DoktaKra.com

It seems like only six months ago, I was single and hating on everyone in a happy relationship. Oh, right, that's because that was six moths ago, and not too long before I met Michelle.  I knew she was the one for me soon after our first date, and I'm proud to say that as of January 9, she's gone from being my girlfriend to my fiancée. But, of course, that doesn't mean everything went smoothly or just as I had planned -- here's the engaging story (see what I did there?) of how it all went down.

I went to Michael C. Fina and picked out a beautiful Tacori ring in early December with the help of one of Michelle's best friends (according to Wikipedia, it's the same kind of ring that Chandler proposed with to Monica on Friends, though that wasn't my primary reason for choosing it...or so you'd think). As luck would have it, Paul Tacorian, who I later found out is that guy from The Bachelor, along with several other multi-millionaire company owners were in the store at the time and congratulated me on giving them a sh*tload of money my decision (notice that I'm standing credit card-in-hand).

The ring was supposed to be ready on December 28, and I originally planned on proposing at some point during our New Year's trip to California.  But unbeknownst to Michael C. Fina, Tacori was closed for two weeks in December, since, you know, no one ever decides to propose over the holidays. They assured me it would be ready by Friday, January 8, the day before our six-month anniversary.  So what happened on January 8?   A huge snowstorm hit the east coast, delaying all UPS shipments and leaving my ring stuck on a Newark Airport tarmac. Despite my outrage, it was out of the company's hands -- the ring wouldn't get to the store until Monday, January 11.  I begrudgingly agreed to have the jeweler temporarily fuse my diamond with the stock setting so that I could at least propose on our anniversary date.

My new plan was to put the ring inside a Miami Dolphins lunch box for the biggest Fins fan I know, which I had shipped to my parents' house in New Jersey so she wouldn't see it. The only problem, of course, was that as of Saturday morning, it was also yet to arrive due to that damned snowstorm.  But just as I started thinking of yet another backup plan, my dad called me to say that the lunch box had just come in and they were on their way into the city.

The next problem was getting Michelle out of the apartment to get everything in order. Unfortunately for her, but very fortunately for me, she had to work in the afternoon, giving me a two-hour window to pick up the ring and the lunch box. When I arrived at Michael C. Fina, the store clerk happily informed me that my ring -- the real one that I'd picked out -- had just come in 20 minutes ago. The off-duty UPS delivery man who brought it in had already changed into jeans and was on his way home when he received a call about a package in Newark, and only went back to get it on his own time because he wanted to go to Michael C. Fina to buy a ring for his girlfriend.   What are the odds? I must've been wearing that lucky deodorant. I ran back home after getting the lunch box from my parents and picking up a bouquet of flowers, and patiently waited for Michelle to come home.

The lunch box ended up being a huge hit. In fact, Michelle was SO excited about it, that it took what felt like an hour for her to finally open it.  When she saw the jewelry box inside, I got down on one knee and tried my best not to hyperventillate as I blurted out that magical four-word question. A dozen "yeses" later, we were engaged and on our way celebrate over a candlelit dinner in Rockefeller Center.

And then, as if things couldn't get any better, this happened last week on Twitter.  

doktakra @Candace_Parker Hey, Candace. I got engaged over the weekend & my new fiancee made me take down your poster off my wall. You okay with this?
Candace_Parker @doktakra LOL! congrats!  aww its okay i forgive you

That's right, after all this time, the (former) dream girl finally acknowledged me, and it wouldn't be possible without (the current dream girl) Michelle. I guess that's the way love goes...

No, no, Michelle and I haven't broken up...far from it, actually.  But I'm guessing you don't want to hear about that stuff, since I've been told that I was more entertaining when I was resentful and miserable.  I'll just get right to the big announcement and get it overwith: Candace and I are done.  I mean it.  I don't know exactly when it hit me, but I've stopped caring about the one-time dreamgirl.  Of course, her marriage to the-one-who-shall-not-be-named and their love child (shudders) didn't help, and a second straight snub at MSG might've been the final straw. If you don't think I'm serious about it being over, look no further than here -- that's right, the infamous bedroom poster is no more.  No, I'm not gon' cry, I'm not gon' cry, I'm not gon' shed no tears...

Anyways, I've moved on, and eventually, so will you.  To help with the grieving process, Iet's get back to the basics with a good ol' fashioned hate list.  This week's theme is elevator etiquette which I have not previously covered (see Things I Hate in the sidebar for more thoughts on people who block the exit or take the elevator to go down one f'ing floor).

