Friday, October 31, 2003

This has to be the coolest story ever. 20 Catholic school girls beating the hell out of a sexual predator. I love hearing that stuff.
I never had as many colds or allergy trouble as I have in the time I've been at my current job. I escaped the germyness of college, probably the most disease infected time in anyone's life, with only 2 colds in the four years I was there. At McGraw, I NEVER had a cold. But when I get to this side of Manhattan, I come down with sinus trouble at least two-three times a year. What the hell? I highly suspect this place is infested with some kind of allergen/germ, but will it ever get cleaned out? Probably not. So for now, Tonya has given me some sudafed, which means I'll be bouncing off the walls in no time.

Thursday, October 30, 2003

I'd just like to point out to all these reporters who try to sound so deep and smart by longing for the days of Paul O'Neill and Scott Brosius are the very same ones who complained the Yankees couldn't be considered a great team back then because they didn't have a "Superstar." That's right, in 1998, people were saying left and right that the Yankees lacked star-power, and therefore their record couldn't mean as much in the grand scheme of things. You can look it up. Now all these writers, reporters, TV people come out and say that's when the Yankees were good because of no-name players who got the job done. Well why the hell did it take you so long to appreciate it? Jeez...
UGH! Why is it that when I come up with a short story idea (to be used for submital to YM and Seventeen's fiction sections, which looks way good when writing to publishers) I start thinking "Wow, this would make a better long, novel-sized story." I'm not cabaple of thinking in short story terms -- I think I've written maybe two short stories in my entire life. It is not in me to write a little, I guess. It's kind of frustrating.
18 years ago today I acquired my Bischer scar. Only the klutziest of Bischers are lucky enough to get the scar under the chin, the result of some brain lapse moment. Mine was in the 3rd grade, during my lunch period, when I was coming back into the classroom after throwing out the remains of my lunch in the big hallway garbage can (my elementary school didn't have a cafeteria, for some weird reason. But then again, I wouldn't have gotten my scar if they did have one, so there you go.) So, I was wearing dress shoes that day, and our floor was kind of dusty and combine that with me 1) being born a klutz and 2)probably thinking about Halloween the next day, I somehow managed to trip and knock my chin on the corner of a desk. I thought I'd just bruised it or something, and I went up to the lunch aid and was like "did I hurt my chin?" and she's all horrified looking and bustling for one of my classmates to take me to the nurse. For some odd reason, I'd been cupping my chin in my hand and when I looked down, my hand was covered in blood. Pretty scary stuff for an 8 year old, especially one who associates blood like that to having to go the doctor and therby probably having to get a shot, the worst thing of all. When I did get to the doctor (instead of taking me to a hospital where I would've been freaked out, my mom smartly took me to my regular doctor, who, by the way, is now Bruce Springsteen's kids' doctor), he put this piece of paper over my face at one point, which I assumed was to help with something doctorish. I now realize it was to keep me from seeing a needle and thread coming at me and to not let me see the big ass shot of novacain or whatever he shot me up with to numb my chin.

I got lots of sympathy in the coming days. I had to wear a gigantic bandaid under my chin, which didn't exactly go well with my princess costume the next day, and everyone looked at me like it was so traumatic to have to have stitches (all three of them) on Halloween. But to me the crapload of attention was extremely fun.

My grandfather, my dad and my cousin Joseph all managed to get a chin scar, the result of a klutzy moment, so it was only a matter of time before I earned mine (though I beat my cousin in getting mine first). It makes me wonder if any of my anscestors, like, walked through the Black Forest one day and tripped over a rock, splitting his/her chin open. I mean, it would've been Octoberfest back then, so anything is possible...

Wednesday, October 29, 2003

Now it's time for today's feature presentation: It Took Me 2 1/2 Hours to Get to Work Today, starring:
Karen Bischer and her newfound cold
Carolyn Brady and her leaky window
The badass rain storm
The cab that never showed up
The 45 minutes worth of traffic outside the Lincoln Tunnel

And special guest star: Sasquatch!

It all started when I thought I was so smart and going to beat the long bus-to-the-PATH-when-it-rains line by leaving my apartment at 7:45. Unfortunately, I didn't count on a monsoon when I got outside. I waited for the bus for like 3 minutes, in which time I got completely drenched despite my umbrella. And the line for the bus was still long, which meant the lines uptown were long and I figured I wasn't going to get on a bus. I started feeling sick last night, so not wanting to take any chances, I headed back home to change and call a cab to the PATH. Carolyn hadn't left yet (she was trying to keep her window from seeping out any more rain than it already had) and was all for this, so she called up our trusty cab company and they told her 15 minutes.

40 minutes later, we're waiting for the cab in our lobby, watching all these buses to Port Authority go by. Carolyn calls to bitch out the cab company (she'd already called after 20 minutes and they told her 4 minutes more), and they hang up on her. But as we're waiting, who should come thumping down the stairs and out the door but Sasquatch! In a suit!

"Hey," he says to us, smiling, to which we reply "Hi." He then snaps his umbrella up and is gone in an flash. Can I tell you, that was like the second time I've seen him face to face since we moved in? He's like the real Sasquatch in that way -- people believe he exists, but there is sometimes little visual proof to back it up. Carolyn's all like "That was the most polite I've ever seen him," and when I told her it sounded like he had some, uh, action going on last night (for the first time in awhile), it totally explained it.

We gave up on the cab and waited about 15 minutes for the Port Authority bus, and when we finally get on, we get hit with the traffic jam to beat all traffic jams (the girl next to me actually started eating her lunch) and don't pull into NYC till about 10 a.m. Carolyn and I are to the point of giggling as we run for the subway, which thankfully comes fast and I got in to work at 10:20.

And irony of ironies, by the time I got off the subway, the sun was coming out. Sigh.

But at least we got to see Sasquatch!

Tuesday, October 28, 2003

So, I watched two very interesting documentaries last night. The first was "Fat Like Me" which showed the rampant rate at which kids gain weight today, and what it's like to go undercover as an overweight kid in high school. The kids were downright assholes to this poor girl who donned a fat suit and thick glasses and it was great to see them get their comeuppance when they found out the girl was really of average weight. But it did kind of irk me. While overweight kids may be a target whose numbers have grown, they don't have the market cornered on high school suffering. Kids with acne, kids with bad hair, kids with different fashion ideas, kids of "different" sexual orientation, kids with speech impediments, kids who are shy, kids who are poor, kids who are smart, kids who aren't white, kids who are unathletic, on and on and on -- they ALL get picked on and I'm sure it doesn't hurt any less than someone getting picked on for their weight. This show made it look like they were the ONLY kids to getting teased. Maybe it's time we did more shows on bullying, period, because that's another epidemic sweeping the country and only getting worse as time goes on.

