Tuesday, November 30, 2004
And Rory, if you're going to be an idiot and can't see what a great guy Marty is, can I have him? I know he's like a fictional Gilmore Girls character and a college-aged one at that, but guys like him weren't exactly roaming the UD campus. But women are usually only dumb enough to ignore a guy like that on television. In real life, he'd be dating like three girls with 17 others stalking him. It's the way of the world when it comes to decent, cute guys.
We had a blast during Liana's b-day dinner last week trying to figure out what would be on the list -- so much so that we'd be talking about something different hours later and someone would go "Hey! What about..." starting the think tank all over again. Seriously, the next time you're out with your friends start rattling off your favorite quotes and I guarantee they'll probably be on the list of nominations.
My thought for winner? "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." Which, as I learned in a making-of-Gone With the Wind special, was almost censored because it was deemed too saucy or something with the word "damn" in it.
My personal fave? "You're gonna need a bigger boat." Though it is fun to trot out "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine" every now and then...
You know, when I heard Stephen King was journaling his experiences at Red Sox games like I do at Yankee games, I was all "Well, great minds think alike." Because I respect people who really are faithful to their teams and like Harry Potter and write because they love it and shit. Then he wore the Yankee Hater hat. And now he and his compatriot publish the book with this cover. Yep, the brawl starter Varitek getting all manly and tough in his full catcher's equipment against A-Rod. You couldn't show the Red Sox fans or the team winning or something?
In short, shut up, Stephen King's book cover.
Opening Day, where art thou?
Dream On, Aerosmith
Sweet Emotion, Aerosmith
Money (That's What I Want), Barrett Strong
California Girls, The Beach Boys
Good Vibrations ,The Beach Boys
Sloop John B, The Beach Boys
God Only Knows, The Beach Boys
She Loves You, The Beatles
I Want to Hold Your Hand, The Beatles
I Saw Her Standing There, The Beatles
Can't Buy Me Love, The Beatles
A Hard Day's Night, The Beatles
Ticket to Ride,The Beatles
Help! The Beatles
Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown), The Beatles
Eleanor Rigby, The Beatles
All You Need Is Love, The Beatles
Hey Jude, The Beatles
Come Together, The Beatles
Something, The Beatles
Let It Be, The Beatles
Stayin' Alive, The Bee Gees
How Deep is Your Love, The Bee Gees
(We're Gonna) Rock Around the Clock, Bill Haley & the Comets
Hallelujah, Jeff Buckley
Mr. Tambourine Man, The Byrds
I Got a Woman, Ray Charles
What'd I Say, Ray Charles
Georgia on My Mind, Ray Charles
Hit the Road Jack, Ray Charles
I Can't Stop Loving You, Ray Charles
Good Times, Chic
Train in Vain, The Clash
Pictures of You, The Cure
Go Your Own Way, Fleetwood Mac
I Heard It Through the Grapevine, Marvin Gaye
What's Going On, Marvin Gaye
Let's Get It On, Marvin Gaye
Sexual Healing, Marvin Gaye
Sweet Child O' Mine, Guns N' Roses
Everyday, Buddy Holly
I Want You Back, The Jackson 5
Beat It, Michael Jackson
Billie Jean, Michael Jackson
Piano Man, Billy Joel
Your Song, Elton John
Tiny Dancer, Elton John
Rocket Man, Elton John
You Really Got Me, The Kinks
Summer in the City, The Lovin' Spoonful
Why Do Fools Fall in Love, Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers
Sweet Home Alabama, Lynyrd Skynyrd
Like a Prayer, Madonna
Pink Houses, John Mellencamp
Enter Sandman, Metallica
Hey Ya! Outkast
Free Fallin,' Tom Petty
Little Red Corvette, Prince
When Doves Cry, Prince
Purple Rain, Prince
A Whiter Shade of Pale, Procol Harum
(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction, The Rolling Stones
Paint It Black, The Rolling Stones
Sympathy for the Devil, The Rolling Stones
Jumpin' Jack Flash, The Rolling Stones
Gimme Shelter, The Rolling Stones
You Can't Always Get What You Want, The Rolling Stones
Honky Tonk Women, The Rolling Stones
Brown Sugar, The Rolling Stones
Tumbling Dice, The Rolling Stones
The Sound of Silence, Simon & Garfunkel
The Boxer, Simon & Garfunkel
Bridge Over Troubled Water, Simon & Garfunkel
Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin), Sly & the Family Stone
Gimme Some Lovin', The Spencer Davis Group
Thunder Road, Bruce Springsteen
Born to Run, Bruce Springsteen
Born in the U.S.A., Bruce Springsteen
Da Ya Think I'm Sexy? Rod Stewart
Hot Stuff, Donna Summer
Fire and Rain, James Taylor
River Deep, Mountain High, Tina Turner
New Year's Day, U2
Sunday Bloody Sunday, U2
Pride (In the Name of Love), U2
With or Without You, U2
I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For, U2
Won't Get Fooled Again, The Who
Baba O'Riley, The Who
(Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher, Jackie Wilson
Superstition, Stevie Wonder
You Are the Sunshine of My Life, Stevie Wonder
Living for the City, Stevie Wonder
Higher Ground, Stevie Wonder
Monday, November 29, 2004
Collectively, the Sox were Sportsmen in the truest sense -- professional, collegial, colorful athletes who were easy to root for.
