Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Did Mine Ears Just Deceive Me...

...or did Michael Kay just say RAMIRO MENDOZA'S COMING BACK TOMORROW???!!!!

Huzzah!!!

My Unpopular Opinion of the Day

I know a lot of people like David Justice's style, but I gotta say, he grates on me sometimes. I think it's because he's still too fresh from his playing days and gets this kind of annoyed "What's the matter with them? I can go out there and do it better" tone every now and then, and he makes me want to disagree with him even when I agree with him because of this. Joe Girardi was sometimes guilty of this too, and it was blatantly obvious during the playoffs last year during a radio interview with Mike and the Mad Dog before game 6 of the ALCS. It was the first time I viewed Joe with a kind of a "what the fuck? If you think you could do it better, why did you retire?" mindset Luckily, he got out of the announcing side and went back to at least coaching, because I'm sorry, while I agreed with him at things he was pointing out, I still like my point of views untainted by "Me macho. Me can do better." Back then I was like "Put your money where your mouth is, buddy," and he's doing that by coaching now.

Anyway, back to David, while I think he does bring a lot of insight, I think he's too green to be in a booth with only Michael Kay. Like, way to go YES, just hitch the most pompous man on your payroll with the newer guy. I love Kitty and Singleton and even Paul O'Neill (who I think lacked the "Me Macho. Me Can Do Better" vibe because he was ready to retire. It's the guys who still want to be out there who get the tone I hate) because they are a calming influence. Perhaps David can learn from them, because one dude getting pissy like Joey from the local bar is all I can take in one game.

Oh, and the Ricoh commercial with the red-haired guy smiling creepily at everybody -- is he grinning because he's about to start vacation? Because this ad has been on for the past five months and that's all I can figure out from it...

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

He Didn't Check for Ulcers, Though...

Well the bad news is that I had to pay 100 bucks to see the doctor today, but the good news is that once he found out that my insurance doesn't kick in till Thursday (yeah, it sucks, I know), he gave me free samples, so I wouldn't have to pay like 80 bucks for amoxicillan to clear up my upper respitory/sinus infection. Rock on for the hookup, Dr. Feelgood!

Also, in miraculous news, he declared I had excellent blood pressure. I was all "huh?" because the way the Yanks have been playing this season, you'd think I was going to bust a blood vessel at any given moment.

Must be the Gatorade....

Bedtime and Broomsticks

So last night, after popping two Nyquil pills and laying in bed for an hour and a half, nearly falling asleep a few times but woken up by the sound of a certain rolling chair, I declared I'd had enough. I stormed my sickly self out of my bedroom, ripped open our supply closet and grabbed the broom. I then waited in my room for the next round of rolling to begin, and when it did BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! went the broom handle on the cieling.

And the rolling stopped.

So did the stomping.

And had it not been for a fever and the wierd-ass dreams that go with it, I would've slept the entire night peacefully.

I feel kinda bad now, though, because I don't want the dude thinking I'm this big beeyotch, but when one needs to sleep, one needs to sleep.

In other news, getting in to see a doctor in Hoboken is like getting an audience with the Pope. My own doctor is only in until 1 today and out tomorrow. This means I have to go to another doctor and pay out of pocket, but what the hey. I want to feel better. I mean, I'd at least like to be able to see the first three innings of these West Coast games instead of going to bed when the sun is still up...

Monday, August 29, 2005

Woe is Me

I'm just resigning myself to the fact that I am never going to get a good night's sleep again, or at least for as long as I live in this apartment. For starters, the dudes upstairs canceled their party on Saturday night, so there was no opportunity for Confrontation of the Big Footed Neighbor, 2005 to go down. And after this morning, I'm fairly certain one needs to happen, because the dude has no friggin' clue how thin these walls are.

It's bad enough I didn't get home from work till 3:30 a.m. (though it does say something about the job when you have no animosity toward it for making you work a Sunday night. I mean, comp day or no, I honestly didn't mind being there. What is this sensation? Liking a job? What?) and Neighbor to Be Named Later was moving around a bit. He then wakes up at about 9, stomping his ass off, and has proceded to do so for the last hour. Dropping things on the floor, using his rolling chair like crazy, stomping as if he is being chased. And this all wouldn't be so bad if I weren't sick to boot. All I wanted was to come home and be able to sleep till noon today, so I wouldn't have to deal with being awake and being miserable with a head cold. And I know he's not even doing this at an unreasonable hour right now, for once -- I'm just wondering if he EVER leaves his bedroom. The dark circles under my eyes tell me no.

I know, string up the violins and break out the Kleenex. But seriously, guys. I'm thisclose to popping off on him, even though I know this isn't something he's doing maliciously. But I just don't get how you can't have any common sense to realize that USING A ROLLING CHAIR ON A HARDWOOD FLOOR AT 1 A.M. and shit like that is not a good thing when you have someone living below you.

Ugh.

To cheer myself, you'll see I've added the final poll for renaming the lad in the lair above mine. The top five vote getters from the previous polls are there, so hop to it. Voting ends Thursday.

Sunday, August 28, 2005

Meet My Latest Illicit Crush

Don't hate me:

zack

I mean, come on. How many dudes' dimples actually come out when they're in their motion to home plate?

I know, I know. He's the enemy. And he beat the Yanks last time out. And he's, um, 21. But he's sooooooooo cute! And he wears 23! How can you go wrong?

Saturday, August 27, 2005

kerhtiajhduawerhghausehuujgb!!!!

For as long as I live, I don't think I'll ever forget the smile on Alex Rodriguez's face as he ducked from the arms pounding on him in congratulatory fashion. It's weird, because not only had I never been to a game with such a considerable comeback, but I've never seen the guy who got the game winning hit get such a giddy reception. Normally, that's reserved for the guy who scores the winning run, but today it was all A-Rod, and the mob that crowded him on the way to first base...well, I've never seen such glee in person.