Then there's "Born Rich" on HBO, which actually makes you happy about being middle class. I never realized being rich was like being part of another culture. You know how you look at the Amish and wonder how they survive being in such a minority? Well, this documentary will make you think the same thing about rich people. And I'm not talking about your run of the mill doctor or lawyer. These kids come from long lineages of wealth, and would never have to work a day in their life. I don't think many of them do work. But so many of them appear to be feeling almost GUILTY for being rich and don't know how to deal with it. Most of the interviewees seemed pretty nice and even down-to-earth (Donald Trump's daughter, for one), but a few you just want to slap for being so stuck in their wealth that they think anyone who wouldn't sign a pre-nup is "gold-digging" " ungrateful bitch". Also, you know the materialistic people you know in life that you think are "rich snobs"? Well, they're just rich snob wannabes because there's no way they'd get accepted into these circles (it's all about being born into it, you see). It's almost humorous to realize that.

Monday, October 27, 2003

The Daily News can kiss my ass. Yes, my once favorite NY newspaper can go along with Jim Caple and scratch with a broken beer bottle. Today's issue not only says the Yankees "Dynasty" is dead, they call for Joe Torre to retire. EXCUSE ME? They made it to the freaking World Series! Is Bobby Cox still the manager of Atlanta despite ONE title in all the years he's been manager? George's comments, that he wants to do whatever it is to get a strong team, are the only ones I agree with. You don't get rid of Joe Torre just because the stupid ass NY media needs a guy who will give them more material (I.E. whiny, temper-tantrum Backpage material). Torre, remember, was a managerial genius for the reporters with all his ALCS Game 7 moves.

I can totally understand why people don't want to play here. When you're good, you get lifted up on the arms of an entire city. When you're down, the reporters will be the first ones to kick you in the teeth. I'm not saying the truth should be kept silent, that the Yanks need to do a hell of a lot more in the coming off season; that a new batting coach needs to be hired; that Soriano needs some help in decisive swinging, etc. But acting like this is some kind of apocolypse for the team is just wrong. I'm not jumping ship and acting like a spoiled child.

But then maybe that's why I decided to leave journalism behind in college.

Sunday, October 26, 2003

How to survive a Yankee World Series loss:

Turn on VH1 Classic and sing along to the following:
We Are the World
Monkey (George Michael Classic)
Cold Hearted (as in Ssssssssnake)

Watch Fraternity Life. Note big tools.

As for people who think the Marlins “stunned,” “shocked,” “overcame,” the Yankees, they obviously ignored what they did the first two rounds of the playoffs. Because I was nowhere near “shocked” by what the Marlins did. They’re a good team, despite their sucky fans, and I’m not even going into the payroll. Money garauntees you nothing, so all these NY papers who need a story so badly so they trash that the Yanks because they’re the highest paid team should take a step back and look at what really wins you championships: Doing the right things at the right times. The Benjamins don’t take the field, people.

The Game started on a funny note. Tonya came over, and we were so not willing to deal with The FAT, that we turned on the SAP button, and man, what a difference a language makes! Especially when saying “Fouuuuuuuuler.”

I guess we have to blame Game 7 against the Sox for this one, because Game 1 got off to a bad start by having to use Wells. But if using all our pitchers at the “wrong” time and losing the World Series means we still got to see the Yankees beat Boston in such a satisfying way, well then I’ll take it. Because that was like, the greatest game EVER. You don’t get that too often.

From the intense moments before Opening Day, when I stood with bated breath, waiting to see if we’d get the YES Network or not (we did, like five minutes before the first pitch), to Derek going down, to Matsui’s Grand Slam (which I hold accountable for getting rid of a nasty fever) to a Jelly Donut on the train tracks, to getting no hit by the Astros, then going on an absolute tear after that when most sports writers were like “stick a fork in them, the Yanks are done”, to Clemens’ 300th win (with TINO! there, who hit two homer two days later), to the resurgence of Mariano Rivera, to the Players of the Week, to Guy the Godzilla, Gary the Horse, Cousin Bert and all The Chicken’s new friends, to eeking out 10 wins to the Red Sox 9 (which was HUGE later on), to watching the first game against the Twins at work, to freezing at the ALDS game 2, to game 2 of the ALCS, to the Pedro/Zimmer incident, to Boone’s home run (aaahhh), it was all one hell of a ride.

Now I get my sleep and regular TV-viewing back. But for some reason, I can’t help but think -- I’m really sad this season is over.

113 days till Pitchers and Catchers….

Saturday, October 25, 2003

Im. Not. Talking. About. It.

Friday, October 24, 2003

Oh, I forgot the biggest news of yesterday. Contrary to the rumors, Sasquatch is apparently renewing his lease. I know my faithful readers will be so psyched by this news. Melissa ran into his roommate yesterday who said they wanted to stay another year, thereby eradicating yet another year of sleep for me. This does mean, however, I can have two years worth of stories for my upcoming memoir "Sasquatch and Me: Life Lessons Learned from a Big-Footed Neighbor." Well, at least he's a Yankees fan...
I'd like to thank the NY Post for the most uncharacteristic (read: optimistic) headline I've read in years following a Yankee loss: Down, But Not Out. Because, dude, it ain't over till it's over.

Yankee fans can not go into this weekend with a defeatist attitude. Anyone whining that this shouldn't have gotten to Game 6, obviously haven't taken the Marlins seriously and obviously don't realize that there are other, eliminated teams would give their eye teeth to actually be IN THE WORLD SERIES. They are totally capable of winning two games in a row IF they start hitting when they're supposed to (ie, not with two out in the 9th). But the fans can make a HUGE difference. We need the obnoxious Yankee fans out there in all their unbridled, heckling glory. We need the constant "Let's Go Yankees" chant. We need to scare the shit out of Florida and let them know they can not win IN OUR HOUSE.

Oh, and last night when they cut away to the Fox Box to make an important annoucement about Tim McCarver, I got so excited that he might be announcing his retirement. But, alas, it was to announce that he's got the most World Series games as a broadcaster under his belt. To me, that was more of a let-down than the loss...

