First and foremost, I would just like to thank Fat Dub for putting up his first post. Just thought you should know, he literally had it in the drafts for two weeks. I'm not sure whether it was habitual laziness on both of our parts, or if it actually took him that long to remove all the expletives (I'm bargaining on the latter), but either way, it is published.
As if Fat Dub's post at the beginning of the week wasn't good enough, it is also Penn Relays week. While this probably means absolutely nothing to the 5 people reading right now, to me, Penn Relays week means an invigorating day of watching amateur athletes compete at the most awe-inspiring stadium in all of America. In other words, I get to miss school for a day.
Let me rephrase that. I get to miss school if I get a ticket. Strath Haven being the track powerhouse that it is naturally has several relay teams running in the Penn Relays, and with that comes the perk of many tickets to the head coach. You're probably saying to yourself, "Oh, so Coach Ed got the tickets. Since he and Soup are like two peas in a pod, he will definitely give him a ticket to Friday's relays." That would be a decent assumption, if Coach Ed was the head coach of our track team. That's where you are all wrong. While Coach Ed may be a Baller Fo' Real, Strath Haven is coached by one of the all-around bossiest men in the history of Planet Earth. The man I am talking about, of course, is Bob Jesson.
Have you ever met someone who you are so afraid of that at times you tremble in their presence? Ever soiled your pants just from hearing someone yell? Me neither, but you can just ask Teddy about how that feels. Anyway, if ever there were a person to be intimidated by, it is Mr. Jesson.
He teaches 7th grade history, and he has never missed a full day of class. Ever. I had his class a few years back and I still remember the day he came back in after receiving tooth surgery earlier that morning. Nothing he said was decipherable, but it matters not. Besides that, Mr. Jesson related everything we learned to football. In hindsight, his analogy proved accurate. He also told our classes about how when he used to teach at school in his earlier years, he used to stop knife attacks and break up in-classroom fights. His kids never messed with him there, he said, so he could handle anything we threw at him. Plus the fact that he had the best current events game known to man made him an excellent history teacher.
Mr. Jesson coaches the middle school football team (Fat Dub was one of his favorite pupils) and the high school boy's track team. I'm not sure how long he has been coaching for exactly, but it is probably in the neighborhood of 40 years. No joke. He's legit. If you don't believe me, chew on this food for thought: Mr. Jesson coached Leroy Burrell. If that name sounds familiar, that probably has something to do with the fact that Leroy Burrell was twice the fastest man in the world.
Anyway, Jesson knows his way around a track. It is highly advised to be aware during interval days, and not to get in the way of his sprinters. One distance runner, Jessy Chen, knows the wrath of Jesson first hand. While Jessy was doing a workout (pretty slowly) in lane 1, the sprinters started, also in lane 1. Mr. Jesson began to yell to get Jessy out of the first lane to make room for the sprinters for a few seconds. Even though it was a windy day and he was on the opposite side of the track, Jessy could actually hear him. That can be attributed to Mr. Jesson's yell, which can be heard halfway across the globe on a quiet night. The only problem was, Jessy was so befuddled by the loud yelling in his direction that he stood his ground and looked around in confusion as the sprinters passed on the outside. After yelling to Jessy for five seconds and realizing it had failed, Jesson let out a quote for the ages: "THAT KID IS A FRIGGIN IDIOT." Needless to say, he chewed Jessy up for not moving. Chen would never make that mistake again.
This is not to say Mr. Jesson is just a loud guy who makes everyone piss their pants (this is the part where Greg tells us that it was 8 years ago). He's a nice guy who genuinely wants every guy on his team to do well. Unfortunately, he works with the sprinters, and lets Coach Ed handle the distance guys. For that reason, and for others (like not having hour long discussions about how much of a douchebag Bobby Flay is) I don't share the same bond with Mr. Jesson as I do with Coach Ed. So when Mr. Jesson had extra tickets available for Friday, it would be a little tougher to get them than it would be if Edwin had them.
On Wednesday, Jesson had an impromptu gathering by the track about Penn Relays. I'm pretty sure I wasn't even supposed to be there at that point, considering I'm "a slow, white teenager" as Chris Murphy appropriately put it (for the record, I just ran a 56.4 and hawked some kid from Radnor in our 4x400 B relay... they don't call me Sprinting Soup for nothing). At the end, Mr. Jesson said that he had a few extra tickets available if anyone was interested. I was in the back of the huddle, and I may or may not have been wearing a bandana (Hint: I was totally wearing a bandana). Just so everyone knows, it complimented my playoff-beard-that-actually-looks-like-stubble-because-the-hair-is-blonde-and-few-and-far-between pretty well, which is the main reason I had it on. I'm sure it added to my whole aura when I yelled out that I was interested in a ticket. That may have contributed to Mr. Jesson proceeding to mumble for about 10 seconds to himself before saying "We'll see, a lot of people probably want them."
I wasn't really expecting Mr. Jesson to say something different, so I wasn't too crushed. He then sent us away, and promptly called over several members of the team to ask if they wanted the extra tickets. When I found out about this development, I did nothing out of the ordinary because, again, I expected it.
Fast forward to the next day, when Mr. Jesson was situated on the bench watching us finish up our intervals. It turns out he had plenty of tickets, one of which I received. I was in. My parents let me skip school, so off to the Penn Relays I would go.
The next day I arrived at the train station with Noah Frick, ready for a day of fun. We had already planned to eat at Pot Belly, a delicious sandwich joint around the corner from Frankin Field. How did we know about this place, you ask?
About a year and a half ago, a few of us strapping young fellows took the train to University City to see Penn play. We ran rampant around the Palestra, looking for band kids to pick on and some of the coolest foam hats you'll ever see. Apparently the hats were only for students, or for band kids (I couldn't tell because the only student section there was for the band), so no one gave them to us. If there were six of us there, we eventually managed to get five. The bossiest retrieval of a hat was Jack Eiel's, who pretty much ran onto the court to get one. Not even kidding, you can ask him if you'd like. Anyway, I was the only one who didn't get a hat, and got completely shut down outside of the Palestra by some Penn doucher who had two hats but was "saving it for my friend." Disappointment showered me at first, until we visited Pot Belly and had some high quality eats.
