It's New Years Eve and I'm sitting here cooking Hamburger Helper, watching "The Hangover" on my computer. [Ed. note: Benson filed this post on Thursday evening.] Chances are good I won't even make it to midnight, because I'm tired and we have a game tomorrow. In the next week we play five times, including two games in Idaho at the D-League Showcase. It's kind of a big week. What a way to start 2010.

It's funny, because 2010 has a special significance for me. I was on the phone with my boy earlier and we were talking about how much faster time seems to go now and how it seems crazy that the Y2K scare happened 10 years ago. As we reminisced, I remembered an essay I had to write right after Christmas break when I was a sophomore in high school in 2000. My history teacher, Mr. Greenstein, had us write about where we thought we would be in the year 2010.

At the time, 10 years seemed to be an eternity and it was difficult to picture a 25-year-old version of myself. Still, I sat down and wrote an essay that I still clearly remember. I wrote that I was going to be in the NBA in 2010 and that I would be in commercials and television and have a college degree. Looking back, it's especially funny because I was the last man on the J.V. hoops team (I didn't even play varsity until I was a senior), I was an average student, and I had never even been on camera. Looking 10 years into the future, I fantasized about a life that I was not at all headed towards.

My boy interrupted my story to say, "That's crazy."

I told him, "I know. Now I'm just a guy cooking Hamburger Helper in Reno."

All jokes aside, 2010 is here and two of my three goals have come to fruition. There's just one more left to handle and that's associating myself with those three letters. N-B-A. I've been working on it for a couple of years now and I've been close, but never crossed the line.

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Back in late September, I signed with the Indiana Pacers on a non-guaranteed contract. Seconds after placing my John Hancock on the final piece of paper, I was politely asked to shut down my blog and Twitter account while the team and league worked on new guidelines for social media. Given the questions that have been raised in the past about blogging and its ramifications on my potential signing, I had no reservations about shutting it down.

Quietly, I had a very successful training camp. It was hardly an open tryout, because their contract situation was already solidified, but I know I impressed nearly everyone. Truly, it was a far cry from my last camp experience with the Nets. I was prepared, I improved and I played hard everyday. There's nothing like hearing Larry Bird tell you that he thinks you're a hell of a player. In fact, in the midst of my best preseason game, I stole the ball from Johan Petro and I could hear Mr. Bird yell from his courtside seat: "Yeah, Rod!"

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In my last entry I wrote about how it's pretty cool to be living in L.A. during the off-season because curiously great things happen. That isn't always the case though. There's a certain trend here that I've noticed. People tend to believe that I'm someone or something I'm not.

Wherever I go, people think that I sit on the Lakers bench or something. I guess there could be worse things. But since I'm not in the NBA, it leads to 20 follow up questions which sometimes I'd rather not deal with because it's very hard to explain the D-League or overseas basketball in passing. Most times, I'll answer everyone's questions, but some days it's just not a good day. Lucky for me, I've been working out with Mike Fey.

I mentioned Mike a while back. He played ball at UCLA in college and in Dubai last year. I say that I'm lucky because Mike is bigger than me. He's about 7-feet tall and 275 pounds. He's in the small class of people who can take the heat off of me.

What generally happens is that people will come up to both of us and ask if we play. I say that I don't play, but that Mike does and that he's shy. Before Mike has a chance to say a word, I'm back to doing whatever I was doing and he's fielding questions like Jeter fielding grounders.

I say this because Mike actually gets it way worse than me and doesn't ever seem to mind it. There's a specific reason why he doesn't mind it. It's because everyone thinks he's Tyson Chandler.

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Living in L.A. has led to a lot of cool events in my downtime. I might even go so far to say that I had one of the coolest things ever to happen to me, happen last week.

I was at the Mondrian Hotel in Hollywood, eating at a poolside restaurant with my boy. It was completely empty except for the two of us. Then, out of nowhere, Eddie Griffin walks in. I'm referring to the famed comedian and actor. He's in my favorite movie of all time, "The Meteor Man," and I think his stand-up work is highly underrated.