And Happy Birthday to Carolyn, who is 27 today! Or, as I like to put it, one more year closer to retirement!

Thursday, October 23, 2003

YIKES! Yanni is performing the national anthem tonight!!! Weird New-Age vibes all around!

Please, Yankees -- DON'T MAKE EYE CONTACT.
I'm feeling a little down at the moment. Tonya and I have been scouring Web pages to find any decently priced World Series tickets, and alas, there is non such thing. I'm actually kind of pissed, because I see these people on eBay and other sites who have obviously bought these tickets with the intent to make a fat profit off of them. Think of how many REAL fans could've gone to the games if not for these jackasses. And then there are the people who will go and just don't care. They'll leave in the 7th "to beat traffic". They're the reason I'm feeling like Charlie from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory today -- all these spoiled, undeserving brats getting tickets, when there's no way in hell I'm going to find a "golden ticket" for Game 6 for Tonya and me at the bottom of a sewer. Sigh.

Oh, and I think there is some kind of almond M&M conspiracy going on. The A&P didn't have them (every kind but almond) and the Duane Reade across the street from my office is out of them. I think bitter Met fans may have bought them all, just to keep the Yankees from winning....
Anyone blaming Weaver for last night's loss needs their head checked. The Yanks should have won that game WAY earlier, back in the early innings when they had the bases loaded and NO ONE OUT. They should have won it when Sierra was standing on third after his bases-clearing triple. They should have won it when they had the bases loaded and one out in the 11th. Jeff Weaver gives them one strong inning, then makes one bad pitch. After not pitching for AN ENTIRE MONTH. I'm not the man's biggest fan, but to say the loss is entirely his fault (Hello, back pages of Daily News and NY Post) is far from the truth.

Giambi and Boone -- consider yourselves spanked.

However, I don't think the game was the biggest surprise of the night. The Bachelor Bob dumping psycho Lee-Ann -- now THERE'S a shocker.

Wednesday, October 22, 2003

Gee, I don't know Tim McCarver, is hitting a home run after being pitched way inside the best feeling for a player? If I had to hear him say "Nuthin' feels better...Nuthin'" I was going to throw something at the TV.

Roger is too pumped. Maybe he wants to watch "The Bachelor."
So it was all about Moooooooose and Booooooone and DEREK! and BERNIE! and my prediction for MVP if the Yanks should win the Series, Matsui, last night. I like seeing them get offensive, even if most of it happened AFTER Mussina was done pitching.

Apparently, Yanni is Ivan Rodgriguez's music idol or something. Would you ever have thunk it?

My favorite part of the game was when Joe Buck got all smarmy and was like "Aaron Boone is 1 for 11 this post season" and on the next pitch, he belts it out for another home run. Make that 2 for 12, Buck-eroo!

Which Clemens will we get tonight -- the too fired up to pitch well Clemens or the wow, where did that calmness come from Clemens? As long as Yanni isn't sending any weird New Age vibes out again, I think he'll be OK.

Tuesday, October 21, 2003

Oh my god. David Cassidy???? As Carolyn said, "I don't even know where to go with this." And "He's wearing more makeup than Jeannie Zelasko" and "Jorge is praying "Please make it stop. And I don't mean the rain.'"
Can the Marlins have any weirder celebrities in the crowd? Yanni? Mike Tyson? It totally doesn't compare to the time Hollis and I went to a Yankee game and Michael Bolton sang the national anthem, but random is random is random.

Plus, I think Yanni was sending some weird New Age vibes Boone's way, therefore causing the error. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Things bugging me today:

1) People who say "Well the Yankees have already won so much, you shouldn't feel bad if they lose." Uh, put your own team in the Yankees' place. Would you be rooting for them to lose just so "another team can have a chance?" I didn't think so.

2)Guys who say they are Yankee fans (and even dress in Yankee garb), yet don't know all the retired numbers (a great lithmus test). I find it extremely amusing that I probably watch at least 10 times the games they watch a year. These are the fellas who we call "Lazy Yankee Fans." While they do know the players and aren't exactly front-runners, they don't do their homework, either.

3)The assumption that Yankee fans are only happy when their team is winning and therefore, every other team's fans have more heart than you do. I say, to hell with that. I loved this team when their best starting pitcher was Melido Perez. I'll still love them whenever this dyansty decides to come to an end. And I'm sure there are other Yankee fans who would say the same thing.
So this Dr. Phil commercial just came on and says something like "You should have six months worth of money in savings just in case" and I think "Who the hell can afford that?" Doesn't that mean HALF your salary? Or does he mean just have enough money to get you through six months??? If it's half the salary, that's damn near impossible. I lived at home for a year and saved less than a third of my salary, but that's it...

Monday, October 20, 2003

Oh, and what is with Sheila E. at the beginning of the Fox games? And the sucky people singing the National Anthem (Clay is OK and all, but it was total network synergy going on on Satuday night)? And the "which city has the better nightlife" question? And where was Challenger?

The microphones that seem to be everywhere but the men's bathroom have GOT TO GO. It doesn't make me feel any closer to the game to hear Nick Johnson's cleats making contact with first base. Or Bernie Williams sounding like a truck hitting the outfield wall, rather than a normal sized man.

Thank god "Skin" premieres tonight, because now they'll probably stop showing the commercial for it 6 million times per game. In 2001, it was the 24 ad I could recite. This one is climbing right up there...
OK, Fox REALLY has to stop with their crappy pre-game stuff. Re-enacting the coming of the 1903 World Series, with Bruce Springsteen's "My Hometown" playing in the background is SOOOOOOOO unneccesary. First off, the acting was terrible. Secondly, wrong song choice. They're just reaching for sentimentality, and that's a bad thing.

The game rocked. The funniest thing about Matsui's homer -- he's standing there with the 3-0 count and I go "A homer would be nice, Godzilla," and on the next pitch he slams it out of the park. Carolyn was like "Holy crap!" and I was just like "Thanks, Hideki!"

Bitter, party of one, your table is now available. My dad tipped me off to this article, which is just the dumbest excuse to fill space I've read in a long time. If the Yanks don't mention their 12 losses (in 38 World Series attempts), what's the big deal? Does he think we don't remember 2001? I don't need to be reminded of it every time I go to Yankee Stadium, and I don't see any other team reliving their not-so-glory days (ahem, Atlanta Braves).