This is why I was so pumped to go back to Pot Belly, to relive some of the great moments of the past. We got on the train, and there may have been half of the team on there. That's an exaggeration, but Jesson got a lot of tickets for us. We got to the Relays and saw races. And then we saw more races. And then we saw a lot more races. Finally, our 4x100 relay team was up. They finished first in their heat, but they were no match for the Jamaican teams who got faster times. A group of us left the Relays to go enjoy some eats. This crew consisted of Noah Frick, Richard "Scoot" Scott, Dave Klein, Fen Bloyd, Papa John Shiiba, Andrew Marmorstein, Jeff Seelaus, Sam Pinecone, his girl, and the Sobel Soup of course. Looking back, we totally could have waited an extra two minutes for the guys who just ran (like Down-C) to come up, but we were thinking with our stomachs. When we walked outside of the relays, we met up with a former teammate who now runs at Penn, George Dickson. George is a somewhat frequent visitor to the blog (meaning he goes on once or twice a year and clicks on some ads to make me money) and an all-around good guy. All of us hit up Pot Belly and got some well-made sandwiches. It was a bit of a role reversal for Sam's girl, seeing as she wasn't the one making the sandwich this time, but she made it through alright. Besides that, Noah, Scoot and I all bought whole pickles. I shouldn't have to confirm this, but they were finger-licking good.
We realized how big of jerks we were (we know) when Jordan rolled up by himself fresh after racing. He gave directions to Chris Williams and Down-C on how to get there. Unfortunately, Jordan's version of giving directions includes telling them the wrong street and describing the eatery as "next to a brick building." If you've ever been to Penn before, you know how great of a description that is, considering the area is legitimately 90% brick. Once Chris and Bryan showed up, the majority of the group headed back.
Inside, there was a section to get a lot of free stuff. The things you could get really weren't all that great, but everybody and they moms knows that free makes everything good. Apparently Coach Ed agrees with that statement, seeing as he was far more excited about getting the free stuff than we were, and he has been going to the Penn Relays for years. After eating a few gross Snickers Marathon bars (never try those), we headed up to the stands. Only this time, we went to the upper deck and tried working on our farmer's tans. This provided for an enjoyable experience for a couple of reasons.
One was the Jamaicans. The stands were loaded with them, and they made their presence felt. The whole day I had the Jamaican Bobsled Team theme song stuck in my head. Except instead of bobsledding, the Jamaicans were running and cheering, which are both things they do very well at. Whenever someone was "hawking" another person, meaning they were making up ground fast at the end of a race, all of the Jamaicans would yell "WHOOP" repeatedly in extremely high-pitched voices. It made a close race even that more entertaining.
The second best part about being in the upper deck was when Dave Klein fell asleep. I guess he didn't get much sleep the night before, because Dave was out. He was lying down in between the bleachers, where people rest their feet. It was too good of a situation to not mess with him, and of course I was the one that had to do it. I found two stray french fries and stuck them in his already closed fist. Several pictures were taken, and George laughed heartily. Somehow the fries got dislodged before Dave woke up, so he never quite believed us when we told him that he was eating them as he fell asleep. Nonetheless, it was a good time. Shortly thereafter we headed home, all tired from this day of infamy.
There's no video this post. It's half because I'm far too lazy, and half because for some reason, the videos are being cut off.
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Let's Make Some Introductions
Hi. I'm Will. You may know me better by my nom de guerre 'Fat Dub' that is so often referred to by Soup (In fact I'm the most used tag). I figured it wouldn't be the most clichéd thing this blog has ever done to introduce myself, so I guess I'll do that. First off, I have some different writing philosophies than Soup, for example I'm going to use peoples actual names, rather than nicknames. At least in my writing, Soup will be known as Ben from now on, I will go by Will, and any other members of the cast of characters that you have come to know and love will all have their real names used. I don't really know why Ben used nicknames in the first place, but seeing as nobody actually reads this blog, I think I'm safe using real names (Time to use that Child Molester Protection Charm). Secondly (yeah I'm going to number my talking points, what?) I haven't completely stolen my writing style from, the admittedly great, Mark Titus. Instead I've stolen it from Gabe Delahaye and Drew Magary. So instead of posting a video at the end of the post, I'm going to put videos wherever I want. Like this one. (Warning: Don't watch the video unless you want to be bombarded by profanity, lots and lots of profanity)
He really was 6 foot 20. Little known fact. Third, I'm all about sarcasm, or to put it more correctly verbal irony (thanks Ginny). So don't take the majority of what I write seriously. And finally, as you've prolly already figured out, I'm all about parentheses for use of questioning my writing and random shout outs to people who definitely aren't reading the blog. So let's do this thing!
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I'm the short, fat, blonde, obnoxious one. Good Times.
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I know you're all expecting me to comment on Duke winning the National Championship. Here's what I have to say: Haha! I never gave up on Brian Zoubek, he never gave up on me, and together we won it all (I'm actually on the team). Defying Ben's retarded predictions. Suck it Trebek.
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So that's about it for me. I mean other than saying that I think I'm developing a major man crush on Roy Halladay. He's a monster. Also, Cole Hamels could never pitch as accurately as he does in the new xfinity commercial (What? You don't know what I'm talking about? You obviously don't watch enough Comcast Sportsnet)
I know what you're asking yourself and yes I did use Lucida Grande as my font this entire post-breaking all the rules over here,
Will
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Be Forewarned
If you haven't realized yet, my worst nightmares have occurred tonight. Yes, Duke, the evil empire, the Yankees of college basketball (how do you root for this team? Honestly) have won the NCAA tournament. That's right. Scheyer Face. Zombie Singler. Triangle-head Smith. Jar Jar Thomas. All now synonymous with champions. I know. I'm projectile vomiting too.
Sadly, this blog will undoubtedly be a domain for Duke support. It appears I have made Fat Dub an author at just the wrong time, because I know he will soon post about the Duke victory. I really don't know how long it will be, but just be warned that there will be much gloating about the Devils. I really wouldn't blame you if you stopped reading the blog for a few months or so.