*People who hold the elevator door open to continue their conversation:  I think the rules are pretty simple here.  If you're getting on the elevator, then either stop talking to the person on your floor or don't get on at all (note that in the latter case, I'll still be mad that you've wasted precious seconds of my time, but considerably less so).  Amazingly, this also works in reverse when you're on the verge of disembarking, but find yourself in mid-conversation.  The point is, I'm already irritated that the elevator stopped on your floor and ruined my express ride, but you then compound my anger by standing in the doorway and carelessly talking while I wait for your inconsiderate ass to finish.  I'm giving you the evil eye as I type this.

*People who leave farts in the elevator that I subsequently board:  This is even more offensive when another person enters and assumes that I was the culprit.  Not cool at all.

*People who press the elevator button repeatedly after it's already been pressed:  Once again, this concept seems simple to me.  If the button is lit-up, it means that someone before you (probably me) already pressed it.  Do you think that I'm an idiot and didn't do it correctly, or that your magic touch will make the elevator come quicker if you keep on pushing it?  Similarly, if your floor has already been pressed when you step inside, there is absolutely no reason to push the button again.  It will change nothing, I promise you.

*People who squeeze into a crowded elevator when there's no room:  Self-explanatory, I'd imagine.  Bonus hate points awarded if you're with a group of people and feel that every single member of your large party (intentional double-meaning) needs to get into the same elevator, because clearly, another one won't come a few minutes later and make the ride more comfortable for everyone involved.

*People who don't say, "thank you" or otherwise acknowledge my act of kindness when I hold the door for them:  On those rare days when I decide to do something nice like that (nine out of ten times, an attractive woman will be involved), I'd at least expect a nod or a smile in return.  It's ungrateful people like you who make me frantically press the door close button as you're approaching the elevator, which more often than not, does nothing anyway, aside from making me look like an ass.  Sigh.

It was that magical time of the year last Thursday  -- the one and only day when the dream girl, Candace Parker, came to New York to play at Madison Square Garden. Much like last time, there was a bit of uncertainty over her playing status (she'd been out with a uterus for the entire season), and I didn't think I'd go in the days leading up to game night.  Somehow, it all worked out when I miraculously bribed convinced Michelle, who as we previously established, is much cooler than me, to go to the game.  I woke up early on Thursday morning, put on my lucky deodorant (that's right, I have a lucky deodorant), and tried my best to stay calm.

Right off the bat, I discovered there's a thin line between showing your devotion as a fan and coming off as a creepy stalker, especially when you're with a girl who you're attempting to impress with your sense of humor and irresistible charm.  Michelle took a few pictures of Candace shooting around before the game (my own picture-taking skills leave much to be desired), as well as a couple of me against the Garden backdrop.  As much as I want to say that she had to convince me to take a picture with Maddie, the Liberty mascot, I thought it would be kinda cute and jumped in the photo.  Turns out I was right.

A few other in-game highlights:

• I wondered out loud whether Shelden Williams was in the building, and Michelle replied that he was in the mascot costume.  There's no way I can ever top that one.
  
  
• Michelle's favorite player became Tina Thompson, when she saw that Thompson played basketball in full make-up.  More on this later.
  
  
• We watched fantastic performances from the Timeless Torches, the Liberty's elderly dance squad, and Air Shelden Maddie, who somehow earned a standing ovation for what started out as an embarrassingly bad dance routine.
  
  
• Oh, and the Sparks won or something.

We waited for Candace by the team bus after the game with a large group of fans.  She stood 30 feet away, holding her baby and chatting with her husband for 40 minutes, and eventually waived and boarded the bus.  We (or I), however, managed get autographs from Michael Cooper, the first and hopefully only Laker signature I'll ever have, and Tina Thompson, who Michelle said should've signed her name in lipstick (high comedy).

Michelle and I exchanged stories about meeting our favorite athletes on the way back (her Dan Marino one trumps any of my Kings encounters).  As we made our way down 6th Avenue, I couldn't help but feel disappointed, much less about the Candace snub than about whether Michelle would ever want to see me again after my craziness was on full display.  We reached her apartment and started to say our goodbyes.  And well...I'm a gentleman, but let's just say that my questions were answered, despite my best efforts to make the situation as awkward as humanly possible (my area of expertise).  Good times.

