Friday, December 31, 2004

Party Boat

Arr, mateys. Methinks -- actually, meknows -- one of our crew is turning another year older on this last day of the year. Time to bust out the birthday grog and make one of our prisoners a piñata and celebrate!

So happy birthday to Matt, from whom I learned that you can befriend someone online, meet them in person, and neither party would end up murdered and chopped into little pieces and scattered about the woods like in a crappy yet awesome Lifetime movie or something. In fact, meeting the author of the UberPlexer was totally one of the bright spots of 2004. Here’s hoping his b-day and year are as fabulous as a 114-win season.

Thursday, December 30, 2004

He's Lucky I'm in a Good Mood

Jim Caple should thank his lucky stars that the Tino move has me giddy at the moment. Because I could go off on my normal tirade about the absolute Yankee hate at espn.com, but I've decided just to focus on this paragraph.

The endless celebration of Red Sox fans has been especially difficult for Yankees fans, who are accustomed to politely keeping their passionate feelings to themselves. Such is not the case with Boston's arrogant, obnoxious fans. Sadly, they insist on flaunting their lucky break now that they have won half as many World Series as the Florida Marlins have since 1997.

Since this whole column is laced with sarcasm, are we supposed to believe that Boston fans aren't arrogant and obnoxious? Ummm...

Anyway, you're probably thinking "Karen Ann Bischer, what in god's name are you doing reading a Page 2 story when you know it'll just end up giving you an extreme case of agita?" and I have to say I was thinking the same thing. But maybe I was hoping deep down that there might be something unhateful about the Yanks written at some point on that site.

I guess today wasn't that day. Ah well. Tino's Back!!!

And There Was Much Rejoicing!

MOTHER FREAKER! He's coming back!!!! It's not 100 percent official, but if MLB.com is reporting it, that's something.

Tonya, who is in the Yankee sports vacuum known as Iowa, has been apprised of events. I think she is in shock.

And to quote my mother, upon hearing the news: "Ooh good. Now they get more good looking!"

I can scarcely believe it. Thank goodness for Shannon because no one else is reporting this yet. It totally made my night.

Whee!!

Third Time's The Charm?

So -- do we believe it?

Year in Review

So 2004 is almost over. Thank god. This year, to put it mildly, kinda sucked. It blew goats on the baseball end. I got disappointed a lot. My heart got stepped on a few times. Friends and family had rough years. It just wasn’t a great one overall.

But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t without its bright spots. So I give you my 2004 in retrospect via old posts:

The Perfect Day: Jesse invited the Crew down to his Shore house, and it was the most relaxing weekend ever. That Saturday rocked. We lounged around the beach, came back and had a relaxing barbecue on the deck overlooking the lagoon, drove up to Lakewood to see Eric’s friend Jeff possibly pitch for the DelMarva Shorebirds against the Blue Claws, had a beautiful night for baseball, went out with Jeff for drinks where while Eric and Jeff caught up, I divulged my story plot to Liana and Jesse, we drive Jeff back to his hotel and try to contain an intoxicated Eric when we pull up next to a guy on a white motorcycle and they start conversing, narrowly avoid getting arrested by a cop, drive thru the Pine Barrens with the moon roof open and a crapload of stars in the sky and get home to gaze upon what might just be the milkyway. Sounds kinda simple, but it when you gather good friends and good weather, it’s gotta be perfect.

The Best Game: Damn if that July 1st game still doesn’t put a smile on my face. It was also fun the night before to walk into a Red-Sox fan laden bar with Tonya and Julianna, the three of us dressed in our Yankee finest, and enjoy the dirty looks they sent in our general direction.

OK, I just realized I’m too lazy to write about every single post, so let’s simplify a bit.

Things I learned this year:

I have a pretty good arm when I’m throwing a remote control.

People will believe you when you say you’re in love with Sasquatch.

I can drive 12 hours by myself (well, with The Chicken) and walk away not getting kidnapped by some crazy trucker or whatever my mom thought was going to happen to me.

My apartment can accommodate lots of people for parties.

I can make a trip to St. Scary’s and live to tell about it.

When necessary, one must walk barefoot through the streets of Hoboken.

Hoboken Idol 2005 is going to have a lot to live up to.

And of course, there was the playoffs. One of the biggest lessons I learned was that the Red Sux beating the Yanks in the ALCS would not indeed kill me as many thought. I think this is a good sign because I’ve now suffered through the worst-case scenario and survived, which means I can live fearlessly as a fan from now on.

I still think I deserved some kind of merit badge for going to a game while pretty damn sick on one of the worst weather nights of the year, no less. But I’m proud to say that I did NOT go into pneumonia as a result, so nanny-nanny poo-poo.

That brings us to my most favorite post of the year. It was a post that almost didn’t happen because the tickets were originally supposed to go to season-ticket crew friends Jennie and Frank. But they had a prior engagement, so Tonya and I, despite being dead tired from being at the sucky-ass ALDS Game 1 the night before, ventured out to the Bleachers for Game 2. It ended up being one of the most amazing things I’ve seen in my life, and I love going back and looking at that post because I wrote it in a state of delight that I wouldn’t have been able to replicate the next day. Sure, the Yanks blew it in the next round, so this game might not count for much in the grand scheme of things, but at that moment all was right with the world and I’m glad I had a blog to capture that all-too-brief feeling of perfection.

So I guess the year was pretty bittersweet. Let’s just say I’m all for kicking off that bitter part and just leaving the sweet for 2005. Here’s hoping…

Loud? I'll Give You Loud!

Sasquatch is blasting country music right now (Yeah, I don't know. He's the last person I'd suspect to like country music). Time for me to show him the true meaning of loud. Perhaps a little Enter Sandman on the Bose?

Wednesday, December 29, 2004

Patience is a Virtue I Sorely Lack

So Randy says he's coming soon.And the Star Ledger is saying Tino's return is contingent upon the Yanks signing Beltran. These two deals have just brought to the forefront my tragic flaw -- impatience. I mean, come ON already! Well, that's what I'm thinking on the inside. I know this stuff takes time, but my whole life, whenever there's something good that can happen, I always want it to happen sooner than later. I guess because I'm afraid maybe it will fall apart or someone else will end up getting what I want instead leaving me sad. Though I think a lot of it stems from the fact that for the things I've really wanted in life, it took a LONG time for them to come to fruition:

Getting a dog: I wanted one since I could talk. I got one when I was 12.

Getting into Delaware: I sent my application out in November. People who sent theirs out after me got their acceptance letters in January. I didn't get mine till St. Patrick's Day. That's not so long when you think about it, but as a senior in high school trying to make college plans, this sucked. I'd even given up on getting in.

The Yankees winning the World Series: That took 18 years since I couldn't remember them winning in 1978. Though they sure as hell made up for the drought, now didn't they?

Moving to Hoboken: I wanted to do this as soon as I graduated from college but couldn't afford it. It took three years to end up here. And life here is way excellent either way.

I guess what I should've learned from all this is that it doesn't matter when you get something, it's that you do get it. However, when there are things you'd like to happen very much, especially something that can potentially be awesome, you get a little antsy.

Perhaps this is something I should work on in 2005 as the saying is "The best things in life come to those who wait." Or maybe I should just convert all that impatience to my writing as I seem to have all the patience in the world when it comes to that and it should be the opposite. Hmm....

Tuesday, December 28, 2004

Another Yankee Farewell

Hopefully, Eddie Layton's playing the Hammond Organ at the big baseball game in the sky right now. I can't tell you how sad this makes me. Up until last year when he retired, Layton was the only organist I ever heard at The Stadium.

I wonder if there will be a tribute on Opening Day/Night....

Monday, December 27, 2004

Any Questions?

Stolen from Yankeebob because I need some good ideas of books to read:

(A) First, recommend to me:
1. a movie
2. a book
3. a musical artist, song, or album

(B) Ask me three questions, no more, no less. Ask me anything you want. Answers will be posted as soon as I read them because I'm on vacation this week and that means free time. Woo-hoo!!

(C) Then go back to your blog, copy and paste this allowing your friends to ask you anything; say that you stole it from me.

If It Ain't Broke...

I'm never upgrading my phone again. Not only do I not get service in my parents' house, which I fled today because both Mom and Dad are sick (not with what I had though, thankfully), but I get none in my apartment, either. This is what I get for thinking "Oh, it's been over 22 months, I should see about getting a new phone!" But the Verizon operator just told me I can get another phone because I'm in the first 15 days of the new one or something like that. Still, this means having to go into the city during my week off and go to the Verizon store. Grrr... Perhaps I can work in a trip to J Crew while I'm at it....

Sunday, December 26, 2004

F.Y.I.

If anyone's trying to reach me via cell and I'm not answering/texting back, it's not because I hate you. I got a new upgrade phone today and for some reason, it's not picking up the signal at my parents' house as well as the old phone. When I called to figure this out (and it's a good question because lots of people have cell phone trouble here) the operator was all confused because there are towers everywhere since this is like Suburbia, man. Then she asked for my street address and when she pulled it up on a map she was all "a ha! You live near water." Which is somewhat of an understatement since my neighborhood is kind of a peninsula with a lake on one side and the Navesink River surrounding the other two sides. Turns out this affects cell signals or something like that.

Anyway, to review: KB doesn't hate you. She just has crappy reception.

Saturday, December 25, 2004

Merry Christmas, Sasquatch!



Ah, my parents have given me the gift that keeps on giving; a gift that will give me the finest form of revenge possible on a certain big-footed party animaling neighbor -- the gift of loud, crystal clear sound. Behold, The Bose speaker/dock for the iPod. People, the sound on this thing is INSANE. And it's light enough to hold over your head against the ceiling. So I absoultely cannot wait till Sassy has a Riverdance Party at 4 a.m. because I am so waking up at 7:30 and blasting the theme from the Magnificent Seven at full volume. I'm just giddy at the prospect.

Until then I'll have to have a dinner party or something to break it in...

