Monday, January 31, 2005
Ironically enough, today is St. John Bosco Day -- the patron saint of editors.
Now we went walking in the rain talking about the pain from the world we hid
Now there ain't nobody nowhere nohow gonna ever understand me the way you did
Maybe you'll be out there on that road somewhere
In some bus or train traveling along
In some motel room there'll be a radio playing
And you'll hear me sing this song
Well if you do you'll know I'm thinking of you and all the miles in between
And I'm just calling one last time not to change your mind
But just to say I miss you baby, good luck goodbye, Bobby Jean
Secondly, Bobby Jean's one fickle ass friend, damn it, and I've had too many of those in my life. I mean, who ups and leaves town without telling their best friend like Bobby Jean did? I've had friends do similar things that still hurt -- nothing intentional, at least I hope, but enough to make you feel shitty. And yet, like Bruce, I'd sit and write something nice about them in the hopes that someday in some motel room or office cubicle or while watching a Yankee game, they'll see what I've written and know I still wish them well. In reality, I should be like "Piss off, jackass. Thanks for being a friend -- NOT!" but I'm a sentimental dumbass like that and I'll still miss them.
At least Bruce got his friend (Little Steven, who the song was apparently about) back. The rest of us just have to keep hoping, I guess.
Anyway, I don't get this. Aside from Johnson befriending his neighborhood cameraman/stalker and Giambi's roid trouble, why exactly do people think this team's going to be beating the snot out of each other on the locker room floor? And seriously, when did it become fan law that you have to have an entire clubhouse full of righteous nice guys to have a team that's worthy of cheering for? EVERY team has an asshat or two or twelve.You're not going to have Derek Jeters at every position -- the well-adjusted guys who know how to say the right thing all the time. But you are going to have guys like Jeter and Joe Torre who will give you the look of death from across the clubhouse if you step over the line. Or at least you hope there's someone like this in the clubhouse. But if not, does that make them any less a good baseball team?
Where you work, is everyone awesome all the time? Are there people who pull their weight, but you wouldn't really associate with outside the office? Does this make you a "bad" company unworthy of praise or undeserving of any awards or accolades you may receive? Right. So why do we apply this formula to sports teams -- with whom we aren't exactly on a first-name basis?
The men taking the field every night are human beings -- they're assembled together for their talent, not their congeniality. We have this tendency to put everyone up on a pedestal, that they should be awesomely athletic and amiable, and they're not always that way, and gasp, we don't like it! But do you want Randy Johnson on your team because he could pitch you through to another WS Championship, or do you want him around to spout wisdom and manlove? Damn, if my ticket price is going up to finance him, he'd better be pitching his ass off instead of working to win Best Personality at the next Yankees' Senior Superlatives dinner-dance.
The Sux have Schilling to deal with (and he can try to brainwash us all he wants with his talk of being a team player, but you know some of his teammates are probably like "shut the fuck up, Curtass" half the time); the Mets now have Pedro; The Giants have Barry and his loveable self. EVERY team the media wants to get behind (ahem, ESPN.com and Lupicass), even these ones that apparently ooze chemistry, have a few jackasses, don't kid yourself.
But what gets me most is the lack of evidence to prove that this team is even on the level of Bronx Zoo craziness. And even if there are some asshats, we forget clubhouse disturbers such as David Wells, Darryl Strawberry, Roger Clemens, Chad Curtis, Ruben Sierra Version 1.0, Jim Leyritz, et al, played for winning Yankee teams -- see, it's not as if those Sainted 1996-2000 teams were without asshats themselves, so why worry now? In the OFFSEASON?
If it makes you feel any better, let's go 'round the team and see who might and might not cause trouble this season:
C Posada: No asshat tendencies that I can think of.
1b Tino: Beloved
Giambi: an asshat for jacking up on roids, but is apparently a decent human being otherwise and not a clubhouse cancer. Gets half an asshat status.
2b Womack: ??
SS Jeter: Self-explanatory, non-asshat.
3b A-Rod: If he'd hit .346 with 59 homers for the season and did well in those last three games against the Sux, we wouldn't be focusing so much on that dumb slap of his, now would we? He has asshat tendencies, but for the most part, knows his role.
LF Matsui: Godzilla couldn't wear an asshat if he tried, and it's not because of the abundance of badly cut hair, either.
CF Bernie: Anyone wanting to call him an asshat will have me to contend with because he's totally not. And you know it.
RF Shef: Has asshat tendencies, as when he got quoted slamming the Sux during the ALCS, but no one seemed to care if he was an asshat or not when he was hitting a shit load of home runs in big situations during the regular season. Or maybe I'm imagining those MVP chants....
DH Sierra: Used to be a full-on asshat, but has impressed Joe Torre so much, he was named Manager for a Day during the last game of the season -- a sign of huge respect on JT's part.
Moose: Too quiet to be an asshat.
RJ: Well, he's said he's going to be an asshat the day he pitches, but that could be a good thing.
Quantrill: I'm not even sure I've ever heard him speak, so if he's an asshat, he's a silent one.
Gordon: Flash has never struck me as anything but Flash.
Stanton: Never exhibited asshat tendencies in the past.
Karsay: Doesn't pitch much, but doesn't seem like an asshat, either.
Mo: Could never be an asshat, even if he tried.
OK, so that's one certifiable asshat. One asshat every fifth day. A half an asshat. Two that have asshat tendencies. One reformed asshat. And three Question Marks. The rest?
If you want to be biting your nails over this, go for it, but I won't be joining you.
I can't believe how far Sweet 16s have come. Photographers? Prom dresses? COUNTRY CLUBS? Man, on my 16th birthday my friends came over and we had cake and played man-hunt (that's the "grown-up" title we threw on hide-and-seek in my neighborhood so we could still play as teens. I guess if the guys thought it was army/MacGyver-like or something, it wasn't considered babyish) and I got the Yankee 1993 yearbook, in which I discovered a young prospect named Derek Jeter and even back then I was like "Hmmmmm...."
Mine was on the smaller scale, while one of my friends rented out the local firehouse for her party, and another had about 70-80 of us at her house (one of the best parties I went to in high school, and it even had parental supervision), but there was NOTHING like the stuff MTV showed us yesterday. I guess because while Middletown has fairly well-off people in it, no one's well-off enough to drop $100,000 on a birthday party (as was the case with these two somewhat bratty girls from California).
This week's upcoming episode looks priceless: A girl (who looks to have implants, which is just sick if that's the case -- but probably also means she has a rich, whacko family, which makes for great TV) gets flown to Paris to buy her Sweet 16 Dress and gets all whiny and cries because Dior is closed or something.
It's so great when rich people make asses out of themselves on national television...
