It's Gotta Be The Shoes

Some people love them, and some people hate them, but my Nike Air Force One Olympic Edition shoes have been my favorite pair of sneakers over the last two years.  I've worn these shoes to just about every DJ gig that I've had and I like to say they help me find "balance" on the 1s & 2s.  After two years I figured I'd try to cop a new pair and keep them in the box until I had run my first pair into the ground.  After searching all over the internet I finally found a spot called kickspro.com which had a pair to sell and I placed my order.  Simple right???

So on April 15th of 2009 I placed my order.  It was kinda therapeutic as I was just about to make my return to office life after my knee surgery.  After being locked down in the house for nearly a month I was happy to be getting a fresh pair of my favorite shoes.  After a week went by and I didn't receive any notification about my order I inquired to customer service and was notified that they didn't actually have the sneakers, but I could get any shoe in their catalog and not have to pay the difference.

At this point I'm a little bothered, but I figured I could find some dope shoes online, upgrade, and still walk away with a smile.  Instead of Air Force Ones, I ended up ordering a pair of Nike Dunks (very appropriate since I have this goal to dunk again).  So I change my order.  Simple right???

Well three weeks go by and after numerous emails to customer service, my shoes (pictured below) finally arrive.

Pretty sweet, right?  A little funky.  Kinda like the mullet of tennis shoes (serious in the front with party in the back).  The only problem is...

THESE ARE NOT THE SHOES I ORDERED!!!

Maybe I could have just accepted the ones that I got, since I thought they were actually kinda cool.  Of course they were an size 8.5, which I wore in the eighth grade.  I ordered the Nike Dunk Low Pigeons in a size 12.  Now I know you're like who names a shoe after a pest of a bird and why the hell did you buy them?  But I fell in love with these sneaks as soon as I saw them (pictured below).  They are colored just like a pigeon with the gray and white-hinted feathers, and orange feet.

Now this was no ordinary shoe purchase.  The Air Force One is a signature Michigander shoe.  A pair of cripsy One's is a signal of my roots back at home and the extreme care that I take to make sure my shoe game does not suck.  I saw these shoes not only as a switch from Air Force Ones to Dunks, but a transition from a Michigander to a Californian.  You see, this year I finally ditched my Michigan license for a California issue.  I also finally registered my car in California...but I still say pop instead of soda, and swear to never use the word HELLA.  The shoes are San Francisco Giants colors and not getting them seemed like a sign that I was not supposed to be here (I know... I'm reaching).

So for about two months I repeatedly emailed kickspro.com to try and resolve the issue.  Every time I saw a pigeon I got pissed off and swore it was laughing at me.  I hate the damn birds already but I definitely noticed them a lot more after the shoe debacle.  To my surprise, I finally received my shoes in the mail yesterday, 2.5 months after my order.

I love my new kicks.  I'm adding them to my current collection of sneakers that all have special significance.

From top to bottom - These green/gray/white Nike Air Max I bought in 1998 and still managed to keep relatively clean.

The white/white Air Force Ones are a staple of Michigan flavor.  If you are from Michigan and don't have a pair of these you might actually be from the Upper Peninsula.

The Air Force One Olympic Edition are my DJing shoes and I will wear them untl the soles wear down.  They've been described as hipster in the front, conscious in the back.  I'm still on the hunt for a fresh new pair.

The white/black Air Jordan XI are the shoes I wore for my senior season of basketbal in high school when we won the state championship. They are my favorite pair of Jordans to date.

 

Ladies love stilettos, strappy open-toed sandals, and boots.  I love a fresh pair of Ones, J's, and now I'm up on Dunks.  The following would probably be a clear representation of how I reacted when my shoes finally arrived.

So here's my Nu Shooz Mix all about footwear.  Fellas, keep your kicks clean, cause when ladies look you up and down, they start and end at your shoes.  A jacked up pair of kicks can kill any vibe that you're putting out.

 

 

Baseball Season

This week I attended my first baseball game of this season and it couldn't have come at a better time.  Basketball season is over, football season is oh so far away, and hockey...well I really don't give a stick about hockey.  Though the home team lost, the game was exciting with like five homeruns and a total of 15 runs scored.

Though I enjoyed watching the live ball game, I was perplexed by a question that was posed to me in the middle of the game.

 

"If you were out there, what music would be playing when you come up to bat?"

 

I'm assuming the players get to choose the music that plays while they walk up to the plate.  I was really impressed with the selections by Randy Wynn, pictured to the right (who is my favorite Giant because I've had the pleasure of meeting him... super down to earth cat).  I can't even remember what songs he had chosen, but everytime he came up to bat, I seemed to not be paying too much attention to the game.  All of a sudden my head would start nodding like.."Okaaay!!!"  That was every time that Wynn came up to bat (he also had some good hits to go along with his music selections).

But when asked the question I was stumped.  I didn't want to go too obvious with Nelly's - Batter Up, Dire Straits - Walk of Life, or John Fogerty's - Centerfield.  I've actually thought about this question before and for some reason couldn't come up with an answer.  So here I am, a day later with a full mix dedicated to my last at bat.  Of course you don't get this much time from on-deck circle to the batter's box, but let's just pretend I did.

Think of the song titles in their context to the game of baseball.  They've been carefully selected to be subtle but relevant...(that is, if you're a true baseball aficionado).  Oh.. and there's a funny story that goes with this baseball game that I might be able to reveal at a later date.  ;-)

Batter Up Mix

Just Call Me D.P.

Where do I start on this one?