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Suck on that, Lupicass.

Anyway, eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!! Rick and Carolyn rock my world for inviting me today. Their normally 10-strong season ticket crew was whiddled down to three, plus me today. And it was the awesomely weirdest game I think I've ever been to. It started so promising, then became Wah, Wah, Wah personified thanks to Wright's meltdown. At the top of the 6th, Carolyn and I headed to find some food and ended up meeting with her father and brother, who were also there. At that point, it was 5-3, and Carolyn's dad was like "What do you guys think? Can they come back?" and I was like "Oh, definitely. There's lots of time." Then we get back to our seats and it was more Wah, Wah, Wah thanks to the bullpen and the Stadium was pretty bleh. But we stuck around while those of Ye of Little Faith-ers scrambled out to beat the traffic or whatever it is people who leave a game before it's over do.

Bring on the 9th. When Giambi got on, I was like "Huh." Then Posada's near double play miraculously turned into two on for new dude Lawton, who gets a pretty damn nice hit. Then comes Tino and I do my best Tonya, because suddenly I'm bit by the Oh My God They Could Actually Win This Fucker bug, and then he gets a hit and the Stadium goes bananas. And then there's the Cap'n slapping a nice single himself and ladies and gentleman, we are within one. So of course I'm sitting there praying for Shef to hit one out because I'm thinking Giambi might have to come out and pitch or something should it go into extras, and he gets a double and I'm like "Is this really happening?" because normally they don't do big stuff like this in my presence.

Matsui's out kinda deflates the place a bit, but then comes A-Rod and all I can think is. "Dude. Please. Just make contact." And he's like "Aww, sure, here you go KB!" and he hits a roller that I'm sure is going to get scooped up because that would be too easy to win on a...base hit!!!!! And all I can think to scream is "HOLY SHIT!" And then watching the players all mob each other looking so freaking cheery, especially Bernie who seemed to be hugging everyone in sight, well, I actually got chills. The Stadium was going bat shit, and it stayed that way as we exited. We passed the very spirited Ultimate Road Trip crew, who were leading the exiters in cheers, and I called my dad on the way out, and he told me the players looked like little kids the way they were celebrating, especially Posada, so now I'm going to have to stay up till midnight to catch it on the replay.

Because seriously. That was probably the freaking awesomest regular season game I've ever been to.

A Yankee Loss? Not On My Watch

Tonight was one of those nights you look back on in January, when it's cold and bitter and grey outside, and think to yourself "Man, I wish it could be that night in August again," such was its perfection. Or at least, that's how I know I'm going to feel come Martin Luther King weekend when it's like 23 degrees and no baseball to be found.

How does a night acheive such memorable status? First off, the weather this week has been nothing short of glorious. I mean, I don't think I've ever seen so many perfect days strung together. Which is why I thought the weather gods would be all "HA-HA! Let's roll in a thunderstorm tonight, just to ruin KB's fun!" But it didn't happen. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, from start to finish, there wasn't one drop of rain. I kid you not. And it was a lovely evening for baseball. Just warm and breezy, no swampy ass or gloves in sight.

Then you throw in the tackiest/awesome giveaway, a plastic digital Yankee/Duane Reade watch, which I intend to give to The Chicken, but for the moment decide to slap on my right wrist since my left one already has a watch and stuff. And when Randy Johnson gets in a bit of trouble late in the game, I turn to Tonya with a crazed look in my eye and say "RanJo's not blowing this game...Not on my watch" which I tap for dramatic effect. And for the rest of the night, whenever a situation came up that would hurt the Yanks, I declared it could not happen, not on my watch.

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Paris, Milan, New York...The Chicken models what is sure to be the latest hot trend on wrists sashaying down the runways this fall.

And what did happen on my watch? Well, we get a spectacular performance from RanJo. We get a mountainous A-Rod homer into the Black. We get not one, but two Bernie homers (the second I was too busy gaping at the height of to even realize it was going out) and not one but two Bernie curtain calls (and now that he's hit three homers for us in the past two games we've attended, Steph and I have decided we have something to do with it and we are therefore "Bernie's Bitches.") We get the return of "the real" Cotton Eye Joe and we get a nice 5-1 victory, solid as a freaking rock.

And the power of the watch even kept a return of Trench Coat Guy minimal -- he merely leered at us a few times, rather than say anything about burning my journal -- and kept the game at a very managable two and a half hours. This is key because I get to do this all over again in a few hours, this time accompanying Carolyn and Rick to see what their season ticket package is all about. Even though I know Friday night rocks hardcore, just in giveways alone...

Friday, August 26, 2005

If I Made a Career Change

Last weekend I was riding in the car with my parents, listening to the Yankee game as we trekked to Long Island. My dad and I were lamenting the time we were forced to spend with John Sterling and Suzyn Waldman. And after Suzyn asked this ridiculously long question (is there any other kind?) to Jorge in the post-game show, my dad and I were just like "Ugh." My mom then asked "what's wrong with her?" We explained that it was pretty much a universal thing. Then she was like "How come you never wanted to do this?" And I was like "Because I can't talk for three hours straight." That and I know there's a difference between being a fan and being a broadcaster and I like being a fan.