Professional? Did they hear anything that came out of Curtass Schilling's mouth? Pedro calling the Yankees his Daddy? Telling the public you did a shot of JD before a big game? Call them likeable or whatever, but Sportsmen of the Year? For one series? Yeah, yeah, biggest comeback blah blah blah, but it's not like they were this little sniveling team that had no chance against the big bad Yankees -- who they beat 11 times in the regular season.
Michael Phelps 1) Is 19 years old and had more pressure dropped on him by the media than any sports franchise in my lifetime. What were you doing at 19 SI writers? Probably getting drunk in college and stumbling to class like the rest of us -- not devoting your entire life to training. 2) Was the first person EVER TO WIN 8 MEDALS IN A NON-BOYCOTTED OLYMPICS -- 6 of them GOLD. 3) You want professional? How about giving up his spot on the relay team so his teammate could win a gold himself? That my friend, is an amatuer athlete embodying all that is professional. Plus, he was one of the most humble athletes I saw interviewed (Curt Schilling's looking around right now going "Humble? Is that like hobble? Like hobbling around on one foot but knowing God wants you to win for your teammates because you have the power and are the best because Jesus loves you and hates the Yankees and Yo! Vote for Bush?") during the Games at an age where it's very easy to be a cocky jackass. He behaved like someone twice his age with three times the experience. ON AN OLYMPIC STAGE. You know, that thing that happens every 4 years that only a select few get to participate in against the rest of the best from around the world? Yeah, that.
And yes, I'd be scratching my head if they picked any other person/team over Phelps. Including the Yankees.
What cracks me up the most is, dude, I think EVERY family has a set of twins somewhere along the line. Every now and then the ovary lets out more than one egg, or the fertilized egg divides and voila! Twins! It IS a pretty cool thing, but it doesn't make you a the envy of everyone because your genetics determined this for you. Your eggs aren't better than mine and your sperm ain't better than the future Complete and Total Husband's, whoever he is. And I'd be as happy for someone having one baby as I would someone having two or three or seven, so poo-poo on you.
Stop looking at me like that. I have a heart. Just not for perfectly behaved children. Anyway.
That so many movies have been made of Dickens' classic (it's been made more than 70 times into some kind of film or TV movie) tells you what a timeless story it is. To me, it just might be the most perfect book out there.You've got a stingy jackass, his overlooked/mistreated employee, greed, redmption, forgiveness and ghosts all against a Christmas backdrop. You get the backstory filled in seamlessly by said ghosts -- you see why Scrooge became the way he did, how he alienated people by doing so and what it's going to lead to if he keeps acting like an asshole. Scrooge goes through his change, it doesn't end so perfectly (i.e. he doesn't get the girl back after being a dick to her in the past because she's already married to someone else) but he wants to be a better guy and allow himself to be happy. And it happens all in one night, so it's very efficient.
Plus, it's utterly quoteable:
"7 O'clock on Christmas Eve? That's not business hours. That's drudgery for the sake of it and an insult to all men of good will." (I like to quote this when I have to work on Christmas Eve, though I'll substitute "10 a.m. for the whole 7 thing. If anyone makes you work that late anymore -- and I did while working in retail one Christmas Eve and was ready to kill someone -- they should be shot.)
"If they're going to die then perhaps they should do it and decrease the surplus population."
“If I could work my will every idiot who goes about with ‘Merry Christmas’ on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart."
"Oh! but he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner!"
How can you not love Dickens for that description alone?
Anyway, this site is awesome in that it breaks down characters and compares several movie versions with film stills -- and includes the Mickey Mouse, Mr. Magoo and Muppet versions alongside their human counterparts.
If they ever made a Yankee version of a Christmas Carol, that would so rock. George as Scrooge of course, with the ghost of Billy Martin coming back on Christmas (and he died Christmas Day which is eerily similar to Jacob Marley's Christmas Eve) to "save" George. This would've worked better back in the day, before he mellowed out somewhat, but you could still get away with Joe Torre or Brian Cashman being Bob Cratchit, maybe the ailing Giambi as Tiny Tim...
Sunday, November 28, 2004
Saturday, November 27, 2004
Now I must return to glue and sitckers and glitter pens and whatnot. Forget about all that Christmas shopping I have to do...
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
|And Ieeeeeeeeyeeeeei remember how you loved me, time was all we had until...Oh, hello! You just caught me in a Richard Marx moment! Tonya and I reference him about two to three times a week at work. I think we get bonus points if we manage to reference him and the Yankees in the same sentence. Oh, yes, it can be done. Anyway. Just wanted to say on this day before Thanksgiving that I am thankful to the man for some of the most classic cheese songs of my life, and that I am totally going to get his karaoke CD for Hoboken Idol 2005. |
I know you're all just way excited about that.
You get this a lot in New York. People are impatient by nature or something, and it's totally right to want something you're paying for to be done the right way. But it doesn't give you the right to speak to someone like they're an idiot. And I hope that dude just figured that out.
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
They can make a big deal about what a merchandising coup it's become, but I don't see anything wrong with that either. We had Cabbage Patch kids which went for a hell of a lot more money anyway. I suppose it would be better to have kids reading the Wall Street Journal and playing with flashcards than being actually being kids or something...
Anyway, the fire department shows up and leaves almost just as quick. And everyone in the building gets to rush back to the elevators at once. The rumors going around right now are that a "kid" pulled the alarm (and maybe said kid lives in my apartment building because the fire alarm got pulled AGAIN on Saturday night and I'm pretty sure our landlord is going to be apoplectic over it. I wish whoever keeps doing this would grow the hell up.) and that the bank downstairs got robbed. I wonder how these things get started?
