badly.

Some of my TV break-ups were just sad, abrupt and unexplained: Arrested Development, My So Called Life, how I miss you so. But with others, something just changed. My shows became something I didn’t recognize anymore. Those are the hardest to let go. When do you throw in the towel and admit to yourself that the characters and plot lines you fell in love with aren’t the same anymore?

In no particular order, and in true Nick Hornby style, here are the top 3 all-time worst break-ups of my TV watching career.

3. Saved by the Bell
Some would argue that this was never a “good” show, but I LOVED it. I still sport a Bayside Tigers T-shirt that my sister bought for me, and I still love Zach Morris, but sometimes, I just have to wonder, “What happened?” I tried to stick with it. I suffered through the Tori years, telling myself that the Zach/Tori love affair could somehow compare to the Zach/Kelly years. But then came The College Years, The New Class, The New Class with Screech and Mr. Belding… Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I broke it off. Thankfully, I can still relive the glory years by watching reruns on TBS and the beauty that is DVD box sets: Hot Sundae, dance-offs at The Max, Jesse’s father’s wedding in Palm Springs and using fake IDs to get into The Attic. Hot.

2. Dawson’s Creek
Maybe it was because when this show started, I was a sophomore in high school, as were Dawson, Joey, Pacey and Jen. Maybe it was because my friends and I were obsessed with Joshua “warm ears” Jackson ever since having a Mighty Ducks marathon at my house several years prior. For whatever reason, I fell in love with Dawson’s before the pilot even aired. We had a good run. I loved this show solidly for 3.5 seasons, tuning in every Wednesday at 9pm. But then, suddenly, and with only a few episodes left in Season 4, Pacey and Joey broke up. With that breakup went the chemistry that was keeping the show together, and everything started falling apart. Suddenly, every male character ever introduced to the show fell in love with Joey. Then they introduced Audrey, Joey’s obnoxious roommate, who became Pacey’s love interest?! Like he would stoop SO low. Then, the writers started ripping off story lines from sub-par Giovanni Ribisi movies, and with that came the dreaded Pacey goatee. All I can say is that I’m glad I got out when I did and I don’t know why they even bothered making DVD box sets of the final 2 seasons.

1. Lost
I’m still casually dating Lost. It has a place on my Tivo and I check in every now and then, but the passion is gone. I very much would like the writers to pull it out of the downward spiral it’s been in since the beginning of season 2, but it’s not looking good. I could go on for pages about how I feel about the writers being slaves to formats, introducing new characters when we already can’t keep track of the ones we have, boring storylines, and so many loose ends that I can’t even keep track of them, but instead, all I will say is, “It’s not you, it’s me.”

Around this time last year in Buenos Aires, a Chinese mafia flare-up was leaving Chinese folks dead all over the city. The mafia was getting back at shop owners who wouldn’t pay their taxes, which could be up to a few thousand dollars per month per chino (small Chinese-run grocery store). Some members of the chino community banded together to stop the violence, and their efforts culminated in a stampede at Ezeiza International Airport in Buenos Aires in pursuit of four or five of the mafia goons.

It was a Wednesday, one of the two days of the week that flights arrive from China, and as the vigilante store owners raced into the airport, hot on the tails of the hitmen, who were apparently running for a flight out of the country, the customs doors opened and a plane’s worth of Chinese innocents was disgorged into Ezeiza. With the shopkeepers tackling the mafia, and a load of their countrymen, essentially fresh off the boat, tripping over the bodies wrestling on the floor, and dozens of Chinese people generally running amok, the Argentine airport officials were lost.

In the tone of Dennis Leary’s order to “Start arresting people” when the Met is swarming with businessmen in bowler hats in the Thomas Crown Affair, the Argentine cops started grabbing every Chinese who wasn’t carrying luggage, trying to sort them out. A quote in the Página/12 newspaper the next day said something like: “It was bedlam. They all look the same – we didn’t know what to do.” In the end, with the help of 30 shopkeepers pointing fingers at four or five guys in suits, the Argentines apprehended the thugs.

These days, there’s a commercial on television in which an Argentine guy and a Chinese guy are stuck in an elevator in Shanghai. As the Chinese security guards monitoring the elevator cameras slurp noodles, one asks if the Argentine isn’t Julio Bocca, the famous dancer, and the other says who knows, “All westerners look the same.”

