One day into our trip and it’s already everything we could have hoped for. It was a day full of southern style experiences starting with a trip to Churchill Downs in Louisville, KY for some horse racing. Marisa was robbed out of at least an $8 payout when the number 3 horse snuck into second place to ruin her $2 5-6 boxed exacta bet. Alas, Qdoba burritos will remain firmly outside of our daily eating budget. Good think I like Taco Bell.

After the disastrous finish to the third race of the day, we piled back into the Subaru Forester and made our way to Lexington, KY so we could have dinner with my cousin Pete and his family. However, there was major business to attend to first: 18 holes of Bible themed mini-golf! The most difficult part about the entire course was selecting which of the 3 championship mini-courses we wanted to play: Old Testament, New Testament, or Miracles. It was a difficult decision but we finally settled upon Miracles, and golly jeepers are we glad we did. My only dissapointment, besides the 10 strokes I took on the “Samson Destroys the Temple” miracle, was that the course ownership got cheap and went with the two for one sale on the “Nile River Turned to Blood” and “Jesus Turns Water into Wine” miracles. Both courses had the same exact “fairway” which consisted of half red and half blue carpet. Fortunately, all of the other miracles were so life like that I did the Christian thing and forgave them for this one transgression.

After some good wholesome fun we decided to change things up and head to my cousin Pete’s house. For those that don’t know, Pete and I are the same age and we grew up together (we live 4 miles apart and attended the same small school system from 1st grade on). The only people I’ve probably spent more time with are my parents and my brother Ben. It had been about 4 or 5 years though since I’ve last seen Pete and it was a blast…literally.

It turns out that Pete has made a connection with a guy that sells fireworks that are illegal in 49 of 50 states. Actually, I’m not even sure they’re legal in Kentucky but I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. Within minutes of being there, Pete and his son had taken a diet Coke can and placed what looked like a rather small and harmless triangular “firecracker” on top of it. I use the word “firecracker” very lightly because the appropriate word in this case would be “small bomb”.

So here’s what happened: We’re all standing a few feet away and Pete says, “Ya’ll might want to back up.” As I’ve already mentioned, I’ve known Pete my whole life so I knew something serious was about to happen. I backed up and then hid most of my body behind their sport utility vehicle. Then Pete, with his son standing by jumping and giggling with excitement, lit the firecracker and sprinted out of the way. I stood still and watched as the wick burned. Then…

BOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!

In the spot where there had once been an empty tin can and a small brown “firecracker” there was nothing. I mean, the entire thing wasn’t just blown to pieces, it had disappeared in a cloud of smoke and fury. In short, it was completely, totally, awesome!

This act was of course followed up with a series of more and more creative destruction. This included blowing up another can with water in it, blowing up a two liter bottle with the carbonated soda still in it, and placing two cardboard boxes, one on top of the other, with a firecracker in between them. One of these ideas was Pete’s, one was mine, and the two box trick has to be chalked up to the creative genius of Pete’s son Joey. What a kid!

Lastly, I have to mention what a great host Terresa was (and please forgive me if I mispelled that). She bought and cooked us some amazing NY Strip and Filet Mignon steaks as well as a whole bunch of grilled vegetables. On top of it all, her, Pete, and the two boys provided Marisa and me with great conversation, endless entertainment, and an amazing and incredible end to the first day of our trip! Thanks to ya’ll!

Since 1982 people have been gathering on the isthmus of Madison, WI to run the Crazy Legs 5 mile race from the capital building to Camp Randall Stadium.

Since 1973, Mike Becker, Joe Vale, and Myself have been getting wiser, funnier, and better looking. It also turns out that two of three of us have been getting faster.

Want to know which of us is slowing down? I’ll give you a hint: His last name is a homophone of a ski resort in Vail, CO.

For those of you unfamiliar with the Vale v. McCormick Crazy Legs rivalry, I will give you a short lesson. Basically, Joe and I ran our first CL in 1996 and it was such a celebrated event that we were featured on the front page of the Wisconsin State Journal with the race’s namesake, Elroy “Crazy Legs” Hersch. I have the newspaper clipping in a shoe box to prove it for all of you doubters.