But could you imagine if I were a broadcaster? Or if, like, one night you tuned into YES, and instead of Kitty, Singleton and Kay you got Steph, Tonya and me? I think an inning would go something like this:

Steph: Tonight's Yankee game is brought to you by Grey Goose...
Me: Vodka of pretentious bartenders everywhere.
Steph:....The Fox News Channel....
Tonya: OH PLEASE!
Steph:....and McDonald's Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'm...thinking this ad kinda sucks.
(Jeter flies out after swinging at the first pitch)
Me: Jesus Christ, why does DJ keep swinging at the first pitch? Get over it, Jeter!!
Tonya: I know you'd think he'd...wait! TINO'S UP!!!! (Leans out of the booth) I LOVE YOU TINO!!!
Me: Watch out, you almost knocked over the journal.
Tonya: Tiiiiiiiiiiinooooooooooo! You came back!!!
(Tino flies out to deep right)
Steph: Well that was just all sorts of wah, wah, wah.
Tonya: I still LOVE YOU Tino!!!
Me: And here comes the AFLAC Duck with tonight's trivia question: Name three starting pitchers from the 1992 Yankee rotation...Oh, wait, you can't? THAT'S BECAUSE YOU'RE A FRONT RUNNER.
Steph: It does NOT say that.
Me: OK, I just wanted to put the bandwagon fans in their place.
Tonya: SHhhh! Sound Man's on!!
Steph: Saiko!
Me: Ooh, I hope it's one we haven't seen!

Or something like that.

Note The Time of This Post

That's right. For the fifth night in a row, Neighbor-to-be-Named-Later has woken me out of a dead sleep because he apparently doesn't keep the same business hours most of us do. I've lost about 6-7 hours sleep this week already, and I honest to god think he and I need to have a talk. Because this? IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS.

Good lord, he makes me miss Sasquatch. I mean, at least he only pulled this shit once or twice a week...

ETA: Oh, gee, it's 7:15 and you know, I'm not sure how loud my TV is blasting at the moment because I'm in the shower or something. I mean, who wouldn't want to be woken up by hearing about Hurricane Katrina and enlarged prostate commecials? All from their neighbor's TV?

He's lucky he has the smiley face in his favor, or else he'd get the heavy metal channel, a couple of notches louder.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

A-Rod's Leading a Prison Break

Oh my god, you guys! A-Rod is getting his own TV show! I mean, I don't know how he's going to juggle playing third base for the Yankees and starring in an action drama but...wait, what do you mean he's not the star of Prison Break? He's like totally on the poster I see everywhere:

prison2a-rod

Do you see a difference? I don't. And why would Fox put their shows on hiatus during the playoffs? That's right, to accomodate their new TV star.

Gold Glove, MVP, All-Star...an Emmy is so totally next.

(AND SPAMMERS, DO US ALL A FAVOR AND FUCK OFF. IF YOU LEAVE A COMMENT HERE TO PROMOTE YOUR DUMBASS BLOG, I WILL SEND ALL THE BLOGGERS IN MY COTERIE OF FRIENDS TO COME PISS ON YOUR SITE. ARE WE CRYSTAL?)

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Vote for Change..of Name

It's voting time! You'll see in the side column that I split the names into two polls. You can choose as many as you want, but can only vote once a day. After a few days, I'll narrow it down to the top 5 vote-getters, and that will serve as the final round.

Vote your conscience!

Speaking of Little Bitches....

...Moose, this game is entirely your fault. I'm sorry you didn't get your precious strike-two call and it blew your programming, and that you soon realized it was the 5th inning, a.k.a. your usual "time to blow" and got all pissy with your bad self, which then manifested in 8 runs, but come off it, man. You had your stuff tonight and you let a little momentary glitch upset your whole rhythm. You're a smart man. Get over it.

And Michael Kay? I know you're, like, way fond of saying an extra-base hit "splits the outfielders" but, dude, the outfielders are ALREADY split. Like, at all times. Find yourself a new favorite phrase. It can't hurt.

BLAH!

BAH!

Dudes, we may have to slightly revise our efforts in renaming my upstairs neighbor. Why, you ask, when I've literally lost sleep because of him? Because he and his roommates are apparently trying to ruin my evil glee and left us a hand-written invite to their housewarming this weekend. I mean, I saw it in the kitchen this morning and I think my cold shriveled heart grew three sizes. Nobody, and I mean NOBODY in our building has ever left us a personalized invite to a party before. And how can I be bitter about guys who take the time to handwrite said invite? And who actually want us to come? And who sign off with a smiley face?

I know.

But I say we still move on with the renaming process, as long as we keep in mind that we use the name affectionately. I mean, I cannot be sarcastic and mean and bitchy about a guy who signs off with a smiley face, even if he could wake the dead with his feet.

When did people have to go and get all nice and neighborly and stuff? Argh.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

To Quote a Great Movie...

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"Way to go, whatever your name is!"

(I'm referring to him as Felix Cadillac Escalade, though I'm sure he costs less to fuel)

Monday, August 22, 2005

Name Game

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Picking a name won't help The Chicken get more sleep at night, but it will help distract him from the scary, thunder-like noise of big feet.

So, yeah, the new dude who lives above me walks just as heavily and loudly as Sasquatch did. He's been stomping between his room and the living room since last night, back and forth, back and forth, as if he's ferret or something...but a ferret who's the result of a genetic experiment gone wrong and now he's killed the scientists and is practicing his Godzilla walk before he goes to take on the world. Or something like that.

Anyway, I mentioned a few weeks back that we could have a little contest as to who could name my new neighbor the best. Just imagine the loudest-ass heel-to-toe stalker you can think of (ie -- he walks so hard things on my shelves vibrate) and he does his best work after midnight, but not in a cool Eric Clapton sort of way.

OK, go at it in the comments section. The winner with the best name gets bragging rights -- and maybe a question devoted to them in next year's blogiversary quiz.

Stealing Signs

Question for some of y'alls, or at least those who live in NJ: Does anyone know where I can find good-quality pictures of Garden State Parkway signs online? I've found a few sites, but the photos are kinda crappy and no site has my exit (109). Or does anyone know how to duplicate one with computer graphics (and in a nice, easy way that I can manuever with my iBook)?

This all has a point and if it works, I will fill you in on it. Until then, you just need to have blind faith in the Captain.

Sunday, August 21, 2005

Pedro The Man? What Does That Make the Other Guys?

Huh? This Daily News Poll confuddles me:

It used to be Mantle, then Namath, then Reggie, then Jeter, but who is The Man in New York now?