Nevertheless, I was surprised the other night when, just before turning the corner onto our block, I said hello to our friendly neighborhood Bolivian fruit and veg vendors, as I always do, (Bolivians sell Buenos Aires its fruits and vegetables. Even in the chinos, there’s a Bolivian or two at the front of the store selling fruits and veg.) and rather than say hello back and wave me on my way, the mother and one of the high school-aged sons called me into the small store, as if to settle a bet.

“This is the guy,” the kid said with some authority, while the mother asked me, “Is this your girlfriend?”

There in the store was Sarah, our current houseguest, looking like a hostage held at bananapoint. Clare (Scottish) and Sarah (a Starr-King alumnus) are both white enough, I suppose, but Sarah is a tan girl the Bolivians had never seen before whereas Clare is pale or sometimes red and has been in the store every week or two for almost three months.

“No,” I said, “this is our friend. But it’s alright, they all look the same.”

One Sorry Blog’s mission to publish information provided by underpaid experts in various fields for the benefit of the general public proved worthy yesterday, as One Sorry Blog’s Resident Gambler Ace Cummins, making his picks from China, finished the weekend 3-0, including killing his 5-Star pick for the third consecutive week. Ace Cummins is now 6-3 overall and 3-for-3 on his weekly 5-Star picks during March Madness.

More than a few readers of One Sorry Blog have won more than a few dirham with Gambling Is Easy (or, You’ve Heard of Ace Rothstein? Well This Is Ace Cummins). One Sorry Blog’s own Buenos Aires Desk doubled its petty cash fund by heeding Ace Cummins’ analysis of the Ohio State and UCLA games, inspired after seeing that the 7.5 points for Vanderbilt responsible for Ace Cummins almost shitting himself were 6.5 too many.

Whatever it costs you to read One Sorry Blog, get it back by reading Gambling Is Easy (or, You’ve Heard of Ace Rothstein? Well This Is Ace Cummins) next Friday. One Sorry Blog is the blog that pays for itself.

Lesson #3: Jetlag Is the Real Deal
By Ace Cummins

Jetlag might have nothing to do with gambling on college hoops, but it sure is a bitch. You see, believe it or not, Ace has a real job. He has a real desk at a real office, and collects a steady paycheck. He doesn’t just rely on his 5-Star picks to pay the rent, though he could. He also likes to refer to himself in the third person. In any event, if you have been paying attention to – and hopefully wagering on – his 5-Star picks, you could have already paid your rent this month. What are you waiting for? Although he is only 3-3 overall, Ace is a perfect 2-0 on his 5-Star picks, and Vegas is noticing.

Now back to the first person. And my job, which actually has me in China this week. Shanghai, to be exact. But have no fear, thanks to Slingbox I have been able to watch my March Madness. I haven’t been here long enough to give you the full scoop on China, but this place is amazing. Truly a must for anyone who considers him (or her) self a traveler. Inquiries about Shanghai can be directed to ace.osb@gmail.com.

And now to make some money. My picks:

Vanderbilt (+7.5) vs. Georgetown
I almost shit myself when I saw this line. That is easily 1.5 points too many to give. Have you been watching games? At this stage there just aren’t any blowouts. Vandy is tough and will want to slow it down against a very solid and well-rounded Georgetown. They know they don’t match up athletically, but they have one of the best players left in the whole tourney. They want it low scoring and, that being the case, 7.5 is freaking ridículo. Take the points (and the money).

Memphis vs. Ohio State (-1.5) ***** My 5-Star Pick*****
How can you make THE Ohio State University your 5-Star pick after two scrapers to advance to the Regional Finals? For just that reason. At first I thought my bias against Memphis was getting in the way and I was giving the Oden Crew too much clout. But seriously, Memphis had no reason beating Texas A&M and should just be happy to be there. Oden and Co. have a lot to prove and will come out hungry. Seriously, if OSU had won by 10 yesterday the line would easily be above five. OSU in a blowout.

UCLA (+2.5) vs. Kansas
This one comes down to experience. Both on and off the court. UCLA has been there done that, and looked awfully good against Pitt at controlling the tempo. Then you look at Howland vs. Self. No contest. Bruins will be ready, and I don’t think Self knows what to expect. UCLA in a grinder. Money line, anyone?