Ever since the first time we had roll call in class, I've had the pleasure of correcting someone on how to pronouce my name.  Even as a young child I couldn't understand what was hard about pronouncing DeRonnie correctly.  LOOK AT IT.  It's not Deroni like macaroni.  It's Ronnie (which seems to be easily pronounced) with De in front of it.  Most people err on the side of prounoucing a noun followed by two consonants with a soft sound.

Knowing that this would be and issue when I went to college I listed my preferred name as D. Pitts, which is what everyone called me in high school.  First Initial...Last Name....EASY RIGHT?  So when we get the freshman facebook I have my picture in there with my official name listed as Dee Pitts.  Dee?  Dee?  Like the little sister from What's Happening?

So you think I would have learned my lesson when I came back to Stanford for B-School.  This time I was gearing up for admit weekend and I told them that my preferred name was D.P., which had become what most of my friends call me.  EASY RIGHT? It's my initials.  Of course the Stanford GSB would get it right... Wrong!  I get my nametag and it reads D.P. Pitts.  What sense does that make?  My middle name starts with an L.  I mean, that just sounds like I'm stuttering trying to say my own name.

Well let me tell you that the corporate world didn't do any better.  I went nine months at my corporate finance job with Prudential getting check stubs that read "De R. Pitts (like Ronnie is my middle name).  I'm just gonna pull a Chad Johnson and change my name to Dos (my college jersey number).

It's hard not having a common name (unless you're famous for something).  I didn't even realize that my name was that uncommon until I got to Stanford.  Of course there are way more Matts, Johns, & Peters, but there are two other DeRonnies from my hometown (population ~70,000).  If you don't believe me... google DeRonnie and see if DeRonnie Turner's name comes up on a Linkedin profile.  There was also a DeRonnie Finch (though I believe he had a different spelling).

So what does DeRonnie mean?

According behindthename.com, Ronnie comes from Ronald, which yields - Scottish form of RAGNVALD, a name introduced to Scotland by Scandinavian settlers and invaders. It became popular outside Scotland during the 20th century.

So I guess it would mean - from Scandinavia????  Maaaaaaaan... just call me D.P.....And when I tell you it's my initials don't ask ... "well what do your initials stand for?" Ummm, the first letters of my name!!!

What about when I have to introduce myself to people?  That's an entire different can of worms.  Most of the time people think I'm saying Jeronni, so I often brave the streets of San Francisco with the shirt pictured below.

That way I don't have to go yell... I can just point to my shirt.  But, most people don't get it until three or four attempts.  So just call me D.P. and not Jeronni, Durante, DeRonimo (yes... someone took it there), Jerome, Damani, DeAndre, or Donnie.... AND NOT Ronnie (why?... cause that's not my name!!).  Either DeRonnie or D.P.

So this mix goes out to anyone who gets their name butchered.  I feel your pain.  It would be easy to just let people call me whatever they want, but I don't let them get away with that.  If you're having trouble explaining your name to someone, just use some of the methods in this mix.  The following tactics are used by the artists in the mix.

1. Yell your name, forcefully

2. Reintroduce yourself

3. Just accept that they won't get it right

4. Use initials followed by a personality trait

5. Explain it's origin

6. Just tell them they're are wrong

COMO TE LLAMAS Mix

 

The Dentist

If you're ever up at 3:00 am watching television and you see this movie title, just turn your television off and go to bed.  Don't be like me and get drawn into watching this, especially if you regularly visit your dentist.  The plot involves a dentist, played by Corbin Bernsen (who I only can visualize as Roger Dorn from Major League) who has these hallucinations and sees his patients' teeth as way more jacked up than they are.  The result... you go in for a routine cleaning... you come out with teeth looking like dingy piano keys.

 

Before

After

 

So of course everytime I go to the dentist, the thought of this movie comes into my head and makes me a little nervous.  I had to go to the dentist for my routine cleaning this week and for some reason, the guy who usually cleans my teeth wasn't there.  In fact, the receptionist wasn't there either... just a woman in a white coat asking me to come on back and get relaxed.  So with 911 on speed dial I sat down in the chair with my thumb hovering over my IPhone (not literally, but I had a planned escape route) and proceeded to get my pearly whites bufffed up.

All went well, I didn't have any cavities, and I managed to make it out of there with all 32 of my teeth (and no pending lawsuits).  My one negative piece of feedback had to do with the following item:

I grind my teeth at night and my dentist has required me to wear this mouth guard when I go to sleep (so I don't flatten my teeth out).  I don't even know why I agreed to have my mouth molded for this thing, knowing that I wouldn't wear it.  It's super annoying, uncomfortable, and most important it's the most unattractive thing ever.

Now you might say... "well you're just sleeping in it, so why does it matter?"  Well, I don't plan on sleeping alone for the rest of my life.  I mean, I actually prefer (I'm assuming most of us do) a steady bedroom companion.  I can't think of anything that would kill the mood more than hearing me say... "baby wait, I need to take out my mouf - peeth."  YEAH... It makes you talk like that.

Someone invent a less intrusive product so I can keep my teeth and not have to sacrifice unplanned play-time.  So I'm going to bed with my night guard locked and loaded tonight, because I remember how I cried (23 years ago) when i got my first and only cavity.  Ever since then I've been a super-brusher.  I even managed to keep my cavity-free streak through five years without a trip to the dentist.  I can't imagine what my reaction would be if I end up wearing my teeth down to the nerves.

With that, I'll leave you with the mix that describes a few of the emotions that go along with going to the dentist.  Brush & Floss Mix