And the writer thinks that 26-win sign is just there to inspire and intimidate. So any stadium that posts their World Series wins is evil? The Yanks have 26 world titles -- I'd sure as hell be pissed if they didn't tout that. Shoud they go back and lose them all just to appease Mr. Anderson? Please, sir, go back to the playpen until your tantrum is over.

Sunday, October 19, 2003

Ah, I love it when a sportswriter shows just how damn ignorant they are. Especially when it's Jim Caple:

"They had won their past 10 World Series games at Yankee Stadium, including the memorable Byung-Hyun Kim games in 2001, the Clemens-Piazza melee during the Subway Series and the Jim Leyritz home run game in 1996."

HELLO!!!!! Jim Leyrtiz hit that home run in ATLANTA which was all the more exciting because it was the second of the three games they swept in ATLANTA.

Unfortunately, there is no address at which to write to him. Sigh.

As for Game 1, wash it out of your hair and send it on it's way, guys.

Saturday, October 18, 2003

To all of the sportswriters and supposed baseball lovers who needed this f'ing Sox/Cubs World Series to be excited about baseball -- go screw yourselves.

I am SO tired of everyone whining that this isn't going to be a great Series, that it's going to be so boring, that it's the big bad Yankees against the no-name Marlins. What is your problem, people (especially the writers)? Oh I know, you wanted this "dream" match up because you needed a reason to watch. You're absolutely a detriment to the game of baseball. Unless you were a Sox/Cubs fan, who have every right to be disappointed right now. I garuantee you, if their teams were in the Series against the Marlins or the Yankees, they wouldn't be whining that they aren't playing the other loveable loser club. Because the World Series, regardless of who's playing in it, is still the WORLD F'ING SERIES.

People don't complain when the Super Bowl has two "Boring" teams -- the ratings speak for themselves when it comes to that. If people aren't watching baseball, it's because they don't like baseball, plain and simple. And THAT's the problem -- not this "dream match up" that would attract a fan for 4-7 games, who could care less when the season is over.

Two weeks ago, I told my dad "wouldn't it be great if it was a Yankees/Marlins World Series" just to shut up all these reporters who just assumed it would be Cubs/Sox because of "fate" and "destiny". Because when you say stuff like that, you're basically telling the fans of the other teams "Sorry, the faith and love you feel for your team is uncool unless you want to see a "curse" broken." Oh, please.

(On a side note, I'd just like to say that when reading the Sports Guy's (a big Red Sox fan) column yesterday, he noted how "likeable" his team was. Au contraire. I read at least three other columnists who were feeling the way MANY fans feel now about the Red Sox, and that was their cocky attitude was grating on people. So I guess it all depends on who you talk to.)

The Yankees and Marlins earned their way into this because of what they did on the field for 162 games, plus their postseason grit. The same way it would've been if the Cubs and Red Sox made it into this final round. I wish people would stop trying to take that away from Yankees and Marlins.

So go on and bitch and moan that you needed a cliche to get excited over the World Series and didn't get it. I feel more sorry for you than I do Cubs/Red Sox fans.

Friday, October 17, 2003

I don't even think I can put into words the amazingness/awesomeness of last night, but I'll try.

First off, know that everyone in NY was pretty cautious going into this game, especially after Wednesday night's debacle, and knowing Pedro was in town. It's not like everyone was expecting a loss, it was just that we knew it was going to be extra tough to scratch out a win.

So The Chicken and I head back to Middletown last night, as I've found only three places I can watch the Yankees and not feel like I'm jinxing them by doing so -- Yankee Stadium, my office and the home where I grew up. The apartment I pay for in Hoboken and NYC bars? Not so good for the ALCS. This time my dad and I allow my mom to watch the game (we banned her from Game 7 of the 2001 World Series because every time she turned on the TV, something bad happened). Because the second she gets up to go to the bathroom, the Red Sox homer and take the 2-0 lead, and you don't mess with that kind of thing.

With it 4-0, my dad starts muttering and The Chicken looks upset, so I take the opportunity to call Tonya, who is in Illinois for a college function. I get her voicemail, which leads me to believe she has left the hotel and watched the game elsewhere, amid depressed Cubs fans and Yankee haters. I also remember my friend Jill is at this game, and I hope she's not taking it too hard at this point.

And then comes Jason Giambi with his first and second home runs, to give us back a little hope. Mind you, at this point, I've ditched the green almond M&M's because they didn't work the first few innings. Mussina comes in and is the pitcher I always defend to people who don't feel he's a big-game guy. And then Wells gives up the homer to Ortiz, who just plain scared the crap out of me all season, earning his nickname "Scary Man." It was deflating as all hell. And then came the bottom of the 8th.

After the top of the 8th, my mom wonders why I've got all the green almond M&M's taken out of the bag. I explain to her the philosophy and she's all like "Well, you should be eating them." So, in a defiant moment, I grab all the green almond M&M's and shove them in my mouth and chew and swallow, not sure what it's going to do.

I think I shall eat green almond M&M's before all of life's big occassions, from now on.

Anyway, Pedro is finally chased from the game because the Yankee big bats finally came alive, the Stadium is going nuts and my dad and I start quoting the cartoon "Santa Claus is Coming to Town," where the Winter Warlock loses his magic powers when he becomes good, and then quietly asks for a little more magic when there's a big moment.

Oh, shut up. Like you haven't done crazy shit like this in an effort to get your beloved team a win? Yeah, I thought so.

But the Yanks leave the bases loaded, which kind of sucks, but the biggest part of the inning is that they tied the game, so I'm content at that point. And plus, Fox comes back and while 2/3 of the FAT are babbling about something, I hear "Enter Sandman" in the background and know Mariano is in there.

Just know that we have a weird/awesome playoff tradition in the Bischer house of making all the inanimate objects of our basement (where the TV is) watch the game -- the Frank Sinatra doll, these strange "Uga-booga" tiki men my grandparents bought on vacation, the Abbott and Costello "Who's on First?" dolls and Crazy Harry from the Muppet Show, are turned on their shelves to face the television, along with The Chicken. I mean, whatever works, right? So this time int he 8th, my dad turns this old sailor statue toward the TV and brings down the Old Geezer doll from the kitchen, just to see what will happen.And now you all know where I get it from. But you're not laughing because you know what happened after the 8th inning, so I rest my case. Don't knock superstition, folks.