PM = Pura mentira
Por Martín Balzamo

“Es porque el tiempo pasa, nos vamos poniendo viejos, y el amor ya no lo reflejo, como ayer.”

Y no es sólo el amor lo que el paso del tiempo afecta. El paso del tiempo te afecta la capacidad de saber qué estás haciendo en el trabajo, que proyectos tenés entre manos, priorizar esfuerzos, deshechar lo que sabés que ya no va.

El otro día leí un chiste de Dilbert en el que éste le ponía a su jefe un caballo muerto en su camino y miraba desde un costado para ver qué hacía. El jefe lo empujaba mientras pensaba (no olvidemos que en una historieta nos podemos enterar de lo que piensan los personajes): “Lo voy a empujar hasta que vuelva a galopar”. Reconocer que algo no funciona o hay que abandonarlo es una habilidad que se pierde después de muchos años de hacer lo mismo. Siempre parece que empujando suficientemente al caballo muerto, éste va a empezar a galopar. Es cierto que esto parece estar relacionado a la típica reacción porteña de “Esto es imposible” vertida en el artículo anterior. Reconocerlo es fair enough, que no se puede decir tan conciso y concreto en español.

En este momento releo los primeros párrafos y me doy cuenta de que algo más se llevaron los años y es la capacidad de mantener el hilo de una conversación o desarrollar una idea. Llevado a la gestión de proyectos, y de muchos a la vez, estoy hablando de seguir un proyecto.

Estos problemas para llevar adelante un asunto me aquejan a mí y a cualquier persona que lleve un par de años haciendo lo mismo. Porque cuando hablo del paso del tiempo, no hablo de canas en la sien. Hablo de hacer lo mismo en el mismo lugar. Eso es paso del tiempo. Eso desgasta, herrumbra.

Entonces, la receta magistral. El PM o Project Management. Tercerizar. Darle a otro el trabajo que uno no puede hacer. Pero… ¿qué es Project Management? ¿Se puede explicar en dos líneas? Son las habilidades que le permiten a uno llevar a adelante cualquier proyecto. Y supuestamente esto sirve para construir un puente de esos que se ven en la tv en los canales como Discovery o para demoler un puente. No importa el qué, importa el cómo. Cuesta creer.

Sin embargo, hay gente que vio el negocio y creó una cultura alrededor de esto. En algún punto, esto parece El señor de los anillos. Tolkien inventó una realidad. Inventó razas, un lenguaje, una región, mapas. Existe para el PM un instituto que regula un estándar sobre qué es el PM y se llama el PMI y la I es de Institute. Existe una biblia del pemeísmo y se llama el PMBOK, donde BOK es Book of Knowledge. Existen exámenes para certificar que uno es uno más en la cofradía e incluso se puede certificar que uno puede formar a otros.

Para mi los PM’s son una cofradía o secta y creo haberlos visto reunidos con vestimentas especiales los martes a la noche alrededor de antorchas. Hay mucha gente que trabaja de PM en empresas grandes y pequeñas. En su versión más berreta (tacky, para los angloparlantes) son personas que se te acercan y te preguntan: “Para cuando va a estar tal cosa”. Después periódicamente vuelven y preguntan: “¿Ya está?”, “¿Hay algún retraso?”, “¿Riesgos?”. Visto de esta forma, se podría reemplazar por un IVR o una grabación que te llame y te pregunte cada hora: “¿Ya está?”.

El PMI es más ambicioso. Habla de ocho áreas: esfuerzo (tantas horas), fecha (para tal día), alcance (un puente de una vía), recursos humanos (equipos, caciques, indios), calidad (un puente que no se caiga cuando pase un desfile militar*), contratación de proveedores (tercerización es parte de otra receta magistral) y hay dos que no me las acuerdo, porque probablemente… no soy un buen PM.

Me acordé. Riesgos. Pero sobre detección y administración de riesgos, hablaremos más adelante.

*Sólo aquellos que tuvimos que aprender a desfilar (dijo Einstein que quienes disfrutan de un desfile tienen la cabeza para que la columna vertebral no le termine en punta) sabemos que arriba de un puente se “rompen filas” para evitar que éste se caiga al entrar en resonancia el paso militar con la vibración del puente.