The thing that makes Duke winning so troubling is not just that they are part of the royalty of college basketball. It's that they beat the feel-good story of the century. They were real life Hoosiers. In fact, Butler's gym is where Hoosiers was filmed. And their team was so likeable. When both of Babyface Hayward's shots went off the rim, my heart sank. They have a guy on their team with a last name of Jukes. Seriously. Tell me you wouldn't enjoy having that as your last name. The possibilities are endless. "He Jukes, he scores!!!!" or "Jukes jukes, they can't stop him." If that kid doesn't talk about himself in third person, power to him. And the biggest boss of the team by far is clearly Matt Howard. There are so many things to like about this guy. First of all, his mustache. You all know how much I like beards, but I'm not afraid to appreciate a ballsy mustache growing. Secondly, the man picked his nose during a game. Yes, during a game. And last, but definitely, definitely not least. During the last couple of seconds of this game, he laid the nastiest screen I have ever seen that is sure to give Zombie Singler a few more black eyes. It's good to know that even when Duke wins, I can still laugh at them a little bit.
To finish this post, I'm just going to make myself feel a little bit better, while ragging on Duke for just about as long as I possibly can before Fat Dub gets on here. This post's video will show Greg Paulus straight up eating man junk.
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
Sadly, this blog will undoubtedly be a domain for Duke support. It appears I have made Fat Dub an author at just the wrong time, because I know he will soon post about the Duke victory. I really don't know how long it will be, but just be warned that there will be much gloating about the Devils. I really wouldn't blame you if you stopped reading the blog for a few months or so.
The thing that makes Duke winning so troubling is not just that they are part of the royalty of college basketball. It's that they beat the feel-good story of the century. They were real life Hoosiers. In fact, Butler's gym is where Hoosiers was filmed. And their team was so likeable. When both of Babyface Hayward's shots went off the rim, my heart sank. They have a guy on their team with a last name of Jukes. Seriously. Tell me you wouldn't enjoy having that as your last name. The possibilities are endless. "He Jukes, he scores!!!!" or "Jukes jukes, they can't stop him." If that kid doesn't talk about himself in third person, power to him. And the biggest boss of the team by far is clearly Matt Howard. There are so many things to like about this guy. First of all, his mustache. You all know how much I like beards, but I'm not afraid to appreciate a ballsy mustache growing. Secondly, the man picked his nose during a game. Yes, during a game. And last, but definitely, definitely not least. During the last couple of seconds of this game, he laid the nastiest screen I have ever seen that is sure to give Zombie Singler a few more black eyes. It's good to know that even when Duke wins, I can still laugh at them a little bit.
To finish this post, I'm just going to make myself feel a little bit better, while ragging on Duke for just about as long as I possibly can before Fat Dub gets on here. This post's video will show Greg Paulus straight up eating man junk.
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Farewell Five and Easter Jives
On this Easter Sunday, an era has ended. In case you haven't heard, Donovan McNabb has been traded to the Redskins. My initial thoughts on the trade are as follows. I'm fine with trading McNabb. I doubt the Eagles would resign him after this season, and it would be better to get something from his value while you can. I do not, however, like that they traded him to the Redskins. Why trade him to a team that you play twice a year? For an organization that does a lot of arrogant things, this is just downright stupid.
This of course follows on the heels of trading Sheldon Brown and Chris Gocung for a 4th and 5th rounder, and a linebacker who has started 2 games in 2 years for the Browns. Not to mention the release of several others, including Shawn Andrews, Kevin Curtis, and Brian Westbrook, one of my favorite Eagles who I already touched on. Can you say rebuilding?
One thing that scares me in this trade is the relation between Donovan McNabb and John Elway. Up to this point in their careers, they are eerily similar. Both were said to have not been able to win the big game early in their careers, with a combined 4 Super Bowl losses between the two of them through each of their first 11 seasons. And through the same amount of games, they have similar yards per game and yards per attempt averages as well. In terms of touchdowns to interceptions, McNabb trumps Elway easily in both categories. This is what scares me. John Elway finally won the Super Bowl late in his career, when he was 38 years old in his 15th NFL season. McNabb is through 11 NFL seasons and is 33 years old. Who was Elway's coach in Denver when he finally won, you ask? It was Mike Shanahan. Interestingly enough, the Washington Redskins just got rid of the futile Jim Zorn in favor of an accomplished NFL coach, one with a track record of winning Super Bowls. Who would that be? The aforementioned Mike Shanahan. Look, I know the Redskins are a mess. If it were to ever happen it would take a lot of time. And yeah, I know. It is the Redskins. They tried the dumbest play in the history of the NFL last year. But the connections are there. I really don't want it to happen, but stranger things have happened before. Like Adam Sandler in a serious movie. So never say never.
In final, the McNabb trade is sort of like divorcing your wife, and giving your weird half-brother permission to marry her. You get rid of her, but you still have to see them both twice a year at Christmas and Easter. Talk about awkward.
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While we are on the topic of Easter (What a transition. They should call me Segway Soup) I should tell you about my Easter Sunday with the Sobel's. The plan was to head over to my grandparent's house, and hear some more stories about the man, the myth, the legend himself from Grandpop, and maybe watch Grandmom dunk a little (If you're wondering, Grandpop had to take ESPN off their cable package for this month, just so Grandmom wouldn't get mad at the attention Britney Griner is getting for her achievements this tournament. Grandmom would posterize her, and we all know it). Unfortunately for Grandpop, Jeffrey J. caught wind of the latest blog post and let him have it for giving me all the information that I used. He and Uncle Kevin told me Grandpop's daily itinerary, which goes like this:
Wake up
Check the Soup Kitchen
Nap
Wake up
Read the Inquirer
Nap
Wake up
Check the Soup Kitchen
Eat
Shower
Sleep
Repeat
I'm going to be blunt here. That's probably the bossiest schedule I have ever heard of in my life. Granted he doesn't get out of the house much, except when he goes to Flyers games, but at least he is as loyal a fan as they come (to my blog and to the Flyers).
In other news, Uncle Kevin won the annual "Hit your Egg on the Other Person's Egg and Whoever's Cracks Loses" contest. If that doesn't sound like drama-filled family fun, I don't know what does.