Pedro Martinez 48%

Larry Brown 2%

Alex Rodriguez 8%

Derek Jeter 32%

Mariano Rivera 3%

Joe Torre 1%

Jason Kidd 1%

Curtis Martin 2%

Mike Piazza 1%

Tiki Barber 1%

Total Votes : 1029


What does Pedro NOT have in common with the other dudes listed? A Championship Title for the City of New York. Which is why I don't get how he earned the right to be at the top of this poll. If the Mets had won the Series and he pitched his soul out, I'd be fine with this. But those other guys have done ginormous things with their teams to be considered "The Man of New York." And I don't get why New York voters didn't realize that.

Yeah, Pedro's a character and he's helped the Mets win games (for one season) and he's got himself a ring with Boston, but to be uttered in the same breath as Mickey Mantle, Joe Namath and Reggie (we'll leave Derek out of this since I'm biased) in terms of a New York Icon?? I think not, Daily News.

Saturday, August 20, 2005

I Love You El Duque...

...but stop acting like a little bitch. Thanks.

Though it was funny to see the fan sitting behind homeplate put his hands on his head like "Oh my god, he is so NOT stalking in to argue with the umpire."

Friday, August 19, 2005

A Day Early, But...

So tomorrow is my four-year blogiversary, but since my readership drops on weekends, we’re going to celebrate it a whole day early! Tonya likes to say I was “country before country was cool,” but I think I was just lucky enough to find the world of blogging early and then actually stick with it. And to those of you have been reading for a long time, you rock my world, and to those of you who are newer readers, you ain't so bad yourselves. Thanks for tuning in every day and making it worth it.

And speaking of longtime readers, in honor of the day, I’m testing y’all with this handy dandy little quiz. You think you know? Well give it a go. And don’t cheat, because I have secret powers and I’ll know if you looked back in the archives or not.

And check here for explanations to the answers. Because I know at least one of these questions is going to throw you.

Good luck!

Thursday, August 18, 2005

And One More Thing

From today's Daily Quickie:

After the Yankees' dynastic decade, it's so thrilling to write them off.

Fuck off, Dan Shanoff. And may this come back to bite you so hard in the ass that you have to shit out of your mouth for the rest of your life.

Yes, I'm feeling saucy today. Must be the Chipotle.

Epiphany

Fuck the pitching staff. Fuck Robinson Cano's boneheaded throw. Fuck every message board idiot raging for Joe Torre's dismissal. Fuck every columnist writing the Yanks' epitaph as we speak.

I'm enjoying what's left of this goddamn season wins or no wins. Because there used to be a time when just watching the Yanks was enough, playoffs be damned. I'm sick of everything hinging on "Oh, oh my god! Boston won and we lost!" I'm sick of the post season being like a crack addiction rather than something you just feel awed to be a part of. I'm sick of it being about the destination rather than the journey. There used to be a time when you could enjoy it for what it was, and I miss that.

And there also used to be a time when you'd look at the standings, see your team was only 4 1/2 back and think "It's possible."

It's not over.

Fuck no, far from it.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Joe Ain't the Clueless One Here

Dude, I was upset with Torre's decision to walk the bases loaded too, but why are people freaking the fuck out and demanding he be fired (that'd be fans on message boards, not columnists)?

Oh, I forgot. Fans can manage this team better than the man who is currently 12th all time for wins as a manager. Silly me.

Joe's move wasn't the only reason the Yanks lost. And as much as Mo gave up the tying run, I'm not willing to blame him totally, either. I think we can look back to the bases loaded situation in the second, with nobody out, and the best part of the order hacking away at bad pitches, and not converting it into anything. That was a chance right there to score themselves a crapload of runs, but after they blew that opportunity, Waechter was pretty much awesome. I don't care if it's the Devil Rays, these days, you need more than three runs to win a ballgame. And apparently, the 14 first pitch outs didn't help matters either. This team has seriously got to learn to stop pressing and swinging at anything that moves.

Anxiousness does not win you ball games, patience does. And the Devil Rays showed them that in the 11th last night.

Monday, August 15, 2005

Waoooooo Yeah

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They go together like ramma lamma lamma ka dinga da dinga dong!

Seriously, this photo made me laugh out loud. I think it's the expression on Derek's face, above all else.

KB Recommends...

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So when you get a super handy dandy day off from work, you get to do cool things like read for pleasure. And I just finished
Bat Boy: My True Life Adventures Coming of Age with the New York Yankees, which I'd recommend to any Yankee fan, especially those who adored the teams of the early 90s like I did. The author, Matt McGough, was the Yanks' bat boy for the 1992 and 93 seasons, and while he's not too big on dishy details on the players (which is kind of nice to know someone still respects privacy), he does toss out more than a few tales of his relationship with the team. Mattingly comes off just as awesome as you'd imagine he'd be, and even Danny Tartabull sounds like an OK dude. There are some cool stories about Kevin Maas debating chemistry (the scientific kind, not the emotional one) with the strength and conditioning coach, and Matt Nokes helping the bat boys build a potato cannon. It's also kind of awesome because McGough got the job through his own motivation and letter writing, not because he's some rich guy's nephew, so you don't feel any resentment toward him.

I finished the book in two days, and while it's not Shakespeare, it is a nice, light read. And it's not guaranteed to break your heart a la The Last Night of the Yankee Dynasty, which I still don't have the heart to finish. Sigh.

Sunday, August 14, 2005

Oh, My Ears...

Oh my god, I can't deal with the 880 Radiocast of the game, or at least the pre-game portion. I don't know if John Sterling has it in his contract that he's not supposed to come on until the play-by-play starts or what, but my lord, listening to Suzyn's long-ass monologues before the games start is so freaking irritating. And it's not just because it's Suzyn -- I can't handle it when you hear just one voice droning on and on for a long period time (hence why I can't deal with loud people on cell phones most of the time) and even though Sterling gets my hackles up, I'd much rather hear two voices bantering back and forth than just one that doesn't seem to stop for breath.

