Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Look Out, John and Marlena!!

Picture 2

My god, people on soap operas don't even come back from the dead this much.

Shut up, Roger Clemens comeback.

And I Didn't Even Go All Beaster in That One...

So via my site meter, I found people were finding my blog through a post over at AOL's NYC Sports Page, which used my post about Derek Jeter's 2,000th hit as a frame of reference -- Paul Katcher and Darth Marc are also linked in the post, so I'm assuming it's a fan of all of our works. I don't know if I should be freaked out or not (it's like wow, man, people actually read my blog), but it's ALWAYS pretty cool to get a shout out.

But not as cool as when Jason (who thinks profanity on my blog is, like, the awesomest thing ever) was reading the AOL blurb aloud, though:

Jason: "[Jeter's hit was] described in ways we can't print here." (Looks at me proudly) Nice work, my friend, nice work!

He's now offering to be my manager should I decide to strike out and do big things. But then I think Rana, Art and Elizabeth would be sad with us gone, and it is baseball season and there are games to be watched, so I think I'll slum it for a little while longer.

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

The Chicken's Magical Mystery Tour Part II


Yes my friends, it's time (well, it will be time in August, but it's still exciting now) for The Chicken to see more of a America. And like our trip to see Hollis down in North Carolina, it is friendship that takes us out to see Tonya in Wisconsin. This time, the ride will be shared with Erica and Ken, and this time baseball will be involved. The itinerary thus far:

Aug. 19 -- Erica and I head out to Pittsburgh to pick up Ken who will be at his high school reunion.
Aug. 20 -- Get to Appleton and see Tonya's new headquarters for Yankee fan recruitment.
Aug. 21-23 -- Sight see around Wisconsin, including seeing Lake Michigan, which both Erica, The Chicken and I are quite bizzarely psyched about, because none of us have ever seen a Great Lake before. Also on the agenda: amusement parks, which are something Ken really likes and is our way of making up the whole baseball thing to him as...
Aug. 23 -- See the Brewers play the Colorado Rockies at Miller Park. Tonya seems to think it won't be that hard to get tickets to this. Hmmm. However, I won't be taking The Chicken since he has still yet to go to Yankee Stadium. His first baseball experience cannot be without the Yanks, which is unfortunate because the next day...
Aug. 24 -- Head to Chicago, see Cubs play afternoon game against the Phillies. Everyone told us it was much better to see an afternoon game at Wrigley, and so we're going to go on very little sleep after the Brewers' game and 3 hour drive to ChiTown to see it happen. We've already got our tickets for this, so huzzah!
Aug. 25-26 -- Head back to NJ, and hopefully avoid any tornadoes in our rental car.


Picture 2

Almost 1,000 miles -- that's like, 1/3 of the country! And though it's still a few months away, The Chicken is already seeking out a fabulous traveling wardrobe...

Sunday, May 28, 2006

The Long and Short of It? Department Stores Suck.

You know, I love how this story insinuates that the department stores have always catered to the "tall, leggy lady" (or whatever this article about stores eliminating petite departments is saying) but as someone who has been tall my whole life, i can honestly say I NEVER buy pants in a department store. Why? Because they DON'T MAKE THEM FOR TALL WOMEN. Seriously, if petite women are bummed that they have to go and get their pants tailored now because they aren't making them in smaller sizes anymore, try having never had an option pantswise in a department store. This author may like to think that they're designing these clothes for taller women, but then why at five-foot-nine do department store pants never go past my ankle?

But there is a solution to this, for all the petite women out there who, for some reason, feel they can't turn their backs on these snobby-ass stores: it's called The Gap, Banana Republic, J.Crew, et. al., who in the mid-90s all seemed to get the memo that every American woman isn't five-foot-five and that women shorter and taller than that need pants and shirts just as much as the next person. I couldn't buy jeans that didn't look ridiculous (but thank god for pinch-cuffing, which made length not matter so much for a time there) on me until this trend started. Yet I still go in to any department store (and even Ann Taylor or Ann Taylor Loft, where I can buy anything BUT pants) and can't buy pants there because they refuse to acknowledge this.

So bravo to the places who did figure this out, and to the places that still haven't...well, good luck with that. Especially since Saks, Bloomies and Neiman's are like a trinity of snobbiness that don't exactly strike me as the most open minded and caring about their customers, and this just illustrates that completely.

Saturday, May 27, 2006

Dude, You Just Killed Tiger Woods!

The craptasticness of the Rain Delay, the bullpen's trip to uselessness and Giambi double play aside, last night's game was pretty cool. Can I just say how sweet it was to get to see Derek Jeter's 2000th hit in person? It was so friggin awesome. When the little dribbler he hit didn't go very far and he booked right out of the box, I knew he had a chance to beat it out for an infield hit, but then KC goes and overthrows it. But then Jeter ends up on second, so my Yankee brain tries to figure out if it's a hit and then an error. It's awesome because during all this, the crowd was absolutely electric. When he got to first, everyone busted out cheering, thinking that was it, but then everyone got confuzzled by the overthrow, so there's this anticipatory moment of people on the edge, ready to cheer like crazy, but we have no idea if it's a hit. Since it's taking so long for any fanfare, I'm considering that they're not calling it a hit, but then I decide to watch the scoreboard, which reads YANKEES 0 1 0. There's been no word of an error yet, so I keep watching it (as does the rest of the Stadium) and suddenly the 1 changes to a 2, and the Stadium GOES BATSHIT. I mean, the theme from The Natural comes blaring over the speakers, and the scoreboard is all a-light with 2000!!! and then the JumboTron shows Jeter's parents looking all proud and verklempt and the Yankees are all on the top step of the dugout, all the while, the crowd freaking out. We were screaming and jumping up and down, and I swear, if love can move mountains, the adoration that was coming out of Yankee Stadium at that moment probably should've sent the Rockies straight over into China. And through all this, Jeter awkwardly lifts his batting helmet up and looks kind of awed, but you can never tell with him, but I'd like to think he got to soak it in a bit.

It's REALLY awesome later, when he gets another hit, and the JumboTron zooms in on him, with 2001 flashing below his image, all the while the theme from 2001: A Space Odyssey dramatically oozing out of the speaker system, and THAT gets a delighted smile out of Jeter.