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With Opening Day tomorrow for the Fightin's, I thought it appropriate to relive some of last year's triumphs. While I couldn't find a solid video of J-Roll's walk-off in Game 4 of the NLCS (I was there. Greatest moment of my life? Yes) I could find the Postgame Live Crew's reaction to it. I just wanted to point out that while Barkann and Ricky Bo were, as you can see in the below video, legitimately freaking out, Dutch Daulton barely reacted. It's pretty obvious why. If you aren't familiar with Darren Daulton, he has been said to be a little crazy. In short, he claims to have visited the future. While on postgame live, he said the Phillies would win the National League pennant (interestingly enough, he never said the Phillies would win the World Series, which they obviously didn't). The reason he didn't react? Simple. He already saw it happen.
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
This of course follows on the heels of trading Sheldon Brown and Chris Gocung for a 4th and 5th rounder, and a linebacker who has started 2 games in 2 years for the Browns. Not to mention the release of several others, including Shawn Andrews, Kevin Curtis, and Brian Westbrook, one of my favorite Eagles who I already touched on. Can you say rebuilding?
One thing that scares me in this trade is the relation between Donovan McNabb and John Elway. Up to this point in their careers, they are eerily similar. Both were said to have not been able to win the big game early in their careers, with a combined 4 Super Bowl losses between the two of them through each of their first 11 seasons. And through the same amount of games, they have similar yards per game and yards per attempt averages as well. In terms of touchdowns to interceptions, McNabb trumps Elway easily in both categories. This is what scares me. John Elway finally won the Super Bowl late in his career, when he was 38 years old in his 15th NFL season. McNabb is through 11 NFL seasons and is 33 years old. Who was Elway's coach in Denver when he finally won, you ask? It was Mike Shanahan. Interestingly enough, the Washington Redskins just got rid of the futile Jim Zorn in favor of an accomplished NFL coach, one with a track record of winning Super Bowls. Who would that be? The aforementioned Mike Shanahan. Look, I know the Redskins are a mess. If it were to ever happen it would take a lot of time. And yeah, I know. It is the Redskins. They tried the dumbest play in the history of the NFL last year. But the connections are there. I really don't want it to happen, but stranger things have happened before. Like Adam Sandler in a serious movie. So never say never.
In final, the McNabb trade is sort of like divorcing your wife, and giving your weird half-brother permission to marry her. You get rid of her, but you still have to see them both twice a year at Christmas and Easter. Talk about awkward.
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While we are on the topic of Easter (What a transition. They should call me Segway Soup) I should tell you about my Easter Sunday with the Sobel's. The plan was to head over to my grandparent's house, and hear some more stories about the man, the myth, the legend himself from Grandpop, and maybe watch Grandmom dunk a little (If you're wondering, Grandpop had to take ESPN off their cable package for this month, just so Grandmom wouldn't get mad at the attention Britney Griner is getting for her achievements this tournament. Grandmom would posterize her, and we all know it). Unfortunately for Grandpop, Jeffrey J. caught wind of the latest blog post and let him have it for giving me all the information that I used. He and Uncle Kevin told me Grandpop's daily itinerary, which goes like this:
Wake up
Check the Soup Kitchen
Nap
Wake up
Read the Inquirer
Nap
Wake up
Check the Soup Kitchen
Eat
Shower
Sleep
Repeat
I'm going to be blunt here. That's probably the bossiest schedule I have ever heard of in my life. Granted he doesn't get out of the house much, except when he goes to Flyers games, but at least he is as loyal a fan as they come (to my blog and to the Flyers).
In other news, Uncle Kevin won the annual "Hit your Egg on the Other Person's Egg and Whoever's Cracks Loses" contest. If that doesn't sound like drama-filled family fun, I don't know what does.
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With Opening Day tomorrow for the Fightin's, I thought it appropriate to relive some of last year's triumphs. While I couldn't find a solid video of J-Roll's walk-off in Game 4 of the NLCS (I was there. Greatest moment of my life? Yes) I could find the Postgame Live Crew's reaction to it. I just wanted to point out that while Barkann and Ricky Bo were, as you can see in the below video, legitimately freaking out, Dutch Daulton barely reacted. It's pretty obvious why. If you aren't familiar with Darren Daulton, he has been said to be a little crazy. In short, he claims to have visited the future. While on postgame live, he said the Phillies would win the National League pennant (interestingly enough, he never said the Phillies would win the World Series, which they obviously didn't). The reason he didn't react? Simple. He already saw it happen.
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Jeffrey J.- Big Boss
It's been a pretty lousy couple of weeks for the Sobel Soup. If you haven't noticed, my Villanova Wildcats were knocked out of the NCAA tournament by a Sandman, a miracle shot, and something that slightly resembles a human being. Making matters worse, Duke just advanced to the Final Four this weekend. Even though I have been harassed by a few fake Duke fans (it's only been one, actually: Clay Packel), but I have yet to hear from any of the main antagonists, such as J.D. Sparks XIV, Ibo DeGrouchy, or Fat Dub. No word on whether or not Jon Scheyer performed a Scheyer Face as he was cutting down the nets. You can bet it happened though, because Scheyer Faces are about as prevalent as Kyle Singler's zombie faces, which occur almost nightly.
In other tournament news, Ali Farokhmanesh shot his way into America's hearts, while simultaneously shooting down the Kansas Jayhawks, and the vast majority of this year's NCAA brackets, including mine. Even though the puns here are truly endless (not to mention inappropriate and very politically incorrect) I'm going to lay off.
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I missed a lot while I wasn't blogging. I even neglected to cover Christmas, and believe me, it was a doozy. Grandpop, Jeffrey J.'s dad, was over, along with the rest of the family, and he had some stories to tell about your friend and my favorite. Apparently Jeff used to be a free spirit back in his college days, and Grandpop told everyone about this. At first, he brought up Jeff's affinity for changing majors. Jeffrey J. claimed to only have changed "a few times," which I guess means six or seven to him. Grandpop really dropped the dagger when he informed us of the "Jeff Sobel Memorial Library." Apparently, Jeff was very fond of using the University of Delaware school library (read: he never stepped foot in the place). Grandpop called him foolish and Jeff was ashamed, but I had a Ron Burgundy-Baxter moment. It really just showed me how much of a boss Jeffrey J. truly was, and still is.