TEN RANDOM THINGS ABOUT ME:
1. I can name all the states in alphabetical order
2. I love office supply stores
3. That toe I banged up over a month ago still hurts
4. Last night I was at a bar where a swing/jazz band played “Beyond the Sea,” the official theme song of the SS Mystique and Aura
5. Liana made us do two shots of SoCo and Lime in honor of her birthday and I hadn't done a group shot since...I can't even remember.
6. I’m pissed Lost isn’t on this week in favor of a three-hour Bachelorathon
7. Burning Heart by Survivor is stuck in my head right now
8. It feels like November is dragging on purpose just so it can take longer for baseball season to get here.
9. We're getting our apartment Christmas Tree on Sunday!
10. I think my bus crush may have smiled at me today, though he may have been amused by the absurdly bad hair day I'm having.
NINE PLACES I'VE VISITED:
1. Charlotte, NC, on two different occassions
2. Camden Yards
3. Seneca Lake, NY
4. The Bahamas on a cruise
5. St. Augustine, FL
6. Youngstown, Ohio
7. Philadelphia, PA
8. The Bathroom
9. Washington, D.C.
EIGHT THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I DIE:
1. Get Published
2. Visit the Baseball Hall of Fame (time for me to get pelted with objects from the audience for this answer.But fuck, no one I know has ever wanted to go or been already and that’s a place I’d want to share with someone, not go by myself)
3. Visit the Grand Canyon and visit Prince Edward Island and get a huge Anne of Green Gables fix
4. Take a cruise with all my buds
5. See a bald eagle in its natural habitat
6. Be at a Yankees World Series clinching game
7. Own my own home
8. Fall madly in love with a guy who's just as crazy about me as I am about him
SEVEN THINGS TO WIN MY HEART:
1. Read my blog
2. Don’t assume I’m like every other girl you’ve dated
3. Be nice to my Chicken
4. Kiss me like you mean it
5. Have a wicked sense of humor
6. Take me and my love of the Yankees seriously
7. Be a nice guy
SIX THINGS I BELIEVE IN:
1. Giving to charity
2. Being nice
3. Destiny (with an interlocking NY at the end)
4. Mystique and Aura
5. My fellow Yankee fans
6. I believe in youuu and meeee (just had to get a Four Tops reference -- forget Whitney's version -- in there.)
FIVE THINGS I'M AFRAID OF:
1. Getting blood taken
2. The New York Media
3. Never getting published
4. Sasquatch’s shoes
5. That they'll tear down Yankee Stadium
FOUR FAVORITE ITEMS IN MY BEDROOM:
1. The Chicken
2. My books
3. My laptop
4. My herbs
THREE THINGS I DO EVERYDAY:
1. Read everyone’s blogs
2. Complain about the temperature in my office with my fellow co-workers
3. Water my herbs
TWO THINGS I'M TRYING NOT TO DO:
1. Procrastinate with the book
2. Fall asleep.
ONE PERSON I WANT TO SEE RIGHT NOW:
1. Any of the YES Network Yankee game crew, as that would mean it’s baseball season again.
Monday, November 22, 2004
I love this week in New York -- 1) Every day the commuters get less and less and 2) Walking past Macy's is a treat because they close off Herald Square at night for the bands/acts in the parade to rehearse and you get a little sneak preview. All week long, you see kids in band uniforms roaming around the city, looking up in awe, and all the Christmas decorations are going up. It's a nice experience.
Factoid for those who don't know -- they make/store the floats in Hoboken, then line them up Wednesday night and transport them thru the Lincoln Tunnel to NYC. How awesome is that?
Sunday, November 21, 2004
Saturday, November 20, 2004
Anyway, the night started with the guys trouncing the gals with five pieces of the pie to our one. Then we caught up. And then we won. Some might think it's because Dexter, a pop culture knowledge power house, was rolling around Liana and Eric's kitchen floor leaving the guy's team a man down. But Christina and I know the real answer about how we won, and Jesse wasn't at all feeling bad about letting it go. I will not reveal it here, and we still probably would've won anyway, but what the hey. We won on the answer of Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, so who says chick programming doesn't get you anywhere?
But a banjoist? The hell?
Friday, November 19, 2004
The creepy part is listening to the meh couple going on about their fantasies and how after they Swing, they have sex a few times with each other when they get home. T-M-Fucking-I, meh couple.
And we are totally baffled by one piece of the Swingers vocab: Full Swap.
Tonya: And what is the definition of Full Swap?
Ken: What's the difference between a Full Swap and just a Swap?
But judging by overall creepiness of this episode, I think we might not want to find out.
Torre indicated he'd love to have Martinez in the rotation.
"Pedro's one of the elite pitchers in baseball," Torre told the Associated Press. "As a manager, you want all the toys on the shelf, there's no question."
I fail to see where Joe says he'd LOVE to have Pedro as a Yankee. It seems like he's playing the role of a good manager -- if Pedro does come, he hasn't said anything rude about him to cause fury later. I mean, come on, Post, do you expect anyone in the Yankee organization to say "No, we don't want him. He's a jackass."????
The rest of Torre's quotes:
"I don't know what's going to come of it," Torre cautioned. "Having George meet with him — he doesn't meet with people just for the sake of meeting them.
"He's certainly thinking in terms of helping our ballclub."
Yeah, not seeing the Pedro "love" here.
My gut feeling is they're doing this for a lot of show so they can drive up Pedro's price for Boston, and put the heat on Randy Johnson a bit. The Yanks are a shrewd bunch, yo. My gut's been wrong before, but something tells me this is some kind of red herring.