I really have no choice today because I'm at work for a few hours this afternoon (and getting comped a full day off tomorrow for it, such is the awesomeness of this company), and since it's dead here and all sorts of casual, I'm keeping the radio on for company and avoiding Yahoo "watching" at all costs.

I so hope the Yanks kick butt today, because listening to these two is a lot easier when the Yanks are winning...

ETA: Of my friggin' god, they are insufferable. In the bottom of the 5th, down by one, John "thinks they are in trouble." I know he's seen a lot of games and all, but I'm not listening for your OPINION, especially a suck-ass opinion like that.

Saturday, August 13, 2005

The Old Man and the See Ya

So, like, Bernie's old and can't do anything anymore. Pshaw.

And can I say how fed up I am with Kevin Mench trying to ruin all our fun all the time lately? I mean, this is a guy I watched in college, jaw in lap over how he could just clock a ball seemingly at will. Never did I think there would come a day when I would wish I'd never seen that. And then he goes and takes Moose deep and then ties the game up and shit and I was kicking myself for ever rooting for my fellow Hen to make it to the bigs.

But one of the weirdest/most adorable moments of the game happened when Mench kept fouling off everything Moose seemed to throw him. And Moose actually smiling at him and joking with Mench about it from the pitchers mound. I know. Moose actually smiled. But it was so weird to me because I don't think I've ever seen a pitcher and an opposing hitter he's facing joke around with each other. First/Second/Third basemen and catchers with the opposition, yes. The dude trying to get him out? No. But it totally proved how at ease Moose was out there today, and it's a damn shame he couldn't come out of it with a win.

I guess you've got to take them any way you can get, and it's awesome that it came down to Bernie, so I'll try not to lament Mo's lack of ice-water-in-the-veins today.

Don't Mess With My Sleep. Or Bernie.

I officially want to see one of my neighbors burn in hell. I'm not sure who it is, but I don't care. Early this morning, the jackass laid on our buzzer for a good few minutes, making Melissa and I stumble from our beds to see what the hell was up. Melissa got on in intercom and the dude was all "Is your car in the garage?" and Melissa, very angrily goes "No, I'm parked on the street." You see, we have kind of an f'd up garage situation where four cars fit in there, but since it's so narrow, your car gets blocked in from time to time. The neighbors usually work it out so nobody has to move cars at odd hours, and if it does happen, people usually leave their keys so you can move the car yourself, or you'll hear the buzzer ring for like two seconds. This asshole made probably the most obnoxious display of self-entitlement I have ever seen in this building (and that's hard to top when we've had Sasquatch here) by buzzing EVERY apartment, holding onto the buzzer until someone responded. When he got Melissa's response, all he offered was a very curt "Sorry." I looked out the window and didn't recognize him, but I'm not sure it's a second floor dude because they soon went door to door looking for the car culprit, and banged on ex-Sasquatch's door for a good few minutes to no avail. So I'm guessing this person is a guest of somebody, and I'm seriously about to take a tire iron to their head if our paths should cross today.

Anyway.

The game last night was excruciatingly long in the soupy heat, thanks in part to Al Leiter. My god, man, I don't know if I've ever been to a game where a guy throws 125 pitches for a complete game let alone for FIVE INNINGS. But thank goodness the Yankee bats came to life.

And I actually got to the game a whole hour early last night! And we got another light-up key ring. And helped out a bunch of guys from Michigan with their Yankee history and discovered not all people who are non-Yankee fans hate A-Rod. We started our conversing with them when Steph and I overheard them asking a guy when the Stadium was rebuilt and how much of the Old Yankee Stadium remained. The dude didn't know because he was new to New York, so I turned around and was like "There were a lot of changes, but the field is pretty much the same." They were like "Whoa! Why didn't we ask you guys first?" We impressed them so much that they referred to us as "Sports chicks, wow!" (because they had never encountered gals who were so up on their knowledge like Erica, Steph and I -- though Darth Marc later told us that Imperial Vixen is still a higher rank). One of the guys wanted to know if we liked A-Rod and we were all "Hells yeah" and though I was expecting him to go on an anti-A-Rod tirade he was like "Yeah, he's the best in the game." Then he started telling us that as a Red Wings fan, he understood the Yankees spend money mentality, which is nice hearing from somebody who probably gets all their Yankee sports info from ESPN. And after Steph told them what bar they should hit after the game, they deemed us the nicest New Yorkers they'd encountered on their trip. It was nice to have sweet drunken guys behind us rather than obnoxious assholes who want to burn my Yankee Journal or something.

Anyway, while Jeter's homer was pretty damn clutch (we've taken to calling him Cap'n Crunch lately), it was Bernie's 2-run job to make the game 5-4 that got us all freaked out. You see, if you combined mine and Steph's love for Bernie, the force of it could probably knock down a small buidling. Which is why when he came to bat in the 3rd, we were all "Bernie you can't leave!"

Steph: "Bernie can't finish his career in another uniform, He just can't!"

Erica: Awww...

Me: Seriously. I mean, he's Bernie Fucking Williams (FYI -- that's a joke I have with Dexter and Vicki, who know somebody who always referred to Bernie in this way).

The words are hanging in the air when Bernie decides to take this moment to smash the Young offering over the right field wall.

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Thanks, man!

Stephanie went pretty apeshit after that, and as Erica pointed out, it was very touching to see Steph get so animated, especialy when the Stadium wills Bernie out of the dugout for a curtain call.

"I feel like we haven't had many curtain calls this season, so that could be why," Steph figured later.

Oh, but you know what happened a few innings after that? Yeah, you know it rained. Not enough to delay the game, but enough to get us and our un-ponchoed selves a little damp. Just par for the Friday night course.