Another awesome moment spawned the title of this post. After showing that Tiger Woods is in da house on the JumboTron, Damone comes to bat and takes this really odd swing that makes him let go of his bat, and the thing goes helicoptering into the crowd behind the Yankee dugout. The crowd kind of gasped because you totally knew someone was going to get clocked with that one. One of the drunken guys behind us is all "Dude, you just killed Tiger Woods!" and though we'd been annoyed with him and his friends for most of the night, this had us damn near howling for some reason. However, I almost bitchslapped him when he whinily wondered why Damone couldn't make it from first to third. Because it's amazing he can even run AT ALL with a broken foot, and when I snap this sarcastically at Steph, the dude's friend all quietly reminds him 'Um, his foot IS broken."

Not so awesome was the rain. Man, in all our rainy experiences at the Stadium, I have never sat through a downpour like that. I actually started screaming "PUT THE FUCKING TARP ON!" because it was seriously the worst playing conditions I've ever seen. I could see A-Rod's and Jeter's underclothes (oh, get your mind out of the gutter...but then again...hee) that's how drenched they were. And when the honor guard from the Coast Guard practically has to come and save A-Rod from drowning in the lake that had formed around third base, the umps declare it's time for a rain delay. And how long does it last? TWO HOURS. And guess who stayed? Oh, you bet your ass Erica, Darth Marc and I did, because 1) Hello, it's a Friday night and 2)they were only down by two runs. Alas, I guess I only get to see one huge comeback against KC in the 9th in my life, as Giambi makes me want to personally send a bat helicoptering toward him with his game-ending double play. But then I figured he probably felt a lot worse about it than I did, so what the hey?

Also, the whole 2000 hit thing really made up for the lack of a win. I know it's not THAT huge of a milestone, like 3000 hits or something, but it was just so cool to see and be part of the ovation.

Though next time, a win REALLY would be nice.

Friday, May 26, 2006

Lava pen! Eeeeee!!

Rain, Tears, It's All Water, Right?

Umbrella? Check.
Poncho? Check.
Paper towels to wipe off wet seats? Check.
Rain predicted for this evening, with lots of evil thunderstorms thrown in for good measure? Oh, fuck yeah, check.

Why, it must be a Season Ticket Friday!

But while I always hope that the weather plays nice on our ticket days, it is of the utmost importance that tonight's game get in. Why? Because it is Tonya's last game as a New York City Metro-Area resident. Yes, my dear friend is moving to Wisconsin tomorrow, where there are no Yankees (but there is the MLB Package, which is being installed in her new residence on Tuesday. She is my friend because she has her priorities straight, after all), and I would hope she gets to see a 9-inning game before her exit.

We're all sobbing and throwing major temper tantrums pretty bummed out about this, but we are so psyched for Tonya, who's moving in with her boyfriend Brent. He has no baseball allegiances, so we approved the match, as that means Tonya can subtly brainwash him, especially with the "Yankee Office" she is planning in their house. So we will miss her terribly, but at least we know she's spreading the Good Word in a part of the country where they might not get it otherwise. Silver lining, people, silver lining!!

And the other silver lining is that as a result of this move, Ken, Erica, The Chicken and I will be having quite an adventure of sorts later this summer. Stay tuned...

Thursday, May 25, 2006

Give Him Your Huddled Massholes

I'd heard rumblings about Mirabelli criticizing A-Rod for "grandstanding" the other night when he looked like he thought his home run was a pop up, but couldn't find any written proof. The Post backs it up today, and claims A-Rod actually called Mirabelli to tell him to shut the fuck up or clear the air or whatever, and good for him. ANYONE who watched that game could tell you that A-Rod's look of semi-pissed offness when he lofted the ball was the result of him, you know, actually thinking he messed up -- I know I didn't think the ball was gone either. But I could see how Mirabelli could be confused, seeing as how he's not good enough to catch any of the other four Sux catchers and only comes in once every five starts, and in that start he actually wasn't doing his job -- helping Wakefield win. I'm sure he confuses looks of home run misjudgement and way-overfed ego ALL the time.

Oh yeah, and A-Rod gets props for this quote:
I was surprised by it," A-Rod said of being asked about Mirabelli's quote. "Especially since the other guy [Ramirez] stood there like the Statue of Liberty."

Thank the lord the players aren't being lame and feeding the "it's just Manny being Manny" line to anyone who will listen. Although in my opinion, A-Rod was being too nice, considering Manny's look of smug satisfaction at Proctor was like Scottie had just raped and murdered Manny's entire family, burned their house down, and told Manny there was no Santa Claus, when he hadn't so much as pitched inside to him. I know he's a Red Sox player and gets license to be utterly classless, and will get patted on the head for it like he's an incorrigible child, but then I really thought the cheers for their "blue collar" mentalilty went out of fashion two seasons ago.

I'm sure Curtass will open up his mouth about it, if he hasn't done so already.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

And Derek Jeter will Never Be Don Mattingly, so NYAH.

You know, there's all this talk of A-Rod's "clutchness" lately (and bitches, please, stop it), and it always brings up the A-Rod/Jeter comparison, which is fine if you want to talk statistics, but then everyone always drags out the extremely tired "He'll never be what Derek Jeter is to Yankee fans" argument.

Why the fuck don't people ever say "Matsui/Sheffield/Damon/Posada/ Cano/Giambi will never be as big as Jeter in the heart of fans? I don't even think A-Rod WANTS to be the "it" Yankee that Jeter is -- he just wants to play the game to the best of his ability to shut everyone the fuck up. But it's always an A-Rod/El Capitan comparison. Is it because they're both young and both played shortstop at one point? Is it because they're the highest paid players on the team? Is it because they're both good looking? Is it because they are both disgustingly talented? I just don't get it. NO ONE will ever be Jeter in the hearts of fans because he's Derek F'ing Jeter. And I'm pretty sure I've never heard A-Rod say "I want to be as beloved as Derek Jeter." So why bother with the comparison? It's completely stupid and pointless and at this point, utterly cliché. It's like Yankee fans and beat writers need something to latch onto and complain about and start a witch hunt around, so it's A-Rod and his "lack of clutchness" vs. The Saintly Derek Jeter. Seriously people, give it UP. It's a lame argument that's getting old really fast.

Why can't we just let this guy be Alex Rodriguez like we let every other player be every other player? When the shit comes down, a few million more than the other HIGHLY PAID players on this team is no reason to come down harder on A-Rod Lightning Rod. They were brought here to win a championship just as much as A-Rod was, and their fucking up isn't any greater or lesser in value than if A-Rod fucks up. But when they fuck up or aren't "clutch" people merely say they're "stupid" and "overpaid" or whatever terms jealousy/frustration conjurs up in fans. However, they don't say "They'll never be Derek Jeter."