Sunday, January 30, 2005
The other thing that amazed me yesterday (no, not Piazza's wedding. Wouldn't that have to be Amazin', anyway?) was Life of Pi. Ladies and gentleman, I give you the first truly good book I've read in about year. It starts off slow, but it picks up toward the middle and is completely delightful. I was worried because all these literary type reviewers loved it -- which to me usually means it's a snoozefest. But this totally wasn't and had me more enthralled than The Da Vinci Code (which was mediocre IMHO) and was more touching than The Five People You Meet in Heaven (blah). Now I go on the great search for another good book, because it's still six months till the next Harry Potter comes out....
Saturday, January 29, 2005
Dexter (who is suffering from The Consumption) gets quote of the night honors when discussing the possibility of him and Vicki buying a place: "Oh shit, what the hell am I talking about? We can't even afford a box of Cheerios, let alone a house." Man, I hear that!
Friday, January 28, 2005
Why do these seemingly nice guys date complete bitches? Is the sex THAT good? Low self esteem? Do they think being yelled it is a sign of love? Are the guys complete assholes in private, thus making them a perfect match? Why would you be with someone who treats you like crap? (And yes, I know women are guilty of this too when they date asshole men.) It's not like the entire metropolitan area is made of Beeotches, either. For every nice guy I see on public transportation, there are girls who look just as nice, and I'm inclined to think it's not that hard to date someone who treats you well.
Geez, I'd think you'd rather be single than with someone who you have to "Yes Dear" to death. Unless there are guys who get off on this, and then I'm even more disturbed...
That, and whenever I see women behave this way (i.e., overwhelming sense of entitlement and meanness toward their mate) I want to Beeotch Slap them. I mean, get over yourself -- and thanks for giving the rest of us a bad name, jackass.
Stuff like this didn't even happen at my college newspaper office, where people ate three meals a day, beat the crap out of keyboards and basically trashed the hell out of the place on occassion. I know deadlines make people do crazy things, but sugar?
Tonya: Grr. Saw first Sux sign. Kill me.
Me: Deep breaths! 26 titles to their 1 over last 82 years. I mean, their captain's going to wear a C on his jersey like he's Hester f'ing Prynne for gosh sakes!
Tonya: LOL! I'm going 2 chant Lets Go Yankees in my head every time I see or hear something that pisses me off.
Me: Think of good signs to make for April 3 involving their suckiness and ESPN. It will set your mind at ease.
Tonya: Good idea! May Tino guide me through this...
Now let's hope she can make it through the next two days unscathed. I wished her Godspeed yesterday before she left, and she has warned that if we hear that Fenway's been burned down, we might know who did it....
Thursday, January 27, 2005
I have to agree with Shannon here. There is something so not right about Mariano looking...damn fine. EWWW! *Slaps self* He's The Sandman, he's not supposed to be a looker! You do NOT have impure thoughts about your closer.
Plus, this commercial freaks me the hell out. Those masks? Can we say the biproduct of someone's fever-enduced nightmare?
Though I guess I'd rather have Mo look scary than studly. *Slaps self again*
It must be the magic power of the Navy-Blue Shirt...
It was all going so well, with the bus zipping along and everyone's mellow, when WHAM! We get to 13th and Willow Ave. in Hoboken and we sit there. For a half hour. Which is just long enough for people to abandon ship and start trying to jump on buses that are also not going anywhere about 20 feet ahead of us. As if those few feet will make all the difference or something -- I mean, when traffic isn't moving, it's not moving, no matter where you're sitting. At one point I hear someone next to me ask "Do you know why everyone's getting off?" and I turn and HOO-HA! Cute Guy on Public Transportation Alert! Since I'm next to the window, I tell him that there's a few buses up ahead and he agrees with me that it makes no sense to leave for a non-moving bus only a few feet in front of you. That's when the bus stalls out for a second, but the lights come back on and everything seems fine. Until EVERYONE starts climbing off the bus and it appears it's because the bus is dead (luckily, the traffic in front of us still isn't moving anyway).
Cute Guy's all "What's going on?" and I'm all "I think the bus broke." We get off too and Cute Guy's like "This is a sign I should just go home" and I'm thinking it's too bad I'm on deadline today or I'd ditch too, which is why I get on a bus behind the dead one and Cute Guy looks like he's feeling guilty for ditching. I totally should've been like "Hey, let's go get breakfast!" since we were right near a diner, but alas, I'd never be THAT ballsy. Plus, what if he was one of those nouveau-Sux fans that are inflitrating Hoboken? That would've been bad.
Anyway, a half hour later, my new bus has moved about a half mile, and I text Carolyn to see where she's at -- and now she's by the diner, too. She says that according to Rick, there's a 45-minute back up at the Tunnel, thus the current situation. I told her she should get off and have breakfast and she was like "I should -- I'd still probably get to work at the same time." Mmmm. Now I'm thinking of good diner food...
Traffic finally starts moving a bit after that, and by the time we get to the Tunnel, (now cleared of whatever breakdown took place) we sail along as if there was no trouble to begin with. Traffic is so bizarre in that way. I still got to work, oh, more than an hour after I usually do, but that usually makes the day go faster. But damn if that wasn't one of the worst commutes I've ever had from Hoboken.
It has nothing on NJ Transit trains, however....
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
I'm probably the only person on the planet who can't stand seeing the bad people audition, though. Mostly because they're just fame whores and AI is totally giving in to them by giving them airtime. But also because if I want to hear bad singing, I can just hop in the shower and entertain myself (and the roommates and Sasquatch) by belting out bad 80s power ballads while washing my hair.
My point? Those people who CAN'T sing far outnumber those who can, so I'd rather see the rarities,( i.e. the good singers) if I'm going to invest an hour of my time watching this stuff. But I guess since it's all good singers after the audition round, I can deal with the fame-whoriest of fame whores for a few weeks.
Now if you'll excuse me, Sasquatch is stomping around and I think that means he wants to hear my rendition of Eternal Flame....
Now, you may be thinking "How can a stuffed chicken know anything about romance?" Ah, but he adores the Yankees, so of course he knows what true love is like! And do you seriously think he'd steer you in the wrong direction?
Anyway, what he's looking for is love questions from y'all. The Chicken will pick through his favorites and answer them in his most wisest (or wise-ass) fashion in February. Write here, at your own risk: firstname.lastname@example.org
Anyway, all this means we have a new crew now, who doesn't know anyone, so we have to bust out our IDs when coming in. I swear, I've been at this job over four years and the only time I've ever had to use the ID was for a few days after Sept. 11. Can I tell you how hard it is to make this a part of my routine? I get to the building and I'm all "Crap!" and I have to dig through my bag and pull it out. I feel like Wayne and Garth, showing off my backstage pass to Alice Cooper or something, but without the sense of fun.
There are people in my office who never even got IDs issued, and now they have to get harrassed and signed in every morning. I feel for them because this is a huge annoyance -- and it wouldn't be that way if they just EXPLAINED why all these new measures are in effect. Like, did they discover a terrorist working on the 9th floor (you know, that place where packages go to die)? I mean, this isn't exactly a building full of "important" offices that security would have to be tight. Whatever.