Friday, August 12, 2005

Hott Town, Summer in the City

Larry Brooks, if I ever see you in a bar, I will buy you a beer just for being so dead-on about Steinbrenner needing to shut up. And for this sentence alone:

Except that such finger-pointing can only be harmful to this team, which has its nose pressed up against the playoff window from the outside looking in, and not because of a lack of heart or work ethic, but because of the holes up and down the roster.

Take that, bitches. Yes, you, the ones who are blaming a "lack of heart" for the losing (not that anyone like that reads this blog. We're all pretty like minded. I mean the bitches who call up sports talk radio stations and piss and moan and have no clue and whatnot). And you, Mr. Steinbrenner, for not taking responsibility for your own mistakes this past off-season.

And in other news, Scott Proctor is still Hott, y'all. Forget the pitching stuff, he's just f'ing adorable. But I've been saying this since last year.

Must Be Some Cold Front

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Man, you guys, global warming must REALLY be getting bad if there's a chance of snow on an 88 degree day in the middle of August. Damn, that's my day off too -- I was hoping to get some sun. Now I'll have to dig out the snow boots. Sigh.

(It's from the wnbc forecast, so no, I'm not making this up)

Thursday, August 11, 2005

It is High, It Is Far, It Is...So Not Leaving the Park, Dumbass

Can someone tell me why whenever a fly ball is hit at a ballpark, so many fans gasp and get ready to jump out of their seats? I'm not talking about shots that take the outfielder to the wall, or even the tip of the warning track. No, I'm talking about those lazy fly ball outs that are so friggin' obviously not leaving the yard, yet everyone's all "OHMYGOD! HOME RUN!!" There are so many ways to tell if a ball is going out or not, not just the trajectory of the ball (which still confuses me because even when the ball is CLEARLY only going to shallow left/right/center people freak the fuck out), and I'm here to inform these folks how to do so. Since they obviously have no common sense and need a lowly blogger such as myself to show them how.

1) Watch the batter. If Tino's up and hits one to DEEEEEEEEEEP right (in Michael Kay speak, that is, which means it's going about 20 feet in front of the wall), see how he's running to first. If he flicks the bat away angrily, and he's not in his home run trot, IT'S NOT OUT OF THE PARK.

2) Watch the outfielder. If you're getting all excited when the ball leaves the bat, but Vlad Guerrero is all "Ho-hum, the ball's coming to me" and comes in a few steps to make the catch, IT'S NOT OUT OF THE PARK. Now, if you see an outfielder get the "Oh Shit" expression and start booking toward the wall, it might be gone. Or better still, if they get the "Whatever" expression and turn around and don't even make an effort and just watch the ball go, it's gone.

3) Listen to the sound of the bat: This takes practice, but once you get it down, you will know by just the crack of the bat meeting ball if it's gone or not. A-Rod's bat/home run sound is a prime example of this.

4) Don't watch your fellow fans: Because it seems half the park thinks the lazy fly ball to left is going to be the BEST HOME RUN EVER or something, and you will likely be fooled.

5) Don't be so obsessed with the home run. Yeah, they're fun and exciting and can change the outcome of a game in a snap, but if you come into every at bat with home run on the brain, chances are you're going to be ready to spring from your seat when the ball is clearly not going anywhere near "back, to the track, to the wall...and gone!" Singles, doubles, triples, walks and hit by pitches can also change the course of a game pretty nicely too. Learn to appreciate them more. The home run ain't the only exciting thing about the game, you know.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

I Wish DJ Had Taken a Bat to his Ass

I hope that little jackass gets in a boatload of hot water for jumping into the net last night. First of all, if he had fallen through the net, he might have died, and the brat's parents probably would've sued the Stadium...for their son's stupidity. Second, he could have seriously hurt the people sitting below the net. Thirdly, it kind of killed the rally the Yanks had going last night. It kind of took me out of the game for a few minutes, so I could just imagine it actually shifted momentum just the slightest for people who were actually there.

But had it not happened, we wouldn't have gotten this from the Post, probably the most hilarious thing I've read all season:

The Yankees may have their fans out on the ledge this season with their erratic play, but last night's stunt was ridiculous — and could land Harper behind bars.

Only in New York.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Fan Chicken

Chicken: You know, I'm really liking this Chacon guy.
KB: Me too. I mean, it's not often you pull a guy off the scrapheap and he actually does some good. Don't you just love how he battles the hitter?
Chicken: Um, yeah, I guess. But I really like him for his name.
KB: Shawn?
Chicken: No! Chacon
KB: Huh?
Chicken: (Rolling his eyes) CHACON. What does that sound like to you?
KB: Boca Raton?
Chicken: (sighing impatiently) CHA-CON.
KB:I'm SOR-RY, you've really lost me.
Chicken: CHACON! It sounds like CHICKEN.
KB:That there's some interesting logic you've got in that head of yours.
Chicken: What, you don't hear it?
KB: I guess...
Chicken: He is my new favorite Yankee.
KB:Well that's nice. Just don't start wearing your hat or your pants like him. It looks sloppy.
Chicken: Don't mock my favorite Yankee! And why the hell hasn't he gotten any run support tonight? What does he have to do to get some help here? *GASP* Oh my god, now I know how you felt with your little Fedorov friend!
KB:Seriously, Chicken, your train of thought is quite intriguing.
Chicken: And if I were a Yankee, I'd score him at least ONE RUN. I mean for the love of god...
KB: You're not going to get an argument from me there...

fanchick
The Chicken writes his first fan letter. The other Yankees are sure to be jealous.

I Bet The NASA Commute is Cheaper

Watching the Space Shuttle land this morning, I was struck by something: My commute between New Jersey and New York is so not impressive in comparison with going from Space to Earth. I mean, it takes me 15 minutes to cross the Hudson. It took 15 minutes for Discovery to enter the Earth's atmosphere and land god knows how many thousands of miles away. Yeah, NASA wins this one.