I've Got this Feelin' That Won't Subside

So, with another successful Bischer Christmas gathering in the books and the cleanup complete, my mom, The Chicken (he came home for the holidays too. I mean, he's family, yo) and I gathered around the TV to watch the last half of that Yuletide classic, Dirty Dancing. My mom was all "I was getting into this a few weeks ago and then your father wanted to watch something else," so she wanted to see how it ended. Even though I DISTINCTLY remember being 10 years old and my mom's best friend coming over with the video all excited because she and my mom thought Patrick Swayze was the bees knees or something like that and they forbid me to go anywhere near the TV while it was on, lest it be too racy. Too bad the by the next summer I could go around quoting it because I had at least three friends with their own copies. Anyway, The Chicken now thinks he'd make a fabulous dance instructor at a Catskills resort, just like Johnny Castle, if given the chance. I think it's because he heard Mr. Swayze landed a lot of ladies because he could dance.

And speaking of Hungry Eyes (I just heard the loud groan from the peanut gallery. Forgive me. It's late and one look at you and I can't disguse... I mean, needed a segue) I got to eat solid food today! And I dug right in with an Italian sausage sandwich (sans peppers, which I can't eat even when I'm healthy anyway), which is agreeing with me, so I've got the greenlight for prime rib tomorrow. Now did I take you by surprise?

I should be getting to sleep now or Santa will never come...that reminds me, I should lock the door...

Thursday, December 23, 2004

Wrong, Just Wrong

Point Pleasant NJ = San Diego, CA? I think not. It's bothering me now that I think about it, because why couldn't they just make up a name for a town instead of using one that actually exists?? That they're totally going to fuck up on stuff? Or why not have set it in San Diego? What, the devil can't live in California or somewhere other than NY with all us evil Yankee fans? Sigh.

Road to Recovery

Can I tell you how much it sucks to only be able to eat "clear" foods? I'm sorry, broth does NOT fill you up. I know, I know, doctor's orders, but last night my dad made popcorn (plain on the stove, not microwaved and buttery) and I felt A LOT better after eating some. Perhaps today I can finally eat some...rice. Lucky me!

It's weird because only today do I feel megasore. That's the worst part about throwing up is the feeling in your abs a day later, like you've done a ton of situps. Well, I feel like I've been training for the Navy SEALS that's how sore I am. Even my back hurts and I have no idea why as I've been laying down almost the entire last two days. The IV'd arm feels better, though, so I'll be back to pitching in no time!

If only there was a Yankee Classic game on today...wait a sec, I'm at my parents' house, where my entire stock of playoff games/no hitters/cool games is stored! Oh, decisions, decisions...

Wednesday, December 22, 2004

This Sox

Oh, El Duque :( We'll miss you so.

What Did YOU Do Last Night?

Wehehell, boy did I have an interesting night! All that throwing up? Eventually led to other kinds of stomach grossness and yours truly was running to the bathroom every 15 minutes. It got to the point where I started to feel like I was going to pass out, plus it was probably the worst I've ever felt in my life, so I called out weakly "Guys?" to my roommates, and thus began a trip to the Emergency Room.

Now, I've been on the planet 27 years and had never had to go to the hospital for myself before.The last time I was in a hospital for myself was the day my parents drove me home after I was born. In fact, the only time I'd been in an ER was when my dad broke his arm. So this was all new to me. And when you go to St. Mary's in Hoboken (or as the locals like to call it, St. Scary's, which is sooooooo comforting) you encounter some VERY strange people. Like the old lady talking to herself. Or the guy taking his shoes off and putting them on the table for all the world to smell (Melissa and Carolyn witnessed that one).

But NOTHING is as scary for me as needles, and when it's decided I need an IV, I get mildly petrified, though I know it's going to help me feel better. They also took blood and that led me to become all sorts of woozy because even when I'm healthy and they're taking 2 vials I feel like I'm going to pass out. This leads to me laying on a gurney for two hours, in which time I'm dying of thirst but not allowed to drink anything. Even though I'm classified as severely dehydrated. Sigh. At one point, Carolyn was calling my parents (who came up because all I kept thinking while lying half dead on my bed was "I want my Mommy and Daddy." Plus, who wants to miss their needle-fearing only child's first trip to the hospital in which she has to get an IV?) and Melissa was hanging with me and I was freezing. I asked for a blanket and kinda hoped Melissa would get all Shirley MacLaine in Terms of Endearment and be like "GIVE MY ROOMMATE THE DAMN BLANKET!!" but all she had to do was ask nicely and they brought me one.

When my parents arrive, my roommates head back, and my dad's all "This is what you get for blogging mean things about Santa Claus." It hurt to laugh from the workout my abs had just gotten via upchucking. Though I was feeling better. And two hours later (in which I ran the gammut of being antsy as hell and actually managing to nod off) the intern is taking out the IV (and the tape around it, which took off half my arm hair. So comfy.) and I'm sent home. My roommates were still awake and declare that I look MUCH better, and I'm OK enough to gather my things to come down and stay with my parents, which is where I am now.

Safe to say I'm not going to work today. I didn't sleep well because I was warm and didn't want to take off my sweatshirt for fear of looking at my IV markings. And I can't stand up for more than two minutes without feeling like I'm going to pass out. I guess that happens when you're like super duper hungry but can't eat anything more than broth. Big sigh. At least I can work a laptop.

So there it is, my first trip to the ER. Glad I could join the club, though I NEVER want to feel that bad again. My roommates and parents are rockstars for taking care of me. And even the Randy Johnson deal semi-falling through doesn't seem so bad after that ordeal. Amazing the perspective being violently ill gives you...though I can do without feeling that way again.

Oh, and I'm NEVER eating chicken soup again. So there.

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

Blah

*If you don't want to be grossed out, you may want to skip this TMI post*

I'd like to thank god or whatever deity it was I was just praying/bargaining with on the bus to keep me from puking till I got home. Because they totally listened, whoever it was. I don't know what the frig I ate today, but my god, I haven't been that sick in YEARS. At work I just thought I was hungry because all I had for lunch today was some chicken soup. Then as I left, I decided not to finish my Christmas shopping because I needed to get home and eat. Good damn thing, or I would've made a huge embarrassment of myself in some New York store or on public transportation. My goal is to never be THAT girl.

Now that whatever alien spawn that was living in my tummy has cleared out for now, I feel a bit better (hence why I can blog about it). It's fitting that Melissa is in her hospital scrubs from her internship because she's taking care of me now and she rocks for that.

I just find it amazing that two hours ago I was feeling fine, then WHAM!

I feel blechy :(

The Ego is a Strange Thing

Two things totally made my day today:

Liana dropping by my office to drop off a Christmas gift from her and Eric: A J Crew Sweater!! And their reason for getting it for me? Just because I am "awesome." Well, since the feeling is mutual, I vow to find them the housewarming gift to end all housewarming gifts when they buy a place to befit their awesomeness.

Ken's Christmas card which says: "I love having you in the corner to perk up the day." Shit, man, don't make your co-worker get all "awww!" at work!

Weird how just knowing you're appreciated can pick up your mood significantly.

Book It!

Woo-hoo! I know what I'll be doing the weekend of July 16.

Oddly enough, I had a dream I was baby-sitting Daniel Radcliffe last night. Which is weird because the kid's like 15. But he offered me advice on something that I can't remember right now, but he's Harry Potter, so it must've been good.

Phone Home



Tanyon your heartlight, folks, the alien's coming back!

Monday, December 20, 2004

Santa Claus is Coming to Town...RUN!!!

Yeah, so, when I was a kid, I was terrified of Santa Claus. No, not the one who comes down the chimney, leaves you presents, then eats your cookies and takes the carrot you leave out to Rudolph. I'm talking about the Mall Santa. Or worse yet, the Hoboken Fire Truck Santa.

Apparently, my parents were crazy enough to think that I'd actually want to get all dressed up to go visit this guy and tell him what I wanted for Christmas. I guess I was OK with it for a few years, but one of my first memories was throwing a mother of a temper tantrum because I DIDN'T WANNA GO!!! I remember how perplexed they looked. I guess they thought if the idea of a strange man breaking into our house at night didn't scare me, why should visiting him on his turf? But we never went to see Santa again, and even when I would pass his long line at the mall, I'd avoid eye contact. Why? I don't know. I think I knew he wasn't the Real Santa anyway because how in the world could he be in the North Pole and the Monmouth Mall at the same time? A 3-year-old knows this shit, yo.

But the worst was probably when my grandparents lived in Hoboken, and we'd go there for Christmas Eve and I'd be all pysched to be getting my Scooby Doo Movie Projector or whatnot, and then the night would get ruined. By that fucking fake Santa again. This time, he'd come via the Hoboken Fire Department because apparently even Santa couldn't find parking on the streets of the 'Boken and left his sleigh in Weehawken. Anyway, my family knew how much I hated it, but would still drag me down to the sidewalk anyway when the truck got to 13th and Garden. I remember being like 4, watching fearfully from the kitchen window as the truck approached. Which sucks because that's like one of only memories I have of my grandparents' place in Ho, and it has to be one laced with some crazy irrational fear that maybe my grandfather would trade me to Santa for some beer glasses or something. Sigh.

And thank god I was away at college when they started doing Santa-by-Fire-Truck in my hometown. Which is even funnier because more often than not, that Santa is now played by Amy D.'s husband Colm, so I know he's not going to murder me or whatever it was I was terrified of.

But those other Faux Santas? Still kinda scary. And with my luck I'm going to have kids who just can't wait to go visit him, and I'll have to be all "Daddy LOVES going to see Santa so Mommy's going to stay home and hide...I mean bake cookies for the big guy's visit."

I'm screwed up. I know.

It's Gary Sheffield Outside

I checked the temperature on TV this morning, and when I saw that it was 11 degrees, I was all "Christ, we're nearly into most of the retired numbers, it's so cold."