All this talk about Jeff's college days made Uncle Kevin bring up some new information too. Turns out Jeff used to be a Private Investigator. He was so good, he almost had his own show, but they gave it to Magnum instead. A little disappointing, but how can Jeff be expected to compete with a mustache like that? It would be like watching ESPN's college football coverage without Lou Holtz's lisp and humongous glasses, or watching Greg Oden play without his beard. Something's missing, so history is better off with Magnum anyway. Besides, Jeff's job wasn't really as glorious as it sounds. Even though he was always on stake-outs, he supposedly just sat there for hours. He didn't even get donuts. If it doesn't sound boring to you, just trust me when I say it was.
Also, I would be remiss if I didn't tell all of you about one of my favorite Jeff stories of all time. Late one night, I was walking downstairs. I heard a large ruckus, and assumed it was a television show. Once I turned the corner, I realized Jeffrey J. was watching something on his computer. It wasn't just any thing, though, because I kid you not, Jeff was red in the face and tears were just about ready to come from his eyes. I had no idea what the video was about, but I assumed it was some sentimental home video. My world was full of complete shock when I looked at the screen, and saw Susan Boyle's Britain's Got Talent tryout. I legitimately fell on the ground laughing, and could not stop until maybe 10 minutes later. Jeff was pretty embarrassed, and he couldn't look at me in the face for about 3 days afterwards. It's probably because everytime I saw him I asked how Susan was. But he totally deserved it.
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This post's video was sent in one of the blog's most faithful followers, Saumon Oboudiyat. Apparently he is a big Rush Hour fan, and this one makes him go "all aboard the ROFLCOPTER!!!" (Just so you all know, ROFLCOPTER actually means Rolling On the Floor Laughing Can't Operate Properly Til Eyes Refocus, but all the ballers use it as a laugh-mobile, like a helicopter of ROFL's) I do appreciate Chris Tucker's Michael Jackson impression, and he's got some nice dance moves to go along with it.
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
In other tournament news, Ali Farokhmanesh shot his way into America's hearts, while simultaneously shooting down the Kansas Jayhawks, and the vast majority of this year's NCAA brackets, including mine. Even though the puns here are truly endless (not to mention inappropriate and very politically incorrect) I'm going to lay off.
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I missed a lot while I wasn't blogging. I even neglected to cover Christmas, and believe me, it was a doozy. Grandpop, Jeffrey J.'s dad, was over, along with the rest of the family, and he had some stories to tell about your friend and my favorite. Apparently Jeff used to be a free spirit back in his college days, and Grandpop told everyone about this. At first, he brought up Jeff's affinity for changing majors. Jeffrey J. claimed to only have changed "a few times," which I guess means six or seven to him. Grandpop really dropped the dagger when he informed us of the "Jeff Sobel Memorial Library." Apparently, Jeff was very fond of using the University of Delaware school library (read: he never stepped foot in the place). Grandpop called him foolish and Jeff was ashamed, but I had a Ron Burgundy-Baxter moment. It really just showed me how much of a boss Jeffrey J. truly was, and still is.
All this talk about Jeff's college days made Uncle Kevin bring up some new information too. Turns out Jeff used to be a Private Investigator. He was so good, he almost had his own show, but they gave it to Magnum instead. A little disappointing, but how can Jeff be expected to compete with a mustache like that? It would be like watching ESPN's college football coverage without Lou Holtz's lisp and humongous glasses, or watching Greg Oden play without his beard. Something's missing, so history is better off with Magnum anyway. Besides, Jeff's job wasn't really as glorious as it sounds. Even though he was always on stake-outs, he supposedly just sat there for hours. He didn't even get donuts. If it doesn't sound boring to you, just trust me when I say it was.
Also, I would be remiss if I didn't tell all of you about one of my favorite Jeff stories of all time. Late one night, I was walking downstairs. I heard a large ruckus, and assumed it was a television show. Once I turned the corner, I realized Jeffrey J. was watching something on his computer. It wasn't just any thing, though, because I kid you not, Jeff was red in the face and tears were just about ready to come from his eyes. I had no idea what the video was about, but I assumed it was some sentimental home video. My world was full of complete shock when I looked at the screen, and saw Susan Boyle's Britain's Got Talent tryout. I legitimately fell on the ground laughing, and could not stop until maybe 10 minutes later. Jeff was pretty embarrassed, and he couldn't look at me in the face for about 3 days afterwards. It's probably because everytime I saw him I asked how Susan was. But he totally deserved it.
___________________________________________________
This post's video was sent in one of the blog's most faithful followers, Saumon Oboudiyat. Apparently he is a big Rush Hour fan, and this one makes him go "all aboard the ROFLCOPTER!!!" (Just so you all know, ROFLCOPTER actually means Rolling On the Floor Laughing Can't Operate Properly Til Eyes Refocus, but all the ballers use it as a laugh-mobile, like a helicopter of ROFL's) I do appreciate Chris Tucker's Michael Jackson impression, and he's got some nice dance moves to go along with it.
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Beating Around the Bush
Late last Friday night, Jake Enterlin and I were bored. We did the thing that any two young, 16 year old males with driver's licenses and money to blow would do on a Friday evening. Of course I am talking about hitting up the Target that just got put into the Springfield mall. For those of you who don't know, the Target has pretty much anything anyone anywhere has ever wanted. Except for real wiffleballs. But that's a different story. Moving on. Young T and I were scouring the aisles at Target, looking for that perfect something that would complete our night. We eventually made it down to the men's clothing department, which if you haven't visited at Target, is pretty baller. It's got some nice Elmo hats, which Nah B. Eric, better known as Noah Frick, bought and frequently rocks, not to mention some nice jumpsuits that would put even T.J. Adams's best collection to shame. Do not be mistaken, however. Me and TBD didn't waste our time toiling in these inferior garments. If you are not aware by now, which, quite frankly, you really should be, we are two pretty huge ballers. That's why we went straight for the undergarments section.
Now I know what you are thinking. "Woah, woah. Two guys in an undergarments section? That's the coolest thing ever! They probably bought underwear together and everything!" While that would be pretty neat, that's not what we did. Undershirts, along with underpants, fall in the category of undergarments. That is what TBD and I were shopping for. While he got some high quality undershirts that are silky smooth (and tagless!! Gotta love Hanes), I was the one who came out as the big winner. Also in the undergarments section happen to be wife beaters. Once I laid my eyes on these, I knew they had to be mine. Why a beater? There are a couple of reasons actually. I'm not sure this even has to be said, but I'll say it anyway: You can never have enough beaters. In my personal case, I had none. I guess you could say I was really in need of some beaters. Even if they do make me look like Kevin Federline (the skinny version). The second reason was my checkered past littered with experiences of bad beaters. Looking at them in the Target, I couldn't help but reminisce about the I Love Mammals video.