Since, and including, that first year, Joe always ran a valiant race. Moving his pudgy body over the race course with the stealth and grace of an over fed and under exercised cat. Despite his efforts, though, Joe was only ever able to get within 20 seconds of my time. That was in 2002 - the year I decided to retire undefeated from the Crazy Legs.

However, like Brett Favre before me, I could no longer sit idly on the sidelines and watch others compete in an event that I had once so thoroughly dominated. So, this year, 2009, I decided to come out of retirement for one more race.

I won’t lie. I was nervous. After all, in 2004, a year I did not run, Vale completed his fastest time ever in the Crazy Legs: 30:40. A most impressive run at an average per mile time of 6:08. I know these numbers well because Vale kept bringing it up all weekend.

Anyway, it turns out I had nothing to be concerned about. Something about having a wife, a dog, and a five month old son had managed to slow Vale down to a beatable pace of 35:36. One second slower than his brother Jason and approximately 2 minutes and 8 seconds slower than my time of 33:28. However, he did manage to beat Becker who ran a personal best of 40:20 - a full 2 seconds faster than his previous record. Mike, if you’re reading this, congratulations on a race well run. Vale, if you’re reading this…well, you always have 2004.

Oh, and for the record, I’m pretty sure all of us would have beat Kris Dressler who chickened out for this year’s event. Something to do with being tripped and finishing in last place in his last attempt to let his crazy legs run free. That or some BS excuse about studying and Fourier Transforms.

This past weekend was one of my best yet since I’ve moved to Chicago. First, the weather has finally turned warm. Secondly, I’ve been meeting a lot of great new people. One of these great new people, Marisa (I’ll leave it as an exercise for the reader to figure out which one she is in that photo), took me to see a show on Saturday night at the Vic Theater in Chicago. It was ridiculously cheesy. Here is a brief list to prove the point:

1. Travis was the headliner. Seriously cheesy British band.
2. Some weird dude in front of me was doing that weird thing where you sing along and then pantomime the words. You know, like where the lyrics say, “I saw you over there…” and the guy puts his hand above his eyes like he’s looking out over the room and then points “over there”.
3. Same weird dude accidentally head-butted me while performing some freaky, drunken, back-arching dance move.
4. Some uber dork convinced the band to let him propose to his girlfriend on stage. Like I appreciate some guy wasting Marisa’s hard earned money during the concert while he blathers on about how “you’ve meant so much and made my life so great…blah blah blah…”. Seriously, dude, get a life.

Yes, it was a night of cheeseballs but I have to say that I had an absolute blast! My thanks to Marisa for being awesome company!

Then Sunday morning I felt like an actual Chicago local when I walked into a breakfast place and all of a sudden I hear my name shouted out. I look up and there are Steve and Jeff, two guys I met on St. Patty’s Day, and my friend Kate. They’d been waiting for an hour to get a table. They asked the host if he could seat five people instead of three, they said yes, so we only had to wait about 2 minutes for a table. Ahhh…the advantages of being a local. (And by the way, the food at Big Jones was incredible - even if it was a little pricey.)

Then Sunday night, two more new friends came over, Jorge and Ceda, and made their famous Mole chicken for the Dresslers, Crash, and me. Not only was it an incredible meal, but they were kind enough to show me how to make it. I can’t wait to try it out. I’m sure I will slaughter it, but I always love a new cooking adventure.

So there you have it, my evolution as a Chicago resident is proceeding along nicely. Not quite as nicely as my stellar contribution to the evolution of the human species, but nicely none the less.

On Friday, April 10, 2009, the tentacles of Chicago’s corrupt underbelly finally reached out and took hold of the Pizza Experiment, a semi-regular wine/beer drinking festival that involves a normally good-natured pizza making competition amongst a group of old and new friends. Notice the emphasis on “normally”. It turns out, that in today’s cut-throat economic environment, nothing is sacred any longer.