Mariano does his thing (and he is no more "disenchanted") and my mom's starting to say she wants to go to bed, but we don't let her. So she gets a chicken cutlet sandwich, and I ask my dad "Should I wear the Chicken picture like I've done the past two Thursdays (when I was actually at the games)" even though it's now technically Friday. My dad's like "pull out all the stops."

I told my mom after the top of the 11th I was going to stand in the bottom of the inning because that's what I'd do if I was at the game. She just looks at me like I'm nuts, but she's my mom and all and doesn't say anything. Aaron Boone comes to the plate and she asks if he's any good, I shake my hand side to side as if to say "Eh." And with Tim Wakefield in there, I feel kind of discouraged.

Until the first pitch, that is.

Boone, a.k.a. "Sleepy's Brother" is suddenly Mr. Clutch and I am suddenly "OH MY GOD" ing and jumping up and down and screaming for the ball to stay fair. It does. I scream some more, jumping up and down as I watch him round the bases, my dad's out of his seat clapping and my mom looks mucho impressed.

I bound up the stairs to call Tonya (my bedroom at my parents' is the only place I get cell phone reception) and am all sorts of out-of-breath and screaming when I get leave her a voicemail (and notice there were three missed calls from her). I call Carolyn who is very freaking excited herself and I have her make sure my TV in Hoboken is taping the correct channel this time (I got Spanish-language TV instead of Fox for Tuesday's game) and it is, so I now have another tape to pull out when I need a Yankee fix.

Tonya and I finally get in touch and she screams that she's the only Yankee fan at a bar in Illinois with a few friends and she's in the bathroom, a bit tipsy (she was numbing herself through the losing innings) and celebrating the Yankee victory. I forgot to ask her if she was eating the M&M's too...

So there you have it, one of the greatest games I've ever witnessed and more delight than I've felt since almost 1996. Because to beat the Red Sox, a team I've hated/feared beyond belief the past few weeks (except for Nomar, who I respect immensly) is one big mother f'ing deal in my book. I still don't think there's a word to describe the sensation of seeing the ball leave Boone's bat, but maybe I'll come up with one in time.

For now, we'll leave it at Freaking Amazing.
OH MY GOD!!!!!! HOLY SHIT!!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!

Aaron's spanking WORKED!!!!!!

HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!!

Thursday, October 16, 2003

Today is an impromptu Take Your Chicken to Work day, as I'm going down to Middletown tonight to visit my parents for the weekend, and The Chicken, of course, has to come along. This meant he had to come with me to work, and he is so very excited -- he hasn't been in NYC since 1999. He got to ride with the commuters, read the backpages of people's newspapers on the PATH, see screaming firetrucks, pass the Yankees store, see three guys smoking pot on the sidewalk at 9 a.m., ride in an elevator and see my cubicle. And the day is still young...

Wednesday, October 15, 2003

Yankees I want to take over my knee and spank (and not in a good way):
Jose Contreras -- whap!
Jason Giambi -- smack!
Aaron Boone -- I. Told. You. Not. To. Swing. At. Bad. Pitches.
Gabe White -- slap!

But a spanking doesn't mean I love them any less. There is time to redeem themselves.

I have to admit, it was pretty cool when the Yanks came back and guys who passed the bar I was waiting outside were like "The Yanks are winning now? No shit!" Everyone in the city was paying attention to it, even the homeless people I passed. Totally cool stuff.

Tomorrow night, it'll be me, my dad and The Chicken, "against all odds."

Tonya will be watching from a hotel room in the midwest, by herself. May the force be with her.

And don't think my sense of humor has been dented by this evening's outcome. Someone found my blog by searching for "Tim McCarver Needs To Die" and I am so giggly over this at the moment, it is putting me in a better mood minute by minute.

Keep the faith, people!
To all you weirdos looking up Jeannie Zelasko -- YOU'RE NOT GOING TO FIND ANY PHOTOS OF HER HERE. SO LOOK ELSEWHERE.Thank you, and have a nice day.
David Wells is my new best friend. That's what I told my friend Jill before yesterday's game -- if he won, he'd get elevated status in my life and I keep my word about these things. So David, you can come to my next party, if you'd like.

And why did it take a 7-game series to get the Marlins any respect? All we've heard about the past week is the Cubs this, the Cubs that, and meanwhile, the Marlins knocked off the Giants who many thought were going to win the World Series this year. Just because the Marlins don't have a fuzzy-wuzzy media friendly story doesn't mean they can be counted out.

What to do, what to do about today's 4 p.m. start. Do I go to a bar after work? Stay at work and watch it? Run home? I like having this kind of decision to make...

Tuesday, October 14, 2003

OK, maybe I'm going to sound like an elitist or something for saying this, but I think non-sports fans, or as Tonya said, even non-Yankee and non-Red Sox fans should keep their mouths shut on what happened on Saturday. Because no one understands the Yanks/Sox rivalry like a Yanks/Sox fan/player. All these people (not related to either team) who are whining that the players are big babies, what a black eye on the sport, etc., didn't get the grand scheme of things that day. Sure, it looks terrible, but man, what theater it created. When all of it was going down while I was in the car, my juices got going, even more so than just being excited over a playoff game. It made me want the Yanks to kick ass even more. Even John Sterling said that even though it was a terrible thing to have happened, the passion that came out of it was something else. I'm dying to see the ratings for last night's game because I think it would only draw more interest, maybe for the wrong reasons (ie, people wanting to see a fight), but isn't this what MLB has wanted? If you're going to use promotion nights to get people out to the ballpark, which is a baseball's way of saying it doesn't trust people to show up just because they want to see baseball, what's wrong with wanting to see a little rivalry in action? Even if the rest of the nation won't get the real meaning behind it...
Uuuuuggghhhhhh. Our network server has been down at work for almost 4 hours which means no work has been done and we're on our crazy-deadline schedule today. All this means I'm going to be stuck here through the majority of, no wait, the entire game. Sigh. Tonya's run out to buy the M&Ms, sensing the crisis that will be this afternoon.