Perhaps people know that A-Rod's quite the sensitive dude and think this comparison is more of knife in the heart to him than calling him an overpaid schlub. Not that he reads blogs or comments sections or message boards, but that's the feeling they want to put out there -- "You grounded into a double play, A-Rod? Derek JETER wouldn't do that. You'll never be him" -- and they hope that he feels as bad as they do for missing a scoring opportunity. Yet they know that NO ONE can take the place of Jeter in their hearts, so it's already an unfair comparison right off the bat, making it a bit more diabolical of a statement. That's the only reason (albeit a far-out one) I can think of for fans to drag out this argument, and if that IS the case, well fans are cattier bitches than I give them credit for.

Blah. Just lay the frig off him, or else be just as hard on everyone else who doesn't produce on this team in "clutch" situations. They're all here for the same reason -- to win -- so rate them on the same scale.

And by the way, that scale shouldn't include a rating of "Derek Jeter-esque in Belovedness."

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

A Bit of Chewboken

So, in my effort to convey what a pain in the ass Chewboken is, I tried to film him with my camera, keeping the microphone part aimed at the ceiling. It didn't work too well, but you can kind of get the gist of what we have to put up with (early part is tapping on the floor, at 33 seconds is the stomping, 50 seconds is a dropped object heard all the way at the opposite end of the apartment). Erica now knows that I'm not making this up, either, and can attest to the pounding ass feet and the rolling chair madness. Aren't we lucky?

The Soul Patrol Strikes Again

True story:

A-Rod at bat with two runners on in the 7th...

KB: Come on A-Rod, Soul! Patrol!
A-Rod: on next pitch HOME RUN.
Erica: Oh my GOD!

At least Taylor Hicks has left me with something other than annoyance this season.

Oh yeah, and It warranted the Stud Finder Shot of the Game:


In Which...Shut Up, Bandwagon Fans

Man, am I glad I don't have to drive over water to get anywhere today. Because the Yankee fans freaking the fuck out after the last few games are SO climbing onto bridges today, tossing their Yankee caps to the wind and leaping into the cold, cruel early springtime waters. It's probably a big old traffic mess waiting to happen, though I'd probably be willing to stop my car and...push a few of these whiny ye-of-little-faithers off myself and decrease the surplus bandwagon population.

Listen, I know this pitching staff isn't really much of a pitching staff right now and relying on Moose too much (but gee, I don't think Moose gives two shits about being relied on "too much" when it's his JOB to go out there and win every five days). But Wang isn't exactly horrible, Chacon is due back soon, and Wright...well, I'm not saying much about him till we actually see him string a few more good performances together, but at least we know he still has "it" in there somewhere. RanJo? Whatever. So yeah there are a lot of questions regarding the pitching, but there is no absolutes here. They can either suck or do really well and until it's PAST FUCKING MAY, I'm willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

As for the lineup, Shef is due back possibly tonight and I think that'll make all the difference in the world. You miss Matsui? Me too, but as long as Melky continues to exhibit that he's matured quite nicely at the plate, I don't think there will be too big of a hole there. I have to believe A-Rod will get off the schnide soon, so THAT will only help as well. Everyone else is doing exactly what they're supposed to be doing , so why am I supposed to be freaking out again? Basically, as long as I don't see the Cairo/Kelly Stinnett bottom-of-the-order combo (a.k.a. the place where hits go to die) in that lineup, I'm OK with the offense.

So I fail to see why I should be losing any sleep over this. But then again I'm not in this just for the winning, unlike those suckers climbing off the bandwagon and onto the bridge.

Sunday, May 21, 2006

I Love The Post Sometimes


I know Barry has his apologists and that many will argue that steroids technically weren't "illegal" when Barry was allegedly using and that there's still no valid proof that he knowingly used (*rolls eyes*) and that it's still "awesome" that he caught the man who is quite possibly the patron saint of the game, but...I'm happy people aren't really embracing this. It at least shows the general public still wants people to do things the honest way.

Now if only we can get people to actually stop lusting after the home run so much...

Just A Reminder

While I'm touched that so many people flood this site after Yankee games, I'm a little disappointed in y'all that you seemed to have forgotten that I don't watch interleague play. Unless of course, Erica, who has no interlague bias, is watching and I happen to pass through the room with a stud finder and when A-Rod is up to bat, put said stud finder against the TV, only to have the stud finder beep like crazy -- awesome. So with the crapfest that is the rest of interleague play settling in upon us next month, know that I won't be writing about it. I just wanted to give you fair warning that there won't be any game talk here. Sorry about that.

Unless you guys are all coming here to read about the rest of my life, which, awww.

Preakness Bleakness

A poor horsie -- a Triple Crown contender mind you -- who gets hurt is possibly going to get euthanized.

Carl Pavano manages to acquire every injury ever invented and gets $8 million a year.


I do blame NBC's announcers for Barbaro having a crap load of bad luck today. All before the race, the lot of them couldn't get over the fact that Barbaro was going to put the whole field of 9 to shame, that first place was his without even running, that he'd have an easier time in the Belmont even though the track is longer, blah, blah, blah. Like, way to jinx the poor beast, you know? I've NEVER heard them fawn over an animal in such a way -- it actually struck me as strange that they were blathering so much, but maybe with the field being so small, they felt really confident about their choice. But then he busts out of the starting gate too soon and then pulls up lame in the re-start. It was quite possibly 1) one of the most upsetting things I've seen in sports, because while players get injured all the time you know nobody's going to put Hideki Matsui "to sleep" when he hurts himself and 2) it was the WEIRDEST race I've ever seen. I guess with the false start and the injury the crowd got taken out of it, and then the poor horse that wins gets barely any attention.

But I am bummed there won't be a Triple Crown winner this year, and I'm bummed this poor creature's life might be over because with all the technology out there, nobody's figured out how to help a horse with a bum leg. Sigh.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

It Shouldn't Work, But it Does

Now, normally I don't dig concept albums by long established artists, and I sure as hell couldn't care less about albums with a "message", but holy crap is Bruce Springsteen's Seeger Sessions a delight to listen to. I can't remember the last time a whole bunch of songs put me in that good of a mood. It's weird, because with the exception of a few lyrics in like two songs, the rest of the album seemed to have nothing to do with protesting anything (I could just be stupid, though). In fact, it just seems like a celebration of American music. I mean it's Bruce doing "Froggie Went A'Courtin'" and that song Mr. Edwards used to sing on Little House on the Prairie, "Old Man Tucker" -- AWESOME. I totally thought I wouldn't dig it because I'm used to Classic Rock Bruce, and with the exception of one or two songs off The Rising, I haven't liked much of his recent stuff. But this? It's like making songs from your childhood acceptable to be drinking songs now. Again, awesome.