And can we focus on the other Martinez already? That would like, totally make my Thanksgiving.
This tends to happen a lot when you're in an already crowded elevator, which is a pain for me because my floor is the last one it stops at. This never bothered me at McGraw-Hill because the elevator stopped at the MSG network floor, the offices of the Knicks and Rangers' floor, WPLJ (a top-40 station in the NYC area) radio's floor, and WABC radio's floor, and there was always a chance of seeing a celebrity. And the elevators were like Park Ave. penthouses at 2 Penn. But now our elevators are way smaller and slow and hot, so if I see someone making the Evel Knievel death-courting jump into the doors, I get seriously annoyed.
What's even more perplexing is these are the people you see meandering slowly down the sidewalk while walking to work, as if they don't have a care in the world, much less worries of getting to work on time. So I don't get it when they turn on the jets when they see that an elevator is about to make the ascent without them. Just chill and wait for the next one. What's so hard about that?
Thursday, November 18, 2004
Nationally, the median-priced home — where half cost more and half cost less — was $186,600 in September.
$186,600 wouldn't even get you a one bedroom condo in Hoboken. It wouldn't get you a home or even a condo in my parents' neighborhood, which is an hour out of Manhattan and made up of upscale, midscale and lowscale areas.
I know, I know, people don't make as much money outside big city areas and therefore that $186,600 is probably expensive to them. But still. I have no plans to relocate, but as long as I stay in this area, I, as a single person working in publishing, will never own a home.
And that just sucks. This isn't a woe-is-me moment, because I know I could go work my ass off night and day for some financial company and make good bucks, but then you sacrifice your health and your sanity. I guess you sacrifice something with every job out there. But the idea that someday I'll be 40 and still may have to rent with two roommates scares the crap out of me. Not enough to move (because my life here rocks, despite not having a place of my own), but you get the picture.
Time to start working hardcore on that book...
In our family, my husband Jimmy is the head of the household and has the final say, because the bible says he should.
We don't agree with mothers who choose to have a career instead of being full-time moms.
Right. Because when a woman works, she's only a part-time mom. What the fuck? You are ALWAYS a full-time parent when you are a parent. Stay-at-home mom would've been the right choice of words here, because you are no less of a loving parent if you have a job.
His job is so physically tough that he comes home with calluses on his hands and his clothes filthy with dirt and sweat. Someone who works in an office or has no job is not a real man in our opinion.
Oh, yeah. I forgot. Those guys I know with who toil away at stressful office jobs don't work at all. They sit buffing their nails all day. And on their first day of work they got castrated. They're eunuchs not Real Men. Fuck off, Harris family.
I don't allow Zack to take phone calls from girls. The last time a girl called, I snatched the phone and told her "It's not a girl's place to call boys, you have to wait until a boy calls you."
So maybe that poor girl didn't end up getting her math assignment because of you and your assbackwards mindset, did you ever think of that? And god forbid a girl like your son enough to want to talk to him -- that there's one hussy little girl. You're right to keep her away from him.
I don't allow the kids to watch Sci-fi shows, rude cartoons, horror shows or wrestling.
Yeah, that Star Trek is a work of the devil all right.
I strongly believe that mothers should stay home to bring up their children. I can't believe some women choose career over kids.
Oh, shut the hell up, Dawn. Maybe some women HAVE to work. Maybe putting their kids in clothes and feeding them is important or something. Idiot.
Our 6-year-old, Annalee, sleeps in our bed. She goes to bed at 8:30 pm or 9 pm, when Jimmy does. When I come to bed at midnight I push her to the center between Jimmy and me, and she sleeps there all night.
Because only a bad mother would tell the kid to sleep in her own bed because she wants alone time with her husband, right?
These are just the highlights. I suggest checking out the actual manual yourself for some more "You've GOT to be kidding me" fare.
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
Anyway, I'm not sleeping yet, as I am watching Wife Swap, which is like watching a train wreck. The chauvenistic husband gets the woman who hates chauvenists, and the out-of-work actor/househusband gets the housewife who thinks that men shouldn't be home all day "puttering around the house." Hmm. He's doing the same thing she does, yet because he's a man (and probably doing a better job at housework than she does) it's "puttering." Her and her chauvenist husband are what make me really terrified of Middle America/Red States. TERRIFIED.
They showed Game 1 of the 1998 World Series again last night on YES. Made me wonder if the programmers are secretly trying to brainwash George into getting Tino back.
Tonya, Stephanie and I know when they'll get him back -- when Tonya puts her Tino photo away at work, as if she's given up hope of him returning, and moves on to loving a new Yankee. You see, that's how it works on soap operas. You'll see somebody lose the love of their life to what they assume is death but no body ever turned up (ie, the actor was popular enough to leave the door open for his return), so there's a slight chance he's still alive. And while their beloved is missing, they'll hold out hope that they may return and do crazy soap opera things like talk out loud to their beloved's picture. (Which we've had Tonya do, holding the photo to the side so the "camera" behind her can get it in the shot, just like they do on soaps.) Then one day they meet someone else, who's not AS great a love as their beloved, but pretty darn good (Jeter, in Tonya's case) in their own right. That's when the formerly devoted wife/husband puts away their beloved's photo, saying goodbye to it, knowing that their beloved would want them to be happy. But what the wife/husband doesn't know is that it's sweeps, and the second they put that photo in a drawer and hop in the sack with the new beloved, guess who turns up on their doorstep? Hellloooooo Beloved No. 1! And Helloooooooo Love Triangle!
