The Metropolitan Online

March 2011 / Volume 25 / Online Issue 63

Columnists

Life, liberty and the pursuit of a degree

Cat Usher

Campca@go.metrostate.edu

Sports, sports, sports

David Jarnstrom

Jarnda@go.metrostate.edu

I literally cannot say that "this stinks"

I’m sure that most of you are already AVID readers of this column, but for those six people who are just joining us, you should know that I fell down my basement stairs and broke my skull four months ago. I therefore cannot guarantee that the following statements will make sense, but now you have a better shot at picking up what I’m putting down.

The only lasting physical problem caused by my injury is a little-known affliction known as anosmia. Translation: I’ve lost my sense of smell, which (on the up-side) comes in handy many times per day, especially after my husband has consumed his usual two chili cheese chilitos with extra cheese and sour cream from Taco Bell.

On the down-side...I CANNOT SMELL CHILI CHEESE CHILITOS WITH EXTRA CHEESE AND SOUR CREAM FROM TACO BELL, which I happen to know smell quite pleasant on the front end.

Imagine, if you can, living a life without your sniffer. Camp fires merely burn your eyes, effectively diminishing your love of toasting marshmallows AND making you vulnerable to death via burning building (check those smoke detector batteries, baby). Bacon no longer drags you from a Saturday morning slumber, but once you’re up, it splatters in the pan and ruins your favorite Zeppelin t-shirt. Then you spend the next four hours vomiting because you can no longer judge rancidity by the color of its skin. Let’s not even talk about how much you miss the smell of flowers, coffee, baby skin or body wash. It’s almost more than you can bear, so you turn to aromatherapy for relief.
Wait...DAMMIT. That’s pointless, too.

Hey honey, do my armpits stink? I just “crop dusted” the entire plumbing aisle at Home Depot... how bad is the fallout? How’s my breath? Is this milk still good?

My loss of smell was a painful blow, but I should suck it up, right? It’s something I can (technically) live without.

But what about my sense of taste?

What of it, indeed.

Did you know that your sense of smell largely controls your sense of taste? Have you considered that without the use of your sniffer, bananas and chocolate cake are indistinguishable? That rubbing alcohol and Patrón tequila are identical? That meatloaf and Meatloaf TASTE THE SAME?

Consider it, my friends. And hug your bacon extra tight today.

Do it for my sake.

Cat Usher is majoring in English and minoring in Creative Writing at Metropolitan State University. While still an active student, Cat is rightfully taking time off this semester to recover but has graciously agreed to continue her column to help flex her creative muscle. To read more of Cat’s writing, visit her Web site at www.zipbagofbones.com. Extra points if you throw in a Stephen King reference in her guestbook.

Green with envy

I tried to avoid it. I turned off ESPN. I didn’t read the sports section or check my fantasy football Web sites. I immersed myself in other endeavors. But try as I might, I can no longer ignore the rather large green and gold elephant smirking at me from across the Mississippi.

You see, I went to college in Milwaukee, Wis. from 1998–2001. During that time, the Minnesota Vikings were better than the Green Bay Packers and I ran my mouth accordingly. After moving back to the homeland, I stayed in touch with several friends back East. I even joined an all-Sconnie fantasy football league (where the trash talk was extremely intense). When Brett Favre donned a purple jersey in ’09, I reveled in my cheese-loving pals’ misery, taunting them at every opportunity.

A year later the Packers are world champions. Obviously, this perturbs me—mostly because of the bitter Favre-related irony and the ridicule I set myself up for by rubbing it in all last season. But from a purely objective standpoint, I simply can’t dismiss just how great this 2010 Packer team was (yuck—I can’t believe I just typed that).

Yes it’s cliché, but Green Bay really did overcome a ridiculous amount of adversity this season. They placed an unbelievable 15 players on injured reserve—including key starters Ryan Grant (running back), Nick Barnett (linebacker), and Jermichael Finley (tight end). The Super Bowl itself was a microcosm of the Packers’ MASH unit-like season. They lost all-world defensive back Charles Woodson and receiving corps leader Donald Driver in the first half, yet still hung on to beat the more-seasoned Pittsburgh Steelers 31–25.

While the Packers only went 10–6 during the regular season, they never once trailed any team by more than 7 points. That’s crazy. They also won three consecutive road playoff games en route to becoming the NFC’s first six seed to hoist the Lombardi trophy—not a cakewalk by any means. 

Much of this success was due to the Jedi-like play of quarterback Aaron Rodgers. Take out his ho-hum performance in the NFC Championship game against the Chicago Bears and the dude was flat-out flawless in the postseason. For Green Bay to have transitioned from 16 seasons of Favre to this stud is just ridiculous (especially considering the bevy of band-aids the Vikings have slapped on the quarterback position over that span). Even the Packers’ backup (Matt Flynn) appears to be more capable then several starting signal-callers in the NFL.

The most disturbing fact (if you’re a Viking fan) is that this team is young. Rodgers is just entering his prime. Two of his top weapons in the passing game—wideout Greg Jennings and the aforementioned Finley—will be around for quite awhile. Defensive stalwarts Clay Matthews and B. J. Raji are entering their second and third seasons, respectively. It could be a long decade…

Forgive me Lord, for I covet my neighbor’s football team.

At least the Brewers still suck.

David Jarnstrom, The Metropolitan’s associate editor, is majoring in professional writing at Metropolitan State University. Growing up in the shadows of Vikings training camp in Mankato, Minnesota, David has been an avid sports fan all his life. He is three time-little league baseball all-star, and three-time fantasy football champion.    

Life, liberty and the pursuit of a degree archives

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Sports, sports, sports archives

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Fifty seasons of greatness futility

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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