And what the hell was up with all the reporters talking over the landing? I wanted to hear the dialogue between Mission Control and the Astronauts, not Katie Couric and Charlie Gibson babbling in an effort to cover up what they figured was dead air. The site of the Shuttle coming in is always awe-inspiring. It doesn't need narration, I don't care how much money the network is paying you.

Monday, August 08, 2005

Thinking of You And All The Ballparks In Between

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I actually found it kinda hard to watch tonight's game, if only because El Duque is one of those players that I will always carry with me in the bottom of my Yankeefied heart. I mean, he is the reason I didn't move from my roommate's recliner during Game 4 of the 1998 ALCS, and someone I will always remember as a go-to guy, which I can honest to god say I never considered someone like Roger Clemens. So watching him in an another uniform and having to root against him, well, it made me kind of melancholy. Or as I texted Steph, I felt very Bobby Jean over it.

But that doesn't mean I stopped myself from clapping my hands together in delight when Mo closed it out. I mean, my priorities are still in order and stuff...

Sunday, August 07, 2005

Hold On To That Feeeelayiain

Picture 1

This might just be the awesomest thing I've seen in a long time. A 24-year-old song by what may be the awesomest cheeseband EVER has cracked the Top 10 of iTunes' most downloaded songs today. I know I'm totally out of today's musical loop, but what brought this on? Has it been used in a commercial or something? Did some teeny bopper say how great Journey is and everyone decided to go download? I mean, The OC has been using Journey as an inside joke since the first season, but maybe something bigger happened and everyone needed a Steve Perry fix? I must get to the bottom of this...

*Sobs*

You guys, the A-Rod Basil is DEAD. In fact, I had to kill it myself. It was getting these black spots and drying up to easily. Then I read that this happens after about a year or so, and that the soil gets bad and there is no fixing it...WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! Oh, my beloved basil, you were so good to me. I mean, you gave me more basil than I knew what to do with. And you made my room smell really nice and made me hungry a lot. I am devastated over this.

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But I started replanting right away. I figure I've got at least two months of good sunlight, and that might get me a good strong plant before the winter months hit. And then we'll worry about keeping it alive from November to March, but first things first...

Saturday, August 06, 2005

The Spider, Revisited

So in celebration of Erica finishing the first two books of Harry Potter, she, Ken and I gathered to watch the first two movies last night. Erica had been very good about not seeing the movies before reading the books (because even though they are pretty faithful to their literature counterparts, I am a firm believer in letting your imagination do the work the first time you read a book.) and I don't think the films disappointed. Ken and I were sitting there noticing things that will affect stuff in the future and being like "OH! Maybe this means..." and then we'd have to talk in code because Erica just started book 3. It's awesome how intriguing this series is. J.K. Rowling deserves to be the richest woman in England if only for fascinating three twentysomethings enough to make them want to stay in watching "kids" movies on a Friday night. Not that we're a wild and crazy crew, but you catch my drift.

But it was funny to watch the second movie, in which spiders play a significant part. There's a scene with a bunch of them running out a a window, and I was like "Dude, that was the size of the spider in my apartment." Erica was all squicked out by the blog post from the other night and was freaked to think something that big actually existed indoors. It really made me want to prove to y'all how big that sucker was, so I dugout the college scapbook, and while I don't have a scanner, I did the next best thing -- I took a digital picture of the picture. So...

spider

I think my favorite part about getting that roll of film back was when someone was like "OHMYGOD!" and then they were like "You should have put a quarter next to it to show just how big it was" and I was like "Um, my hand wasn't going anywhere near that mofo." Can you blame me?

Friday, August 05, 2005

Are We Watching the Same Team?

Just saw this George quote and I can honestly say I think the man is going blind, maybe a bit senile:

"I'm concerned that they've got to get their bats going. They've got to get it together and get playing," Steinbrenner told The Associated Press in Tampa, Fla., after watching right-hander Jaret Wright's rehab start at Legends Field.

Um, George, it's your pitching that's been sinking the team of late. The only reason this team isn't in an abysmal losing streak right now is because of the lineup spurring to life at the right times and bailing the starter or the bullpen out. So lighten the fuck up on the hitting and worry about your hurlers, mmkay?

And Shef, shut the fuck up yourself. I never thought I'd have to say this to you, but you don't have a ring with this team, buddy. Your stats don't mean jack shit until you do have one. Don't rip on those who actually, you know, have a few more than yourself. And then don't go ripping on A-Rod after you were trying to be his BFF a few weeks ago. God hates a phony and a hypocrite, but you and your religious bad self would know that, right?

Thursday, August 04, 2005

In Which I am Not Lloyd Dobler

Yeah, so, tonight I was sitting at work, slogging through a bunch of proofreading stuff and keeping my eye on the Yahoo Yankee game, and every now and then checking it out on the radio. I was all cautiously optimistic, seeing as how Chacon was throwing another good game and the Yanks had the lead and all. And then it all went down the toilet, just like it did last night, and all I could think was how dissapointing this all was and how very "I gave them my heart and they gave me a pen" these last few days have been. Seriously, tonight, I knew how Lloyd Dobler was feeling. You know this team you love wants to love you back, but for whatever reason, be it a control freak father who's stealing from old people or a pitching staff that looks lost or what have you, they act like they don't want to. Even though you're sitting there confused because you know the potential for greatness is there. Now, we can't throw the pitching staff in jail and hop a flight to London, but the Yankee lineup could certainly be like "Fuck you, pitching. We'll take it from here." Though it would be nice to have a solid pitching outing every now and then. Sigh.

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Yeah, that's right, Lloyd. I was right there with you for a few innings.