But I know if this were a soap, Tonya would kick Jeter out of bed so fast his head would spin, such is her love for Tino.
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
First 10 out of 1052 songs that come off my iPod in shuffle mode:
Cool Change, Little River Band
We Can Work it Out, Stevie Wonder
Mary's Place, Bruce Springsteen, Live Giants Stadium 8/31/03
Angel Eyes, Frank Sinatra
Early in the Morning, The Gap Band
Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, Sergei Rachmaninoff
Ain't Too Proud To Beg, The Temptations
In the Half Light of the Canyon, A River Runs Through It soundtrack
It Takes Two, Rob Base & DJ EZ
You're the One For Me, D Train
I don't have much newer stuff on the pod. Not that I don't like new stuff, but I refuse to buy something I'm going to be sick of in three months because it's so overplayed on the radio.
(I saw you)
Hey hey baby how ya doin' come on in here
(Walking in the rain)
Got some hot chocolate on the stove waiting for you
Listen first things first let me hang up the coat
(You were holding hands and I'll)
Yeah how was your day today
Did you miss me
(Never be the same)
You did? Yeah? I missed you too
I missed you so much I followed you today
(I saw you)
That's right now close your mouth
'Cause you cold busted
(Walking in the rain)
Now just sit down here, sit down here
I'm so upset with you I don't know what to do
(You were holding hands and I'll)
You know my first impulse was to run up on you
And do a Rambo
(Never be the same)
I was about to jam you and flat blast both of you
But I didn't wanna mess up this thirty-seven hundred dollar lynx coat
So instead I chilled -- That's right chilled
I called up the bank and took out every dime.
Than I cancelled all your credit cards...
I stuck you up for every piece of jewelery I ever bought you!
Don't go lookin' in that closet 'cause everything you came here with is
packed up and waiting for you in the guest room. What were you
You don't mess with the Juice!
I gave you silk suits, blue diamonds and gucci handbags.
I gave you things you couldn't even pronounce!
But now I can't give you nothing but advice.
Cause you're still young, yeah, you're young.
And you're gonna find somebody like me one of these days . . .
Until then, you know what you gotta do?
You gotta get on outta here with that alley-cat-coat-wearing,
punch-bucket-shoe-wearing crumbcake I saw you with. Cause you
That's right, Silly rabbit, tricks are made for kids, don't you know
that. You without me is like corn flakes without the milk! This is my
world. You're just a squirrel trying to get a nut! Now get on outta
Don't touch that coat...
There is so much awesome about this (and if you ever get to see the video on VH1 Classic, make sure you stop what you're doing to take a look because it's even better acted out), I don't know where to begin.
Is it the fact that he was going to "do a Rambo?" The term stone-cold busted? That he's so fed up, leaves her with no access to cash? No, it's probably "You gotta get on outta here with that alley-cat-coat-wearing, punch-bucket-shoe-wearing crumbcake I saw you with. Cause you dismissed!" Man, I have to remember that for an insult someday.
And let's not even get into the cereal and animal similies in the closing lines...Awesome, just awesome.
ENOUGH WITH THE OLD GUYS. The Yanks don't need Randy Johnson, David Wells AND Al Leiter -- choose one and just go with it. And then make a serious play for Eric Milton. I'd hope for Johnson out of those three. I loved Boomer, but I can't get out of my head that he blew Game 5 of the 2003 World Series simply because the man doesn't take care of himself. You gotta wonder how much he has left in him. And Leiter? I dunno. His ERA is decent, but let's remember he didn't have a DH to deal with for eight years. I'm always leery of NL pitchers coming over to the AL (and he hasn't been in the AL since 1995) because they always seem to bite us in the ass. Whatever. I'm not the decision maker here but I would hope common sense prevails -- there's an aging pitching staff in desperate need of someone young who can handle the pressure. Two of that sort would be great. Let's just hope they can find them.
Monday, November 15, 2004
This part of the story just cracked me up:
"Remember that guy who used to be called 'Wild Thing?'" the ads say as a middle-aged couple shop, looking in the window of a lingerie store. "The guy who wanted to spend the entire honeymoon indoors?" Later, blue horns sprout from the frisky man's head with "He's back" written on his forehead. The horns morph into the letter "V" of Viagra.
"Blue horns sprout from the frisky man's head"...now that's something you don't get to write everyday as an AP reporter.
|What is that hideous thing in the photo, you may ask? Oh, that is just a replica of the awesomest Thanksgiving platter EVER (onsale at eBay for like 3 bucks). That's the platter my father and I insist on using for the Bischer Turkey, while my mom's always like "Can't we use the nice china one?" The answer is no. Nothing can match the fabulosity of the plastic, 1970s platter from Two Guys. The drawing itself (a giant stoned-looking multi-colored turkey with a little shack and stick-figure pilgrims in the background) is classic, and I'm way impressed that the eBay seller actually displayed it like it's a work of art. |
This, coupled with my mom's homemade bread and the annual listening of Alice's Restaurant make for a great holiday. Not as filled with "tradition" as our family Christmases (more on that next month), but awesome just the same.
This comes after I finally succumbed to watching Under the Tuscan Sun last night, which I didn't want to do because I loved the book (a nonfiction work) so much and I knew the movie had very little to do with the actual thing it was taken from. The movie was OK because Diane Lane is exxtremely likeable, but I don't get why they used the title of the book when the only thing the movie and story had in common was the act of buying a house in Tuscany and renovating it.