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
And I guess that makes Steph like Vicki Stubing because she's joining the "cast" permanently this spring....
What I need y'all's take on is if this sentence is a slam at the Yankees or not. Because you know I'm biased to think this man is out for blood when it comes to Pinstripes (and I'm probably not wrong about that):
Then the Mets overpaid for Carlos Beltran to come be the kind of star in center field that New York baseball teams are supposed to have.
I mean, is that a knock on the non-flashy Bernie? The Yankees for not getting Beltran? That was my first reaction to reading it. If it is a knock on Bernie, Lupicass is a bigger heartless Fucko™ than I gave him credit for, because when has Bern-Baby-Bern done anything but play his heart out? So what if he's not DiMaggio or Mantle -- the man's been patrolling center for the past 13 years and has four rings to his credit. You think he hasn't been a piece of the puzzle just because he's not a "star"?
Even if that's not what he's saying...shut up, Lupica.
Monday, January 24, 2005
My response (in faux French accent): He weeeel whack her on zee head with a baguette! While wearing a beret and a ceeeeegarette in zee other hand!
The Roomies got a kick out of that. Melissa was all "keep going!" but I'd run out of French cliches at that point.
Advice: Sometimes it's good to be honest. Sometimes it's better just to keep your mouth shut.
Books: I'm reading Life of Pi right now. So far, so good. I finished The Five People You Meet in Heaven two weeks ago and was not impressed.
Craving: Coke Classic right now, as I have been for the past few weeks or so.
Date: I'll go with the "going-out-on-a..." form of the word. The Boardwalk, to me, is the ideal date. It's usually warm outside, you get to play games (Skee Ball!!!), people watch (the Jersey Shore is GREAT for this), eat bad-for-you food, go on rides and walk on the beach. It can be terribly cheesy and yet terribly romantic at the same time.
E-mail: It's sad, but I get such a boost when I log onto Yahoo and I see a little star next to the mail envelope letting me know I've got something. And equally as sad, I want to punch someone when I find out it's just spam.
Friends: I have the best ones on the planet, yo. And they could kick your friends' ass any day of the week, so there.
Gross: Having to pull food/blockages out of the sink drain.
Humor: It is crucial to survival.
Ice cream: Oh, what I wouldn't give for a trip to Friendly's right now -- either a Snickers Sundae with cookies-n-cream ice cream, or a chocolate Fribble. Mmmmmm. Damn this city with its lack of Friendly's!!!
Joy: I'll take The Yankees Winning the World Series for 500, Alex.
Kitchen: I know my way around one and enjoy spending time in it.
Love: It's abundant in my living room/dining room, according to Liana.
Men: Are they wearing navy-blue shirts?
Natural: Are we talking childbirth here, because no way in hell I'm doing that "natural." If we're talking the baseball movie, it's one of my faves.
One: Um, Billy Martin?
Pick-me-up: Fried Oreos, Flipz, warm chocolate-chip cookies
Quirky: There's good quirky, and forced, I'm-trying-to-be-something-I'm-not quirky. I like the former.
Rain: It's nice every now and then, but it makes for problems when you're at a game or want to go to the beach.
Sun: Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's bad for you and stuff, but how the hell else are we supposed to enjoy being outside? Hanging out in the rain isn't my idea of a good time.
Tickle: Fun, if it's not in your throat, anyway.
Underwear: I like wearing it, yes.
Valentine: I've never had one. Wah, wah, wah, waaaah, goes the sound effects department.
Words: Without them, I'd have no job or blog or many interests, for that matter.
X-ray: I've only had a few that weren't dental related -- broken toes, wrist.
Yard: I like having one you're actually allowed to hang out in.
Zoo: I haven't been to one in over 20 years. Hollis and I tried to go to the Bronx Zoo a few years ago, but got lost on the Subway and we decided to go to that day's Yankee game instead. So it all worked out.
The song I've Been Thinking About You is on iTunes right now, and I just remembered buying it on single cassette during a, like, totally awesome shopping excursion to the mall back in 1989-90...a whopping 15 years ago. Oh man, is that traumatic.
Other than that, this is the most boring day known to man. What I wouldn't give to be "watching" a game on Yahoo right now...
Sunday, January 23, 2005
Oh man, it is BITTERLY cold out there at the moment. It's supposed to be like 23 degrees today, which isn't so bad, but factor in 40 mph wind gusts and we've got us a frigid-ass one.
I think we got a little over a foot, but now we get fun (ie, hard to walk through) snow drifts with the wind.
I'm going to play in it later, but The Chicken says he's content to stay in watching the YES Network and drinking hot cocoa today. Life is good in the AccuChicken weather center.
Alex Rodriguez now says that he considers it a personal failure that the Yankees couldn't hold that 3-0 lead against the
Sure he does.
A-Rod believes it is all his fault about as much as he believes in the Easter Bunny.
Because Mike Lupica is TOTALLY psychic, man! And you know what? He's just about as obnoxious as Ms. Cleo, too.
I seriously want to know what is up his ass about A-Rod since the man takes every opportunity to crucify him via the column. But whatever.
And just so he knows, A-Rod said the same stuff in that NY Times feature story back in November. And as much as I think the Times has a Red Sux Boner like ESPN, at least they let the man make his case. You know, instead of offering us a one-sided argument laden with hatred from one bitter little man and his keyboard.
If I pass Lupicass on the street today, I am totally hurling a huge snowball in his direction. I mean, there are several people I'd find it theraputic to chuck a big wad of snow at, but Lupicass would be very satisfying indeed. Probably because I doubt he'd have enough of an arm to throw one back -- 1) because he looks like a wimpy little ass and 2) the arm's probably degenerated with all the venom that comes pouring through it when he types.
Saturday, January 22, 2005
Don't worry, Sassy. Some day love will find you, break those chains that bind you....
The Chicken, looking all Sam Championesque, wanted to take this ruler down to the yard, but since we're not allowed to set foot in it, he's a bit disappointed.
Just to note, if you see "grass" sticking up in the yard four hours into this storm, it's because the yard hasn't been mowed since July. So that's like two feet of weedage out there.
So since I'm going to be trapped inside for the majority of the day, I've decided to track this Blizzard's progress via photos of my boring-ass backyard (where tenants are not allowed to set foot). The Chicken ventured into the snow for this one at noon. It had been snowing for about 20 minutes at that point and you can already see the accumulation.
More on your AccuChicken Forecast as the day progresses...
So for those keeping score at home, that's piracy, mafia relations, Monmouth County mayoral connections and family friendships with exaggerating real-estate tycoons all in my rich family history/favor.