And, yeah, this might just be the photo of the year:

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Aww, poor Cinderandy. Did your evil stepteammates leave you with all the chores while they attended the ball? Or are you staying till this dump shines like the top of the Chrysler Building? I mean, you can almost hear him singing: "Empty belly life! Rotten smelly life! Full of sorrow life! No tomorrow life!" Though Jeter totally makes a better Annie in my opinion...

Spoke Too Soon

One evening back when I was in college, I trudged into my apartment after a long day of editing at the school newspaper. It was dusk outside, my apartment was dark, and I wasn't wearing my glasses. So when I saw something move across the living room rug, I knew whatever it was had to be huge. I flicked on the light, and there stood this ginormous spider. I swear, it was like 3-4 inches in diameter. It seriously freaked me the hell out, but I knew no one would believe me when I told them about it, so I actually took its picture. When I told my roommates about this spider that I'd gotten rid of (by flicking it off our balcony with a 2X4) they were like "Yeah, nice, uh-huh." Then the film came back a few weeks later and they were all "Holy shit! THAT was in our apartment?" It showed me that there are some things you just need proof of to get people's attention sometimes.

I bring this up because I wish I had proof as to how loud Sasquatch was/how thin our walls are. And I wish I had further proof to show you just how loud hi successor is. Note the time of this post. Yes, it is 12:40, and there is a demolition derby going on above me. I swear, I don't know what it is about that room that just sucks the common sense out of he who inhabits it, but here we are. AGAIN. After I told Melissa a few hours ago that this new guy isn't nearly as loud as Sassy. I know the dude's moving his stuff in and all, but when one drops something that weighs roughly 40 pounds onto a hardwood floor after midnight, and repeating this about 12 times, wouldn't you be the least bit concerned you'd be ticking off the person below you? I wouldn't care if this was a weekend, and I know how it sucks not to be settled in yet, but come on, dude.

And he also walks just as heavy as Sasquatch, which not only sucks for me, but is going to result in bad feet for this dude later in life. So I want to make a plea to people out there right now: If you live above somebody and have hardwood floors, I beseech you to not walk heel-to-toe, with much emphasis on the heel part. Test yourself some time (preferably during the day when your neighbors won't think you're a jackass for walking like Frankenstein) -- walk your normal indoor pace across your apartment. If things are rattling on the walls and your footsteps echo, you are walking too hard and you are probably incurring the wrath of your downstairs neighbor. You can remedy how you walk. I once noticed I did the whole HEEL-to-toe thing and all you have to do is transfer your weight to the balls of your feet instead of tromping along on your heels. Voila! Walking without waking the dead!

And if you're female, be considerate and don't wear your high heels until you absolutely are ready to leave for work/going out. I've never had this problem, but friends have complained that their upstairs counterparts like to wake up early and clickity-clack across the floor for a good hour or so, waking those up who don't have to be awake for awhile.

So I think the lesson of the day is that you don't have to love thy neighbor; just be considerate of them. Like I am right now, by not banging on the ceiling for new neighbory guy to give it up already (and there goes another heavily weighted object as I type). I mean, he's still moving in, so he's got a grace period. But if he's pulling this shit a week from now, his ass is grass and he gets himself a nice nickname to boot....

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Feeling a Little Jersey

Just so y'all don't think I flew off to Cleveland to beat the snot out of Al Leiter or something (it's just work making me busy. Like, I know, how dare it do that.) I'll leave you with this cool little article Jesse told Christina and I about last night. It's probably only interesting to those who live in NJ, but even if you're from out of state you can probably check off a few things you've done in the Garden State. And no, seeing an oil refinery on the Turnpike, or watching the Sopranos or meeting someone who tawks with a Joisey accent isn't one of them.

And I, of course, will have my own summary of what I have and haven't done later. When I'm not working and stuff.

ETA: Here you go. Things from the above list I can check off:

Track the Jersey Devil: Well, we probably would’ve met him had someone not been snoring loud enough to scare away every living creature in a six-mile radius.

devil
Aww, come on. Who wouldn’t want to be his friend?

Grab candy bars and microwave sandwiches at the Quick Stop and RST Video I’ve been inside this place once, before Clerks was popular. There was no video store next to it at the time.

Get in touch with your inner traffic circle People who don’t get these things or complain about them are just pussies. I’m not talking about the jughandles – I’m talking the huge “roundabouts” with traffic coming at you from every direction and merging and speeding up and slowing down and horns honking and finally getting into your desired lane…You need to use all your senses just to come out alive. And it’s awesome.

Rent On the Waterfront This movie is even awesomer when you can actually point out what is completely and totally geographically impossible – like when Brando’s standing in the park around the block from my apartment, and in the next shot (same scene) he’s on the river…several blocks away. Hilarious.

Order the right side of a diner menu. Diners rock! Perhaps I am genetically programmed to love diner food, being from the Garden State…

Know how to get there from almost there. I can do this in most of Monmouth County, part of Ocean County and Hoboken. The rest of the state? Not so versed in the shortcuts and backroads.

Learn how to pump gas. I did, in college. And I’ve only had to apply that knowledge once (over one long ride to the South) in the six years since I graduated.

Spot Billy. How the hell did I never hear about Billy before? Can we say right up my alley?

Become a Rat Packer for the night with a trip to Leo’s Grandevous This place is literally a couple of blocks from my apartment and I have never gone. After our discussion last night, I think this will soon be remedied.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

Reason No. 234 Why My Job Rocks

Two words: Open Bar. I think the last time this happened at a work-related event for me was...six years ago. And that was just beer and wine. I'd always heard about offices who let everything behind the bar be free, but I'd never thought I'd see that day. Not that I was going to get smashed or something, but it does make you feel...appreciated.

Between this and our big boss coming around to thank us for all our hard work, I'm ready for the cameras to pop out and for some host to be laughing and pointing and say "Faked you out! Did you really think a company could work this way? Stupid head!"

I at least hope I get get a few more weeks in before this happens...