It all started when Kris and Leslie Dressler anounced this year’s “First and Possibly Last Good Friday, Better Pizza Experiment Competition.” The Dresslers are big believers in the theory that if you’re going to have a party, it’s gotta have a theme. It turns out they are also believers in the theory that if you ain’t cheatin’, you ain’t tryin’.

After an hour of heating the oven and pizza stone, the minimum temperature of 500 degrees was reached. This is an important point because it’s impossible to make a good crust, and hence a good pizza, if the pizza stone is any lower than 500 degrees. A fact well known by most people at the experiment and most certainly known by the Dresslers.

After the heating of the oven, Leslie Dressler, from here on out known as Conspiratorial Radical Using Suspect Tacticts - X (or CRUST-X) put in the first pizza of the night. CRUST-X is the wife of Conspiratorial Radical Using Suspect Tacticts-Y , Kris Dressler (or CRUST-Y), a known pizza professional and perennial winner of the Pizza Experiment competition. But CRUST-X does not have to ride her husbands coattails for her glory, she is an accomplished pizza maker in her own right. And her pizza, the first of the night, came out of the oven with a perfect crust and a delicious flavor. One of her best pizzas to date.

Next up was another veteran to the Pizza Experiment, Matt McCormick (from here on out known interchangeable as I or Me). I had prepared a delicious set of toppings made from chicken baked in verde sauce, sauteed peppers and garlic, and topped with feta cheese. A sure fire contender for top pizza of the evening and an obvious threat to the Dresslers normal dominance. This the Dresslers could not stand idly by and watch.

Thirty minutes after my pizza went in the oven, someone asked what was taking so long. It was at this point that we noticed the oven had been turned off! That’s right, sabotage! CRUST-X was quick to try and lay the blame on a new comer to the experiment, Patrick, and her husband CRUST-Y was quick to back her up. A little too quick. This coordinated blame transference just screamed foul play to me.

With the oven temperature having “accidentally” dropped to the low 200’s, my crust, and hence the pizza itself, was ruined. And not only that, but the next 3 pizzas to go in the oven also came out with sub-par crusts. None of this the fault of the pizza makers, but rather the fiend who shut the oven off!

Now I can’t prove who is to blame for this travesty of competitive spirit, and I would hate to drop any names, but it was definitely CRUST-X and CRUST-Y.

Fortunately, while their unscrupulous efforts may have worked at keeping me down, the oven eventually reached it’s necessary temperature again and the Dressler’s were dethroned and shamed by a new participant in the pizza experiment: Gregoire. He’s a Frenchman and I have to say, as cliche as it is, he is an incredible cook. Not only did he make the best savory pizza (which took over 2 hours of topping preparation: involving roasted vegetable, honey, and about $30 worth of specialty French cheese) but he, along with the help of Patrick, followed it up with a dessert pizza that was amazing. The dessert pizza actually involved doing a flambe of oranges, bananas, and Vodka. Truly incredible.

But I digress, this story is not about the remarkable skills of our new French friend, but about the overt act of subversion by old and trusted friends. My world has been turned upside down and I’m not sure I can ever approach another pizza experiment the same way again. I hope you are happy CRUST-X and CRUST-Y!

I have a friend named Sue (not a boy named Sue, a woman) that I’ve always suspected of being a pretty cool person. Well, last Saturday she removed all suspicions. It was all very mysterious, though. Sue missed my birthday night out on Tuesday for legitimate reasons and then called me up to say she had a birthday present for me. Only catch was I had to block off 11:00 - 3:30 on my Saturday. I’m always up for an adventure so no problem.

We met at 11:00 to grab a bite to eat and then at 1:00 we headed for the secret destination. Turns out, it was the United Center and we had Row 1 Seats to the Bulls game! Now, I realize that the Bulls suck and I’m not even a huge pro basketball fan, but I still have to say that it was incredibly cool to be sitting that close to the action. It was a fantastic birthday present! We then followed it up with some NCAA basketball watching and finished the night singing karaoke where I was insulted by the locals for my song selection and crappy voice…but that’s a different story.