I walked home smiling the entire way, realizing that should've known all along -- the lucky deodorant never fails.

You know what's a really good feeling that no one ever mentions?  Well, yeah, of course that one.  Finally peeing after holding it in for 40 minutes is also up there.  But I'm talking about something different.  A few nights ago, I dreamt that I was back in high school, stressed out with exams, dealing with my parents' non-stop nagging, and getting turned down by all the girls in my grade (yeah, some things haven't really changed).  I woke up in a bad mood, and it took me a few seconds to realize that it was just a dream and I didn't have to deal with any of that stuff in real life.  Now, this may not sound like much, but I gotta say, it brightened up my day and made me feel better about where I am in my life.  At least for a few minutes.

I'm still trying to figure the whole concept of a dream.  I know it's some kind of combination of your biggest fears and desires, and it'll end up being about something that's been on your mind, like the spectacular image of my dreamgirl on the left -- thanks, Tikee!   (UPDATED: old pic can be found here).  But other times, I have no idea where some of that stuff comes from.  I mean, I've been out of high school for seven years now, so it's a little disturbing that people I haven't seen in so long are still somehow floating around in my subconscious like tiny flakes in a shaken snowglobe.  Hmm, I wonder if anyone from my high school is dreaming about me?  On second thought, it's probably better if I don't know...

One more thing before I go.  I mentioned that I was banned from Deadspin and then 'retired' the other week.  Well, I'm back...and no, I don't really like the new name either, but it's all I've got right now.  Long story short, someone sent me a commenting invite and I couldn't resist clicking the link.  Damned if I know how long it's gonna last, but I'll be wishing.

I'll try to keep this short, because it's still a little too painful for me to talk about the whole thing.  It's official -- my dreamgirl is not only married, but knocked up...and no, I'm not the baby daddy.  Sure, it hurts like knives, and the mental image or her and Shelden Williams sexing (Firefox says it's a word) is enough to make a man put a gun to his brain...I shouldn't have to explain.  And as one of 10 living males who follows the WNBA, I can't help but think about the ramifications of the league losing its biggest (only?) star in her prime.  I've seen it compared to Jordan's retirement, but it's really not even close.

All that aside, I'm happy for the two of them...no, really, I am.  Family is a beautiful thing, and well, if Candace is happy, then I'm happy.  And I mean, if this thing with Shelden doesn't work out for some reason, I'll be waiting.  It's like the time when the Max had a dance contest, and Lisa Turtle sprained her ankle and got dumped by her date.  Screech was there to come to her rescue, and if memory serves me right, Lisa called him her "nerd saint."  Well, Candace, I am your nerd saint -- believe that.

And finally, I'd like to extend a sincere thank you to Deadspin editor A.J. Daulerio, who cracked me up by telling me that he was sorry and that it shoulda been me.  He also linked to my commenting profile in his post, which in turn brought the most visitors ever to this website.  I bow to your greatness, sir.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I've gotta dance to keep from cryin'.

For my first all-reader mailbag, click here.

It's that time again -- my inbox is full of questions...or you know, has three emails.  I planned on saving some of these for a later date, but the people demand answers!  As always, these are real questions that I've received from people who visited this site.  Please note that this entry is rated PG-13 for mature language and subject matter -- some material may be unsuitable for children under 13 and parental guidance is strongly suggested.

Q:  You're fantastic! Call me.  (Dec 2, 2008)

So apparently, I am the type to send my picture to a complete stranger.  (Dec 4, 2008)

A random admirer of your puns.

[Ed Note:  The first two were privates messages left on my Deadspin profile page; my response to the first one was that I needed to see a picture prior to calling.  The third was the subject line of an email, which included a photo of the sender.]

I know what you're thinking, and I'm a little surprised myself.  On a good day, this site gets a meager 300 hits...by comparison, the prominent sports blogs get several hundred thousand visitors on a daily basis.  Obviously, my site doesn't offer breaking news stories, and few people care about my opinion on, well, anything.  But I guess there is a small niche that know all I have in this world, are balls and my world.  So, I appreciate that some people have taken the time to actually write in and give me a couple of thoughts.  Here is my first all-reader mailbag, with actual emails I've received over the last month (I'll keep these anonymous for now).  I may have gotten the idea from Bill Simmons, but this won't be nearly as long....or interesting, for that matter...haha.

Q:  I like the site but I don't get why don't you have more sports content?  I think you should do a Kings blog or just a general sports one.  Good job overall.