And then I get to my office and it's cold in here too. If there's ever a day where cranking up the heat won't be met with complaints, it's today. Fire that sucker up, folks.

The Solstice is tomorrow, which is my dad's most favorite day of the year. Yes, it's the start of winter, but it's also the shortest day of the year. Which means all the days start getting longer after that. A month from now, the day will be a half hour longer. Two months from now, an entire hour. So there's a little hint of summer for all of us on this bitter ass cold morning.

Sunday, December 19, 2004

Stopping by Basil on a Snowy Evening

So The Chicken and I were just dancing around in our PJs to "Get Down Tonight" by KC and the Sunshine Band when I looked out the window and noticed...IT'S SNOWING!

Now, I know there's no chance this is going to cancel work tomorrow (2 1/2 feet of snow sure as hell didn't) and I don't really want it to because we have a short week and need to get things done. But there's just something about seeing all the car roofs dusted and the streets a little white that makes me get all "Ooh! Oooh!!"

And the draught coming through my back window is freaking cold, y'all. I actually moved the A-Rod Basil back so it doesn't turn into a popsicle or something. One dead herb is enough for one week.

But yay for snow!

A Little Something to Warm Us By

With roughly 57 days till Pitchers and Catchers, and with the weather so cold you don’t even want to move, I’d like to offer some great baseball quotes to warm us up. Go here for more.


People ask me what I do in winter when there's no baseball. I'll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring. ~Rogers Hornsby (And it can’t get here soon enough.)

A hot dog at the ball park is better than steak at the Ritz. ~Humphrey Bogart (Well said, Humphrey.)

A baseball game is simply a nervous breakdown divided into nine innings. ~Earl Wilson (Per. Fect.)

Say this much for big league baseball - it is beyond question the greatest conversation piece ever invented in America. ~Bruce Catton (Aren’t half the entries/comments on this blog evidence of that?)

Baseball is not necessarily an obsessive-compulsive disorder, like washing your hands 100 times a day, but it's beginning to seem that way. We're reaching the point where you can be a truly dedicated, state-of-the-art fan or you can have a life. Take your pick. ~Thomas Boswell, Washington Post , 13 April 1990 (Yeah, I know where I fall with this one.)

The other sports are just sports. Baseball is a love. ~Bryant Gumbel, 1981 (Ah, Bryant was quite eloquent in his pre-smarmy days.)

You know it's summertime at Candlestick when the fog rolls in, the wind kicks up, and you see the center fielder slicing open a caribou to survive the ninth inning. ~Bob Sarlette (I may not be a Giants fan, and have never been to a game in San Fran, but this just cracked me the hell up.)

A mystique of history and heritage surrounds the New York Yankees. It's like the old days revived. We're loved and hated, but always in larger doses than any other team. We're the only team in any sport whose name and uniform and insignia are synonymous with their entire sport all over the world.... the Yankees mean baseball to more people than all the other teams combined. ~Paul Blair, quoted in Washington Post , 22 June 1978 (That may sound Yankee-centric to some, but damn it’s probably true.)

Is it April Yet?

I don't know what was more awesome this weekend:

--Being out to dinner with Liana, Eric and Eric's three German co-workers and getting pork chops the size of Rhode Island?

--Baking so much that when I looked in the bathroom mirror I literally had cookie dough in my eyelashes?

--The Dairy Queen Butterscotch Sundae lip balm Melissa gave me as an early Christmas present? (Note: She gave Carolyn Reese's Peanut Butter Cup lip balm and got Cinnabon flavored for herself. Whoever thought this up is a freaking genius.)

--Watching Yankees Magazine at the beginning stages of The Matts' party and making fun of Derek Jeter's blue velour sweatsuit? (Forgive us, El Capitan, but dude...you're not in "waste management." Don't dress that way. Ever again.)

-- Matt's book on Cal Ripken's (shitty) life?

-- Discovering that the baby Jesus was missing from the under-the-Christmas-tree manger at my parents' house thus resulting in a lot of sacreligious joking involving a Jesus Amber Alert? (Have no fear. He was just hiding under the hay of the loft of the manger.)

-- Tonya getting us four tickets to what we assume is Opening Day/Night-for-Sunday-night-baseball against those bastard Red Sox? And wondering if Curt Schilling will "miraculously" be able to pitch (because, you know, he says he's not sure he'll be able to start by Opening Day) with another blood-soaked sock, which would result in Fox or ESPN or whomever plans on carrying the game busting out a highlight montage using U2's Sunday, Bloody Sunday for (over) dramatic effect?

And now it's supposed to be like 14 degrees tomorrow or something. You can bet that's not going to be awesome.

Saturday, December 18, 2004

I'm Missing a Sasquatch Party? Rats!

So I'm down at my parents',decorating the gigantoid Christmas tree they got this year (they are referring to it as Kareem, a.k.a. Roger Murdoch, and I am calling it Randy Johnson)when I get a desperate text message from Melissa: "Sasquatch and crew are having Xmas party." Which means no one in the building will sleep tonight. I so picked the right night for tree trimming.

And when I asked my mom what she thought about the Serial Killer, she was like "Yeah, so I hear he's with the Mets...but you must be happy you've got that ugly man now."

The Member, the Ugly Man. Safe to say he will never be called by his Christian name again on this blog.

Another Lupican Throwdown

Like, Oh My God, Mike Lupica is like the smartest sports writer EVER. Like, totally! I mean, the rest of us NEVER would have thought that Randy Johnson was coming here for the money. NEVER. I. like, thought he was coming because he just loves New York bunches. But Lupica is just so ahead of us, and when he points out that players only come to NY because it pays well, you know I just have to believe it.

Dear God, Mike, when was the last time you wrote someething that wasn't dripping with bitterness when it comes to the Yankees? I mean, I know I can't deal with Page 2, but at least I know the writers I can't take are from New England and thus why their Yankee hatred supercedes all else. But Lupica? Used to not be such a bitter ass. But I've come to the conclusion that he hates players who make oodles of money, especially since A-Rod could cure cancer, save babies from a burning building, and send Lupica flowers every day, and he'd still write that Alex sucks. And I believe it comes down to the size of A-Rod's paycheck and every other player who has a huge contract. And you know what? That's MLB's fault as a whole, not just a player's. Hell, if there was free-agency in copy editing do you think I'd sit on my hands if good money was being offered elsewhere? And if he were offered some bigtime contract by a newspaper that needed a really bitter, going-through-the-motions sportswriter, don't you think he would take it?

And you know if the Yanks hadn't landed Johnson and say, the Red Sox did, Lupica would be all over the Yanks for not getting the deal done. Because I firmly believe he gets up every morning, checks out the latest Yankee news, and tries to find all the bad in it so he can be New York's sports "realist" while everyone else (including the rest of the New York press) is excited over something. That's right Lupica, you're such a pioneer going against the grain with your bitter-ass attitude, and you're the one who anchors us Yankee fans from getting too happy about something with your "reality checks." Keep telling yourself that.

I'm not saying the man can't have a negative opinion about the Yankees. But when ALL he writes is negative, you start to lose respect for somebody. Because you wonder what his real agenda/problem is (i.e. he's burnt out or has made enemies in the Yankee locker room) and that, my friends, is what we call a lack of credibility.

Friday, December 17, 2004

What's in a Name?

So the other day I was slapping together a chapter to send to my friendly faux editors when I realized something -- I might have to change the name of a character. You see, my main character, Julia, (named for my friend's cousin) and her pals are tormented by a girl named Kylie (just a name pulled out of the air) and another girl named Shannon (again, pulled out of the air.) Now, I came up with these names two years ago, but I don't think I can write a character bitchy and mean named Shannon now that I know a nice Yankee fan called Shannon. I try not to name my characters after people I know because I don't want people thinking I'm writing about them. With the exception of Julia, whose character is loosely based on the real-life Julia, that is.

I had this same problem when I named my main guy character Eric before I met Eric of Hoboken Crew fame. The character is based on a guy I used to know who had a four letter first name, so I wanted to kind of keep that in a weird way. Eric was all I could think of at the time and it stuck, even though I wasn't in love with it. But despite the fact that I know an Eric now, the character Eric is so etched in my brain as Eric that I can't change it. But Shannon's totally a medium-ranking character, so I can change that. Anyone got a name they'd like to throw out there? Think bitchy, 15, a bit of a follower. Comment below.

That's not to say my friends don't make cameos in the stories. Eric, Liana, Dexter, Vicki, Amy D. and Hollis are all teachers in my books (teaching subjects based on their current careers) and I actually use their last names. Jesse's character, JR, is a family friend down the Shore (as he was nice enough to host us at his Shore house this summer). Julia's neighbor's three way-too-active children Brian, Johnny and Kimberly are named for my closest neighborhood friends growing up. The marina where Eric's family keeps his boat is named for the marina where my family docks ours. The bar where the adults hang out in the summer parts of the stories, Joe and Ted's, is a play on the name where the Hoboken Crew and I spend our Monday nights, Ted and Jo's. And so on. There will be four books in total and I've only written half of books 1 and 2 so there's room for lots more friendly cameos.

That's if I ever get around to writing them again. Ugh.

Tell Us a Story, SantA-Rod!



"Dudes, fuck the Polar Express. I'm gonna tell you the story of a REAL train...the 4 Train."

My Christmas Wish...

...For Sasquatch to take his loudass shoe-dropping self and move in with his girlfriend. In her apartment.

Thursday, December 16, 2004

Tall Drink of Pinstripes?

RANDY!!!!!

Suck it, Schilling. If it's true, that is.

I'd hate to give up on Navarro so quickly, but not too upset about Duncan since A-Rod's going to be at third for a while. Javy? I think he'll probably do better in the NL and hope only good things for him. It's too bad we can't see him come into his own as a Yank, but right now I do like the idea of an imposing lefthander, albeit an older one, in the starting rotation.