Or it could be that even though none of my ancestors ever lived past Eastern Pennsylvania, I am secretly part hick, and that's why I really enjoyed the durn thing.

What's Wrong With This Picture?

Picture 1

This is why I can't take the New York Times seriously as a "New York" paper -- um, where are the Yankee and Mets headlines? I guess the other stories are big, but I doubt many New Yorkers give a flying flip about the goings on between freaking Edmonton Oilers and San Jose Sharks. Is it newsworthy? Yes. But given priority over teams who play within a few miles of the Times' Times Square offices? No. Leave that stuff for USA Today or CNN/SI or ESPN. I don't care if it's the playoffs for one sport and the early season for the other. I have a feeling New Yorkers would give the edge to the teams they actually care about.

I wish I'd had a screen cap of yesterday's Web page, because the Yankees match their biggest comeback in team history and it's buried in with the regular sports news. It wasn't like it was a busy news day yesterday, either. It totally could've been a little box at the top of the page. But no, this paper (and particularly the Web site) have always been more about U.S. news than the happenings in the boroughs and surrounding areas. That's why I can never see it as a true New York paper, despite its iconic status in the fabric of New York media.

It always feels like New York stories, even not sports related, are the ugly redheaded stepchildren to the national news. I don't care how big the national reading audiences is -- remember where you come from. All the other "local-yet-national" papers do it. For crying out loud, the L.A. Times is located a lot closer to San Jose than New York, and yet it's not in their top 3 headlines in their sports box today. In fact, shock of shocks, the Dodgers and Mighty Ducks get headlines there!

Whatever. I guess I wouldn't be so irked if the title of the paper wasn't The New York Times, you know?

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Live from the happy place!

Tool Time!

So I had the pleasure of sitting in front of the Tooliest Tool from Yuppie Hell on the bus today. What earned him that title, you may ask? Well, the fact that he had to loudly broadcast his cell phone conversation to let everyone on the bus know just how cool is, plus this little tidbit of conversation, win him the trophy for the day:

Obnoxious Jackass: Yeah, man, I'm tired. I was at the Yankees game (I don't know why it bothers me when people say it this way when it's technically correct, but it grates. Most people I know say "I was at the Yankee game") last night. Yeah, it was a good game...until the Yankees won.
Me: Shakes head disgustedly and rolls eyes.
OJ: No, no. Well I guess I like Texas more than the Yankees.
Me: You don't really like either team but you still are rooting against the Yankees and 2) You don't really like either team and yet you go to the game? You're probably a corporate-seat dickhead.

Later in the way-too long and loud conversation...

OJ: But the game was awesome...
Me: Wait, what?
OJ: It was me and so-and-so and my assistant and we just kicked back and had some beers.
Me: OY.
OJ: But it was a long game. It went almost four hours. It ended up being 13-12.
Me: Yes, only a corporate dickhead wouldn't know the actual final score.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

*&@$#$%! SOUL PATROL!!!!!!!!!

WHAT DID I JUST SEEE????????????? What did STEPH just see, being she was sitting like right behind home plate?????? I was literally watching behind my hair, curled up in a semi fetal position on my couch, Erica on the other couch muttering "Soul Patrol, Soul Patrol", and when the ball left Jorge's bat, we were momentarily stunned into silence as it sailed over the wall, but then in like one instant we leaped off our respective couches and went bat shit, hugging and jumping up and down and patting the TV and screaming "SOUL PATROL!" like it was October or like we were indeed as insane as Taylor Hicks. And having texted Steph the entire game (my last text to her at the bottom of the 9th said "Do not go gentle into that good night. Time to make the donuts!") I thought the dramatics that just took place deserved a phone call, and Steph sounded somewhat stunned herself. After the initial "Oh my gods!" were exchanged, I was like "You got to seeeeeeee that!!!" And she was like "This is so...strange" like she was no longer doing the Chuck-Heston-as-Moses "I have seen. God." imitation, but like she herself had just seen something so awe-inspiring, that her hair might go all wild and turn white and she'll come out of the Stadium carrying tablets. I am so jealous.

But what a fucking game. I thought I was nuts when I saw the 10-1 score and actually said out loud to Erica "Gee, all they need are three three-run innings and they're back in it!" But man alive, THIS is why you can never give up. Look what you would've missed if you turned it off in the third inning.

Holy crap.

Just Give Me a Harmonica and Some Twitches, Baby!

So I've decided that since behaving like a total spaz gets Taylor everything he wants on American Idol (that being the at-home audiences' undying support). I've decided to go his route when watching the Yankees. For example:

Yankee base hit makes the score 10-3: KB: "Soul! Pa-trol!"

Yankees throw out runner at homeplate and Jorge holds on: KB: "Soul Patrol!!! Wooo!!!"

Yankees inch closer on a Derek Jeter homer to make score 10-8: KB: "Soul! Patrol! wave arms in air like a maniac, debate writhing around on floor and foaming at the mouth, but decide against it since the game isn't, like, tied or anything.

Yankees go ahead 11-10 on Miguel Cairo base hit; KB: "Ack!! Soul Patrol?" Erica, catching on: "That's Soul Patrol, baby!"

As for Idol itself, well, it was nice knowing you, Elliott. As much as I can't stand Taylor, he brought it just enough tonight to make his fans dial their fingers off for him. But I'm sorry -- his Dancing in the Dark was beyond meh, and I'm embarrassed that Bruce actually approved this song for the show, what with it being his first foray into allowing the show to use his stuff. As I growled at my TV: "If you fuck this up, Taylor, I'm going to fuck you up." Erica got a kick out of that, so much so that it made her wish she was still blogging. Anyway, Taylor didn't mess it up completely, but man it was karaoke. Bleh. His second and third songs were much better, but his annoying affectations just make me make faces at my screen.

Kat's second song was absolutely lovely, what she should've been doing this entire season. That said, her complete bitch face at Randy and Paula for daring to critique her mediocre first performance really made me realize why I never embraced her this season -- I thought maybe I was imagining her grotesque sense of entitlement on this show, but now I know it's always been there. But that Over the Rainbow just insured that she's totally making the final 2 since Elliott was way too safe this evening.

Also way entertaining? The absolute HATE between Paula and Ryan. I know they've had issues in the media with each other this year, but holy crap was it apparent that they can't stand each other when Ryan asked Paula about her song choice for Elliott. Now that's good television.

Monday, May 15, 2006

To All the People...