One Sorry Blog News Service

Buenos Aires – Clare Nisbet and Paul Rivas’s fakiversary almost came and went without notice, a fact which prompted the two crazy kids to realize – perhaps ‘acknowledge’ would be a better word – that they really do want to spend the rest of their natural lives together.

“Oh, I’ve already told Paul that I reserve the right to get with Alex, McSteamy and McDreamy, in that order, if I encounter them in the hereafter,” Clare said while making her ‘I do what I waaaaaaaant!’ face.

Although the couple had had their fakiversary in mind in the run-up to the anticlimactic day on which, in they end, they never did celebrate the two years they’ve spent together since Clare took Paul and not one of her sisters on the free trip she won to Moloka’i, no one gave March 19 any thought until Clare, naturally, realized around 5 p.m. that the anniversary of the day Paul arbitrarily set a few months after the fact had come around again.

“Originally, I had suggested sometime that summer that the day we had gotten back from Hawai’i would be a good one for an anniversary,” Paul remembered, “but Clare said that that was bullshit, that if she had wanted to spend eight days in paradise with someone who didn’t love her, she’d have at least gone with somebody who wasn’t too scared to go scuba diving.”

Paul added, for the record, that he wasn’t too scared but rather too cheap, to which Clare said, “Whatever,” and, “Besides, it’s not even an anniversary. Apparently we don’t even have an anniversary. It’s a fakiversary.”

In any case, Clare had spent the morning of the second fakiversary reading Raymond Carver’s Will You Please Be Quiet, Please?, concerned that “[her] shows” weren’t downloading fast enough, while Paul was midway through his three-week study of Osvaldo Soriano, intermittently banging on about One Sorry Blog and “the right not to work.”

Not even when Clare shared a line from her book with Paul did either realize their fakiversary was upon them.

“And I decided I would wait until night before I thought about the woman again. But right away I got a boner thinking about the boner I would get that night.”

The young lovers laughed: Clare at the first instance of the literary use of the word ‘boner’ she had seen since reading Paul’s screed about his trip to Europe with Bubba, and Paul at the absurdity of trying to deny oneself a good boner.

The non-celebration of the fakiversary was just the latest sign to arise that has convinced Clare and Paul that their love for each other is at least as real as that of Sybil and Basil Fawlty. Paul often starts sentences now with, “Remember when we were first manacled together…” and when he tries to kiss Clare she very often looks at him, perplexed, asks what he is doing, and when he replies, says, “Well don’t.”

When asked separately how they knew they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together, and even go so far as to get married sometime after they get back to the U.S., they each said, “I don’t, really, but ni modo” (Mexican for ‘whatever’ or ‘tough shit’).

Gringos Can Make Good Salsa
By Clare Nisbet

It’s true! If you find yourself like me, stuck in a country with a fetish for gnocchi with cream sauce or in a family of “mince and tatties” lovers, you need not fret because any asshole with a blender can spice up their meal with yummy, hot salsa. I say “¡NO MAS!” to the $60 check at Chevy’s just to get some stale-ish tortilla chips and a bowl full of sweat. A meal just ain’t a meal without spice bomb tears (just ask the guy who dishes out the wasabi at Sushi Teri in Goleta).

So how do I make my own salsa, you ask? Well, I’m gonna keep it simple for the newbies. There are a million different kinds of salsa including red chile, green jalapeño, black bean salsa (um, come again?), red pepper, spicy corn salsa, etc. But like most things in life, the simplest answer is usually the best one. So here is how to make the easiest and arguably tastiest salsa in the world. I am not a big fan of recipes and never have been so here you can expect to have to experiment a little to get your proportions right but that’s half the fun, no? You can’t make something perfect unless you fuck it up a few times.