Friday, January 21, 2005
I never loved Roger as a Yankee for this exact reason -- you could NOT trust him in a big game. I mean, his regular season record was great, but let's review: He's 10-7 lifetime in the playoffs. This is a man who's supposed to be your ace, but I know whenever he came out in October for the Yanks, I watched through my fingers.
Whatever. I guess Houston has their reasons and are missing Beltran, but damn, I hope for their sake it doesn't come back to bite them in the ass.
Though now Andy gets his workout buddy back. Awww.
That second number? Aww yeah, that's how many days till Pitchers and Catchers report, as per Yankees.com's awesome little countdown clock thingy.
That third, er, number? That's what every weather forecaster is like right now about the snow we're supposed to get this weekend. I've heard anywhere from 6-28 inches. And that's quite a range. Not sure how I'm going to fit in a boatload of cooking, reading, outlining, catching up on missed TV-shows from this week, rooting against the Patriots...er...watching football AND playing in the snow, but I'm young and I'm sure I can handle it.
Thursday, January 20, 2005
The only way for this to be avenged is if you all go out and vote for what was truly the "storybook run of our time" (and didn't involve long hair, dwarfs and ignoring the National Anthem to do group shots of JD because, awwww, it was too cowld!) -- VOTE FOR THE 1998 YANKEES! And keep voting when the rounds get less and less.
And by the way, what is up with all these fans contemplating the Yanks downfall too? I mean, I know in my heart of hearts that the Yanks can't be great forever, but to see their "downfall" beginning with this team? Are you crazy? Just because the media doesn't like a few moves -- when the new guys HAVEN'T EVEN PLAYED YET? Looking for Gloom and Doom in January is absurd, and the sign of fans who have been truly spoiled -- and a bit crackheaded, too.
Let's look at the Yanks position by position over my favorite lovable losers (with NO potential whatsoever) the 1992 Squad. Now this is a team that would make me worry, not one laden with talent as today's is:
Then: Matt Nokes/Mike Stanley
Now: Jorge Posada
Edge: Um. Yeah.
Then: Don Mattingly
Now: Giambi/Tino combo
Edge: Well, Mattingly had the better glove, but his bat was slowing down at this point. I'd say the edge, if Giambi is healthy and plays decent, goes to now.
Then: Pat Kelly/Mike Gallego
Now: Tony Womack
Edge: Womack's played on a few contenders and has a decent lifetime batting average. Pat Kelly could "pivot" well. Mike Gallego had a funny shaped head when he wore his batting helmet.
Then: Andy Stankiewicz, Randy Velarde, Mike Gallego
Now: Derek Jeter
Edge: You seriously expect me to go there?
Then: Charlie Hayes
Edge: Yeah, this current team REALLY has me shaking in my shoes.
Then: Roberto Kelly/Gerald Williams
Now: Hideki Matsui
Edge: Oh, what? I was too busy buffing my nails because this is such a no-brainer.
Then: Roberto Kelly/Bernie Williams
Now: Bernie Williams
Edge: Bernie is a much better player now than when he was 23. Believe it, or not.
Then: Mel Hall
Now: Gary Sheffield
Then: Danny Tartabull/Kevin Maas
Now: Tino/Giambi/Bernie (if another centerfielder is signed)/Sierra
Edge: Gee, remember how many pennants Tartabull and Maas got us!?
I'm not even going to bother with the pitching staff because that's just way cruel to the 1992 pitchers.
My point? If this current team is making you worry, you really need a vacation or something. Or maybe you should've jumped off the bandwagon in 2000, since you obviously don't remember what it was like to have no hope AT ALL with your team.
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
Right now, there's a party on the beach. With a bonfire. And cars on the beach. Um, NO!
There are no big, jagged cliffs ANYWHERE on the Jersey Shore. Just man-made jetties. That look nothing like big, jagged cliffs.
There's no Ferris Wheel or huge amusement park on the Pt. Pleasant Boardwalk. And the boards aren't vertical wide planks.
At least they didn't make everyone fake a "Jersey" accent. And the whole Jersyans aren't allowed to pump gas thing. That's the only nice thing I can say about it.
-- I won the office Golden Globe pool! With only 11 correct answers!
-- I've made Paul Katcher's Web Friends list!
-- It's warmed up enough in the office that I don't need gloves right now!
-- Lost is on tonight!
-- Liana's making her awesome chilli on Friday night for our Bourne-a-thon!
-- It's supposed to snow this weekend! Like, really snow and accumulate and shit!
Though I do expect my diehard Yankee lover friends to try out too. Time to show those other teams which fans are kings of the hill, top of the heaps.
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
Though it would be great if they jumped a guy buying stuff for his girlfriend/wife...Oh, I'm just kidding, guys. I know there are many of you who absolutely hate being sent on that errand. But just so you know, dudes, when we do see you buying that stuff, we know it's not YOU that's on the rag, so be fearless in your task instead of looking like you're the one with bad cramps. Besides, you look like a nice guy who's secure in his manhood by doing this.
Anyway, in these here parts, the Engagement Party is usually Wedding Lite -- Lite being 92 calories to a real Wedding's 100. They're usually at catering halls with DJs and people dressing up as if they were going to a wedding. The bride and groom get to dance to "their song." There's father/daughter, mother/son dances. They do the Electric Slide. There's cake cutting and the happy couple sitting at their own table. Just like a Wedding and probably just as expensive.
I know there are some Engagement Parties where the couple gathers close family and the bridal party and they do a brunch or something, which seems hell of a lot more meaningful than going through a dry-run of your wedding roughly a year before the actual marriage takes place. With every living relative on your family tree, your entire corporation, the garbage man, and that neighbor you don't really like, but who looks rich in attendance.
Plus, this means you get not one, not two, but three weekend days of your life taken away for this couple. It's one thing if you actually LIKE the couple. But usually it's some distant relative who's just trying to suck as much money out of you as possible, so they can buy a house when YOU CAN'T EVEN AFFORD TO RENT BY YOURSELF.
And then you get invited to their housewarming party.
This also led into a sidebar discussion of a similar scene in the way awesome Singles, where the guy is bowled over when the gal he digs unlocks his side for him. It practically makes him decide she's the one.
Whoda thunk so much dating psychology could come from a freaking car lock button?
And our Ear Rubbing friend was back last night, and this time our table was facing him. THANK GOD there were two guys standing in between us, so we were blocked from his stare. Though we did catch him rubbing the ear from time to time...
Monday, January 17, 2005
Forewarned is forearmed...
See this little house right here? It's causing me all sorts of agita at the moment. You see, it's for sale, around the block from where I grew up. It has a small front yard, no backyard, three bedrooms and one bathroom. The rooms are tiny. My apartment might have as much square footage or even more. So how much do you think this "starter home" is going for? 200,000? 225,000? WRONG! Try $384,000!
This drives me nuts. It's not a house you'll stay in for the rest of your life. In fact, it's probably a single person/young couple/elderly couple-type home. How can any of the above afford this, except maybe the elderly couple that's selling off another house?