Also totally great to hear Carolyn say when word of the supposed trade came down: "What's his nickname again? The Member?" I busted out laughing, but then Melissa chimed in with "Well, his last name IS Johnson." You know that totally went over my head before? I will never be able to call him the Big Unit again...

The Marriage of Snark and Snooty Weddings

Oh wow. La Nina has linked to one of the best site ideas I've ever seen: Veiled Conceit. It rips on those utterly pretentious wedding announcements in the New York Times -- you know, the ones where you have to be really, really, really important to have people see that you got married. If you're not really, really, really important, your wedding won't make it in. Awww.

This entry is even more great as it's a baseball one. Yes, Brad Fullmer is now off the market. And I guess that makes him really, really, really important.

Meet the Met, Beat the Met (in June, Anyway)

Tonya and I just had a few chuckles over the Pedro is a Met...Seriously! press conference. Our local ABC affiliate was the only station to break into regular programming to show it (though every station broke in for the A-Rod conference, which, by the way, was like the coolest Tuesday EVER). First, Omar Minaya spoke about how great and fantabulous Pedro is -- ABC all the while showing highlights of the game in which the Yanks lit up Pedro in September in the Bronx, so we were all cackles over that.

Then Willie! comes by the podium wearing this hideous orange sweatshirt to introduce Pedro.I mean, come on Mets, I know it's one of your colors and all, but couldn't you put a guy as cool as Willie! in electric Met blue? Anyway, Pedro comes up, the flashbulbs are popping and I don't think I've seen brides as happy and glowing on their wedding day as he is in this moment. He puts the hat on, which actually has trouble fitting over his hair (I'm not joking, it took a little pushing), and then the black Mets softball jersey (can they retire this thing already? Go back to your basic white and greys, Mets. There was nothing wrong with them, and there's something about a player putting on the crisp white home jersey during his signing-day press conference that really makes an impact. Like he's now your hometown guy. Something the black jersey does not accomplish for me because you can wear that in spring training, on the road, at home...anywhere) and Pedro is flashing the pearly whites like I've never seen before. But then, I didn't watch any Red Sux celebrations this year, so what do I know? Anyway, he totally ate it up, which reminded me of his whole press conference during the ALCS where he says he loves attention, good or bad.

This is so the city for him, no doubt about that.

ABC broke away before we actually got to hear Pedro say anything, which is bizarre because if not for him, there'd be no Pedro is a Met...Seriously! press conference. So we'll tune in for the news at noon because we want to hear if he'll mention the mango tree again. We like the mango tree story.

Revenge Shall Be Mine, Oh Yes

So I just rode in an elevator with someone from the 9th floor -- you know, that place where the employees take other people's packages and devour the contents without a care for government rules or the sad, sad intended receiver of the package. She was standing in front of me, my eyes boring holes into her head to see if I could read her mind. All I could think was "witness, accomplice or perp?"

Yesterday, Tonya and I got our re-send of Mrs. Beasley goodness. The package came, the receptionist called (sidebar: since the "incident" last week, there's been a total rehaul of how people go about getting stuff on my floor. It's as if the Case of the Missing Mrs. Beasley Box started a revolution or something. So now I am an unwitting trailblazer) and we dug in right away. And the label on the box? There's NO way in hell anyone could mistake it for their own -- in order to open the damn thing, you have to be looking at the 5x7 address label. Which is why when the 9th floor suspect shared the elevator with me this morning, I got bothered all over again. So perhaps I am like the Count of Monte Cristo or something and I can't rest till I have revenge. This means I'll have to do a reconnaissance mission or something first.

The receiving of Mrs. Beasley goods wasn't the end. Oh no, this is only the beginning...

Wednesday, December 15, 2004

Sockin' it to the Source

Matt makes a stand against Page 2, and unlike me, goes right to the source. Also, the title of the entry is pretty swell too.

Perhaps we should all write in, get our sports fan friends who want to hear about their teams to get in on it too. While it would be awesome to see a Yankees/Red Sox head-to-head (which we could nominate Yankee afficionado Paul Katcher for, since he's already got a freelance gig with Page 3 and knows his shit) , I do realize the site needs to broaden its horizons a bit and include baseball fans outside the Northeast. Columns about the state of steroids in baseball can't count as its too broad a topic, as are columns around the post-season. What about a long suffereing White Sox fan's take on his/her team? Or how a Giants fan deals with having Barry Bonds around? The right person could suck you in and read about their team, even if you don't agree with their choice of fandom. I mean, Sports Guy can't be the only funny, good writer of a fan out there, right?

Equal time on ESPN.com, damn it!

Baby It's Cold Inside

Um, yeah, so it's 24 degrees outside and I think the airconditioning may be on in my office. It feels cooler and my trusty thermometer tells me it's 10 degrees colder in here than yesterday. As far as I know, the heat doesn't get turned off during the week, and this office is known for crazy temperatures, so blasting the a.c. in mid December would not be something I'd put past this place.

And the new, bought-with-office-remibursement Mrs. Beasley basket *should* be arriving today. If not, expect me to bust out a six pack of whoopass on whoever decided to steal it this time.

Tuesday, December 14, 2004

Here I Go Again

So I wanted to see the normally cock-sure Sports Guy knocked down a few pegs by the Pedro thing, so I read his column despite my boycott of Page 2. But what I read just incensed me more as a Yankee fan.

Sports Guy -- I know the Sox just won their first World Series in 86 years. However, they are NOT THE FIRST TEAM TO WIN A WORLD SERIES. This story just shows me how unimaginatve this man is. He seriously never prepared himself for things like a team's nucleus staying together after winning a championship? Dude, that stuff practically kept me up at night when I was 15, before the Yanks were even decent.

2) He NEVER saw Pedro for a primadonna or as a hired gun? Did he ever hear the comments that whack-job has made in public? I've never gotten this great team player vibe from him, even when he pitched in Montreal....

3) OK, this part irked the shit out of me:

Note: Because Boston's quest became the compelling story of the playoffs, the Yankees demise never received enough attention...

Mmkay, Sports Guy, keep telling yourself that. And maybe get out of your Bostonifide bubble sometime, because half the rallying cries I heard around the Sox was that they beat the Big Bad Yankees, thus why the championship was even more sweet.

4)The Yankees saved them from four horrendous mistakes (A-Rod, Contreras, Loaiza and Vasquez over an 18-month span)

Horrendous? Having the best player in baseball (who happened to have a sucky few playoff games) on your team is Horrendous? He makes this judgement after one season? Dude, get the freaking blinders off. Contreras and Loaiza, I'll grant you, were bad moves. Vasquez? I'm interested to see what he'll do this season, and if he's not in pinstripes it's because they traded him for Randy Johnson. That's not so horrendous to me.

5) After what we witnessed from Alex Rodriguez this season, it's safe to say that he wouldn't have been a good fit in Boston. In fact, Schilling came out and said it after the World Series.

Good to see Schilling has hypnotized even sports writers into believing his shit don't stink. But A-Rod's? Pee-yewww!

And again, let's reiterate -- I've never heard ONE bad word about A-Rod in the clubhouse, so what ever to him being a bad fit. Though if he's a total professional, I could see how he wouldn't fit in with the Red Sox's "Good Old Boy" atmosphere. And after what they "witnessed" last season? What, 36 home runs,106 RBI and a slick fielding 3rd baseman would've been a bad thing for the Sux? That he was willing to fight your instigating catcher, who just happened to be clad in all his protective gear -- that's a bad thing? And don't get me started about the "slappy" thing because it was a dumb, heat-of-the moment act, and wasn't a repeat of anything that happened in the regular season. GRRRRR....

I write this because I know so many sports fans think this man is a sports writing god (their fault, not Bill Simmons', I know), and while I know going in that he's a Sox worshipper and his column is simply for entertainment value, I think it's also a good barometer of how even people paid to write (i.e. Professionals) about sports can be blind to some things. Just like fans.

This, and the fact that Page 2 never gives any other team as much opinion time as they do the Red Sox. I'd like to see one fun column, as long as the one Sports Guy just wrote, devoted to the Yanks. Hell, I'd even take seeing one for the Orioles or the Giants or any of the other 29 teams that make up the sport. You know, those other ones that have fan bases too.

The Mets and Their New "Killer"

My mom will be so excited to know that The Serial Killer will be playing in New York next year. So if there are any unexplained deaths in Gotham for the next three years, we'll know who's responsible.

It's nice to see the Mets actually doing something good for once. They play in the same market as the Yanks and they've barely made a decent move in recent years. Their ownership has totally gypped fans because, seriously, the Mets ain't some poor small-market team that can't afford to compete. That said, it's going to be painful to listen to WFAN or ESPN radio should the Mets make any more big moves because there is nothing worse than a cocky Mets fan caller. They usually start the call by ripping on the Yanks and then ask something like "so now that the Mets have so-and-so, what date will the city reserve for the ticker tape parade?" People can go on and on about the over-confidence of Yankee fans, but then you probably don't remember living in this area in the mid 1980s, if that's the case. You see, I never had a problem with the Mets team (except they're whole lame-ass Who Let the Dogs Out jump-up-and-down thing of 1999 and 2000), but I do remember the hell I got for being a Yankee fan when Gary Carter, Mookie Wilson, et. al came on to save the world in 1986. So I do not have sympathy for Met fans, especially the ungracious ones who love to lay it on thick when the Yanks lose in the playoffs.

That and I can't stand the fact that the Mets were always referred to as "the Family Friendly team/stadium" when I've heard of more people getting mugged outside of Shea than in the Bronx. Whatever.

Though I can't be too bitter. I mean, I can't wish for bad things to happen to Willie Randolph (and it will be interesting to see how he manages Pedro). And I know a few decent Met fans, who as long as they're not comparing the Yanks/Sox rivalry to Yanks/Mets, we'll be OK.