...who think Joe Torre is the problem when really it's his players NOT DOING THEIR JOB RIGHT, kindly put a cork in it. You may think you can manage this team better, but seriously, you can't. I don't agree with everything the man does, but there's a reason he's the manager of the New York Yankees and I'm...a copy editor. So until Joe starts calling for my head when I have a typo on this blog because I am misrepresenting the English language, I won't be calling for his because he has an unreliable bullpen and he's missing two outfielders and his players like to swing desperately at every pitch that comes their way.

And for fuck's sake, it's May, so quit the pissing and moaning and just enjoy the fact that there's baseball to be watched and it's not three degrees outside and there's still FOUR AND A HALF MONTHS of baseball to be played. There are far worse things than being six games over .500 and one game out of first place two weeks before Memorial Day, you know?

I must stop reading message boards. It is not good for the soul.

The Man With the Pan

The Times has an awesome little piece on Freddy Sez today, and it's nice to see the media acknowledge just how much he means to Yankee fans. I know a few weeks ago, at our first game, Steph was like "Wait, where's Freddy?" and we realized he was missing and got concerned -- but I heard the pan clanging the next day on TV, so I knew he was all right and I actually breathed a sigh of relief.

These are the little things I don't think Yankee haters will ever understand, being that they think the Stadium houses cyborgs masquerading as fans or something.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

I Think I'm Still Pulling Bobby Pins Out of My Hair

Some highlights from The Awesomest Wedding Ever, as I am very tired right now and being creative with the writing is kind of tough when your eyes are all droopy and stuff:

Champagne wishes and caviar dreams! But are there mashed potatoes? That is the question.


--The-bride-to-be and myself get our manicures and pedicures done, and I decide once and for all that I absolutely hate pedicures. Not the nail polish part or foot soaking part. But the pushing back of cuticles and cutting cuticles off and painful-ass foot massages and foot buffering part. My tootsies are sensitive, yo. I know most women find these things relaxing, but I was busy digging my finger nails into the arm rest to find any pleasure in it. And since I fill my quota for the whole "pain for beauty" thing at eyebrow management, I'm officially done with pedicures.

-- Less than an hour after the manicure is dry, I ruin my thumbnail by trying to put a new garbage bag in our garbage pail. I am so not good at this stuff.

-- Later in the day Colette and I check into the hotel room, or shall I say palatal suite, we'll be sharing with Vicki. While we wait for the bride to arrive, we get all into the two-hour Growing Pains E! True Hollywood Story. And when we get a text from Dexter saying that he and Vicki are going to be late to the rehearsal and it's been pushed back an hour, Colette and I are pretty psyched that we'll be able to see just how everything turns out for the Growing Pains cast.

-- At the rehearsal, Dexter and Vicki make it known that they don't want their ceremony to be dripping with religious references, and tell their minister (who Dexter has known since he was a child) as much. Keep this in mind for the next day.

-- Vicki is as cool as a cucumber (and I don't think I've ever met a less Bridezilla-y bride in my life, which is awesome), and it's actually the groom who appears anxious, so we make sure he gets nice and liquored up at the dinner.

-- For about five minutes, I think groomsman Kurt is going to possibly be working for, and I'm all confused because I don't think I'd ever heard him express an interest in auto racing...Don't ask.

--Groomsman and fellow Yankee fan Mike is way impressed by Season Ticket Crew pal/roommate Erica texting me events from the game and the final winning score. Which I guess means I'm never going to a Friday game again because what happened when I wasn't there? Oh yeah, they won.

-- The day starts all gloomy and gray, but by noon, the sun is shining brilliantly and there isn't a cloud in the sky over Manhattan. I don't know who we have to thank for that (since the forecast called for rain/showers all day), but whoever you are, you rock.

Oh my god, it's THE SUN! It's been pretty scarce around these parts lately...

-- I can't say the same for the person who created my three-inch heels with weird arch, because my way-too sensitive feet are all "get me the hell out of these things" before the ceremony even begins.

-- Mike and I make it down the aisle (and I have to remember thanking him for the whole not-tripping thing), following behind Kurt and Melissa and it's so relieving to see all of these friendly faces, from Mike's wife Ksenia, to the Hoboken Crew, to Shirley and Nancy, to Dexter, who looks a bit warm, but completely elated.

-- Vicki looks absolutely stunning in her Veronica Lake-ish hair and dress, and Dexter gets all teary when she walks down the aisle, but he doesn't full-on cry like I thought he would, so I lose my bet with the Hoboken Crew.

--As per Dexter and Vicki's request, the ceremony is quick -- and we get an intro, vows and kiss in eight minutes. EIGHT MINUTES, people. Can we say my feet were more than grateful for that? We also get a few powerful mentions of Jesus, which makes the entire bridal party fight laughter for the rest of the ceremony, remembering Dexter and Vicki's edict from the night before. It all went so quickly, though, Dexter later lamented that it flew by too fast, even for him and "I almost wish we'd had a full Mass!"

--While we're waiting for photos to be taken, Mike and Kurt tell Colette, Melissa and I about the ceremony/cocktail hour piano player's request for a big glass of vodka, er, water. Whatever gets you through the ceremony/cocktail hour, I guess. I didn't hear any missed notes in the romantic classics he played, so well done, groomsmen, in granting his request.

So long, suckas.

--After photos, and before we're all introduced into the reception, I run up to the Bridal Hideaway Room to ditch the heels from hell and grab my flip flops. Turns out Dexter and Vicki are hanging out in there, and looking so relaxed and happy, and so married, but still so themselves. I think just seeing them like that was one of the most lovely moments of the day for me. This is also when I find out their first dance is going to be to "As," my favorite Stevie Wonder song, and I gleefully freak out.

Aw, don't they look happy?

--After some minor confusion as to how we should be introduced, the bridal party and the bride an groom are welcomed into the reception hall, and we begin with "As", which is pretty much the only "slow" song played of the night. It also kicks off the opening of the dancefloor, which was never empty and freaking insane all night. People started breakdancing to "White Lines" at one point, and a bit of a danceoff ensued, and I'm not sure who won, but I know the people who used props (like a chair) do get bonus points.

And this is when the dancefloor wasn't that crowded

-- The Hoboken Crew, Colette and myself are placed in a prime location, right next to the bride and groom at table 8, or as Jesse starts calling it "The Ocho". When we're served our meal and we're chatting I declare "This is just like Monday Night dinner...with lots of dancing!" and Liana's all "And we're really dressed up."

Hoboken in da house!

--My feet are still aching through much of "Gold Digger," so I sit that one out...until "Poison" by Bel Biv Devoe starts up over the speakers, and I'm SO out on the dancefloor with Christina and Liana and half the free world in no time. And it's totally the 7th grade and a middle school dance all over again, what with everyone knowing the words and screaming "Never trust a big butt and a smiii-hi-hi-le." Ah, the classics.