Unfortunately, the beater wasn't a great accessory of mine in that video. According to my good friend Kara Nac, it looked as if it was a woman's tank top. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but I really got short-changed (props to Sloth Campbell for the word choice). It was Jack Eiel who lost one of the good wife beaters in school, leaving our crew with three good beaters, and one meant for a 5 year old. Of course the shortest member of the group who also happened to lose the beater that caused the problem got the bad one right? Wrong. The Sobel Soup had to get the bad one. No respect.
Anyway, TBD bought the undershirts, and I bought the beaters, and just so you know, we got them on sale. I'd be damned if two of the most eligible bachelors in the county couldn't find a decent price on a few hot commoditites. I've worn the beaters almost everyday since then, and they really are satisfying. The beater fits comfortably, yet it feels as if I'm not wearing anything at all.
We left the Target and then smashed a few mailboxes. I'm just kidding, we actually got some Longboys and some high quality dining from Wendy's drive-thru menu. What is a Longboy, you ask? They are kind of hard to describe, and I'm feeling really lazy right about now. So just look at this picture. There is no cap to them, but that is just an advantage. You see, most people who buy drinks from convenience stores don't have the ability to drive without spilling something with no cap. But when you've got skills like I do, there is nothing to worry about. To go along with that, they are cheaper and there is about 8 more fluid ounces of drink inside. Sound like the greatest deal ever? Yeah, I think so, too. There is really no point in asking what kind we got; of course we got Arnie Palmer's, the greatest Longboy/drink of all time. Everything you need to know is pretty much embodied in my favorite Sportscenter commercial. You saw correct. 50% Iced Tea. 50% Lemonade. 100% Delicious bliss.
___________________________________________________
The NCAA Tournament is right around the corner. And by right around the corner, I mean in about 12 hours. If you remember correctly, one of the best days of my young life was spent down at the Wachovia Center watching a day of basketball splendor. Also, Fat Dub managed to stay home from school that day to watch the games. I will do the same. I really hope it will be a great day, and of course, my Villanova Wildcats have to win for it to be a decent one at that. I'm thinking about tracking my day, similar to what I did last year on the blog. If I do anything interesting that you will want to read about, I'll be sure to do so.
___________________________________________________
Another reason I'm not going to school tomorrow is because I am simply worn out. I need a mental health day (which is better: that, or a rental health day?). Why do I need such a thing? It is probably because I have been organizing the pinnie order for the Strath Haven Student Section, better known as the Sons of Ben. You probably lost out on your chance to get a pinnie if you are finding out about this for the first time, but considering I got over 100 people to buy them, I consider it a major success. My job was simply to unify the student section, and to make opposing teams and fans tremble in our presence, and I'm fairly certain I did that. Not only that, but I have a feeling the pinnies are going to be BO$$. More on the Sons of Ben in a later post. Honestly, I'm a little tired, and could use some shut-eye.
The video I'm including this week is of Triumph, Conan's dog friend that he frequently sent out to do a little reporting. This was probably a while ago, but I find it downright hysterical nonetheless. Just as a favor, I'll link you to part two of the video here.
"Burger King: Where all dragon masters eat!"
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
Now I know what you are thinking. "Woah, woah. Two guys in an undergarments section? That's the coolest thing ever! They probably bought underwear together and everything!" While that would be pretty neat, that's not what we did. Undershirts, along with underpants, fall in the category of undergarments. That is what TBD and I were shopping for. While he got some high quality undershirts that are silky smooth (and tagless!! Gotta love Hanes), I was the one who came out as the big winner. Also in the undergarments section happen to be wife beaters. Once I laid my eyes on these, I knew they had to be mine. Why a beater? There are a couple of reasons actually. I'm not sure this even has to be said, but I'll say it anyway: You can never have enough beaters. In my personal case, I had none. I guess you could say I was really in need of some beaters. Even if they do make me look like Kevin Federline (the skinny version). The second reason was my checkered past littered with experiences of bad beaters. Looking at them in the Target, I couldn't help but reminisce about the I Love Mammals video.
Unfortunately, the beater wasn't a great accessory of mine in that video. According to my good friend Kara Nac, it looked as if it was a woman's tank top. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but I really got short-changed (props to Sloth Campbell for the word choice). It was Jack Eiel who lost one of the good wife beaters in school, leaving our crew with three good beaters, and one meant for a 5 year old. Of course the shortest member of the group who also happened to lose the beater that caused the problem got the bad one right? Wrong. The Sobel Soup had to get the bad one. No respect.
Anyway, TBD bought the undershirts, and I bought the beaters, and just so you know, we got them on sale. I'd be damned if two of the most eligible bachelors in the county couldn't find a decent price on a few hot commoditites. I've worn the beaters almost everyday since then, and they really are satisfying. The beater fits comfortably, yet it feels as if I'm not wearing anything at all.
We left the Target and then smashed a few mailboxes. I'm just kidding, we actually got some Longboys and some high quality dining from Wendy's drive-thru menu. What is a Longboy, you ask? They are kind of hard to describe, and I'm feeling really lazy right about now. So just look at this picture. There is no cap to them, but that is just an advantage. You see, most people who buy drinks from convenience stores don't have the ability to drive without spilling something with no cap. But when you've got skills like I do, there is nothing to worry about. To go along with that, they are cheaper and there is about 8 more fluid ounces of drink inside. Sound like the greatest deal ever? Yeah, I think so, too. There is really no point in asking what kind we got; of course we got Arnie Palmer's, the greatest Longboy/drink of all time. Everything you need to know is pretty much embodied in my favorite Sportscenter commercial. You saw correct. 50% Iced Tea. 50% Lemonade. 100% Delicious bliss.