Monday, December 13, 2004

In Which I Must Kill The El Capitan Parsley

I've let it go on long enough. The white spots that had speckled my beloved El Capitan Parsley plants have taken over, and now there's little black spots too. And I'm no plant guru, but I'm pretty sure that's mildew. Which is bizarre because it's in sunlight 10-12 hours a day, but I guess the sun this time of year isn't strong enough for it, and I've read that can happen when you have too many plants close together. So I must kill the plant and throw it away, despite the fact that it looks otherwise healthy, and I'm listening to really sad and depressing songs right now as I mourn for it.

We had some great times, Parsley. At least we can say we tried.

Cut 'N Dried

Since I'm a lady of leisure today, I just went to get my hair done. Scratch that. Getting your "hair done" sounds so geriatric and I picture rollers and heat lamps and lots of hairspray, which is totally not what I had done. So let's say I got my hair tweaked. How's that? Anyway, this was the second time I went to this woman in Hoboken and she freaking rocks. She is one of the nicest people I've ever had cut my hair in the 27 years I've been growing it. I almost always hate going to the salon because sometimes you feel like they're going to cackle about you behind your back when you leave and say "Oh my god, her hair is such a bitch to work with" or something like that. But everyone in this salon seems genuinely nice, and this woman is always smiling and telling you nice things like she can't believe you're single or recommending chamomile tea for stress or asking about your job. A lot of haircutters do this just to make conversation, but she comes across very sincere and momlike, which is a nice change. Today she gave me a hug when I left and wished me a merry Christmas. And then she knocked off the blow-drying charge from my total. And she does a great job with my hair, which is great considering it's naturally curly and she knows how to get it cut correctly.

So now that I've found her, and there's a Greek place with BAKLAVA! coming and there's a decent cheesesteak place and a Barnes and Noble -- all within walking distance --I can't ever move from Hoboken. That's that.

A Very Good Friday Indeed

The great thing about having a day off? Getting to watch a Yankees Classic game that you haven't seen since it first aired over 6 years ago. Right now YES is showing the 1998 home opener, which I was actually home from college for because of Spring Break and it was Good Friday. It was one of the most amusing games I'd ever seen -- the Yanks won 17-13, and right now in the 2nd inning, they're losing 5-0 (thanks to David Cone, of all people) and everyone just gave Darryl Stawberrry a huge round of applause. It reminded me of how I never saw what everyone else did in him. To me he was just another Yankee -- I could care less what he did as a Met. And now Brosius just got his first RBI as a Yankee. Aww.

The most amazing part was realizing how ignorant we were at the time to what was about to happen that season (though by mid-May I remember seeing a lot of "Greatest Yankee Team Ever?" articles). That really was one hell of a season, huh?

5-2 Athletics in the 3rd. Gee, I'm so scared they might not come back and lose this one...

ETA Oh, this game all came rushing back. I have seen this one before because they use the WABC radio call, and Rudy Giuliani is in the booth going on about how the Yankees need a new stadium...because they need to be able to accomodate more fans. Um, what? The Stadium seats 56,000 people. Any more and you'll have to build a football-like stadium. It pissed me off the first time I heard it, it pisses me off now. Shut up, Rudy.

Sunday, December 12, 2004

The Chicken Lights Up Your Life



The Chicken wanted to share his most recent holiday efforts with his blog friends. Get yer photos here.

YES, How I Love Thee

So I was trying to take a nap and Sasquatch squashed that one by deciding it was the perfect time to run to and fro several hundred times. I grouchily got up and put the TV on, and what should YES be showing but Game 4 of the 1996 World Series, and it was two batters before Leyrtiz got up and delivered his Series changing blow. So now I'm all cozy sitting on my bed eating granola bars and drinking Coke in my sweats and barefeet laughing evily as Braves fans do their tomahawk chop, thinking that they just might cream the Yankees like everyone said they would. If only I had some Flips chocolate covered preztels and actually had my Christmas shopping done, my day would be perfect.

Name That Tune!

Stole this idea from Shannon. The concept is simple – I put my computer music playlist on random, and I’ve listed 35 lines from the different songs. Y’all have to guess the name and artist in the comments section. For songs that have been covered, I’ll accept all artists. Since I’m not cool enough to know how to do the whole strike-words-out-with-a-line dealy, I’ll simply go back and mark it with the name of the person who answered correctly. Good luck, and please don’t think I suck too much for my taste in music.


1) When I hold her in my arms, you know she sets my soul on fire.
Some Kind of Wonderful, Grand Funk Railroad -- Yankeebob

2) All night diners keep you awake, hey, on black coffee and a hard roll.

3) Baby, my heart is full of love and desire for you.

4) Are we gonna let the elevator bring us down, oh no let’s go!
Let's Go Crazy, Prince -- June

5) When you find the perfect love let it fill you up.

6) In other words, baby kiss me.
Fly Me to the Moon, Sinatra -- June

7) Darling believe me, there is no one but you.

8) Every time I tried to tell you the words just came out wrong.
I'll Have to Say I Love You in a Song, Jim Croce -- Yankeebob

9) I was a little too tall, could’ve used a few pounds.
Night Moves, Bob Seger -- Yankeebob

10) But my following days are over, now I’ve just got to follow through.

11) I’ll pick up your hand and slowly blow your little mind.
Sunshine Superman, Donovan, Jewel, et. al -- Yankeebob

12) Me here at last on the ground, you in mid-air.

13) You see ‘cause I’m tryin’ to be your lady forever and ever baby.

14) Money talks, but it can’t sing and dance and it can’t walk.
Forever in Blue Jeans, Neil Diamond -- Yankeebob

15) You’re riding high in April, shot down in May.
That's Life, Sinatra -- June

16) She likes to travel around, she’ll love you and she’ll put you down.
Runaround Sue, Dion and the Belmonts, Eddie and the Cruisers, et. al -- Yankeebob

17) The big wheel spins, the hair thins, people forget.

18) I had it made like a mountain range with a snow-white pillow for my big fat head.
Big Time, Peter Gabriel -- June

19) I’ve been uptight and made a mess, but I’ll clean it up myself I guess.

20) Now there’s no welcome look in your eyes when I reach for you.
You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin, The Righteous Brothers -- June

21) Fallen leaves in the night who can say where they’re blowing.
More Than This, Roxy Music -- Lupe Velez

22) Sweep me off my feet singing ain’t this life so sweet.

23) Packed like lemmings into shiny metal boxes.
Synchronicity II, The Police -- June

24) Now I’m a prisoner to this pain and my heart still aches for you.

25) Things are not the same since we broke up last June.

26) Mere alcohol doesn’t thrill me at all.
I Get a Kick, Sinatra -- June

27) Don’t you draw the queen of diamonds boy, she’ll beat you if she’s able.
Desperado, The Eagles -- June

28) I am something that you’ll never understand.

29) We’ve been through it all and you loved me just the same.
Hello, Neil Diamond -- Yankeebob

30) Give me time and I’ll make you forget the rest.
Fame, Irene Cara -- June

31) I remember skies reflected in your eyes.
Your Wildest Dreams, The Moody Blues -- Yankeebob

32) I work five days a week girl, loading crates down on the dock.
Out in the Street, Bruce Springsteen -- Yankeebob

33) Pick up my guitar and play, just like yesterday.
Won't Get Fooled Again, The Who -- Yankeebob

34) Luck let a gentleman see how nice a dame you can be.
Luck Be a Lady, Sinatra -- June

35) Dear sir letters keep coming in the mail.
Feel Like a Number, Bob Seger-- Yankeebob

When Hunger Strikes

So after a late night last night celebrating Dexter's fourth annual 29th birthday, my body consipires against me and wakes me up too damn early. Because it is hungry and wants to be fed. I felt like saying "Well get up and feed yourself, damn it, let me sleep" but apparently we are not genetically advanced enough where this can happen.

But I had such a lovely time at Dexter's birthday that it doesn't matter. He picked this really chill place near the 23rd St. PATH which meant the Hobokenites and New Yorkers couldn't complain about the location. I had such nice conversations with everyone, from explaining The Chicken to a co-worker of Dexter's who went to Massachusetts to attend a birthday party for a bike, to my manual labor status when Eric and Liana buy a place. And then there was the whole jukebox takeover, when Liana slipped a fiver plus a one in for 17 songs, which we had to wait almost two hours to hear. But it finally came on and our kickass picks (I mean how can anyone not love Brandy by Looking Glass?) lasted two hours, so there. And Sarah could kick Mrs. Beasley's ass any day with the awesome oatmeal chocloate-chip cookies she made. And we ordered pizza which substituted as a birthday cake when Vicki lit it up with candles. By the time I made my exit, Dexter had ended up on the floor, which is how we know the night was a complete success.

Back in Hoboken, E&L showed me the outside of the place they're considering buying (which is beautiful, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed) and I again assured them that I like painting so that they could call on me for that sort of thing -- but they have to watch out I don't paint a mural of Yankee Stadium on their wall. And then I noticed the bestest thing not six or seven blocks from my apartment -- they're finally putting in a Greek restaurant in Hoboken!!! Which means one thing -- BAKLAVA.

And after finishing my bagel, I am still freaking ravenous. These bodies of ours are so high maintenence, I swear...

You Say Pavayno, I Say Pavano

Well looky hear. Carl Pavano wants to be a Yank. I'd feel better about this if I knew his record wasn't so mediocre before last season. But whatever. You put on the Pinstripes and you start from there, and I'll reserve judgement till his first few outings.

Not in the best of Yankee moods at the moment. Perhaps all will seem different in the light of the a.m.

Saturday, December 11, 2004

I'll Tell You What You Can Do With Your Perfect Game

Well it looks as if Yankee fan favorite David Wells is about to offer a big old Fuck You to us by signing with the Red Sox. Everyone's always like "Oh, David Wells is one of the Dynasty Yankees" yada yada yada, but he seriously lost me after blowing game 5 against the Marlins last year with "back spasms." Because he doesn't take care of himself. But that doesn't mean I forgot what he did for us in his younger years, and I think the same goes for the rest of my Yankee fan brethren. Actually, I think most fans are more forgiving than me judging by all the "If David Wells were only still here" comments I see every now and then. So he's still pretty much loved in NYC, and it's not like we Yankee fans kicked him out the door or something. No, his attitude and his health secured that. And yet the Yankees are still offering him money to comeback inspite of all that. A lot of money, I may add, for a 41-year-old pitcher, one that everyone thought wanted retire in San Diego. Anyway.