I hope to god if I ever write a book and it becomes a movie that it goes into good hands. Writers usually lose all creative license over their stuff once they sign over a book for movie rights, so it's always a risk. JK Rowling, being that she's JK Rowling, had total input into the making of the Harry Potter movies, and in that case it was completely the right thing to do. If not, god knows what Hollywood dumbasses would've done to muck it up -- and you should be smacked if you retool any part of the Harry Potter world.
Maybe I should actually finish writing a book before I go worrying about the prospect of Hollywood trying to steal my baby...
Sunday, November 14, 2004
"The fact that I got what I got, I deserved every bit of it because I was brought here to help win a championship and we didn't get that done," Rodriguez said. "Therefore, we failed. I don't think you can point your finger at any one guy because we win and lose as a team. But if you had to point a finger, I think you would point it right at me."
Jack Curry lets A-Rod do all the condemning of himself, which is quite refreshing over having to hear some wormy columnist go on. And on. And on. And on about it with what comes across as malicious intent.
A-Rod also gives his opinion on Schilling's constant ripping of him (side bar: He of the Most Holy Bloody Sock goes on about A-Rod's slap being junior high schoolesque, when I just realized he behaves exactly like the biggest most popular junior high school bitch in your class -- he won't stop talking about you because, aw, he doesn't like you. And like that insecure 13-year-old beeotch, he is an attention whore) and steers clear of any personal attacks. At least for now. Can't wait to see how that plays out next season...next season, where are you?!
And Bernie as Rambo? Tee hee.
Saturday, November 13, 2004
In Regency Life:
Hermits were contracted to live on estates for a period of time - usually seven years - where they would act as a curiosity and status symbol for the host. Living in a small hermitage on the estate, they would be expected to feed themselves with game and forage.
This idea just has me...laughing. "Hey, I have a Hermit living on my property, aren't I just the awesomest?" Or you could be a Hermit and just live rent free for simply being a "curiosity." I don't know if I'd rather be a Hermit or have a Hermit. Because on the episode I saw, the Hermit was all about dispensing wisdom, and that's a hot commodity right there:
"Hey, Hermit, how do I go about chopping off Sasquatch's ginormous feet?"
"Hey, Hermit, did he not call because he's playing games or is he Just Not That Into Me?"
"Hey, Hermit, do I want to take the bus or PATH today?"
I don't have a small hermitage on my estate, er, in my apartment, so I suppose he could live in the garage or in the washer/dryer closet...or, ooooh! In the little gated area around my building's door! It can finally have a function!
You know the neighbors would be totally jealous. I'm so going to find one...
Friday, November 12, 2004
At least I get to power trip with the roommates being out of town this weekend. Perhaps I'll be all Tom Cruise-like and sock-slide across the apartment floor to Old Time Rock 'N' Roll. I don't get to do that enough.
I may be a sports traditionalist, but I'd be all for instant replay during the playoffs. Not in the regular season, not on balls and strikes, and maybe not on "safe" or "out" at first through third base. But on home runs, ground rule doubles and maybe plays at the plate, I wouldn't object to it because that's when games are majorly on the line and I'm tired of seeing fucked up calls in those situations. And yes, I count the Jeter/Jeffrey Maier homer in that. I don't think it's un"pure" to want to see the right call made, afterall...
I was freaking out in the dreams for various reasons but never for the big one, like, Who the hell is the father? Shouldn't that be a priority question right there? Maybe it was someone scary like Sasquatch and that's why I wasn't supposed to know? So I'm going to let my readers decide Who's The Daddy (not to be confused with Pedro Martinez). Yankeebob's poll inspired me to make my own, so now it's in your hands, good readers!
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Smitten: I don't know -- this is such a charming word to me. So much better than "having a crush."
Fucko(™ Stephanie): A great word for describing excruciatingly annoying people. As in "Curt Schilling, that damn fucko."
Effervescent: It just sounds so fresh and fun!
Punkin: Not pumpkin -- punkin. That's what they call it in some parts of Delaware.
Jackass: I probably use this term in a few posts a week. Very good adjective for people I hate.
Tree: A little word for such a big thing.
Pony: I picture a little horsey when I hear this. I like little horsies.
I'm Butterchurning and Batmanning in my swivel chair, I'm so pysched about this.
You've got a bunch of way different characters, all with crazy backstories, all trying to survive and all actually looking dirty and scruffy. Most Hollywood shows would have everyone cleaned up and pretty in every episode despite the lack of showering. And the best thing about Lost is that it lets you try to figure things out for yourself instead of telling you what to think, which I like. And it uses the whole psychological element of being stuck away from civilization for what could be a very, very long time and people coming to grips with that. Though I fail to see what's so horrible about being stranded on a tropical island with a bunch of hunky guys. OK, I'd miss blogging and the Yankees, but the eye candy...rowr.
So if you haven't caught it yet, give it a chance. You can catch up and I'm sure reruns will start airing after sweeps. In a time where bad sitcoms and stale reality programs are clogging the airwaves, it's nice to have something that actually sparks your imagination.
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Also, the sports dudes were saying that the reason he deserved it over Randy Johnson is because the Astros probably wouldn't have made it into the playoffs without Clemens. I have a problem with that because 1) As my dad said, it's not the MVP award you're giving out here and 2) But if that's the case, then what about Roger blowing their chance at the World Series because he fucked up in Game 7?
Whatever. What's done is done. I haven't trusted sports writers with their awards selections since they gave Rafael Palmiero the Gold Glove over Tino, when Raffy only played like 28 games at first base all season. I still get angry over that...