Anyway, he walks over and takes a seat about 10 feet away from me. I look at my boy and he just says, "I know."

So I see the bartender leave the bar and walk toward Eddie. I assume this is for an autograph. I start thinking that I should scramble some paper together to get one too. I figure I'll wait for an opening like a double-dutch jump rope and then make my move. I'm actively planning this scenario out in my head as it develops.

Unexpectedly, the bartender walks past Eddie. I start to think that I'm not going to have my moment. Then the bartender hooks a left and comes up to me.

"Rod Benson? Yahoo! Sports, right? Ball Don't Lie?" he asks me aloud.

I can hardly contain my smile as we begin to chat.

"Where are you playing this year? Man, you haven't told us where you're playing this year," he continues as we talk.

Eddie, shocked, drops his glasses to the edge of his nose to get a peek at the guy who just got the love. That guy was me. I felt like a champ.

I tell this story for two reasons: 1) Because it's awesome, and 2) Because the bartender's question seems to be on everyone's mind lately.

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I'm hangin' out with my boy and former UCLA center Mike Fey yesterday when he asks if he can use my computer to check his email. I hand him the laptop and he gets to work.

I sit on the couch, unable to see what he's looking at. Mike then starts yelling, "Yeah, Mata! Get 'em son!"

I have no idea what he's talking about, but I do know that former UCLA forward Lorenzo Mata is currently playing for Team Mexico, so it is assumed that Mike is watching some highlights. He continues hyping Mata until his voice changes.

"No way! No way! No way!"

Now I have to get up and check it out. Fey starts the video over, still shocked, and I begin to watch. It's Mexico vs. Uruguay in some sort of international game. Mata throws down a sweet dunk and I get a little hyped too because Mata is Mad Boom Tho.

Then, all of a sudden, I see someone else I know. It's Romel Beck and he's just been fouled. I lean in closer to the computer screen as I watch him get a little aggressive with the guy who just fouled him. The next thing I know— BOOM! A brawl is started with Romel in the center of it! I was just on the same team as Romel a few months ago and now I'm watching in disbelief as he fights for his life in Uruguay.

Honestly, it's one of the biggest basketball melees I've seen and it involved two of my good, Boom Tho shirt wearing buddies. You have to watch this for yourself. Whether you know Mata or Beck from their college days, or you just want to see a man hurl a chair at another man in a powder blue jersey, this is for you.

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Over the years I've played with a lot of players who are into a lot of different things. Not like Jayson Williams party-with-a-shotgun type activities, but still inexplicable things. One of these things came to light the other day while I was in Vegas.

I was on the bus next to James White and he asked me something about werewolves. I was in the middle of reading "Breaking Dawn," and I looked up at him. I told him it was weird that he was asking about that while I was reading "Twilight." I didn’t hear what else he had to say because I was too busy reading my book.

The next day we were on the elevator on the way to our trainer’s room to get taped before the game. James asked me if I checked out the werewolf thing on YouTube. He said that there’s a real wolf-man roaming around out in the forest and that the video is clear. He said he believes that something is going on out there. I told him that hadn’t checked it yet. He peeped my iPhone and told me to YouTube it right then.

"Search for the Michigan Wolverine," he asked me.

"Um, do you know that the University of Michigan's mascot is the Wolverine? You know that won’t give me anything about you're talking about," I informed him.

"Well then search for Michigan Wolfman."

"OK."

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I’m finally back up in Sacramento after spending the last two weeks on the road. I’ve done nothing but eat Pizza Hut brand lasagna (apparently, real Italians think it’s better than their own mothers' versions) and watching various movies on my computer. There is always a certain amount of decompression time needed after going to Vegas, and most people only go for a few days at a time. My decompression process is going to take a bit more time after 12 days there and two more in Houston.

I would definitely have to say that the two days in H-Town were two of the toughest days of hoops I’ve had in a long time. I can’t decide if it’s because I played so poorly or if it was all the conditioning we did, but it definitely wasn’t the best of mini-camps. I’m usually a good mini-camp guy, and a summer league factor. Neither were true this time around. I guess I can’t be great all the time.