I know he gets all pissy with the Yankee brass for not letting him be himself and now this might be his way of sticking it to them, but Jesus Christ, Mr. Wells, what about the people who adored you despite your flaws? You were so loved here and now you're going to sign with the enemy? An enemy that just delivered a painful blow to your former and still faithful fanbase?

And if he's doing this to get more money out of the Yankees, that's just messed up right there.

But if you sign with the Sox, David Wells, I've got two words for you: Fuck. You.

Thursday, December 09, 2004

A (Page) 2 I'd Like to Tell "Fuck Off!"

From Page 2's Ultimate Scorecard, in which they rank the best athletes to ever wear a certain number -- in the case of No.2, they went with Secretariat:

Yes, Yankee fans, we've slected a horse over your beloved Derek Jeter. Quit your whining.

If that, right there doesn't solidify Page 2's all-out hate for us Yankee fans, I don't know what does. Not so much the picking of Secretariat (Dudes, I love horse racing and Secretariat is major history. But until this moment I never realized he wore No. 2. Whatever.), but that they opened with this and the tone. It's downright antagonistic. Because my reaction was "Huh?" Not "OH@ NOFAIR! DEREK DESERVES THIS OVER A STUPID HORSE!" when I saw the result.

I'm so back to boycotting them.

KB's Top Hits, 10-1

Well, I'm off tomorrow and will be doing the Christmas shopping thing all day, so I probably won't get to post. So I'll give y'all my final top 10 songs today because I don't want you to have to wait in suspense. I'm nice like that.

10) God Only Knows, The Beach Boys: A song so lovely in its simplicity that it gives me chills just to think about it.

9) American Girl, Tom Petty: A great, great driving song. Actually a great, great, wallking really fast song too.

8) As, Stevie Wonder: Damn if this doesn't always put me in a good mood. Another one of Stevie's "positive" efforts.

7) Born to Run, Bruce Springsteen: The first song I ever remember being played on my parents’ record player. Also the line "Sprung from cages on Highway 9" is awesome because if you're from NJ, you know Route 9, and it's kind of a shout out to Freehold (right off said route) where Springsteen grew up.

6) She’s The One, Bruce Springsteen: Intense, rollicking, a great pump-you-up song.

5) New York, New York, Frank Sinatra: I think this one is obvious, as my love for it is only bolstered 100-fold because of a certain team that plays in the Bronx and uses this at their victory song.

4) Your Love, The Outfield: A song I have yet to get sick of since I discovered its awesomeness in college. Quintessential 80s.

3) Jersey Girl, Bruce Springsteen: I mean, come on. Do I really have to explain this one? Probably one of the awesomest moments of my life was getting to sing along to this at the concert last year. You’d think the roommates and I had died and gone to Monmouth County heaven. Probably my favorite line ever in a song, (written by Tom Waits): “'Cause down the Shore, everything’s all right.” Indeed.

2) Under My Skin, Frank Sinatra: The ultimate Sinatra song, and the Capitol version has the most alive sounding orchestra I think I've ever heard in my life.

1) Thunder Road, Bruce Springsteen: Usually everyone’s obvious Bruce choice, but it just reminds me of my youth and I like it as much now as I did back then. I like that Bruce says when he wrote it "The innocence at the time was mine." Such a nice way to put. it

Not Without My Teacakes.

Dude, this is so not cool. Having been over a week since we placed our Mrs. Beasley order, Tonya and I were perplexed when it still hadn't arrived today. So I called the company and very nicely asked where it might be and the lady very nicely told me it had indeed arrived at my office and was signed for by reception at 10:53 a.m. ON MONDAY. So I'm all "Oh reeeealllly." I got up to the reception area and explained my problem and the receptionist checks out her book and lo and behold, my package got signed for on Monday. So now she and our office manager are going around looking for it and I'm not mad. Yet. All I keep thinking was that it got delivered to someone else in our office or in the one downstairs and the person it was given to didn't care that it was a federal offense and opened my mail and the greedy bastard ATE MINE AND TONYAS COOKIES AND TEACAKES. I will find that person and kill them with my own bare hands if that's the case. I will make them regurgitate the awesomeness of the brownie bars and truffle cookies in front of me, so I can be satisfied that they did not get to digest the all wholesome goodness that is Mrs. Beasley. And then I will crack them over the head with the box and leave them for dead in their cubicle. After giving me the 40 bucks I paid for it, of course. And not one jury would convict me because they'd understand that this was supposed to be a covert operation, a pick-me-up treat for Tonya and me following one of the most disappointing few months in recent memory.

That jackass who stole my box had better hope it turns up. That's all I'm saying.

ETA: Oh. My. God. My crazy imagination is totally on target. The office manager and mailroom guy seem to think it may have been eaten by someone downstairs -- who doesn't even work for my company!! They said some girl has been getting a lot of "goodies" lately and it's because, as she claims, she has "lots of fans." However, I don't care if the Oompa Loompas are delivering the entire damn Chocolate Factory to you five days a week out of admiration, YOU CHECK THE NAME ON THE ADDRESS LABEL! Especially when it gives the floor and the company name, oh, and the name KAREN BISCHER ON THE LABEL! FEDERAL OFFENSE, LADY! Of course, she might not even be the one that had it, but she is a suspect, and therefore the subject of my blogging wrath.

Tonya and I were dumbfoundedly fuming over this with Ken (who was more pissed than the both of us, I think) when our head boss walked by. They nabbed her right away, and since she's a take-no-shit type, she had me send her an e-mail of the situation and is going to bat for us to try to get our money back.

But damn, we wanted those cookies NOW.

Get Lost

I'm not even going to go on about another magically delicious episode of Lost last night and how pissed I am that we're not getting a new episode till January. But I wanted to let those in Blogland know that ABC's showing the first two episodes back-to-back next week, and will show repeats for the rest of December. So if you haven't caught the Lost fev-ah, get yourself nice and exposed next Wednesday. I don't usually pimp shows because I know certain ones are an acquired taste, but Lost I can recommend whole heartedly. It's got something for everyone. And it's that damn good.

Make a Jeterful Noise



Derek Jeter is psyched because:

A) Dude, he's Derek Jeter. What doesn't he have to be happy about?
B) He just got Shannon's. digits
C) The Yankees probably just beat the snot out of the Mets.
D) Matt's posting again!

KB's Top Hits, 19-11

19) The Promised Land, Bruce Springsteen: A great song when you’re pissed off or just feeling disenchanted.

18) Separate Ways, (Worlds Apart), Journey: That The OC worked this into an episode last year totally rocked. The video is also kick ass, in the most specialest 80s way possible.

17) Badlands, Bruce Springsteen: One of my most favoritest lines ever – “It ain’t no sin to be glad you’re alive.” Preach it, Bruce!

16) Lie in Our Graves, Dave Matthews Band: A song that will forever remind me of that sleep-deprived yet fantastic time of life known as college.

15) Hey Baby, Bruce Chanel: Ah, high school football games and Dirty Dancing. Killer combination.

14) You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feeling, The Righteous Brothers: Classic orchestration and awesome vocals, great for a singalong (as Jamie “Seamus” Amato and I did while trying to get through a stifling hot and waaaaaay boring college graduation ceremony) though I could do without the Top Gun reference.

13) Boys of Summer, Don Henley: Though I don't think I've heard this version in a long time because the Ataris one is always on, it's a song I've never gotten sick of, and even liked before I could associate the title with baseball.

12) Let’s Spend the Night Together, The Rolling Stones: Jaunty and naughty and downright honest and fun.

11) Hollywood Nights, Bob Seger: Bob Seger's a great storyteller who can also string together some music that always makes you want to be moving around in some way. This is probably the ultimate example of that.

Wednesday, December 08, 2004

I'm Just Not That Into Lieber

So Lieber signs with the Phillies, and Yankee fans are throwing themselves off bridges and stuff because they don't like the move of Wright or Womack. I'm reserving judgement till I actually see them play, but I digress. I didn't love Lieber. I liked him, but after being at a game where he got shelled AND his losing effort in Game 6, he didn't make my Christmas Card list. I saw him way too many times give up 4-5 runs in the early going only for his offense to bail him out. It's one thing if he'd been a solid starter more often than not, but to me he was a risk.

Oh, and the "He's Just Not That Into You" episode of Oprah is on again, and you all know how much I loved it the first time around...or not. I'm just so sick of smug people in relationships dolling out their "never-fail" love advice (it worked SO well for those Rules women, who are now divorced. Heh.). If this current author dude was soooooooo concerened about stopping women from going after dickheads and the signs they should heed to cut bait, he wouldn't be charging the 20 bucks or so to "help" us. But that goes for any self-help writer.

My free, way quicker of a read advice? Just be honest, direct and don't play games. If you want to know if he's into you, ask. If he's a dick, that question will scare him off. If he likes you, he'll say yes. Simple as that.

Oh Blogger, Where Art Thou?



Derek Jeter is thinking...:
A) ...Man, it sucks not getting a fifth World Series ring so my thumb can have some bling too
B) ...Damn it! Why did Shannon pick Moose over me?
C) ...I really miss Tino.Tino come back!
D) ...I'm so depressed. Matt hasn't updated the UberPlexer in two weeks.

I know which way I'm leaning...

KB's Top Hits, 29-20

29) Got to Be Real, Cheryl Lynn: Fun! Happy! Disco!

28 Town Called Malice, The Jam: I found this song through the movie Billy Elliot, and it's great to listen to when you're listless or pissed off.