A first time home buyer, especially a single one is royally SCREWED in today's market. If I can't even think about buying a ranch that can barely fit all the furniture I own, what the heck am I supposed to do? Rent the rest of my life? Granted, my field doesn't pay that great, but even if I were making more money, I still couldn't afford it. And once upon a time, like ten years ago, my parents' neighborhood used to be the affordable side of town. Who the fuck can afford it now?
People keep saying the market's going to bust, but it has yet to happen. It's probably evil of me to be rooting for it to collapse, but it's also pretty bad that I'm probably going to have to have roommates for the rest of my natural life.
On why other people might think of him as "powerful":
Huh? Who thinks of him as powerful? Geez, ESPN, give the man a more bloated head than he already has, why don't you? And don't use that word in regards to him either, because the man already thinks he's God's gift to baseball and we don't need him thinking he's God's DH or whatever. It's bad enough he went to bat for Dubya.
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Of course I just had to weigh in. What, you thought I'd sit on my hands with this one? I literally smacked my TV screen with the remote when Lupicass came on the Sports Reporters this morning. That should tell you something.
He was embarrassed when he watched himself put a hand on that Channel 2 television camera - it's against the rules anywhere, not just here...
The hell? It's against the rules to want your privacy? You mean it's OK for the media to stalk you when you're out of uniform, when they get MANY chances to talk to you in a game setting? Damn, those LA celebrities who are constantly running from the paparazzi must be evil rule breakers, I tell you.
After talking about the city's reaction to the whole "Incident" this week: At which point the whole city quaked.
Um, hello? The whole city MEDIA quaked. I didn't see one fan "quaking." More like shaking their heads at the whole blown-out-of-proportionedness of the story. But then Lupicass hasn't been in touch with the thoughts of fans of this town in about six or seven years, so maybe I should cut him some slack.
Bottom line here? On a day when the pitcher known as the Big Unit needed to act like a big guy, he did.
Oh, SHUT UP.
The idea that one dumb episode marks him as somebody who might not be able to consistently handle the pressures and responsibilities of being a star athlete in New York is silly.
Yeah, now you say this. Had he not apologized and acted like a "big guy" by kow-towing down to the New York media (and in a way, you know Lupicass is thinking that this somehow emasculated RJ, thereby making the media the "winner" in all this.) would this notion still be "silly?"
I liked him more on Tuesday than I ever had.
Again, because he was on his knees to the NY media, being made to feel like shit for wanting privacy? It's sad that only David Letterman could see the light on this one.
Randy Johnson is never going to be the life of the party around the Yankee clubhouse, but guess what? There is no life of the party in the Yankee clubhouse, which for the past few years has had the personality of a holding cell, and been about as much fun.
Ah, now it all comes out! The Yankees aren't a fun team that gives columnists bunches of stuff to write about! I've been saying this all along. Lupicass is probably longing for the halcyon days of the Bronx Zoo, when players and coaches donning the same uniform kicked each others asses in the dugout. Yeah, that's fun -- for the writers.
You know, I bet even Lupicass himself is getting bored doling out the same negative shit week after week and its manifesting itself in...negativity. But I'll take a boring team with no "personality" that wins games over one whose "antics" make the headlines.
A team should be going out there every day to rack up as many wins as possible, not to give a good sound byte. Sorry, Lupicass, if that makes your job a little tougher.
Saturday, January 15, 2005
Yeah, so, I went to the Gap for jeans and I came out with this shirt. I mean, could I help it? Am I not the Captain of the Mystique and Aura? All I could think was "Arr, me crew would want me to have it." It was only 9.99, too, so I wasn't about to pass it up.
I guess it's a good damn thing there were no ships called the SS Mystique and Aura that had run aground in the mall or something...
Oh, all right, I know this network has spoiled the shit out of me. I mean, what did Yankee fans do in the offseason before YES? Because MSG only had Yankees Magazine and that was it.
So now I guess I'll just get that old Jon Secada classic that I used to title this post stuck in y'all's heads for my amusement today. Unless you want it to be Come Go With Me by the Del Vikings, which was playing in my dream last night where I was dancing through the A&P as I gathered my groceries because the Yankees had just won the World Series or something.
Man, I'm so in withdrawl, it's bordering on scary!
Friday, January 14, 2005
And then there are the gloom-and-doomers who just try to drag you down with them, who I personally think suck and wish would fall off the face of the earth. But sometimes, you get gloom-and-doomers, who are also "Red Bulls" and damn you've got a challenge! How do people get this way? Not that I'm always tranquil, but damn, I try to keep it to myself when the weird moods strike. I work in publishing though, which means weird people far outnumber the sane ones. It does make the day more, um, colorful, so maybe I shouldn't complain. It's better than being bored all day, I guess.
Oh, and just call me Charles today because I am In Charge of my section at work. I'm hoping for a Red Bull-less day, but it's only 10 a.m., and the day is still young.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
However, I have no trouble picturing Derek Jeter doing this for some reason. Forget that Gold Glove -- you totally know his most important award could be Disco King.
"You can tell by the way I use my walk
I'm a woman's man, no time to talk."
Yep. That's El Capitan to a T.
I've said it before, I'll say it again. I can't stand these reporters who take it upon themselves to give all of us "ignorant" Yankee fans a "reality check." They seem to think that whatever is pouring out of their Pulitzer-in-waiting keyboard is an original thought, one that we fans of the Bombers are incapable of having because all we know is "winning." Therefore, they must show us how stupid we are with their prose, just to knock us down a few pegs from whatever excitement we're feeling at the moment.
Well sorry, Mr. Ian O'Connor, even after reading your bitter piece o' slop, I'm still excited Johnson is here. But I know he's only going out there every five days. He can have whatever attitude he wants as long as he wins -- that's what he's here for, yo. So no, Mr. Ian O'Connor, I could care less if he "embraces" me and this city or not. There are 25 guys on this team, 25 different personalities. They're not fucking Stepford Yankees who have to love all that is New York. I don't expect to see every single one of them strutting down the streets of the five boroughs with "Staying Alive" blaring over their foam-Statue-of-Liberty-crown-wearing heads, a knish in one hand and Brooklyn Lager in the other to prove their loyalty to this town.
Just beat the fucking snot out of Curt Schilling on April 3 and in October, and you'll be every inch a New Yorker to me.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
But the big thing that actually swayed my attention in parts of the movie was the big picture of Ebbetts Field hanging on the wall of Dennis Quaid's character's office. Why you ask? Because Quaid's character was supposed to be 51, which would've made him about 3-4 when the Dodgers left Brooklyn. Could he REALLY remember the joyous days of Ebbetts Field enough to want it on his wall in a spot of prominence? I dunno.
I'm a copyeditor/fact-checker. These things irk me. So sue me.