Thank you for the kind words.  Well, I used to have a Kings blog on this site several years ago, back when it was primarily a Sacramento fan page.  The thing is, I live in New York, and any of my observations would rely on televised games (still haven't decided if I wanna get League Pass again), online recaps and boxscores, and other blogs.  Obviously, the Sacramento Bee does an excellent job of covering just about everything you could ask for, and Sactown Royalty is fantastic.  In short, I don't know what I could really offer to intice Kings fans to come here for that reason.

This seems like the perfect time, however, to promote a new project.  A few prominent Deadspin commenters (FEAST and Sports-Pun) and I have started a new NBA humor blog:  LowPosts.com.  There are already several entries, which are pretty damn funny, if I may say so myself.  These two guys are much more creative and imaginative than I can ever be, so even if you think I'm as bad as Matthew Berry, just take a look.  Now there's a ringing endorsement!

Q:  dude - the hip hop pages are hot and i can tell you know your sh*t.  but your ipod selection is whack!!  r.kelly? some garbage pop bands?  start listening to real music.

Hmmm....that's a fair assessment.  See, here's the deal -- I probably own more hip-hop and R&B albums than just about anyone.  I buy new releases almost every week, and listen to all kinds of underground artists.  But you know what happens?  I don't really understand this phenomenon, but I end up going back to the same old songs over and over again.  I mostly listen to my iPod when I'm at the gym, so those tracks you see are more or less my workout playlist.  You mention R. Kelly, who's my favorite R&B singer (seriously, and I don't care about the peeing or anythning).  Ignition (Remix) is not only upbeat and catchy, but it's unintentionally hilarious.  Some alternative/pop music has grown on me as of late, as I touched on here.  I guess I do have a lot of non-rap stuff on there...maybe it's time I updated the list and made myself look a little cooler...nah....

Q:  If you have a web site business selling products and services, then we can help you with internet marketing! We have helped thousands of companies to succeed on the web with our successful internet marketing and online advertising services. Now you can put these same services to work for your online business. Click the links on this page to get started now...

Yeah, I realize this is an advertisement, but it came to my inbox under "Feedback for DoktaKra.com," so someone clicked on my contact link.  I don't really care for these marketing tactics, but if you would like to have your ad placed on this site, please let me know.  As I mentioned, those 300+ visitors per day means close to 10,000 per month, so you never know....haha.  The day I get a sponsor, is the day I know I've sold out...and I'm okay with this. 

Q:  Simple question.  What's up with the Candace Parker stuff?

Haven't you ever been obsessed with someone you've never met in person, and devoted a large portion of your time to thinking about her, constantly searching for new pictures, posting numerous blog entries about how much you love her, and sitting outside of her apartment with binoculars?  Er...scratch the last one.  I guess that doesn't really answer your question then...sorry, I got nothing.

Q:  Hi.  My name is Amanda and if you're looking for a good time check out my webcam on...

Um....hey, Amanda, if that is your real name.  Please don't use my website to send me this trash...but if you're gonna do that, at least include compromising pictures in the email body so I don't have to sit there and contemplate clicking on the link.  Until we meet again....

Updated: August 19, 2008, 11:45 AM ET

It's been a boring couple of weeks for me.  I think the most "exciting" moment was when my cable provider offered me a free month of Showtime, Cinemax, and the Movie Channel, on top of my HBO subscription.  As great as that sounds, I'm not impressed.  First of all, who chooses the crappy movies they put on demand?  I've never even heard of half of them, and the rest are pure garbage that I have no interest in seeing.  Seriously, it's that bad -- .45, Shooter, Girl Interrupted, Balls of Fury??  Ugh...I'd rather read a book.  The only saving grace has been "Californication" on Showtime, which is relatively interesting....and features an exorbitant amount of nudity (the good kind).  Actually, all of the 'late night' shows on Skinemax and Showtime share this quality, but this is once again not as good as it sounds, since I have to fast forward through 10 minutes worth of mindless dialogue....and the actresses aren't even that hot.  I gotta say though, if I was 15, I would already be blind.  And on that note, let's move on...