27) Ain't That a Kick in the Head, Dean Martin: Just because I like the line "Like a sailor said quote 'ain't that a hole in a boat.' What does that mean, exactly? Ah, it rhymes and it's fun.

26) In Your Eyes, Peter Gabriel: Swoon! And it doesn't even have to be played by a guy standing outside your window with a boombox for full effect, especially since your across-the-street, bored busybody neighbors would call the cops on him anyway.

25) Mandolin Rain, Bruce Hornsby: The perfect chill song, and the piano in it just kills me.

24) Rosalita, Bruce Springsteen: You know you are from New Jersey when you know all the words to this epic.

23) Alice’s Restaurant, Arlo Guthrie: Not so much a song as a monologue, but I credit this as one of the big infulences on my writing -- funny storytelling at it's finest.

22) One for My Baby, Frank Sinatra: Because we've all been there. OK, maybe not sitting in a gloomy bar trying to drink someone off your mind with some dude randomly tickling the ivories in melancholy fashion, but certainly feeling that way.

21)Endless Summer Nights, Richard Marx: Shut up. You know you like it too.

20) I Want You to Want Me, Cheap Trick: The live version, of course, and it's the classic singing-along-while-driving-and-getting-pissed-when-you-come-to-a-red-light-because-you-don't-want-to-have-to-stop song.

Night Moves

Fuck. While I was sleeping, my Placido Polanco dreams were ruined. I guess Womack looks to be pretty formidable at second, but it seems like he and Cairo were pretty evenly matched stat-wise last season. And Cairo's younger. I don't know. But then I've learned not to second-guess them too much, because I remember scratching my head over people like Scott Brosius and look how that turned out.

Then I was all "Jaret Wright?" But only because I thought he was older than 29. I mean, his stats show he went through a major funk of some kind. But he's young enough to right that and showed some promise last year, so maybe he'll be OK after all.

But the bestest news is that all the stories seem to indicate they're going to try to get Tino back. Cashman can say he's focusing on pitching all he wants, but you have to know that's a lie because they signed a second baseman yesterday when that wasn't even much of a concern. I hope this comes down soon, that's if it's not just a lie that's getting my hopes up or something. This year has mostly sucked on the sports front (sans signing A-Rod and the awesome comeback games) and I could use some cheering up.

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

Where's the Challenge in That?



Uch, do not like the idea of being able to grow your own crabs. Crabbing is a time honored tradition in our family. You go sit on the boat in the sunshine, read, check the lines every now and then, go back to reading, check the lines, drink a Snapple, knock a crab off a line accidentally, curse yourself, listen to the Yankee game, look at the pretty seagulls that don't have clawed feet, check the lines, curse at people blasting through a no-wake zone, read...you get the picture. You totally don't get that by growing crabs in a lab (that sounds like a Dr. Suess book. Hmmm...).

KB's Top Hits, 39-30

39) Help Me Rhonda, The Beach Boys: Even better when you can get a big old singalong going to this.

38) No Myth, Michael Penn: I’m not exactly sure what a Romeo in black jeans is, but whatever. It’s the first song I downloaded when I got my laptop.

37) So Into You, Atlanta Rhythm Section: The sound is just pure 1970s, which I don't really remember seeing as I was only two when the decade ended, so I'm not sick of it or anything.

36) Friday I’m In Love, The Cure: Between this and Just Got Paid, I will never forget the music of Friday night season ticket games.

35) I Love Every Little Thing About You, Stevie Wonder: Does Stevie Wonder ever write an un-positive song? I mean, this one's about a girl everyone says is bad for him, but he loves her anyway. How great is that?

34) 867-5309 (Jenny), Tommy Tutone: Love the guitar intro in this one, and the whole premise of the song is genius -- lets you know that you can find inspiration in the bathroom.

33) Don’t Leave Me This Way, Thelma Houston: Showing some love for the song that was No. 1 the day I was born.

32) Easy Lover, Phil Collins and Philip Bailey: You've got Phil Collins and the lead singer of Earth Wind and Fire warning us all about this crazy man-using beeotch. Where can you go wrong?

31) Where the Streets Have No Name, U2: There’s something about this song that whenever it comes on, I feel like I can do anything. Great mood booster.

30) Hotel California, The Eagles: Showing some love for the song that was number 1 a two weeks after I was born. And has the great line " They stab it with their steely knives but they just can't kill the beast." What the hell does that mean -- who cares? Also, it's haunting in a neat-o sort of way.

The Wait

Today I start holding my breath and internally pacing, almost like waiting for someone to give birth. It's arbitration day and the Winter Meetings start at the end of the week, so I've got a sneaking suspicion some signings are going to happen this week. I just hope they're the right ones.

It's also Tino Martinez's birthday, and the 9-year anniversary of the Yankees signing him. Cripes, 9 years ago...wouldn't it be nice? OK, I'll shut up now.

Monday, December 06, 2004

Countin' 'em Down...

So Dexter was telling me that he and his co-workers are each putting together lists of their 50 favorite songs. We don't do stuff like this at my office (we merely get to watch TV all day), but it sounded cool, so I'm doing one on the blog. Every day this week, I'll post 10, counting backward for dramatic effect. (Next week, we go to the movies, which for me is the harder list right now.) And I'm not very good at knowing why these songs are my faves, but I figured I should have some kind of reasoning behind it, but for the most part I like them just because. So here goes:

50) Every Little Thing She Does is Magic, The Police: My parents had this album (The Ghost in the Machine) when I was a kid and the cover perplexed me. The song will forever remind me of the early 80s and just being young.

49) Give a Little Bit, Supertramp: For some reason, this song was stuck in my head permanently during the 1998 Yankee 125-win season. I think it totally had something to do with it.

48) Turn on Your Heartlight, Neil Diamond: Just because of Tanyon Sturtze.

47) Revolution, the Beatles: The song stuck in my head when Jim Leyritz hit the game-tying homer in Game 4 of the 1996 World Series. Also the song I once blasted to get revenge on Sasquatch for a late, loud night.

46) Follow You, Follow Me, Genesis: I just love the gentle insistency of this one.

45) Drive, The Cars: It’s kinda depressing, but a nice relaxing song. Plus it’s kinda fun to think of when someone gets on base and you’re all “Who’s gonna drive you home, tonight?”

44) Give Me the Night, George Benson: One of those songs my mom used to dance with me to in our living room when I was a tot.

43) Night Time is the Right Time, Ray Charles: Most people my age associate this with The Cosby Show. It’s also a great song when you don’t picture Rudy getting all nuts during the female solo.

42) Just the Way You Are, Billy Joel: Or as the guy sang it at A&P during the blizzard of Feb. 2003, “I love you just the way you are…beeotch.”

41) Ain’t That Peculiar, Marvin Gaye: This song is just so darn peppy, I can’t help but like it.

40) I’ll Be There For You, Bon Jovi: If someone sings this at my birthday party next year, I’ll be their best friend. It’s so hairband and over-the-top that it simply falls under the category of awesome.

Making a List, Chicken it Twice

So the following exchange took place yesterday when The Chicken dumped his Christmas list on me:

Me: Um, Chicken? Can I talk to you about your list?
Chicken: No. You must get me everything on it.
Me: Well I’m sorry but “Stepdad” ain’t happening.
Chicken: Don’t you want to get married?
Me: Damn, my mom doesn’t even do this to me, what’s your damage with me being single?
Chicken: Your getting married is entirely for the Yankees’ benefit.
Me: Ummm….
Chicken: You see, you must marry and produce offspring that will bring the Yankees luck.
Me: And how, preytell, do you know this?
Chicken:You were born in a World Series winning year.You have the gift to recreate other good luck children.
Me: That would mean anyone born in 1977 or 1978 have that gift as well. Why is it up to me?
Chicken: Because it is your destiny.
Me: I think you’ve been watching The Terminators too much. And don’t you want me to marry for love, not just for reproduction?
Chicken: But you’d be doing it for the love of the Yankees! And if you marry someone else born in 1977 or 1978…think of the possibilities!
Me: Yeah, OK, I'll keep that in mind. Moving on…the trip to Spring Training you're asking for? So can’t happen.
Chicken: But that is my best chance to meet the Yankees!
Me: And it’s your best chance to get cut open by airport security when they see the big metal twigs sticking out of your feet and think you’re a weapon. We'll probably be shooting your book next spring anyway.
Chicken: Excuses, excuses.
Me: And you want your own talk show? But you don't...
Chicken: I want to be like Oprah and give people free things. And have birthday parties where celebrities come. And yell at guests when they're crazy like that lady who never cleaned her house.
Me: But you don't talk.
Chicken: Well then you must translate.
Me: Maybe someday, when you're famous, Michael Kay will interview us on Center Stage. How's that sound?
Chicken: Well, as long as I get to do the Hit and Run segment, all right. Though you shouldn't be insulted when I say I want Guy the Godzilla in a foxhole with me and not you.
Me: Well, we're not exactly joining the army anytime soon, so I don't feel so offended. Can't you just be satisfied with a new sweater for Christmas? And, hey, what are you going to get me?
Chicken: I always like new sweaters. But sometimes even I, the Yankee Chicken, need to have dreams. I know what you want for Christmas and I'm already working on it.
Me: Is that so?
Chicken: It might not happen by Christmas, but I'm hoping if not, sometime in the new year.
Me: Well, that sounds like quite the undertaking.
Chicken: Of course, it might go smoother if I get my own hot tub...
Me: We are so not going there.

Tis the Season

It's never really Christmas in my office until someone sends us a Mrs. Beasley gift basket. But since shows have been slacking off in sending them in recent years, Tonya and I have opted to get our own secret stash. It should be coming sometime this week. Woo-hoo! But we have to do this in a covert operation because there are a few food vultures in my office. I'm beginning to think every office has at least one of these...

It's never Christmas in the Bischer house till we hear the following Christmas songs:

Bruce Springsteen's version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town, when "It's getting all cold along the beach and the winds are whipping down the boardwalk." Classic.
The Chipmunk Christmas Song
The Twelve Pains of Christmas
The Dogs barking Jingle Bells -- This one's gotten kind of rare over the years. We probably only hear it once or twice.