ETA:I just remembered my favorite line of the movie. Topher Grace's character asks Dennis Quaid's character how you know when you're ready to settle down, and Quaid's awesome response: “You just pick the right one to be in the foxhole with, and when you're out of the foxhole you keep your dick in your pants."
That was my Oprah "Audience, wasn't the scene when THIS happened just great!? Oh, did we just blow it for the viewers at home who haven't seen the movie yet?" moment of the day.
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
Holy shit! Randy Johnson's a Yankee. Watching the press conference just made it all the more real to me.
And I've also figured out who he reminds me of: Gettysburg hero Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain. I mean, there's no mullet, but do you not see the resemblence? And dudes, if he defeats the enemy at Little Roundtop...er, Fenway...well he'll definitely be all right with me.
During today's press conference (which I listened to since none of the local channels covered it), The Big Member's all apologizing and shit for yesterday, did this about three times in fact, saying how foolish he felt, how sorry he was, etc. Well, after we actually move the subject on to baseball, Sir Duke has to get up and be all whiny and I'm pretty sure he was trying to bait RJ into some kind of fight. I'm not kidding. All the other reporters who asked questions about yesterday were straight and to the point. Dukey starts off by saying his name and "we met yesterday" which got a giggle out of everyone. And then he smarmily starts in on "my cameraman was only doing his job" and arguing this and that over what Randy said. Watch the replay on YES tonight if you don't believe me. As someone who learned in college that journalists are supposed to be impartial, this just irked the shit out of me. You decide to passive-aggressively throw off the gloves at a PRESS CONFERENCE? Oh, you're such a man, Duke. And let's not forget who the press conference was really for, mmkay?
The Big Member's response was all "I will gladly sit down with you for an interview anytime you like." Not as awesome as it would have been if RJ hurled the microphone 95 miles per hour at Duke's head, but a great response just the same.
After the conference was over, even Mike and the Mad Dog were like "Can we let this go now?" which I find surprising since Mad Dog's a Yankee hater extraordinaire. That tells you something.
Dudes, I'm about to throw ESPN.com a compliment, so you'd better start living life because the apocalypse must surely be upon us: I love this graphic.
It is January. It is snowing outside right now. Opening Day is a little less than three months away. And New York is all about the baseball.
It may be warmer and sunny in other US locales at the moment, but right now, there's no other place I'd rather be.
What bugs me is that there was this huge-ass mudslide in California yesterday (the pictures of it are insane) where people actually died and both the News and Post run Randy's camera shennanigans on the front AND backpage. NOBODY GOT PUNCHED OR KILLED OR BLOODIED, so what's the big f'ing deal? Listen, I don't think RJ's right in trying to hide from the media, especially since he knew what he was getting into. But I'd like to hear his side of the story instead of getting the whine from all the "Injured" parties. And let's not forget -- Freedom of Speech also means you don't have to say anything if you don't want to. How is The Big Member a "Big Jerk" for not wanting to talk?
Also, let's note that the parties involved all have their own agenda, but specifically CBS: One of the biggest scandals in network history went down yesterday. You think they want to focus on something else? Hmmm...CBS Sportsline had the story first from what I saw yesterday and then AP took it and it was everywhere else by the end of the day. Also, The Big Member is on Letterman tonight, a CBS program. I don't know. I'm just conspiracy theorying here, but in a town where you're allowed to crucify someone via the headlines with a one-sided story, anything is fair game.
And no, I didn't read Lupica's story about this (it's in the Daily News today, but I'm not linking to that jackasses work anymore), though I would've been mucho psyched had he been in the "fray" yesterday, and RJ's "Long Arm" managed to swipe Mikey-poo's ass off the sidewalk...
PS -- I think the Post wants to have 10 million of Carlos Beltran's babies. It's just a vibe I'm getting....
Monday, January 10, 2005
And as I told Steph and Tonya, I'd rather have a pitcher who avoids the media spotlight instead of one who obnoxiously courts it with his thoughts on religion, politics and all things him. No, I'm not thinking of
Though as much as my wonderment has ceased with the movie's main theme, I'm happy to say Knox Overstreet is still my cinematic boyfriend. And I can't believe I wrote that post two years ago already...
I love that even though this is a huge, huge, huge Mets story, The Post makes it all about the Yankees. I actually laughed out loud when I saw it, because here's Beltran looking like a choir boy that the Yanks kicked in the teeth or something instead of a man pocketing mucho dinero in Queens.
Honestly, I'm not all that bothered by this. Yeah, it would be nice to have a centerfielder that's going to be there for a long, long time and produce, but damn, look at every other position on this team -- I am many things, but greedy isn't one of them. Last year, they had NO trouble scoring runs, which is what Beltran brings to the table. He's not going to pitch you through a tight playoff series, which to me is the most important thing right now. To me, you can't miss what you never had, and that's my attitude toward this.
I am curious to see what this means for center. Bernie is by far my favorite player and I want to see him retire a Yank, but I'm not blind to the fact that he has lost a step in the field. I can see a platoon with maybe him and Bubba, but I'm guessing George isn't done yet and we'll have another centerfielder when all is said and done -- maybe not a top-shelf guy like Beltran, but someone decent.
Let's not forget -- the offseason is still young (unfortunately).
Sunday, January 09, 2005
Yeah, and you know how I'm old (along with Andruw Jones) according to some posters at Yankees.com? Well not to 24-year-old Scott, a very cocksure young man who tried to hit on me. He comes over and he's like "You're tall!" and I'm like "No shit!" and then he tries to tell me I'm 6-foot and not 5-9. Whatever. He irks me off the bat because he's the type that thinks he can outwit you into macking with him or something. Anywho, he was 6-3 and saying how it sucks being tall because you can see everything that's coming and there are no surprises (because I said being tall was good for this exact reason, but he had to counter it) and I'm thinking "Dude, you're cute, but you're so not getting in my pants. Give it up." He then asks how old I am, and I'm all "27" and he's like "You are NOT!" Why this guy thought I was lying to him about my vitals is beyond me. Anyway, the women of my family may have a habit of robbing the cradle, but it's so not happening tonight for me. I'm trying to throw the girls a look as if to say "Save me!" but apparently because he was cute they didn't think I'd want help. I've figured him out to be around 23, missing his frat days, and when I ask his age and he says 24, I'm all, damn I'm good. Anyway, Scotty loses me completely when he declares all the guys in the place are dorks and I should've said "Well, you're here aren't you?" or "I happen to like dorks" because that would've put an end to our convo right then and there. But then he procedes to try and impress me by telling me about his job for MTV, that he barely reads books and that he still lives home with Mom and Pop. Oh, Scotty. He gets the hint that I'm Just Not That Into Him and says he has to find his friends and I wish him luck. Apparently his charms work on the next lady because he's all over this blonde a few minutes later and I'm relieved I don't have to hide from him the rest of the night.