You know that cupboard in your kitchen with your Magic Bullet, your food processor, and all the spare parts? Grab your blender (sorry, “frozen margarita maker”) out of there. Into this place two giant, washed and chopped tomatoes, a little jigger of olive oil, some lemon juice (maybe half, maybe a whole lemon), a little salt, a little pepper, and some chiles. The choice of chile is up to you. Me? I live in Argentina and when the Bolivian green grocer down the street doesn’t stock some sort of spicy goodness I have to settle for canned jalapeños but the result is really not that bad. I imagine, however, that the majority of blog readers are in the US, so get your ass to Vons and pick out some spicy ones. Leave the seeds in for maximum impact. Turn your blender to the “Man, I wish I was Mexican” setting and watch it spin up delicious spicy red sauce. Taste it and adjust according to your tastes… y listo. Seriously, if a girl who has been described as “so white she is blue” can make hot salsa, you can, too.

We use this radical superfácil condiment for everything from eggs, to sandwiches, steak, chicken, and with our own, homemade tortilla chips. It’s frickin’ good, it’s practically free, and it saves us all from a life of gringo servitude. Try it today.

A review of Upsurge, by John Teton. 287 pages. iUniverse, Inc. $27.95.

Jack Kerouac said that his books, however varied their subject matter and characters, were meant to be lined up one after another on the shelf, all part of one great story. The same can be said of John Teton’s small but dense oeuvre, and the story his two novels tell is distressing, to say the least.

Although Upsurge and Appearing Live at the Final Test are apparently unrelated but for the anguish their characters feel for the state of humanity, they fit together like pieces of a cosmic puzzle. With Upsurge, Teton continues the good work begun in his first novel, and if there are more to come of the same ilk, there may yet be hope for human life on Earth.

Appearing Live tells the millennial saga of four New York friends coping with what may be the end of the world. Finding themselves apart from each other at the zero hour, they journey out of body together to the center of the universe, where they learn the history and future of humanity, as well as hope for a second chance at life.

In Upsurge, University of California geophysics professor Tyler Fox, while creating a device that will revolutionize earthquake prediction, stumbles on a discovery that will change the way humans understand their existence. Meanwhile, his wife, Gwen, is mere days away from giving birth and his teenage daughter, Leanna, runs away, consumed by her passion for her campaign to eradicate world hunger. Even his five-year-old son is out of sorts.

As the Foxes’ sense of urgency to find their daughter safe and sound begins to overwhelm them, the family’s financial problems grow. Their frustration that Tyler’s work has yet to win him any significant grants is matched by Leanna’s inability to accept that her parents can do nothing to help her friend Marvin’s parents, who have been out of work for months. The Foxes’ lives as middle class white Americans constantly living one paycheck away from bankruptcy show signs of cracking.

Whereas Appearing Live is a good story filled with implications that humans are in fact on a path to mutually assured destruction, but that it is not too late to deviate from this course, Upsurge is a call to action. Leanna makes the obvious yet so often neglected case that there is no excuse for world hunger, a case so compelling that research for the book drove Teton to his current work as chair of the International Food Security Treat (www.treaty.org). The treaty aims to use the strength of enforceable international law to make hunger a crime, and has the support of a global variety of governmental leaders as well as NGOs.

Teton’s unanticipated devotion to his young character’s cause reflects his greatest accomplishment in Upsurge, which is to eschew cynicism as only a baby boomer who has not forgotten his ideals can. While Leanna and her schoolmates produce a music video lashing out at the AADS (Acceptance of Avoidable Death and Suffering) that is spreading like an epidemic among the adult population, her father assures himself that the teens are, “just saying what a lot of people wonder somehwere in the depths of their souls before cognitive dissonance kicks in.”

Tyler Fox, Gwen and Leanna narrate Upsurge. Their thoughts, especially those of the professor, are filled with elements from the American cultural panorama, from Meadowlark Lemon to ‘Greed is good’. The same things we’ve forgotten or don’t remember even knowing are the pieces of the all-enveloping cultural flow that have come to be stuck in the minds of Teton’s characters, making the Foxes a very real Bay Area family.

Yet the narration in Upsurge falls short of that of Appearing Live at the Final Test. Not onlyl is Msongo, the black newsstand owner and Navy veteran, a better storyteller than anyone in Upsurge, but his voice was almost surely a greater literary challenge for Teton. Tyler Fox proves that professors are people, too, just not as interesting. When Fox continues his weeklong round-the-world research trip despite his daughter still not having returned home after running off shortly before he left, shrugging one’s shoulders and chalking up his obsession to that of even the most self-absorbed and absent-minded professor is a stretch.