It's never really Christmas in my apartment until we play the New Kids on the Block's "This One's For the Children." Purely in jest, people.

It's never really Christmas till you're out somewhere and "Do They Know It's Christmas" comes on and someone at some point always has to chime in with their own Bonoesque "Well tonight thank god it's them instead of yoooooouuuuu."

It's never really Christmas till I see the following:
A Christmas Story
Scrooge
It's a Wonderful Life
Santa Claus is Coming to Town
The Grinch
A Charlie Brown Christmas
Rudolph

Since I've been working in New York, it's not really Christmas till I get frustrated as all hell walking near Macy's because the crowds are so huge. Though Tonya and I are debating going to see the Santa at Macy's. We'd go to ask him for Tino back because, as Tonya put it, "He's a New York kind of Santa." And as Miracle on 34th Street tells us, the real Kris Kringle is at Macy's, and if he can get Natalie Wood a house on Long Island he can sure as hell get Tino Martinez back in Pinstripes.

Sunday, December 05, 2004

How Many Chickens Does it Take...



So I'm in a conundrum. I have no idea how to replace the lightbulb above my shower. No, I'm not an idiot -- I know how to use a tool kit, can pump my own gas and can figure out ERA. But this light? I've been worried about it for two years because I'm all, "Uh, there's no way to get in there." So last night, it flickers out and I'm like "sigh." This morning, I dragged a chair into the shower, climbed up and proceeded to inspect. There is no getting the fixture around the light off. Melissa took a look at it, played with it a bit, and came to the same conclusion. It's like they put the lightbulb in and built the ceiling around it.

I felt like a royal dumbass calling my landlord and being all "Uh, I don't know how to change the light..." Even he was all "Um, what?" But people, you've got to believe me, this thing is a riddle.

There, I feel less stupid now that I've talked about it.

Giambi, Public Enemy No. 1



Man, did this scandal come out at the wrong time of year for Giambi and the best time of year for the tabloids -- the Knicks and Nets suck, the Rangers, Islanders and Devils aren't playing, and the Jets and Giants only play once a week. Plus, the election is over and it's been a slow news month or so. Time to find the one thing everyone's talking about and ride it.

Welcome to New York, Jason Giambi.

If you saw the headlines on Friday morning, you'd think he'd murdered Derek Jeter's family, they were so venemous. I mean, yeah, what he did was stupid and detrimental to the game and I'd rather not see him in Pinstripes again, BUT HE'S NOT THE ONLY ONE DOING IT. The News and Post are smart papers despite their bratty natures -- why can't they go on the hunt for other players doing this instead of jumping all over the one they have proof on? They're making Giambi the pariah, and to me that just smacks of lazy reporting and a lack of common sense.

Damn, I hope the Yanks do something positive in the next few weeks. All this negativity is just making the offseason go longer.

Saturday, December 04, 2004

4 1/2 Hour People Party



So last night, my roommates threw their second annual Christmakkah party. I’d missed last year’s because of a previous engagement that didn’t include cookies and latkes, so I made sure to stick around and invite a few of my buds to share in the festivities this year.

It starts with the arrival of The Keg. Yes, you heard me, keg. I hadn’t seen one of those in my own personal living space in about 7 years. The roomies had it delivered, and Rick volunteered to “run it up the stairs over his shoulder.” Now, we live on the second floor, and since even a heavy load of groceries can be tough, you can imagine a 120 pound barrel. Rick literally takes it a step at a time, the roomies and I trailing behind him like weight-lifting spotters, all of us looking over our shoulders just waiting for our landlord to come busting through the front door being like “A-ha!!” When he saw the crowdedness of our building on Faux St. Patrick’s Day (though our apartment probably had the tamest contingent that day – it was Sasquatch’s party that was like Cancun during spring break) he declared, “This is an apartment building, not a discothèque!” Yes, he said discothèque. So we were worried that he might be lurking, alerted by some landlordy ESP, ready to put the kibosh on the crowd we were expecting.

And holy crap did it get crowded. The roommates invited like 90 of their friends, 65 of whom decided to come. We may have 1200 square feet to our apartment, but everyone decided to gather in area by the Christmas tree and food/alcohol table, which made for not much movement. All 6 of my guests arrive at once, and while Tonya, Matt and I sequester ourselves in my room to see the slimy BALCO dude with a porn stache rat out all his apparent “customers” on 20/20, Dexter, Liana, Eric and Jesse claim the far end of the living room as Hoboken Crew territory. When the segment is over, we have a hell of a time walking the 20 feet or so between my room and the living room, such is the amount of people between us and the rest of my friends. I decide to refer to it as The Gauntlet.

At one point, Jesse and Liana decide to head an expedition to the kitchen to grab some food and beers (there were some not in a keg), and I literally offer them a “Godspeed” and debate sending them off with a few rations just in case.

Matt, (who I forget to admonish in captainly fashion for being blog AWOL of late…arr), asks me if this is what my college experience was like, and I have to admit my old apartment once threw a party where two kegs were kicked in two hours. Because I somehow always manage to live with people who have more friends than Oprah.

Rick wanders over at one point and wants to know if we can set up the karaoke machine because he wants to do a song with Eric and Dexter. I’m still not sure if he was joking or serious. I do tell him that the awesomely fabulous day of April 23 will be the next Hoboken Idol party, and now that I’ve figured out how to make iron-on transfers with digital pictures, you can sure as hell bet someone’s going to get a prize T-shirt with The Chicken on it. I know that alone probably just got people motivated to start working on the song of their choice.

Anyway, someone decides my Christmakkah iPod mix isn’t doing it for them and instead cranks up the Springsteen CD in the stereo. Jesse’s all “Do you have any Mellencamp?” and he and Tonya commiserate over being from Midwestern states beginning with the letter I. And when I hijack my unused iPod away from the stereo, I prove to them that I can appreciate the genius of corn/wheat-fed singers by showing them my Mellencamp mix. And this somehow leads to us singing a bar of Cherry Bomb, which I didn’t even realize I knew all the words to until that moment. I tell them I’ll try to put it on once Bruce is over, but someone finds Carolyn’s Bon Jovi CD and cranks up Living on a Prayer and you’d never mistake this for something other than a Jersey party. Eric’s all “You put Bon Jovi on at the END of a party,” and this miraculously seems to clear people out of the Christmas tree/food/keg area. So much so that I take the opportunity to run to the bathroom because I can now actually get to it.

By midnight, a huge chunk of the crowd has felt the hypnotic power of Bon Jovi and vacated, so I breathe a little easier literally and figuratively because now there’s less of a chance that the cops will have to bust in with tear gas and riot gear.

And at the magic hour of 2 a.m., it seems everyone else decides to go, my remaining buds included. I’m utterly amazed that no one got smothered, nothing got broken or majorly spilled and that the Christmas tree remained in an upright position. To have none of that happen with a crowd that large takes talent. Or just a hell of a lot of luck. I’m satisfied with either one.

Friday, December 03, 2004

Put an Asterisk Next to These Fans

I take it back. Maybe fans are the part of the reason this steroid problem is out of control. Check out ESPN.com's poll:

1) Do you believe Barry Bonds when he says he did not know the clear substance and cream he received from Greg Anderson were steroids?
84.7% No
15.3% Yes

OK, so a vast majority of sports fans believe he's lying. Keep rolling...


2) How big an impact do you think these substances had on Bonds' output?
52.4% Significant - probably added 20 home runs
30.7% Moderate - probably added 10 home runs
16.9% Small - they didn't help his hand-eye coordination

...and most people think the steroids affected his performance...


3) Should Bonds have an asterisk next to his name in the record books?
66.4% Yes
33.6% No

...And lots think he should be shown to be a cheater....

4) Should these revelations affect Bonds' eligibility for the Hall of Fame?
53.1% No
46.9% Yes

...but let's let him in the Hall anyway. The hell, America? I CANNOT believe that almost everyone agrees the steroids helped him perform better in some way, but everyone is this divided on rewarding him with the most important honor in baseball? Do you hear yourselves? This isn't even like Pete Rose, because his betting on the game didn't make him a better or worse player (I don't think he should be in the Hall for other reasons, but that's neither here nor there). Steroids have probably helped Barry have a longer shelf life, helped him break records left and right, earn MVP awards. That's an insult to any Hall of Famer who DIDN'T need to cheat -- you know, the ones that got in because they were actually special.

I give up.

Nipping it in the Bud

RIght, Barry Bonds. You keep telling yourself and the rest of us that you had nooooooooo idea "The Cream" and "The Clear" were steroids. We totally believe you.

God, as much as Giambi is a dumbass for lying to the public about it, at least he told the truth under oath. Now Barry Bonds is an asshole AND a liar. How lovely that he's going to go to the Hall of Fame someday...

What this all makes glaringly obvious to me is that this sport needs a real commisioner. Not some blowhard poseur owner with bad hair. You don't hear about this shit in any other of the major sports, but baseball is like the Wild West. It needs some authority, someone that both the players and owners can respect, and someone who can discipline the crap out of the players in cases like this. Selig is out for his own glory, not to make the sport better. The fact that he's been such a pansy ass about steroid testing (the right plan from the right person would probably shut the Players Union up about it being a human rights infringement or whatever they whine about) has led to all this. All the steroid rumors seriously escalated AFTER he took office. And if it's true that 50 percent or more of the players are using, it's because they know they can get away with it. Because Selig makes a lot of noise about it and then just turns his head to the whole thing. Because he has no balls.

He can take credit for making baseball "better" with Interleague Play and the expanded playoffs and the "Now it counts" All-Star Game and how fans are eating it up, but that's like feeding a kid with a sugar diet. Yeah, they'll think you're the greatest parent ever for letting them eat what they want, but they're going to end up malnourished in the end.