The Greatest Week of the Year

We are 23 hours into the greatest week of the year. Is it my birthday week (a Cowell family tradition)? Nope. Anniversary? Huh-uh. Raise week? Shark week? Trade sides of the bed week? None of the above.

It's Fantasy Football Draft Week. The "War Room" officially opened its doors last week with the annual dusting off of the Fantasy Football Database. This glorious apparatus of modern technology is the basis for all things Fantasy Football. It is a compilation of every NFL player's statistics from the prior year.

It's breadth is unparalleled. It's applications too numerous to comprehend: Strength of Schedule metrics, Value additivity analysis, Cost-replacement measurement , and bonafide, baby-proof contraception.

And as a pre-emptive measure - not like this will surprise any of the loyal followers of my sporadically updated blog - don't expect blogging for the next 145 hours.

After all, there are autoregressive correlations to calculate.

Happy Birthday Jeremy!

My brother-in-law turns 30 today. So instead of a typical Happy Birthday e-mail, I thought I would tell the blogging world what I love about Jeremy.

He's a great uncle

Uncle Jer-Bear really dotes on his nephews and loves to play with them. And they love him. For example, Uncle Jer-Bear has shelled out over $40 buying Star Wars figures for his nephew Luke, just so he could have toys to play with while they watch Star Wars together. And he's let us invade his house until after 11:00 at night watching the movies. Oh, and he learned how to juggle just so he could impress his nieces and nephews. He's a great uncle.

He's the glue that hold us together
Jeremy and I play on the worship team together, and while we can function without any of us, Jeremy is the hardest to replace. He is a very talented drummer, which makes him the coolest of us by far. I can't tell you how much I appreciate him and how talented he is.

He's my best friend.
I love to talk baseball with him, but it's not your typical talk. More like, how we can't stand Craig Counsell, or Craig Biggio. Come to think of it, how many Craigs do you like? Probably none.

He's also my personal iTunes service. If I don't know a song, I'll sing a few bars for him and he'll say, that's "The Fog by the band Cumberland. Did you know that their bassist, Neal O'Hara, also can't stand Craig Counsell" (I made up that song and band by the way). Hey, "The Way" is a song, by "Fastball." Thanks JB!

There are so many things I love about my brother-in-law its impossible to write them all down.

But there is one more thing that I love. He's 30!

Adam the Ficus

I have a cousin, Todd, who is 64 days younger than me. We rarely got along well - being so close in age. I often got jealous of him, and his awesomeness, like being over 5-foot-7, and not having to drive our Grandma's car because his parents gave him a vintage Mustang convertible instead of handing him down an '81 Buick. Things like that.

But at no time was I more jealous than December, 1976. That's when he got a baby brother, Adam. I didn't have an Adam and I wanted one. But Grandma's aren't just good for '81 Buicks. No, Grandma brought the goods. I got a My Buddy doll. I named him Adam. I carried him by his hair until all that remained were a few synthetic strands of nylon and craters that looked like failed hair plugs.

22 years later, and it's time to name my pet ficus. HEY! PLANTS ARE LIVING THINGS! You CAN name them! Quite frankly, there was only one name that conjures the same, lifelong affection of a best friend. Adam. My Buddy. My Tree.

If I weren't an actuary...

I often wonder what I'd be if I weren't a mathmagician.

I've narrowed it down to 5 occupations

5) Horticulturist. I already know all about mowing grass and once, after nearly killing my ficus tree - seriously it was down to 1 leaf - I grew it 'til it was almost 6 feet tall. I named my tree Adam. If you want to know why, you'll have to come back to Classic Anecdotes again. Oh, my dumb cat killed it when she peed on it. I killed euthanized her.

4) Author. Not like big books. But like children's stories. Pickles the Dragon is a classic example. Pickles cooks all the pizza at the big festival.

3) Action Movie Star. Beneath these boyish good looks, easy going attitude and 30 lbs of flab is a bad-ass. Ask that dumb cat. That's right, she's dead. 'Nuff said.

2) Accountant. This would have never worked. I couldn't handle being made fun of by the actuaries.

1) Christian Rock Star. This may still happen. I am looking for an agent, some other guys to join in, and some talent.

Luckily, the world knows me as an actuary where I can bless the world as *"a person who calculates insurance and annuity premiums, reserves, and dividends."

* Special thanks to m-w.com for that definition

My Sister-in-law is a ...

HO BAG!

I came home yesterday from a hard day of actuary-ing to find a positive pregnancy test sitting neatly on the top of the trash.

I do a double take - 'cause why is it in the trash? Then I'm like, who's that ho sleeping with?!?!

Then it becomes obvious that the pregnancy test is marked "+" in a black sharpie pen. All my sister-in-law's idea.

HO BAG!

So that's where this goes?

I sweat. A lot. I sweat in the dead of winter. But now it's summer and it's a whole new kind of sweat. I'm like the Tiger Woods of perspiration.

I sweat all over the place, even in sensitive areas.

So I go to Target and pick up a little antifungal spray to help give me some relief. I buy Lotrimin.

Thankfully, the graphic artists over there at Schering-Plough HealthCare Products Inc. give you all the info you need to use jock itch spray.

As if the yellow highlighting didn't give it away, they graciously added bullseye circles and four arrows.

Phew! And to think I almost used that on my feet.

Nerdy or Not Nerdy?

Today was the company picnic. I entered the Dunk Tank contest as a thrower. We throw from 30 feet away at a target smaller than a dinner plate.

1st shot: near miss.
2nd shot: DING! Bullseye! HIT THE CENTER BOLT that bolts the target on the arm.

I win a prize.

The prize I choose? A Rubik's Cube.

So, does the nerdiness of a Rubik's Cube overtake the jock-iness of pinpoint accuracy?

It's your call America. Nerdy or Not Nerdy?