You think people who eat up karaoke are going to be kept from the dancefloor? And kept from wearing glow-in-the-dark rings on their head?

-- The feeding of the cake went a little awry when the cake goes down Vicki's dress. And it was completely unintentional on Dexter's part. I think.

The cake going where it's supposed to go.

-- And there's more dancing still! At one point "Who Let the Dogs Out" came on, and though semi-bewildered, everyone was like "What the hell?" and danced to it. Dancing machines, I tell you.

-- The end of the night comes with Dexter and Vicki grabbing the microphone to thank us all for coming and at one point Dexter's all "Today, day, day, day I consider, sider...KB! Where's KB? That's a classic Yankee reference!"

All in all, one hell of an evening. I've always said Dexter and Vicki's wedding was one of the ones I was looking forward to the most, just because you can't possibly NOT have a good time when they're around. And it sure didn't disappoint. Too bad you only get married once. Anniversary parties, however, could probably be just as good...

Just to Get it Off My Chest...

So, at the wedding last night I had two interesting/humorous conversations about the state of my love life...with two guys. It's hilarious, because the only people who ever seem curious/confused about my love life are my guys friends. My girl friends? Yeah, I can be single for years and they're all "KB's just doing her thing, yo. She'll open up if she wants to talk about it." But my guy friends? They want to know why I'm still single and are willing to beat up the entire male single population if they won't go out with me. It's kind of nice, knowing the dudes have my back in this sort of way, when normally you think of guys, you think they don't give shit about stuff like that. But I feel like for their benefit, I have to explain exactly why it is I'm single, even if I leave them more confused than before. So I will attempt to do the same thing here, as it's something that eats at me when people don't understand.

Anyway, my first conversation was with Eric, who turns to me at dinner and says he wants to ask me a "personal question." Now, I thought he was going to ask how much money I make or if I agree with abortion or something, when he goes "How's the boy situation?" I almost choked on my drink, that's how awesome I thought that was. When I told him that, no I'm not hiding any dudes from the Hoboken Crew and that I am indeed still single, Eric seems kind of upset for me, but then I tell him my manifesto, which I also explained to Sarah's boyrfriend Richard later in the night: I don't date guys I don't know and while knowing that means I could keep me single for awhile, I'm OK with that.

What does this all mean, you ask? Well, it means I can't just go out and date some guy I meet online or on a blind date or in a bar or even at a Yankee game. The whole "dating as a foundation for romance" doesn't sit well with me. Not that I don't think decent relationships can come out of those means (because I do have several success stories in my circle of people meeting that way) but I can't be comfortable or even be myself knowing that the only reason I'm hanging out with this dude is because we may be physically attracted to each other and want to "see where it goes". I don't make my friends this way, so I'm not going to do that with someone who could potentially be playing a way bigger role in my life.

What I do think works is having a relatoinship that comes out of friendship. Some of the best relationships I know started out that way (like the couple who got married last night -- the fantastic Dexter and Vicki -- the ubercool Eric and Liana, the awesome Hollis and Chris, etc. -- which I pointed out to Eric and he seemed to get it after that) and while I may have gone out with guy friends in the past and it hasn't worked out, I still felt the most like myself and comfortable when we did start dating. Contrast this with guys I've dated after not really knowing them and...meh. I can't turn on feelings that quickly or even fake enthusiasm for a dude I don't know. So you can see how this isn't going to go over too well with the dude in the bar who just wants your number because you're a pair of long legs and and can give you the boxscore from the night's Yankee game and thinks this makes you the perfect woman or whatever -- that's a nice compliment,

I'm weird. I know this. But I also think I am right for myself. I say this because I don't want my friends who have met their significant others through the conventional dating route to think that I think their relationships are bad or something because I don't. I just do what's comfortable for me, and dating as a means of getting to know someone is high, far and gone (or "See YA!") outside of my comfort zone. I'd rather be single than be uncomfortable dating a guy I barely know.

Also -- and I'm going to sound like a total dork saying this, but I don't care because you've read some of my beyond dorkiest posts and still keep coming back to read, so I feel like I can trust you people -- it is so, so, SO much more awesome hooking up with a guy when you go my route. You know each other awhile, then you start looking at each other in a different way, have a bit of a crush on them for a bit, and one of you finally cracks and says something and you or the other are like "dude, I feel the same way too" and holy crap does that kiss have a lot more meaning and...fireworks, man. Now, you may be like "but KB, you are obviously still not with these young men, so why are you harping on this?" but having kissed guys this way and in the whole "I don't know you very well but maybe like you" sort of way, god damn, kissing a guy the first way? Is incredible. Maybe it's just the writer in me that likes more buildup, but whatever. So much more meaningful. You know them how they really and truly are, they know you with all your faults and quirks and they still want to makeout with you and you still want to jump on them -- it's awesome.

So maybe I've just confused you all a bit more or something. And some of you may play shrink and think this is just an excuse for not getting close to people or that I've been traumatized by past relationships or something, but if you really knew me, you'd know that's not the case.

I just don't want to be with someone for the sake of being with someone -- I want it to have some deeper meaning and I want to be at my most comfortable, natural self. If that means being single the rest of my life, so be it. But I can't help but thinking my way will find me the furture Mr. Complete and Total Bisch when all is said and done. Because you know what? He'll feel the same exact way.

Got it? Good.


You want to know how you know you've had the awesomest time at a wedding? You only have to consume two drinks the entire night, because being there among your dearest of friends and boogeying down is such a natural high in itself that you don't even think there's a need to feel any more spirited.

So if Dexter and Vicki's wedding/reception isn't a sign of a successful marriage to come...wait, whatever, it totally IS a sign. Judging by the amount of fun people had tonight, and the overall outpouring of love for these two extraordinary people, not to mention the love the dynamic duo radiated back at us, well, they're going to be set for life in the happiness department. A great, great, GREAT evening all around, and now I'm already feeling the letdown that it's over. Sigh.

The full-rundown of the wedding (including the quickest ceremony EVER, the vodka-swilling piano player, the breakdancing and my walk down the aisle in three-inch heels in which I didn't topple over --touchdown!) will come soon, complete with pictures and other means of blackmail.

Thursday, May 11, 2006

You're Kidding Me, Right?