As if you need me to tell you, the big story from the Olympics has been Michael Phelps and his world record domination.  I've really only been watching the basketball games -- or more correctly, constantly refreshing the boxscores, since NBC requires you to download a stupid plug-in that my work won't allow (boooo) -- and of course, cheering for my girl Candace, as the women (and now the men, too!) continue to show the world who's boss.  I've also developed a minor crush on the incredibly sexy gymnast, Alicia Sacramone (right)...don't worry, she's 20.  I think I have some kind of fetish for girls who can kick my ass -- I'm actually half-serious here.  You may also remember that I fell in love with Candace after she hurt her shoulder during a college game and I wanted to be there for her.  Lo and behold, Alicia fell off the balance beam during one of her routines, and apparently cost her team a medal.  She tried to hold back tears, but ended up crying...so, of course, I cried, too....(sigh)...this is how it starts.  And I mean, her name sounds a little too much like Sacramento....you know what, that's enough for me...she's now cracked the top ten of The Ladies....

UPDATE:  Not that I really care, but Alicia was just named "Hottest American Olympian" in a CBS Sportsline bracket (this means it has to be true).  I gotta say, I find this whole contest a little demeaning to female athletes, and as much as the creators don't want you to take it seriously, it sure as hell looks like an excuse to objectify respected women.  But yes, I voted for Candace (the #3 seed), who was upset by Sacramone in the 2nd Round.  I guess I can be pleased that one of my girls won, but that doesn't take the sting out of her crushing my #1 wifey in the polls...haha...

Updated: July 29, 2008, 9:05 AM ET

I've been looking forward to this Friday for months, ever since I developed a weird infatuation an innocent crush on Candace Parker.  Her Los Angeles Sparks make their only visit to New York to face the Liberty, and there was no way I'd miss it.  The problem is that it's not easy to find someone who's interested in going a WNBA game...nevermind someone who'd pay decent money for courtside seats.  I scrambled to call everyone I knew after the person who was supposed to go with me bailed just weeks before the game (I ain't mad at cha).  No worries, I found someone who was crazy enough thought it would be fun.  I'd finally see my dream girl in person, maybe even get an autograph....or a hug, maybe steal her sweaty, game-used headband...er, forget I said that.  And then literally minutes after everything was in motion, Candace was involved in the first brawl in WNBA history...and the suspension talk started.  It was a knife to my heart...I didn't think I'd make it through night...would Candace end up missing the New York game?  This can't be life....this can't be love...

UPDATE:  Crisis averted!  Candace was only suspended for one game, which she served last night.  So, CP will be at Madison Square Garden, and I'll be in the third row.  I've got my camera, Mitch Richmond throwback jersey, and a "Candace -- will you marry me?" sign?  I'm more excited than Jesse Spano right now!

UPDATE:  Well, I didn't get a chance to talk to Candace...it was probably for the best, since I can definitely see myself pulling a Greg Oden.  I wasn't surprised to see lots of purple Sparks gear at the the game, but I was a little shocked by the number of grown men wearing CP jerseys in the stands....I can't get myself to do that...not yet, at least.

I found out that Candace is not a very shy girl.  At one point in the second half, she needed to adjust her shoulder brace...so she just pulled up her jersey almost all the way off for about 20 seconds.  I'm not gonna lie to you, this may have been my favorite part of the game...without sounding like too much a perv (too late, I guess), I felt bad staring so hard...

And finally, I waited for Candace by the Sparks team bus after the game with at least 100 other fans.  When she eventually came about 45 minutes later, she just waived to the crowd and boarded the bus.  It was a little disappointing...almost like, we waited in the blistering cold for you, four hours and you just said, "no."  I mean, I thought she'd give the New York fans a little love after the bad publicity with the fighting, but CP wasn't feeling it.  If it was meant to be, it'll be soon...I'll be there next year, no doubt. 

Sorry for the poor quality photos...it's hard to get good shots when there's so much movement on the court...

 

Dear Candace, you know I'll love you no matter what, and I can't believe I'm about to say this -- but baby, what is in your hair?  Purple and gold ribbons?  I'm one of few people who actually likes the baby hair, and thinks it's crazy sexy.  But now, this is starting to get out of hand.  I'm sorry, but it's better to hear it from someone who cares than from the haters.  Aw, now I feel bad, so this is the part where I get all Whitney Houston on you:  "And I--I--I--I will always love yooouuuu...."

Okay, I'm done singing, if you're still reading.  There's just one more thing I feel obligated to mention right now -- if I were rich, I would be all over this chance to save some whales with Hayden Panettiere.  Notice that it says you can bring five friends...and I'll be around in August....just saying...