Vicki and I head to the bathroom after that, and while we're waiting I'm all "I got hit on by a 24-year-old!" and Vicki's all "I got hit on by a WOMAN!" which procedes to make me laugh until my sides hurt, something I haven't experienced in a while.
It's even better on the PATH ride home. Mind you, we're all a little buzzed and Christina and Liana both had way uncomfortable shoes on, so Vicki suggests we pick up an uptown train and take it back downtown so we are assured of getting a seat. Well, we see seats when the train comes, but stop dead in our tracks when we notice almost the entire end of the car floor covered in a puddle of puke.
Let me tell you -- I have NEVER seen spew cause such a hilarity as it did tonight. Everytime someone would get on the train, their eyes would light up as if to say "Oh! Seats!" and then it's as if they hit a force field when they see the puke. As more people get on the train and this happens, EVERYONE starts cracking up. It's like watching an episode of Candid Camera or something. At one point, we're pulling into the station, and Liana is so tickled by this that she looks out the window to see people's reactions to the empty seats. This guy's eyes light up at the sight of the seats, but then he sees Liana watching for his reaction and notices the puke and he and his counterparts get set off on a laughing jag -- especially because Liana was on the verge of tears she was laughing so hard. Then some girl who was holding her head in her hands actually braved it and sat in front of the spew and this guy goes "Someone needs to add to it!" and everyone else is like "Eww no!" We then all had a great time trying to figure out what was in the puke and lamenting for the person who had to clean it up. In the middle of this exchange someone yells "She's gonna do it! She's gonna add to it!" and instead of being all "GROSS" at the sight of this girl yacking and adding to the puke puddle, everyone busts out laughing. In fact, I don't think I have ever laughed that hard on public transportation with a bunch of complete strangers. And that's just an awesome way to cap a Saturday night/Sunday morning.
Though I'm thinking I should go hang around the Stevens campus tomorrow and troll for freshmen, because apparently, I'm a young man magnet, baby! Just call me Mrs. Robinson!
Saturday, January 08, 2005
It all seems so long ago, and there's still at least 3-4 months before I can do this again. Of course, if Winter would just be a man about it and snow, at least we could go outside and play in that. But rain? Not so much.
Friday, January 07, 2005
This all means I'll probably be at the game covered in icing as Sunday is traditionally Opening Day Cupcake Making Day. Perhaps I should bring a few and sneak them down to the dugout? Hmmm....
And I have to give my roommate a shout out because this morning, Carolyn was all "Oh -- I saw that The Big Member's almost a Yankee! Make sure you write about the Ugly Man's press conference on your blog." I assured her that I was on it, and that Tonya and I would have some running commentary whenever the conference shall be...
Thursday, January 06, 2005
God, as if the world needed another "Waaahh, the Yankees get everything...waahhh, why didn't they get this guy, that guy and the other one -- oh wait, we'd be lambasting them for spending too much...waahhh it doesn't garauntee anything...waaaahhh" column.
Oh wait, maybe I can think of something to say: In reference to the bit about the Yanks being old and 19 players being 30 or older and that being a bad, bad thing, I give you the 1998, 114-win Yankee team: 15 of your almost-everyday to everyday players were over the age of 30 (and of the starting rotation: Cone: 35, El Duque: 32, Wells: 35), your only everyday " youngsters" being Jeter, Posada, Pettitte and Mo. And they just got older through 1999 and 2000, so what's your point there Mr. Stark? Oh, right, grasping at straws to fill the ESPN.com Yankee-hating quota once again. How soon I forget.
And my point? Suck it, journalistic jackass.
You're Dirty Dancing! A romantic movie about Baby,
a teenage girl, falling in love with someone
below her class and finding her way to self
What '80s Teen Movie are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
And the official SS Mystique and Aura theme song, "Beyond the Sea" got a shout-out on Lost last night. Or at least the French version did. So perhaps the monster that's trying to kill everyone on the island is indeed David Ortiz...
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
It was unusually warm for late October in New York. It seemed even the weather was happy that the Yankees had won a 27th World Series and was beaming down its pleasure in the form of bright sunshine and blue skies. Celebratory crowds jammed the streets of Lower Manhattan, many hoping to catch a glimpse of the floats bearing their favorite Yankees as they made their way to City Hall.
Off the coast of the isle, a lone pirate ship made its way from the Atlantic into the Hudson River, the strains of New York, New York blaring from its state-of-the-art speaker system
"Land ho! We are totally entering New York Harbor now, mateys!" Karen called to the rest of the SS Mystique and Aura Crew, who were painting victory signs at the stern.
Yankeebob, the artistic leader of the group, stood up, a paintbrush in his hand and declared "The signs are done, Cap'n. Do you think the Yanks will be able to see them from the street?"
"Fear not, they know we're coming. I sent a messenger chicken to Derek Jeter myself this morning. They'll be looking for us along the parade route."
"Wasn't that Game 6 against the the Cubs awesome?" Shannon sighed dreamily, leaning against mast. "I mean, I never expected Moose to pitch a perfect game in a World Series."
"What about A-Rod's six home runs in the Series?" Yankeebob wondered. "Or his 54 dingers in the regular season?"
"Arr, this season kicked ass all over the place," Karen said easing the ship into a dock space off Pier 11.
"Let's not forget how Randy Johnson's going to win the Cy Young this season with his 22-3 record!" Matt chimed in.
"And wasn't it awesome when Curt Schilling got so hungry out in the bullpen that he ate his own arm off?" Lupe added.
The group all smiled thoughtfully, remembering the awesomeness that was.
"Permission to board?" a voice from below called, interrupting their thoughts. The crew peered over the edge as trumpets blared. Much to their delight, there stood Derek Jeter, a halo of beatific light illuminating him and the World Series Trophy he carried.
Shannon threw down the plank so fast, she almost took Derek Jeter's head off. "Sorry for that, your, um, excellency," she apologized.
"No problem," Derek Jeter said, gleamingly. "I just heard all these awesome stories about your boat and blogs and I thought I should stop by and let you guys see The Trophy up close."
The crew marveled at the shiny gold flags, 27 of which were Yankeefied.
"Is it true you guys took the Red Sux hostage after their third place finish in the AL East this season?" Derek Jeter wanted to know.
But no one could answer because at that moment, David Ortiz busted out of the basement prison door, running wildly at the group with a bat in his hand.
"AAARRRGGGHHHH," he cried, his eyes wide, hungry for someone to kill.
The crew stood motionless in silent horror. Their weapons had been put away since this was a day of joy and reflection. They gaped in terror as David Ortiz charged at them, knowing that in a matter of seconds, one of them would be flattened.
That's when Derek Jeter casually stepped forward and clocked David Ortiz on the back of the head with The Trophy. David Ortiz fell to the floor with a resounding thud, and the crew stared open mouthed at Derek Jeter, who was now using his shirt tail to lovingly wipe off The Trophy.