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
So I was originally supposed to get a Mazda or “equivalent” mid-sized car from Hertz. But when I got there, the Mazda wasn’t back yet, so the lady’s all like “How about the Monte Carlo?” and I’m all “I wanted a mid-sized car not a boat” but before I can say it she’s like “Oh, and there’s a Mustang too.” Yeah, so I opted for the silver ‘Stang. That just happened to have Massachusetts plates. I was not amused by that because 1) Massachusetts=Boston=Red Sox=My Lack of Happiness In October and 2) A Mustang with Northern plates in the South? I thought my ass was going to get a ticket for sure. Despite that I freak if I find myself going anywhere over 75 MPH.
The car itself was pretty nice, except for the big cigarette burn in the driver’s seat. I got to bond with it over the 1325 miles, so we became friends quickly.
OK, that rain I was so worried about? Yeah, I had good reason to be. Probably some of the worst driving conditions I’ve ever had from NJ to Northern Virginia. The Chicken was hiding under his seat during most of it. Not that he could see much through the torrential downpours anyway.
After the rain passed, it was smooth sailing. It’s only two main roads to get to Charlotte, so I thought I was all home free when I got off I-95 onto I-85. I was all excited when we crossed the state line and passed the sign that said “Welcome to North Carolina!” And then I saw that we had at least 230 miles STILL TO GO. Just so I can set you right, I got into NC at 6 p.m. I didn’t get to Hollis and Chris’ place till 9:45. That’s one big mother f’ing state.
When I pull in, Hollis is all “Oh my god…Massachusetts plates?” and looks at my sympathetically. And she’s not even a baseball fan, people.
Hollis and Chris have the awesomest apartment ever. Almost everything around Charlotte is brand new, and their place is only 3 years old. They have a fireplace! And a balcony! And lots of parking spaces (people in Hoboken know just how key this is). And a Target/Chik-Fil-A/Borders across the street! And they have their very own Sasquatch. Though theirs is a girl, and somewhat muffled by the wall-to-wall carpeting. They made me feel very at-home during my stay.
The Southern Things I Did:
-- Checked out the city of Charlotte…and thought I was going to die when this ginormous screeching/roar went overhead. We were in Hollis’ car, and in the span of a few seconds my mind was thinking “That-can’t-be-an- airplane-unless-it’s-coming-down-oh-my-god-I’ve-left-New York-only-for-the-terrorists-get-me-in-Charlotte.” I think Hollis may have been thinking the same thing. That’s when Chris figured out it might be a military flyover for the Panther’s game. Sure enough, a few seconds later, we see this shadowy thing zip across the sky, followed by another screechy we’re-all-going-to-die roar. It headed over the stadium, which, coolly enough, is located within walking distance of the city. This stuff is odd to a person whose football teams play a few miles from the city their named for.
-- Ate biscuits and gravy for breakfast; Southern fried chicken and hush puppies in a barbecue place called Bubba's; And lots of Chik-Fil-A.
-- Hollis and I took a trip out to see the birthplace of Peter Gammons -- I mean Andrew Jackson. We went through the town's little museum and I made sure to get a picture of the display labeled "The War Between the States," because apparently no one really likes to call it the Civil War down there. The small town area was very cute, so we decided to walk around a bit. We passed this one building with a HUGE Bush/Cheney sign and I'm all "Oh, look, we found the town's Republican headquarters." Oh, but it wasn't. We get closer and there's a giant Confederate flag in the window, and as we get passed the open front door Hollis goes "It's a GUN SHOP, there's a shocker." Now, I may have grown up around NYC, but I have never seen an actual gun shop in person. The gun section in K-Mart, yes, but not a whole store devoted to guns 'n ammo. So that was a first for me.
-- Southern Wal-Mart. And I know it was considered a Bible Belt Wal-Mart because the special spirituality magazine my company worked on (don't ask. We were all traumatized by it) had the Jesus cover, which was only going to Bible Belt states (the non Bible Belt states got different covers). I was also way psyched to be in a store that had a full-on hunting department. I almost bought myself a camoflage thermos, because you never know when you might get thirsty while hiding up in a tree in Hoboken.
The Journey Back
-- Much better than the way down because the rain decided to stay away. I also broke up the trip by having lunch with Heather in Chapel Hill. Almost the first words out of her mouth when she gets in my car? "MASSACHUSETTS plates?" She's a Yankee fan, so of course she sympathized.
-- Saw what may have been a fox or a coyote hanging out by the side or 85 in Virgina, which makes me remember that I saw tons of roadkill that didn't look like any animals we have here in the Northeast.
-- I almost threw my arms around the state of Delaware when I got to it. Because after all those trips to the First State for college, I knew I was only 2 hours from home.
-- This morning I'm telling my parents about the car and how I was afraid I'd get pulled over for having Massachussets plates down in Dixie. And my dad's all "MASSACHUSETTS plates?" Yeah, can't wait to hear Tonya, Steph and the crew of the Mystique and Aura's reaction to this one now.
-- Hollis, for driving me into South Carolina just so I could mark it off from my East Coast States I've Been To list. Only Georgia and Maine remain. And for showing me an awesome time down in NC.
-- Chris, for DVR'ing The OC for me because he remembered it from my blog. That's what friends are for, yo. He also helped figure out that the remote-control car/leaf blower noise coming from my car was a result of lack of power steering fluid. So he like, totally saved my ass before my ride home. I would've been all "La-di-da...hey, why can't I turn the wheel?"
-- Tonya, for calling with the news of the Tino May Come Back Rumor. It totally made my Friday.
OK, now I'm off to eat lunch and get ready to organize The Chicken's photos. He's not so smart as to learn how to do this himself. Hmph.