Oh man is THIS ever rich -- Lupicass getting on fans for booing A-Rod and expecting so much of him. Because he has always been a champion of the A-Rod cause, and you know, never wrote bitchy columns against the man after he actually had a great night at the plate or in the field, never mind the bile he spews when A-Rod's doing poorly. So, what, the paying customer doesn't have a right to their opinion (and yeah, even if I view booing your own dude as a sacrelige, it doesn't mean everybody else has to hold the same belief) but the man who gets paid to have an opinion is allowed to be a whiny little piss ant? And then he's allowed to judge the paying customer for having the same feelings he usually does? When all he does is probably stoke the ire of many people with his negativity?

And the fact that he kind of outs himself for not liking what A-Rod has to say all the time does not make him any less a hypocrite. So shut up, Lupicass.

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

The Tears of an (Ass)clown

OK, so I know it's only May and the Yanks looked like ass last night and you can't get too excited about anything this early, but bitch, please, that was way awesome on so many levels. Mainly:


Awwww! Don't cry, Curtass! I'm sure the greasy eye-talian and your non-clutch, not a true Yankee sworn enemy and Jorge Posada taking you deep tonight won't be remembered on the backpages of any of those "dredge" New York newspapers tomorrow, at all.

Don't you know New York is all about putting a bitch in their place letting bygones be bygones? No? Well, I guess that's why you'd be too much of a p***y to ever pitch here. God forbid someone ever call you out on that steaming pile of bullshit that you call a brain and the fact that every now and then you don't have the goods to back it up...gee, just like every other human being.

But I love you Jason Giambi! And A-Rod (god, that swing was gorgeous)! And Jorge! And Moooooooose! And everyone else who helped shut the Fucko™ to end all Fuckos™ up for one evening.

Yeah, Um

So I guess I can't predict an American Idol winner for yet another year. But seriously, Chris was completely meh the past few weeks, while the judges kept blowing sunshine up his ass. That is the killer combo for lulling voters into complacency, and when I finished last night's tape, I knew he'd be in trouble. But as much as I enjoyed him early on and still wanted him to win, I'm kind of relieved he's gone. Because now he won't have to sing songs about believing in yourself and finding inspiration in the eyes of children or whatever crap they're penning for this year's winner. Good luck with that, Taylor. Oh, wait, you don't think he's going to win? Then what the hell was up with letting him sing, oh, just for the hell of it tonight? Because Rebecca Romijn, she of the rival network, asked for it? Oh, Puh-lease. That was the most blatant pimping ever seen outside of the old school 42nd Street. He sings and he has man parts and he's just slightly more conventional looking than Elliott -- "Bingo," cried the powers that be.

So, ladies and gentleman, you now have the most polarizing Final 3 ever, as Taylor, Elliott and Kat are some of the best vocalists to ever hit this show, but make their non fans like myself not like them with their schticks. Or lack of stage presence in Elliott's case. He'll be the one I root for because his voice is the most appealing to me out of those left, and he has a nice backstory (diabetic, only vocal training was in karaoke bars) but the man is a snoozer. Taylor is a total egotrip waiting to happen and Kat is

Out of all the people in this country, they couldn't find one person who could sing their ass off and make you feel something and come across as normal and loving what they do in the process?

Man, I guess I didn't really like this season that much after all...

How Pissed Was KB at Last Night's Game?

....pissed enougt to snap my lava pen in two (fear not -- I was able to snap it back together). Because I swear to god, if I have to sit through another freezing ass game to watch the mediocrity they like to throw out there whenever I'm in attendance this season, I'll...I'll...think of something dramatic and get back to you.

But it was abysmal to watch. Just horrific. And it didn't help that our section was peppered with Sux fans who were more than happy to try and start the Yankees Suck chant on occassion (notice the word "try" -- they didn't get very far with cold, angry Yankee fans sitting around them). There was one good-natured, drunk Sux fan in a Ted Williams shirt "going at" a feisty, drunk girl in an A-Rod jersey. They kept going back and forth over the usual shit, i.e., "A-Rod sucks!" and "26 titles, baby!" until at one point they're discussing something and the girl's like "You know what? Fuck the Mets!" And the dude's all "Yeah! Fuck the Mets!" and they start chanting that, and I don't know if I've EVER seen arguing fans (even if it was quite playful and alcohol inspired) actually agree on something, so I was waiting for the sky to start collapsing or something. Perhaps if it had, huge pieces would've landed on RanJo and the bullpen and the Goofus version of A-Rod (though, seriously backpage of the Daily News, this one was pretty much entirely pitching's fault) and the fans booing Melky Cabrera for his goof (DUDES. He's a KID. In his FIRST GAME BACK in almost a year -- and to be honest, the wind REALLY did take that one a bit weirdly, and I REALLY don't think Shef would've caught it with his whole "I can't raise my arm above waist level" thing, so SHUT UP STUPID FANS) and the outcome of the game would've been different.

Alas, the sky stayed intact and we get another chance tonight against Curtass, who really is living up to the "ass" part of his name by ripping on the NY media. Because they're just so wonderful everywhere else around the country, you know? Yes, I have my issues with Lupicass and the occasional negative headline, but honestly, this is New York, and if you don't like the idea of a columnist RIGHTLY calling for the Yanks to start pushing your precious Big Papi off the plate, you'd better have a better way of putting it than calling these reporters "bad people." Has there ever been a bigger assclown in sports? Now I REALLY want the Yanks to bitchslap that Fucko™ tonight, because the NY media may be the "dredge" of society or whatever, but that "dredge" sure can write a fantastic headline when they're out to get someone...

Monday, May 08, 2006

YAWN. Oh, Pardon Me!

The funniest thing about Barry Bonds' about-to-surpass-the-Babe chase and whatnot right now? I don't think I know one baseball fan who actually gives a shit about it, or is even giving it even the mildest of interest. Is this a travesty? Maybe someday people will think so, but right now it's just a shrug of the shoulders from me. And some may say it's the attitude problem or the steroid talk or whatever that is keeping them from getting invested in the home run record race, but to me it's one thing: The Babe's record was broken already. 34 YEARS AGO. I'm sorry, 714 ceased being significant when Hank Aaron cranked out his 715th. 716th and so on.

I know some will argue that it's the fact that you can mention Barry and the Babe in the same breath that's significant, but that just seems overly sentimental to me. Yeah, Barry will be in second place ALL TIME (ooooh! chills! NOT.) and yeah he'll have passed the most famous man in the sport to do it. But the record is the thing here, no matter who holds it, and right now the record of significance is Hank Aaron's, not the Babe's.

So excuse me if this bit o' baseball "history" isn't exactly resonating with me. Wake me when it's actually time to get excited about something.