"Tsk, tsk, we can't let The Trophy get stained," Derek Jeter sighed. "It's only four days old."
"Would you like to be a pirate, Mr. Jeter?" Karen asked in awe.
Derek Jeter glowed and seemed to ponder this for a second. "Well, as long as I can have my weight room on the ship for training, I'd be glad to sail with you guys during the offseason."
"Hooray!" the crew cheered.
And so The Crew disembarked to catch the parade, and afterward, Derek Jeter joined them on the ship, showing them how to dive into stands and make throws while jumping up in the air. Then The Crew showed Derek Jeter how to keep a blog and be a good blog friend by leaving awesome comments. And it was a very good offseason indeed.
But I need your suggestions first. It's all on you guys for me to post something meaningful today....
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
I will remember him for one thing (aside from arguing Prime Ministers with Barney): The Walk in Game 4 against the Braves. After Leyrtiz's homer, I bounded up the stairs of my dormitory to my friend Chris' room where all the Yankee fans on his floor were freaking out. I couldn't bring myself to leave for fear of jinxing karma or something, and think I sat in the same position on his floor until the final out. I knew by the way Boggs flipped his bat to the side when he went to first that that was it. Something deep inside me knew the Yankees were going to win the World Series. What a feeling that was.
Oddly enough, after the first two games, I just decided not to expect anything while watching. I figured the Yanks were in the Series and that should be enough. I used to keep a quote of the day on the dry/erase board of my dorm room, and after Game 2 I wrote "I believe, I believe. I know it's silly, but I believe" (Miracle on 34th Street, yo) even though I didn't really want to believe anything since the Braves had a 2-0 advantage. Anyway, Game 3 gave me a bit of hope, and when Leyrtiz tied Game 4 with his homer, something in my head went "holy shit, this could really happen!" Boggs' walk just about made me crazy with hope. And for that I'll always be grateful.
Or something like that.
ETA: So I was just checking out the Yankee message boards and people were kicking around the idea of Andruw Jones too. Well, one person just went a bit too far and was all "Andruw Jones is old." Whoa, whoa, whoa! 27 going on 28 is NOT old. Andruw and I are still young, in the prime of our life, damn it!
But what's even more amusing is that this person really wanted Beltran, and as someone else pointed out, Carlos is only ONE DAY younger than Andruw and myself. Perhaps those 24 hours make all the difference in age?
I keep thinking that if it were spring right now, my mood might be less...nah, I'd still be po'd.
Monday, January 03, 2005
At one point, she comes over and starts telling us about his strange dessert habits when Liana's eyes get all wide and she goes "Oh my god. He just rubbed his ear AND SMELLED HIS FINGERS." Jesse was all "Maybe that takes off the steal sign" and our waitress just looked pained. Jesse then lamented that Christina was absent because she totally could've psychoanalyzed this guy. When he got up to leave, he stuffed his dolls in his jacket and actually started walking toward our table and I was all "Oh crap" but he went to talk to these other people at the bar instead of coming to murder us.
He left after that, walking in the direction of Eric, Liana and Jesse's apartment building, but when we left later my friends cautioned me to walk in zig-zags lest he be lurking the rainy streets of Hoboken. I told him The Yankee Chicken could've kicked his dolls' asses anyday, so I wasn't afraid. We then proceded to say goodbye by rubbing our ears -- though none of us smelled our fingers after the fact.
Stephanie just told us about the responses to Mike Vaccaro's pro-Yankee spending column in Friday's Post. I love that there ARE other fans out there who are sick of the shit ESPN.com and Mike Lupica. But I'm convinced the readers who attack Vaccaro for his opinion are either Mets fans, can't have an original thought, or just freaking brainwashed. I am SO sick of people going on and on about how the Yankees are bad for baseball, and yet the Yanks are the biggest road draw in MLB. Oh, and how many teams have won a World Series the past four years? Right. The Yanks may be spending money to get the big-names, but how, prey tell, has it hurt the other 29 teams? You had two "smaller market" teams win in 2002 and 2003. Plus, you have a bunch of rich-ass owners crying poverty, sitting on the money their fans spend, which to me is a bigger crime than George being an ego maniac/big spender. Whatever.
Money guarantees nothing and I wish people would realize that.
Three names you go by:
Three screen names you have:
3. That's it. I only have two.
Three things you like about yourself:
2. I have a kick-ass memory
3. Extremely loyal
Three things you hate/dislike about yourself:
1. Procrastinate with the important stuff.
2. I sometimes expect too much of others.
3. I have trouble verbalizing how I feel. Writing, no problem. Saying it out loud, too tough.
Three parts of your heritage:
Three things that scare you:
1. Getting blood taken
2. David Ortiz
3. The idea of being stuck on Manhattan in yet another emergency
Three of your everyday essentials:
1. The iPod
2. A nice cup of cold water when I first get in the office
Three things I am wearing right now:
1. Green shirt from J Crew
2. Khakis from J Crew that are too big on me now due to stomach-flu weight loss.
3. Some pretty fabulous non-J Crew underwear, if I do say so myself
Three of your fave bands/artists (today):
1. Bruce Springsteen
2. Frank Sinatra
3. The 70s, 80s and 90s music channels on digital cable
Three of your fave songs at present:
1. Sympathy, The Goo Goo Dolls
2. Outstanding, The Gap Band
3. Time After Time, Ann Hampton Callaway's version
Three new things you want to try in the upcoming year:
1. To make a roast beef
2. To get to the Baseball Hall of Fame
3. Getting through the year without getting irate over something some Yankee-hating columnist says...yeah right.
Three things you want in a relationship (love is a given):
3. Good...bom-chicka wow-wow
Two truths and a lie:
1. I think I'm double jointed in my thumbs
2. I'll put the ring I normally wear on my right hand on my left and say I'm married to ward off creepy guys in bars.
3. I just love Curt Schilling!
Three physical things about the opposite/same sex that appeal to you:
1. The obligitory navy-blue shirt
Three things you just can't do:
1. Touch my toes
2. Root for any MLB team other than the Yankees
3. Eat broccoli
Three of your favorite hobbies:
3. Being in love with a certain baseball team
Three careers you're considering:
1. Yankee Poet Laureate
3. Madame (I think I could do OK in Hoboken in this profession)
Three places you want to go on vacation:
1. Right now anyplace with a warm, sandy beach sounds REALLY nice
3. Hell, anyplace sounds good right now
Three kids names (boy or girl):
3. Nod (I don't put the cart before the horse)
Three things you want to do before you die:
1. See the Yankees win another World Series
2. Get published
3. Hang out with a Yankee and the Yankee Chicken
List three people who have to take this quiz now:
3. And You
(I can't discriminate. Anyone who wants to take it, go right on ahead.)