Monday, November 08, 2004
More tomorrow. With photos. I promise.
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
In all seriousness, it does strike me as odd that the people who say they voted for Bush because he's tough on terrorism come from areas of the country that aren't exactly targets. Like Utah. Or Nebraska. If you notice, all the states directly affected by 9/11 went away from Mr. Tough as Nails. Shouldn't that be like a sign or something?
I woke up this morning to Matt Lauer talking to Chris Matthews about what went wrong with the Democrats this time round. Matthews seemed to think it was because the Dems were lacking a Presidential candidate with a Southern accent. And while I hate the notion that an accent is what gets you places (and the fact that this shows just how much power the South has over this country), this will always be a country that will go around and ask the question "Which candidate would you rather have a beer with?" and most people said Bush this time. I'd personally rather drink alone than with either Bush or Kerry, but I think this did hurt the Democrats significantly. Kerry lacks charisma, and that may not be central to running a country, but it sure as hell helps you get in office.
But back to the accent thing -- I get this feeling if Bush didn't have that down-home twang in his voice, it's doubtful he'd be running the US right now. Apparently stupidity is OK when you have a Southern accent, but if he'd been as clueless as he was in the debates with a New England lilt, he would've be dead in the water. So my theory is next time around, let's have two non-accented candidates, mmkay?
Like attracts like, and unfortunately, there are more people in the United States who can relate better to Bush than Kerry. Forget the real issues, I'm convinced that's what this election came down to. And that just sucks.
If I'd known that before all this, I would've seriously voted for Joe Torre. Now that's a man I can relate to.
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Ah well, The Chicken is going to be my co-pilot, so I feel safer already.
It's sad, but after voting for the lesser of two evils in 2000, I swore to myself I'd never vote again for a candidate I didn't at least 75-percent like. Well, these are strange times we live in and I found myself in the booth this morning feeling pretty jaded again.
If historians come across this blog in like 200 years, know that I didn't go into that booth and get to vote for someone who I thought would make this country great. No, I had to vote for the man who I thought would mess up my country the least. And that's just damn depressing to me.
Excuse me while I go hum a few bars of America the Beautiful.
Monday, November 01, 2004
But now it comes out that the Sox were doing shots before the game. I hope to god this wasn't the reason they missed the anthem. I don't care how political or unpolitical you are, missing the national anthem just looks bad, like you're too good for it or something and the rest of us are just standing there for our health (or lack of it, in my case that night). Do shots before games, whatever... precarious, but whatever. But to miss your national anthem for it? Something about that just bothers me, and I ain't exactly no flag-waver.
You want to know why Brosius and O'Neill and Knoblauch and all your other players with "true grit" aren't playing now? BECAUSE THEY RETIRED. If they were still on the field right now, they'd be limping around the bases. Listen to how ridiculous and spoiled you sound, people. You long for the days of yore when, aside from spotty pitching, you've got some of the purest natural talent to ever take the field in your ballpark 81 games a year in pinstripes right now. They won 101 games for you this season. Inspite of a lack of pitching. WIth 61 comebacks. If that ain't some kind of chemistry or heart, I don't know what is. Oh, right, chemistry only comes about on World Series winning teams. I forgot.
This current team didn't lose because of a lack of heart or chemistry or from missing "fire in their eyes" or because the Lord walked with Schilling or because A-Rod is cursed. They lost because the Red Sox were better in a 7-game series. THAT'S IT.
And to the reader who wants to ditch Steinbrenner -- did you enjoy those last four World Series titles? Because the Yanks still had one of the highest payrolls in all those years. Yes, with your players who you claim had so much more "heart" than the ones taking the field right now. George is shelling out money to make YOU happy so he makes more money. It's for his benefit, yes, but he needs you to be responding at the ticket window to do so. He appears to do things without thinking sometimes and makes some bad moves, but he's not doing it to piss us all off. He's just a human being with a lot of money who wants to win. I'm sorry we don't have Saints Lucchino, Selig, or Colangelo running things for you.
Damn, I wish it were next season already.
But behold, this NY Times editorial, noting that it's happening in NYC too:
So these people, who cling to their enemy's enemy, I understand. It is the others I don't get, the yuppies and bohemians in the Turkey's Nest who were cheering as Alaskan-born Curt Schilling, he of a professed distaste for New Yorkers and their attitude, mowed through the Yankee batting order. Since when, I wondered, had the Yankees worn out their welcome?
The writer is a lifelong Yankees fan, like myself, so I know what he's feeling here: How can you turn on the hometown team (Met fans exempt from this of course) for another one that uses the Yankee model (you make money on a team, you damn well spend it on your team instead of pocketing it, which many people claim is their reason for "hating" the Yanks) to win? Actually, it's probably because many of these so-called Yankee "fans" live their life on the bandwagon, so they've jumped onto the Red Sox Express. But Jesus Christ, you move to this town to work here, you have no allegiance to the Sox or the Mets, yet you'll root whole heartedly against the home team probably for no better reason than because ESPN.com or some Yankee-hating columnist told you to? Whatever. I'm not a big fan of fickle people, so maybe that dislike just manifests itself in stupid sports fans.
I guess I should be happy these people have vacated the Yankee premesis and pray they never come back...or just make sure my aim on the paintball gun is true.
Maybe I should go up to Steinbrenner and be all "God wants me to be Poet Laureate of the Yankees. Therefore it must be so. I don't have to work for it or anything, you just have to give it to me" and see what happens...
Stepping down from the soapbox now....