___________________________________________________
The NCAA Tournament is right around the corner. And by right around the corner, I mean in about 12 hours. If you remember correctly, one of the best days of my young life was spent down at the Wachovia Center watching a day of basketball splendor. Also, Fat Dub managed to stay home from school that day to watch the games. I will do the same. I really hope it will be a great day, and of course, my Villanova Wildcats have to win for it to be a decent one at that. I'm thinking about tracking my day, similar to what I did last year on the blog. If I do anything interesting that you will want to read about, I'll be sure to do so.
___________________________________________________
Another reason I'm not going to school tomorrow is because I am simply worn out. I need a mental health day (which is better: that, or a rental health day?). Why do I need such a thing? It is probably because I have been organizing the pinnie order for the Strath Haven Student Section, better known as the Sons of Ben. You probably lost out on your chance to get a pinnie if you are finding out about this for the first time, but considering I got over 100 people to buy them, I consider it a major success. My job was simply to unify the student section, and to make opposing teams and fans tremble in our presence, and I'm fairly certain I did that. Not only that, but I have a feeling the pinnies are going to be BO$$. More on the Sons of Ben in a later post. Honestly, I'm a little tired, and could use some shut-eye.
The video I'm including this week is of Triumph, Conan's dog friend that he frequently sent out to do a little reporting. This was probably a while ago, but I find it downright hysterical nonetheless. Just as a favor, I'll link you to part two of the video here.
"Burger King: Where all dragon masters eat!"
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Respectfully Yours
I know, it's been a while, but you are lucky you are even reading this right now. I've decided to take a break from my normal Sunday afternoon activities (which typically involve several hours spent napping, making historically-accurate raps, or playing Minesweeper) to blog on all of your faces for a little bit. I would be lying to you if I said I was just doing this out of the goodness of my heart; I have a legitimate reason for posting.
In Friday's issue of the Philadelphia Inquirer, Bob Ford wrote an article explaining why fighting is hockey's problem. On first glance, some of you may agree, while others may say that hockey is the only thing drawing people to the NHL. I don't officially fall in either of those groups, so I decided to just make my own category. It goes something along the lines of "This article is the most ridiculous thing I've ever read so I'm going to email you and tell you how bad it was, and dish out several low blows while doing it." If you are doubting me right now, you really shouldn't. I'm not one to worry about wasting time, after all I did make a track-athlete profile that no one could see, and there was that inspirational dodgeball speech for the tournament that never happened. So yes, I did email Bob Ford and tell him how much of a moron he was for writing something like that. Of course I'm not satisfied just telling you about this, that's why I'm copying the email below.
Mr. Ford,
I have read your article on fighting in hockey, and I find it utterly preposterous that you would claim that it is the reason the NHL is only the "4th sport," as you put it. First of all, I neither find something wrong with fights, nor do I support them. For the record, I would not be totally opposed to taking fights out of the game, at least to the extent that the Olympics does. But to claim that fighting keeps fans from watching is ludicrous, not to mention a complete fallacy.
Your entire argument is based on the premise that people watched the Olympics, yet they do not watch the NHL and that the difference between Olympic hockey and the NHL is the prevalence of fighting. Because of those two factors, you claim fighting is the problem. The ratings variance is not related to fighting; it so clearly hinges upon the disparity of players' abilities that it makes me question whether you were thinking sanely when writing up this article or if you simply had nothing to write about and decided upon this. Can you name an NHL team that has a player as good as Mike Richards or Jonathan Toews on its fourth line? How about Bobby Ryan? Drawing blanks? Me too. The fact is, the level of play for international hockey so far surpasses that of the NHL, that it is irrational to think the same people would tune in to watch a full, 82 game hockey season if fighting were banned. If the Olympics had the same rules for fights as the NHL did, the viewership Sunday may have dipped ever-so-slightly, but it would not be as low as NHL playoff games currently are. To claim otherwise insults not only your intelligence, but the intelligence of your readers as well.
Thank you for hearing me out.
Respectfully yours,
Bennett J. Sobel
I read the email off to Jeff, and needless to say, he was loving it. His favorite parts were "it makes me question whether you were thinking sanely when writing up this article" and "Drawing blanks? Me too." He claimed I was "dogging" Ford, but I think he deserved it. I offset that by calling him Mr. Ford and ending the letter with a respectfully yours. I can criticize him all I want, but at the end of the day, his article probably got slightly more hits than my blog. Plus he writes for the Inquirer, so he is technically my superior, which is why I addressed him as Mr.
He probably has no idea that I am a 16 year old blogger with nothing better to do, which may explain why he hasn't answered me yet. Or it could be that he hasn't recovered from being schooled several times by a random emailer. Either way, if he ever does respond I'll be sure to put it on the blog.
___________________________________________________
During my two and a half month leave of absence, the NCAA basketball season has been going on. It doesn't really need to be said, but I've been following my Villanova Wildcats as faithfully as ever. It was smooth sailing in the beginning of the season, they were 20-1 and had a No. 2 national ranking. Unfortunately, the Wildcats have limped into the Big East tournament, going 4-5 in their last 9 games, including 2-4 in their last 6, making for an overall record of 24-6. I'm disappointed to say the least, and not feeling very confident of success in the NCAA tournament for my Wildcats. But with a good showing in the Big East tournament, all of that can easily change, and I really hope it will. At the end of the day, we still have the Big East player of the year (at least he should be) Scottie Reynolds, a solid starting lineup with accomplished guards, and great depth. I'm not backing out of my prediction of NCAA champions that I made way back in the summer, I would just like to see them play well in the Big East tournament so I can feel good again.
In more exciting news, two people I know have seen/met a Villanova basketball player in recent weeks. The first was O-Star Superstar, who was getting a shape-up while Reggie Redding walked into the same barbershop as him. Of course he didn't say anything, because O-Star would obviously make a fool out of himself, and he knows it. So wisely he kept his mouth shut. The second person to meet Villanova basketball players was my sister, Lizzie (better known as Sizzie) who met and had a conversation with Antonio Pena and Reggie Redding in a Lids store. She happened to be buying me a Villanova hat at the same time they were getting other hats customized, and Antonio sparked up conversation. Only knowing that would have made my day, but she hunted down a Sharpie and got the two guys to sign it for me. I'll probably make a shrine in my room for the hat, not to mention the receipt they also signed.