Am I the only one who thinks Mussina actually has a right to be pissed about last night's loss? Because, seriously, the man goes out and pitches a good ballgame and his offense had TONS of opportunities to bring runs across the plate but failed to do so. I'm not exactly sure it was just the knuckleball that baffled the Yanks, either, because they were swinging at stuff practically 12 feet out of the strikezone. They were pressing too hard and not using any patience and vioila! You lose. Moose kept them in the game, and sorry, but scoring only one run till the 9th inning isn't going to win you anything against the Red Sox in Fenway. Now it's time for Giambi, Soriano, Boone and the other Yankee free swingers to get on the offense bus and get a one way ticket to hitsville because striking out, lining out, popping out, etc., isn't exactly the key to success. But they know this, I suppose.

Wow. Safe to say I'm in a snit today.

But the game's on at 4, so it's something to get psyched about. It's after the soaps are on, so we should be able to keep an eye on it if all gets done in a timely fashion...

Saturday, October 11, 2003

I write this message bruised and battered, my arms feeling like they're going to fall off. What's that you say? Did I get into a fight with Pedro Martinez? Uh, no. I went hiking. Actually, it was a majority of major rock-climbing at Mohonk Resort in New Paltz. It was suggested by my friend Liana that we (her, me, Nancy, Kurt and a friend of of Liana's from work) head up there to see the foliage. But to see that foliage I ended up using every muscle I own and now feel like a punching bag. But it was soooooooooooooooo cool. It's awesome to know you can get yourself up a mountain just by strength you didn't even know you had (shout out to Kurt, the wiley explorer, for carrying my backpack for a bit. I got a little lightheaded at one point, probably from lack of sleep, and without the backpack on, I felt 100 times better. Go figure.) and when we made it to the top it was to see the awsesomest view I've seen in a long time. We had fun, too, quoting movies (Like Dirty Dancing because the place reminded me of Kellerman's from the movie, and when we passed a sign for the Employee's cottages, Nancy and I simultaneously said "I carried a watermelon."), eating lunch, taking pictures, making fun of the obnoxious climbers with loud voices. What a day. I'm so glad Liana suggested it.

So all this meant I had to listen to part of the game in the car. When I heard about Garcia getting hit, the near brawl, Evil Manny overreacting to a high pitch, the next near brawl and Zimmer getting tossed to the ground, I was freaking out. I called my parents, and my dad told me the funniest thing -- even Tim McCarver was saying Manny overreacted. I almost fainted. We got home and saw the rest of the game, but then I got home and saw the rest of the brawl inning on tape, and I loved how Fox trotted out Clemens' beaning of Piazza, as if to say "We don't want to blame Pedro too much, here, because you know, we hate the Yankees." I actually turned the tape off and refuse to watch the rest of what I missed. Because Fox? You totally suck.

And in all of this, Tonya has a birthday today. I can't go out to celebrate tonight because it hurts to even lift my arms and my knees are bruised like I've never seen them before, but I wish her a great time. She said it's made even sweeter by the fact the Yanks won, so there you go.

In closing, all I have to say is, never underestimate the power of your friends, teammates and green almond M&Ms.

Friday, October 10, 2003

I've finally figured out why I get so pissed when everyone makes the Yankees out to sound evil (or likens them to the 1980 Russian ice hockey team, as The Sports Guy does on today's, which, by the way, has three pro-Red Sox columns today), spend too much money, etc. -- it's like they're saying we Yankee fans aren't entitled to feel happy if the Yankees win. That you're allowed to enjoy a team's success only if they're a scrappy, pulls-itself-up-by-the-bootstraps, poor organization. What most of these people don't realize is that most Yankee fans were raised Yankee fans, and I'm sure as hell not going to apologize for it. I fully intend to enjoy every game the Yanks are in, as I do every season. I may have seen my fair share of winning in recent years, but I still have every right to wish my team well and live and die with them all season long. So to quote an old song, No, they can't take that away from me.
Things I hate today: Mass transit. Middle-aged, disgusting, sexual-harasser married guys from the suburbs. Sasquatches whose constant pacing is now causing me major sleep sleep depravation.

Things I love today: THE YANKEES!

Oh, what a night. I don't think I've ever been to a more exciting game and it actually got busted open at the end there. The crowd was nuts. We had Red Sox people in our section, who didn't bother us and we left them alone. But other Red Sox fans weren't so lucky. Some encouraged the jeering though, and it makes you realize that this rivalry can actually be fun sometimes. Like when the Yankees win.

And fun was in abundance last night. There was a life-size cutout of the Babe in the Bleachers, which cracked me up. The ALCS scorecard/program provided photos of Fox Annoyance Trinity, which I had fun doodling over during the tense early moments of the game. It was very stress relieving to darken a few of Steve Lyons' teeth, give Joe Buck horns and draw an arrow through Tim McCarver's head. We toasted with green almond M&Ms, and The Chicken's picture did all it was supposed to. Subway provided us with 1918 signs, which        raised over her head a few times, a la Norma Rae. The guys sitting behind us, in a very Beavis and Butthead moment were like "Yeah, we like Subway," and        was like "I'm sure you do!" I actually had to defend a Mike Mussina comment to them earlier in the game, or else they were practically ready to go find our pitcher and run him out of town. And we all sang "New York, New York" at the end because         friend        (who came in        's place) is moving back to the Midwest and it was probably her final trip to Yankee Stadium. All in all a great, great time.

Oh, but then there was the small matter of getting home. Now, this is usually a 45-minute trip. It took 2 1/2 hours last night, all because of Trains That Refused To Move. We get to the D and it leaves almost right away. But for some reason, this D train is making all local stops, which we don't figure out till we're at like 110th st. Anyway, the first car we get in is super hot, so we make the decision to run for the next car at the next stop. We get to the doors and these three middle-aged, total suburban SUV-driving, mistress-having men are standing there laughing about something. The one guy tells us that we may not want to hear what they have to say or something like that, but I just give them a big "The Yankees Just Won, Asshole, Nothing You Can Say WIll Get Me Down" grin. They start saying something about how "your Yankees won" which leads me to believe they were fans of neither team (they were too happy for Red Sox fans) and thus Corporate Seat Jackasses. Then the one guy says something about        's leg being "thick". Now, for those of you who have never seen , she is far from thick. She's actually of average height and average weight, blonde and pretty, so I think these guys thought this would get her to pay attention to them, in some sick way. So        goes "Did you just say I was fat?" And one of the guy's like "No, guys like thick thighs" or something like that, and         is still ready to rumble. Then the thick liker puts his hand around        's leg, like he's measuring it and says "That's a thick thigh" he then does the same to me and says "She has a skinny thigh." I don't know what held me back from bludgeoning this guy with my program/score card, but I instead spit out disgustedly "You have a real way with women, you know that?"         is growling something at them,         looks horrified, and the guys are laughing and the guy standing next to me says to the Thigh Master that he's "Such a womanizer," Iike this is a major accomplishment worthy of praise. So I hotly inform him "Uh, no, a womanizer actually GETS women," to which they had no response. The train mercifully pulls to a stop for us to change cars, and as we're bolting off,         tells these dickheads that she is completely out of their league, and one has the nerve to call her "Fatty", which is just at total mind-fuck because         is NOT FAT. What scares me most is that these men were all sporting wedding rings, which means they probably have three clueless wives sitting at home minding the children, waiting for the skeezoid husbands to get home from their night out with the boys. I really wanted to go back in that car and take care of unfinished business, but I was too tired and in a good mood because of the win. But you can bet if the Yanks lost, there would've been bloodshed.

