One woman in Berlin thought it better to climb into the Polar Bear exhibit during feeding time than to watch from the safety of the viewing area.  The results are pretty much what I’d expect.

See the full story on CNN.

Thanks to a collegue of mine, Brian Schutz, I have a new favorite video!

WARNING: Definitely use earphones or have fun-loving coworkers who aren’t cranky and total douche bags.

To my amusement today, I opened my Gmail, read some emails and laughed when Adsense (Google’s advertising product) matched an email with Bounty Hunter and Bail Bond Agent ads.  Apparently, the keyphrase “black eye” must have triggered the correlation.

I, now more than ever, want to work at Google so that I can create hilarious advertising correlation algorithms.

Take a second and click the image above to see what I’m talking about.

I’m playing dodgeball again.  Man I love this game.  The team I’m on is Re-dicu-lous!  Serious, if I never showed up there would be no change in the score.  It’s truly amazing.  Big props to everyone on my team.

These guys and gals have played together for a long time and reference themselves as “the group.”  They’re a close knit group and have almost warmed-up to me.  You can see me in the team pic just slightly behind Steve.  One of these days I’ll make the team picture in full.  Hahaha!

Actually, I’m just lucky enough to be dating that hottie with the red shorts in front.

I just got back from Ohio with Melli on Sunday and it’s official, I see no need to go to Ohio for anything other than official events or political campaigns ever again.

That is all.

It was Christmas, 2008.  After hours of pleasantries, good food, conversation and gift opening some of us had begun to get restless.  I had been indoors for hours and there was a blanket of snow outside that beckoned me.  Perhaps it was the fact that I rarely see snow or perhaps it was that 12th Christmas cookie but something said “get up, get moving.”  This could only be one thing.  Only one call is this incessant… this consuming.  I needed to go sledding.  It had to be now.

It took very little convincing as mere mention of the endeavor sent us dashing for attire to brave hours in the elements.  Some dawned weatherproof outdoor gear while others haphazardly shoved legs into an additional pair of jeans.  It was a frenzy of activity trying to balance preparation vs. the immediate need for reckless abandon. Moments later, as quickly as it began, the last person crammed through the door out into the night leaving nothing but snowy footprints around the entryway.  We were off.

From sledding

It wasn’t long until we reached the bottom of the hill I had navigated a few times as a child.  Like myself, it was as if the hill had matured.  It had grown character, shape and an attitude of its own.  From its peak deep within the woods, rutted and bumpy with challenge it opens up like the Mississippi river delta into an open area like the sea itself.  From this point there are two options: to the right is a smooth hill where one can sail without worry, to the left is a bump and drop sending riders catapulting through the air.  The choice is rarely the rider’s as the hill guides left and right as it deems appropriate.

Beginning with the first ride the hill commands respect.  The bumps and ruts at the top reminded my body that I am there at the mercy of this sloped beast.  She would not be underestimated.  She spit riders into brush and branches when they lacked respect for her intricate subtleties.  Before long I found myself among them.

Undeterred by the jolts, crashes and shaking of our initial lines we turned our attention to the left-hand side of the hill where the bump and drop dwell.  Without hesitation we took turns flying over the obstacle and crashing down with a negligible success rate.  Our victory in the air was the hill’s again as gravity came to her aid.  However, it was apparent that the sweetness of flight would not be tempered by anything short of massive injury.  For the moment, luck was on our side.

From sledding

After it seemed that our possibilities had been reached on the hill we were enticed by a second track.  This one deeper into the woods and a track known by reputation.  Buried deeper in the woods and away from the eyes of the casual sledder, it had garnered the title “Dead Man’s Hill.”  This fabled title is given to only one hill by a council of adolescents with one per school district or less.  To qualify the hill must posses a slope that is as tempting as it is treacherous.  This hill is no different and is especially cruel and deceitful at night.

The track was not groomed nor free from debris.  The degree of its slope is unmeasurable as it undulated deceiving perception.  In normal conditions it is a true test of a sledders skill and grit.  At night the dangers increase exponentially.  Bailing from the craft during decent may have a more disastrous result than if the rider holds strong despite being thrown off course. This would be my fate.

As I began my decent the increase in speed from our previous track was obvious.  Before I realized I had begun I was half-way down the steep grade.  A few calls of caution alerted me to one fact, there was an obstacle on the track to which I was not privy.  It was a bump and drop that could only be crossed at break-neck speeds.  Though traveling faster than I ever had on snow, I had not yet reached the near 88mph required to time travel.  I would not be able to step back to better assess the hump.  It gave no warning and I was thrown end over end down the remainder of the hill until I came to a resting position resembling a Muslim at prayer hour.  Though shaken, I would need a more serious impact to deter my fascination with the speed I just encountered.

Others flew down the hill with similar consequences as we all gathered to review the others’ techniques, routes and methods like Greek scholars.  Mental notes were taken as we all resolved not to make the same mistake as the previous rider.

From sledding

On my second trip I was more aggressive and it would be to my own peril.  Flying down the hill a second time I was again thrust into a treacherous line where the bump was most severe.  As I hit the bump I held on for dear life but to no avail.  I hit the crest of the landing area.  My body reeled from the impact and I bounced like a rag doll listening to my body crunch on each remaining impact.  When I finally did slow to a halt I had to gulp air in my lungs.  Coughing and gasping I rolled onto all fours and continued gulping for air.  As air returned I began the physical check of tiny movements throughout my body to ensure mobility.  After an initial check of sensation I began to move though cautious of  possible unknown injuries.  I rose to my feet and, though battered, shuffled off the track to allow for the next rider.

Subsequent riders fared results both similar and much better.  My older brother hit a tree stump at the bottom of the hill though managed to navigate down the beast.  Cousins Sammy and Johnny both managed a harrowing trip to the bottom. Many opted to forgo an attempt after seeing the possibility of an injury.

The night was capped when Sammy decided to have one last show at the hill when Johnny promised the perfect picture of the event.  We would not be disappointed.  After Johnny proclaimed from the center of the track “I promise I’ll get out of the way,” Sammy hopped on his rocket.  Flying down the hill faster than ever, the calculations were off.  Unable to predict the approach Johnny’s retreat from Sammy’s route was captured in the final picture of the event.

The picture was reviewed as the crew cheered and howled at the result. No more words are needed.

From sledding