So, there were 14 days and you just heard the negatives. Well, maybe you didn’t consider the biggest negative, which is that I was in Vegas to play and I wasn’t a factor. That means that I was just as useful as any paying spectator. My agent joked that his finance guy played more than I did. I had no choice but to laugh.

Still, in any situation, I can find the funny, cool and ridiculous things that make it worthwhile. I’ve decided to list my Top 5 Vegas experiences that don’t involve scoring buckets, pulling down rebounds, or eating steaks as Plaxico Burress. Gambling certainly isn’t involved since I stopped when I saw an Antoine Walker press conference about how much money he owes 'em here. Boom Tho can’t have that happen to him.

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"See, for each one of these delicious chocolate chip cookies, there is an equally delicious NBA Championship ring that you don't have — one for each chocolaty cookie. You've got to be hungry, LeBron. I'm talking 'bout stomach growlin!"

Kobe Puppet's words have been playing through my head over and over again for the past week.

"You've got to be hungry, Rod."

The words played over and over again as I woke up at 6 a.m. to board an 8 a.m. flight from Sacramento to New York. They played again when I finally arrived at my hotel room in Terrytown, NY, at 9 p.m. after being stuck in Puerto Rican Day traffic for two hours. They woke me up the next morning at 7 a.m. (EDT).

"You've got to be hungry, Rod."

I played like a man whose stomach was growlin'. Lil' Kobe would have been proud.

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"Where will amazing happen this year?"

It's the question that appears in all the NBA commercials. It brings forth the memories of where you were when Magic hit the hook-shot over the Celtics' front line, or when Jordan hit the mid-range J to beat the Craig Ehlo Cavaliers.

It would appear that this season, amazing happens in almost every game. Yes, I've read the articles by Bill Simmons and others, criticizing officiating and other things from this year's playoffs, and I do agree with a lot of the points. Still, some crazy stuff has happened.

I was at an important dinner, getting score updates on my phone via NBA.com two Fridays ago. I had my phone hidden beneath the table, checking the score whenever the auto-update coincided with a break in the table conversation. With 13 seconds left the score was tied. I sat there, silent, awaiting what seemed to be a full timeout. I took a sip of water and almost spit it right back out when the score changed to show that Orlando was now up two points on Cleveland with one second left. I know I made a funny noise because some other patrons turned and gave me a look.

Thinking that the game was over, I began to relax. I was now only waiting for the recap to come up. I reached for a roll and looked back at my phone. Cavs won by one point. I jumped out of my seat screaming, clearly hitting my knees on the bottom of the table. Now everyone was forced to ask. I told them "I'm not sure, but I think LeBron James just did something legendary." Crazy.

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I can't say the same for everyone, but I've really enjoyed this years NBA playoffs. It seems that every game there's something more interesting than the game before. If the Lakers lose by 30 one night, they come back and win by 40 the next night. If the Hawks lose by 10 one night, they come back and lose by 20 the next night. The Bulls and Celts went to the wire and the Spurs got knocked out early — both surprising results.

For me, the playoffs changed when Antoine Wright failed to successfully foul 'Melo in Game 3. He then started a media frenzy when he asked the media if he was supposed to "Derek Fisher" 'Melo to prevent the shot attempt. Whether he was right or wrong, or the quote was good or bad, it changed the way I look at every player and every play in the playoffs.

Remember the days when a fade-away jumper was called a "Jordan"? A shot off the glass used to be called a "Duncan"? At least that's what we called them where I played. Antoine Wright opened up a whole new way of naming plays on the court that I had never thought of before.

For example, an extremely hard intentional foul is now a "Derek Fisher." No matter what, it's a term coined forever. Now, if someone tries to "Derek Fisher" you and still hit a game winner, then you pulled a "'Melo." If you pull a "'Melo" without the "Fisher," then it's just a "Big Baby." If you hit a three in somebody's face, then you "Eddie Housed" him. But beware, repeatedly "Eddie Housing" somebody will definitely result in that person "Rafer Alstoning" you right back. Take off your headband first, please.

Are you starting to see how my mind has been working since Wright didn't wrap 'Melo up?

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