ANYWAY -- so the train's going local and we realize we're going to miss the 12:12 PATH train back to NJ and we're settling for the 12:42. Except, just like last week, we sit at 59th St. for 20 minutes. They finally tell us there is a back up of trains to 34th St., so we go running around the station looking for alternate ways to the PATH Station, and finally settle on the A train. And we then write off the 12:42 train because we're so going to miss it. When we do get to the station, it's crowded, and who do we run into but Dexter and Vicki, who are on their way back from the Radiohead show. They inform us they were waiting for the 12:42, but it was actually too crowded to get on, so now, like us, they're waiting for the 1:12 (and I see hours of much-needed sleep slipping away). The train pulls in at 1:19 (UGH!), is crowded, and I'm so burnt-out, I don't follow         to hold onto the straps, or Dexter and Vicki who are at the other end of the train because I just want to hold onto the pole, no strap-hanging involved for my tired arms. I miss all the action, though, as a woman on Dexter and Vicki's end pukes all over the place -- they were spared however.

I got in around a quarter of 2, as does Sasquatch. I figure he's headed for bed, but oh, maybe not. He's stomping around till 4 a.m. and I feel the urge to break into his apartment and lay super-thick carpeting down. There's a rumor he and his roommates may be moving out. I know my faithful readers would miss Sasquatch stories if that were the case, but I gotta tell you, I'm beginning to forget what a good-night's sleep looks like. I'd be happy to see him go, in exchange for someone with smaller feet.

But the Yanks won and the game was way excellent, so everything else is minor in comparison.

Thursday, October 09, 2003

There's only one thing I hate more than all the NY-area people who are suddenly sporting brand new Red Sox caps and jackets, or suddenly on the Yankee bandwagon -- Bullies. Especially the dumb ones who don't think before they act.
Random thoughts on this somewhat cranky morning (more from lack of sleep due to loud Sasquatchian neighbor than Yankee loss):

Like Billy Joel, I am keeping the faith. The Yanks looked pretty pathetic last night, but they looked pretty pathetic in Game 1 of the ALCS in 2000 (I was there, I should know), and look what happened thereafter.

After all these years, Challenger is finally getting pissed about never getting that Derek Jeter autograph. Maybe he wants more of an award than fish for flying around the Stadium?

Sleepy in the Fox Box!!! I liked his dry humor going up against 2/3 of the Fox Annoyance Trinity (which will now be refered to as FAT) last night.

There are WAY too many commercials on Fox broadcasts. The ESPN games were a lot quicker to get back to the action.

Jim Caple of ESPN can go scratch with a broken beer bottle. I used to think he was just trying to be funny when writing bitter comments about the Yankees. Now I realize he is just bitter. And while I'm sure there are tons of fans who agree with him out there, just once, like James Ingram, I'd like to see someone go up against him and take a pro-Yankee stance. But noooooooo, being a Yankee hater is en vogue now, so we probably won't ever see a "Go Yankees" angle for a long time. Sigh.

I will be out there at the Stadium tonight, much warmer than last week. There is much to be excited about. Because like the Monkees, I'm a Believer.

Wednesday, October 08, 2003

The Chicken and I want to send a shout out to the 'rents on their 31st wedding anniversary. Even though my dad really married Janette, not Janet. And the Yankees sucked back then, so a playoff/World Series wedding did not have to be worried about at the time, so they got married at the right time. This is unlike their child, who will never get married in October for fear of missing something baseball related. I think they raised me right!
You know, there are some things at Yankee Stadium you don't hear much about, but are way cool. For instance, there is Freddy the Fan. He walks around with a frying pan that has a shamrock painted on it, and you get to bang it with a spoon to bring the Yanks luck. He usually has a different saying poster-boarded to it for every game. He even made it on the YES Network commercial about what it means to be a Yankee fan. Unfortunately, the two times I've hit the pan, the Yankees have lost, so I don't do it anymore, but I'm sure there are people out there who do bring luck by banging on it.

Last week, I didn't see or hear the familiar banging of the pan making its way around the Stadium. This may have been because I was too busy pulling my hood down over my ears to keep warm, but I hope it's not because Freddy couldn't get a ticket. I sincerely hope George realizes what he is to the Stadium and doesn't make him pay.

Also, every now and then there's this, um, hefty guy who dances to the music between innings, and as the music dies down to start play on the field, he does the "Issac" thing of pointing back at the field as if to say "Take it away, Yankees."

And let's not forget the Yankee roll call from the Bleacher Creatures. I didn't hear that too well last week, either, but the Stadium was rockin' last week during the top of the first, so that could be why.

I am so freaking excited right now, I don't know what to do with myself.
Just where was all this talk of "The Curse" and Boston's "Destiny" four years ago when the Yanks and Sox met up in the ALCS? Sure, the Babe Ruth stuff was mentioned, but it seemed everyone was more interested in Pedro Martinez, his oven mitts, and Clemens facing off in Boston. What happened in the last four years that made The Curse that much more media cool? Does sports really need a "good" story that badly? Because I know I would've enjoyed this series even without an extra angle.

Speaking of, I saw a headline that said "Marlins overcome Cubs heroics" and I was like, uh, excuse me, the Cubs blew a 4-run lead. Sure, they came back and the game see-sawed, but you blow a lead like that and that seems far from "heroic" to me.