___________________________________________________
I should also add that the Soup Kitchen will be home to a new poster, Fat Dub. Because my posts are few and far between, and because he is a far superior writer than I am, I invited him to be a co-poster. This will suffice all of your Soup Kitchen fixes and add some variety to the blog. This isn't to say there will be posts everyday, but there will certainly be more than there had been before. I look forward to sharing this domain with my boy, Fat Dub. I just hope he doesn't blog about Duke.
___________________________________________________
I would be remiss if I didn't mention the release of Brian Westbrook. I can't help but think about when the Eagles released B-Dawk last year, which is one of the main reasons I started the Soup Kitchen in the first place. He was the greatest Eagles running back of all time, and I will root for him to have success anywhere he goes. As a tribute to B-West, I am including a some highlights of him for the awesome video of this post. My personal favorite moment is the punt return touchdown he had in the waning moments vs. the Giants.
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
In Friday's issue of the Philadelphia Inquirer, Bob Ford wrote an article explaining why fighting is hockey's problem. On first glance, some of you may agree, while others may say that hockey is the only thing drawing people to the NHL. I don't officially fall in either of those groups, so I decided to just make my own category. It goes something along the lines of "This article is the most ridiculous thing I've ever read so I'm going to email you and tell you how bad it was, and dish out several low blows while doing it." If you are doubting me right now, you really shouldn't. I'm not one to worry about wasting time, after all I did make a track-athlete profile that no one could see, and there was that inspirational dodgeball speech for the tournament that never happened. So yes, I did email Bob Ford and tell him how much of a moron he was for writing something like that. Of course I'm not satisfied just telling you about this, that's why I'm copying the email below.
Mr. Ford,
I have read your article on fighting in hockey, and I find it utterly preposterous that you would claim that it is the reason the NHL is only the "4th sport," as you put it. First of all, I neither find something wrong with fights, nor do I support them. For the record, I would not be totally opposed to taking fights out of the game, at least to the extent that the Olympics does. But to claim that fighting keeps fans from watching is ludicrous, not to mention a complete fallacy.
Your entire argument is based on the premise that people watched the Olympics, yet they do not watch the NHL and that the difference between Olympic hockey and the NHL is the prevalence of fighting. Because of those two factors, you claim fighting is the problem. The ratings variance is not related to fighting; it so clearly hinges upon the disparity of players' abilities that it makes me question whether you were thinking sanely when writing up this article or if you simply had nothing to write about and decided upon this. Can you name an NHL team that has a player as good as Mike Richards or Jonathan Toews on its fourth line? How about Bobby Ryan? Drawing blanks? Me too. The fact is, the level of play for international hockey so far surpasses that of the NHL, that it is irrational to think the same people would tune in to watch a full, 82 game hockey season if fighting were banned. If the Olympics had the same rules for fights as the NHL did, the viewership Sunday may have dipped ever-so-slightly, but it would not be as low as NHL playoff games currently are. To claim otherwise insults not only your intelligence, but the intelligence of your readers as well.
Thank you for hearing me out.
Respectfully yours,
Bennett J. Sobel
I read the email off to Jeff, and needless to say, he was loving it. His favorite parts were "it makes me question whether you were thinking sanely when writing up this article" and "Drawing blanks? Me too." He claimed I was "dogging" Ford, but I think he deserved it. I offset that by calling him Mr. Ford and ending the letter with a respectfully yours. I can criticize him all I want, but at the end of the day, his article probably got slightly more hits than my blog. Plus he writes for the Inquirer, so he is technically my superior, which is why I addressed him as Mr.
He probably has no idea that I am a 16 year old blogger with nothing better to do, which may explain why he hasn't answered me yet. Or it could be that he hasn't recovered from being schooled several times by a random emailer. Either way, if he ever does respond I'll be sure to put it on the blog.
___________________________________________________
During my two and a half month leave of absence, the NCAA basketball season has been going on. It doesn't really need to be said, but I've been following my Villanova Wildcats as faithfully as ever. It was smooth sailing in the beginning of the season, they were 20-1 and had a No. 2 national ranking. Unfortunately, the Wildcats have limped into the Big East tournament, going 4-5 in their last 9 games, including 2-4 in their last 6, making for an overall record of 24-6. I'm disappointed to say the least, and not feeling very confident of success in the NCAA tournament for my Wildcats. But with a good showing in the Big East tournament, all of that can easily change, and I really hope it will. At the end of the day, we still have the Big East player of the year (at least he should be) Scottie Reynolds, a solid starting lineup with accomplished guards, and great depth. I'm not backing out of my prediction of NCAA champions that I made way back in the summer, I would just like to see them play well in the Big East tournament so I can feel good again.
In more exciting news, two people I know have seen/met a Villanova basketball player in recent weeks. The first was O-Star Superstar, who was getting a shape-up while Reggie Redding walked into the same barbershop as him. Of course he didn't say anything, because O-Star would obviously make a fool out of himself, and he knows it. So wisely he kept his mouth shut. The second person to meet Villanova basketball players was my sister, Lizzie (better known as Sizzie) who met and had a conversation with Antonio Pena and Reggie Redding in a Lids store. She happened to be buying me a Villanova hat at the same time they were getting other hats customized, and Antonio sparked up conversation. Only knowing that would have made my day, but she hunted down a Sharpie and got the two guys to sign it for me. I'll probably make a shrine in my room for the hat, not to mention the receipt they also signed.
___________________________________________________
I should also add that the Soup Kitchen will be home to a new poster, Fat Dub. Because my posts are few and far between, and because he is a far superior writer than I am, I invited him to be a co-poster. This will suffice all of your Soup Kitchen fixes and add some variety to the blog. This isn't to say there will be posts everyday, but there will certainly be more than there had been before. I look forward to sharing this domain with my boy, Fat Dub. I just hope he doesn't blog about Duke.
___________________________________________________
I would be remiss if I didn't mention the release of Brian Westbrook. I can't help but think about when the Eagles released B-Dawk last year, which is one of the main reasons I started the Soup Kitchen in the first place. He was the greatest Eagles running back of all time, and I will root for him to have success anywhere he goes. As a tribute to B-West, I am including a some highlights of him for the awesome video of this post. My personal favorite moment is the punt return touchdown he had in the waning moments vs. the Giants.
Always Serving,
Sobel Soup
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