Nevertheless, Upsurge manages to whisk the reader on a great journey, a welcome meditation on humans’ time at home, on earth and in the universe. Most refreshing is that Teton wirtes with the perspective of someone who has taken an interest in human wellbeing in the world today. The life experiences he has collected on his way to being a mature adult with teenage children of his own are the most convincing aspects of his fiction. Whereas words such as “nincompoopitude” and “latitudinal ossification” will sound silly or forced to most readers, Fox’s silent mumbling to himself that “undrugged dreams and careening reality can be so trippy and harrowing they make acid look like a gimmick sold in the back page of a comic book,” implies a wisdom acquired with age that no young reader should ignore.

Upsurge is a book in the spirit of Robert DeNiro’s Harry Tuttle character in Brazil, whose reminders that, “We’re all in it together,” inspire good people to persevere in their fight against ineffectual bureaucracy. The novel will do wonders for folks who have been neglecting the change-the-world enthusiasm they felt in their first post-college years, and is sure to convince more than a few to come eout of hibernation, stand up and be counted.

Click here to order Upsurge

Tomorrow, ‘round about 1:40 p.m. Pacific Time, I’ll be calling in on “The Courtyard”, Debo Kotuhn’s program on KPFK, to talk briefly about Upsurge, John Teton’s newest novel. I will post a full review of the novel here on One Sorry Blog after the radio review.

KPFK can be heard on 90.7 FM in Los Angeles and 98.7 FM in Santa Barbara, or online at kpfk.org.

Lesson #2: Good Coaches Win, Great Coaches Cover
By Ace Cummins

It might be a slogan for The Old Pro Sports Bar in Palo Alto, but it is wise beyond its letters. (The Old Pro is highly recommended if you happen to be stuck in PA – it is one of the few quality sports bars in the Bay Area). In the world of gambling it is never enough to just win, and sometimes it’s not so bad if the team you wagered on loses. Just so long as they cover. Some coaches do just that and that, says The Old Pro, is what makes them great.

You gotta love March Madness, and the lone NCAA Tourney game we have had so far saw Niagara defeat Florida A&M 77-69. Would you be surprised if I told you that Niagara was an eight-point favorite? Absolutely not, because the lines makers are damn good.

I hope you all profited immensely from my solid first week as a “published gambler”, in which I nailed my 5-star pick and went 2-1 overall. Did Vegas notice? We’ll see if the lines change after my picks go live.

So without further ado, Ace’s picks for opening weekend:

Oral Roberts (+6.5) vs. Washington State
It’s hard for me to go against a West Coast team, but this game has nail-biter written all over it. This one will go down to the wire and six and a half are way too many points for what is projected to be a low scoring game. Even if the game is not as close as I think it will be, that many points are hard to give, and sooooo easy to take. Plus, it’s the tourney and dogs aren’t dogs in March.

Winthrop (+4) vs. Notre Dame *****My 5-Star Pick*****
What conference are these guys in? Who cares? These guys are the hot pick right now and for good reason. They can flat our play. The have the experience, the heart and the coach (see lesson #2) that makes them the perfect fit for the glass slipper. Did someone say, “George Mason?” This line will be 3.5 by the time I wake up tomorrow. Trust me. If you can still get four points, jump on it. I think 3.5 is still good, and I love the money line.

Villanova (-1) vs. Kentucky
This game started as a pick-‘em, and has already moved a full point. Likely to be 1.5 by the morning, too. When lines swing, you know people are heavily betting one way, and when that happens with so many games to choose from, jump on the bandwagon. As I said last week, Kentucky is overrated and the gamblers out there obviously agree. Maybe Vegas saw my 5-star pick of the week last week and took notice. Either way, Villanova is a great free throw shooting team, so come crunch time, you’ll be glad you have money on ‘em.

You asked for it and you got it:

Sucker Bet of the Week:

Virginia Commonwealth vs. Duke (-6.5)
Duke is not that good and VCU really thinks they will win. They might not, but Duke on a normal year would we 19 point favs in a contest like this. That should tell you something. Now Coach K gets every call, so I would never bet on VCU, but Duke is a Sucker Bet if I ever saw one.