Tuesday, October 07, 2003

Question of the day: How did Kenny Loggins' power ballad "Meet Me Halfway" become associated with "Over the Top"? It's a movie about arm wrestling. I don't quite get the connection.
Tonya and I are mucho fired up right now about the Yanks/Red Sox meeting up. Since early September, we were hoping for another team to knock them out (and it's only gotten worse, with all the media majorly harping on the curse and with the Sox's bush league tactics of late) -- from the Mariners for the Wild Card to Oakland for the Division Championship. So now it's up to our team to dispose of them. I'm not getting all cocky and saying the Yanks are going to beat their asses or something. I'll just be hoping for that.

Monday, October 06, 2003

Oh. My. God. A FOX announcer just majorly chastised Manny Ramirez for his cocky bastard antics after his home run just now. I think I am in shock.

Sunday, October 05, 2003

YAY! I am mucho impressed with the Yankee pitching staff right now. And so much for the Yanks having trouble defensively in the Dome. What a week -- I am semi spent. Thankfully, today's game had a lot of breathing room, so my stomach wasn't in huge knots for long.

I was in a bit of a bad mood when I returned to Ho for the game today. I passed a bar as soon as I got off the PATH and people were cheering because the Red Sox won, and after their classless antics of late, (The Lilly jacket thing, the Cowboy up thing, the rat poison thing, the Derek Lowe making an obscene gesture at the A's dugout thing) I've been rooting against them more than I ever have. Anyway, I got home and the Yanks turned my mood around -- and now we're going to Game 2 this Thursday! I think we will bring blankets this time...

Friday, October 03, 2003

Was it the fact that I wore a picture of the Yankee Chicken around my neck like a press credential (which got me many a weird look from people around us, but who needs them?) that brought the Yankees luck last night? Was it Tonya's "frumpy" Yankee sweatshirt? Julianna's choice of undergarments? Don baring his Jason Giambi jersey? The eating of green M&M's? Whatever it was, man it was nice to see the Yanks capitalizing and Pettitte and Rivera pitch like their old selves. We were in the last row of the right field upperdeck, shivering like crazy, but what a game.

As for the fans, I have to use the F-word -- yes, front runners. I know it was a bit chilly, but who the hell leaves a TIED PLAYOFF GAME early??? The couple to the right of me left in the 6th inning. The woman in front of us (who looked and sounded like Connie Corleone, and had the balls to brag that she hasn't had to work since she was 25) kept asking her husband "Can we leave now?" Throngs of people headed for the gates after the bottom of the 7th and that pisses me off. These people got their much-sought-after seats by their evil front-running means, and therefore shut out a real fan, who would've actually appreciated being there. Even in the cold.

There was some real entertainment on the way home. Tonya and I got on a not-crowded D train, but there were several drunk, semi-obnoxious fans riding with us. They kept starting a "Let's Go Yankees" chant which was kind of cool, and even though they were loud, it was all in good fun. Then we get to 59th St., where we got kind of disgruntled because we had to sit there for like 10 minutes. A crew of MTA construction workers piled on, complete with gigantic circular saws and flood lamps, and one of the guys noticed all the Yankee jerseys and asked the final score. He must've made a face when he heard because one of the obnoxious guys was like "What are you a Mets fan?" and he was, so lots of razzing ensued.

I was so fascinated by their funny exchanges, that I didn't notice this crazy-looking, guitar-case toting woman dressed all in black step on the train. All of a sudden I hear her voice warble "Do you have something to say to me? I heard you making fun of me." And Tonya and I just exhange an "Oh no, crazy New Yorker" glance. She's staring down this guy, another MTA worker, at the other end of the train and he's all like "I was talking to that other guy," but I don't think she believed him because she started wallking toward him and going on about disrespect. Now you can't be a crazy 50-something woman clad entirely in black with a guitar case and expect to get ignored. The drunk guys are all like "play us a tune on your guitar!" and she's momentarily distracted as she says "I don't have an ampliphier." Then she starts going on about how she had 7 pieces of musical equipment stolen from her, disrespect, blah-blah-blah. Keep in mind, we're STILL sitting at the stop waiting for the doors to close. Somebody shouts at her "Ahhh, just go home already." and she semi-shrieks "The streets are my home." Now, there is no way in hell this woman was homeless. She was dressed too well, so I think she was just some over-dramatic rich woman with a lot of time on her hands. Anyway, she's going on about this as she's stepping off the train and she's blocking the doors from closing because she really wants to start a fight with this guy, and finally she gets off. I don't know who it was, but some guy very dramatically, in a thick NY accent goes "And she vanishes, into the dark." The whole train busted out laughing. Some other guy chimes in with "That was almost better than the game!" I had the giggles over it all night, because this woman was clearly just a drama queen going up against a bunch of blue collar guys and a bunch of happy, drunk Yankee fans, and you don't see that too often.

On the way home, I ran into Carolyn, and we shared a cab with a guy going a few blocks from our place. He told us he was at the game too. I turned to Carolyn and was like "It was SO awesome when they flashed the Red Sox score and the whole stadium cheered." The guy very bitterly/sarcastically goes "Thanks. I'm a Red Sox fan." Now, I would've felt bad about trash-talking (if I knew he was fan I wouldn't have said anything, but how the hell many Red Sox fans are there in Hoboken???), but he tells us he 1)Got free tickets and sat in his company's box and 2)left in the 8th inning. Sorry, you're not getting any pity from me, Pedro lover.

Thursday, October 02, 2003

Is it evil of me that seeing that the Red Sox lost in 12 innings totally made my morning? But I don't get why everyone says the A's "shocked" them. Hello, to get to the playoffs you have to be pretty damn good, and the A's had A BETTER RECORD than the Sox this year. Where is the surprise? That Pedro gave up a few runs? That the A's used small ball to win a game? I hate forced dramatics from the media.

OK, I'm going to get things thrown at me for saying this, but I don't like Bob the Bachelor. I wasn't too keen on him during the Bachelorette (I think I wrote that his self-depreciating humor got on my nerves after awhile) and after last night's lovefest and his phony-sounding laugh, and his lame Rice-a-Roni joke, I really don't like him. He does have a sense of humor, but who the hell are women dating that he comes off as the funniest guy on the planet? He did seem nice to Trista, but so were most of the other guys. I just don't see the draw here and Carolyn is probably going to kick my ass for that. She is very protective of Bob.

Speaking of, my roommate and her sister will be in the upper deck on the third base side tonight, while Tonya, Julianna,Tonya's friend Don and I will be in the right field upper deck. We'll all be freezing -- but what a kick-ass time it will be.