Saturday, May 06, 2006

In Which I Feel Violated and Dirty

Well, first the Mets harrassed Braves fan Erica by telephone, and then they got to Rana by the same means. It sucks to be telemarketed by a sports team, but at least the Mets had reason to believe these guys would be interested in tickets, i.e., they actually bought Mets tickets before. The Yankees had called to harrass me back in January, but, you know, at least I've bought Yankee tickets before and that also makes some kind of annoying, telemarketing sense.

But now the Mets (The Team, The Time) have come knocking on my door, or shall I say, the door of my parents, causing my father to worry I might be secretly dabbling in the dark arts of Met fandom. You see, they sent a brochure including all the Mets' season ticket packages for this season, not knowing I'd rather shoot myself than willingly fork over a lot of money to their team.

The only way I can think of that they got my former address is 1)I once ordered playoff tickets (Yanks/Sux) to be sent to my parents' house and 2)I used to subscribe to Yankees Magazine there. My guess is someone is selling off mailing lists in MLB, and I guess it is their right to send propoganda leaflets to unsuspecting Yankee fans. But what gets me is the opening of the brochure: "Get Your Tickets Before the Bandwagon Does." Now, my dad got a kick out of this because he says that means they at least understand New York, but yet they SEND IT TO SOMEONE WHO HAS NEVER EXPRESSED INTEREST IN THE TEAM BEFORE. What were they thinking "Oh, yeah, she ordered some Yankee playoff tickets in 1999. She must be willing to go see any New York team play!" Isn't that a bandwagoner?

Gah. Shut up, Mets brochure, and leave me alone.

Friday, May 05, 2006

Because I Like Horsies!


Brother Derek is my pick to win the Derby tomorrow, as it is the coolest-named horse that was entered. Favorite, shmavrite. There are better ways to pick a winner...

Damone Denial

I swear to god, Damone is one of the most perplexing former enemies to ever put on Pinstripes. It is just WRONG that he gives off warm and fuzzy feelings this early in the game, when you know he's doing this because he gobbles up being the center of attention with a big old spoon and warm and fuzzy feelings are just a byproduct of feeding his ego. But for some weird reason, it comes off in good fun and harmless instead of "hey world, look at ME!" GAH! Stop it!!! Stop the good thoughts coming out of my head for a former Sux player who I formerly kind of not liked and Tonya wanted dead and stuff. Stop it, I say!

Ok, but I do say this because last night, after the grand slam, he gets in the dugout, pulls his helmet off, and sees the camera on him. And while players will sometimes acknowledge the red light (it's rare, but it's been known to happen), Damone actually does a half-"Isaac" point and gives a small smile, as if he's torn between looking like a bad ass or giddy, but then the smile wins out because he's, you know, happy to have just hit a bases-loaded homer. Disturbingly, it had an infectious quality because I actually SMILED BACK AT THE TV. Stop trying to brainwash me with all your puppies and kittens actions, DAMONE.

I keep your picture upon my blog. It hides a nasty stain that's lying there.

But I will admit this -- it was refreshing. For example, A-Rod would've come back into the dugout, and after high-fiving his teammates, he would've noticed the camera on, then would've looked away quickly because he doesn't want people to think he knows he's being watched. El Capitan would've known the camera was on, ignored it, but swaggered a bit, and Bernie would've smiled and looked shyly away. But Damone? He acknowledged that, oh, you know, hundreds of thousands (if not millions) of people were watching him at home, if not just the cameraman who is focused on him through a big lens with a red light on it. It's like he gets that he doesn't have to put up a "manly" front whenever he's center stage. Playing to the camera and the fans could grate if he's sucking, but as long as he's doing good things and knows he's here to play baseball, I'll take the theatrics and maybe my way-too-easily amused side will enjoy them slightly. Especially since it makes me laugh (see: last Friday before the game, Damone sitting in the dugout with a catcher's mask on, then running around and pretending to ram his head into the railing. It defies explanation, but it made the season ticket crew giggle, and his teammates seemed to get a kick out of it as well), and lord knows I know I do my job better when I've had a few laughs. And I have a hard time believing very-human baseball players would be immune to the benefits of a good chuckle every now and then as well. So it's about time they had a Murdock on this team -- somebody who's maybe slightly deranged but that derangement brings a whole new angle to the team and can be beneficial.

Don't get me wrong -- one of the things I love best about the Yankees is their adherence to tradition and getting out there and playing the game with focus, forget all the hoo-ha. There's no "good-old-boy, we're a bunch of frat boys" thing going on there. But every now and then it is nice to see lighter, human moments (like seeing players doing air guitar/piano to Johnny B Goode in the dugout), and Damone seems to bring that. It's good to have a funny distraction when they need the pressure taken off a bit -- a class clown who isn't doing things to be an ass, but to lighten the mood. I'm not sure what Damone's intent is by being a fool, either to make himself look better or because he's naturally that way, but hell, if it works to help this team in any way, more power to him.

Oh my god. I think I'm starting to LIKE Damone. Noooooooooo!!!!!!!

Thursday, May 04, 2006

So Let Me Get This Straight... A-Rod considered "clutch" for that single last night, or is it only the flair for the dramatic (i.e., the home run) that gets people this label? Because I think the two ideas get mixed up sometimes and it really is annoying.

Maybe not as annoying as that SI article going around right now about baseball players picking their most "overrated" peer, and Derek Jeter coming out on top. It was only 9 precent of the vote (which tells me these guys aren't exactly on the same page about this thing completely) but... you're kidding me right? I mean, maybe these aren't the smartest men on the planet, but I'd have to hope they'd know the diffrence between "overrated" and "overexposed." Because while Jeets is surely the latter...where the fuck have these men been the past 10 years? And why the hell is SI asking this question at all (and judging by the "winner" leading with 9 percent of the vote, this isn't sa question that's keeping players up at night)? Did they hire Johnny From the Corner Bar to go out and ask his most burning question?

Shut up, SI, and shut up players who were stupid enough to give a dude batting .379 (four World Series rings aside and all) right now this "honor".

Wednesday, May 03, 2006


So I am now officially meh on Idol this season. Paris was the only contestant this season who handled EVERY theme with aplomb, but her fanbase was nonexistent since it's the cool thing to hate on her for her "annoyingness" or whatever. She was also the only one in the Top 5 that I actually looked forward to seeing each week since Mandisa left and Chris started mundaning his way through everything. So with Elliott the walking Ambien, Kat the female Constantine, but with a voice (and I did enjoy her second performance last night, despite her dry humping the floor), Taylor the spastic jackass (I do NOT find him charming in the least unlike the rest of America, apparently) and Chris the bad song picker (Renegade was a wise choice for him, though, considering 1979 was RIFE with disco) remaining, I'll watch, but whatever. They don't do much for me. There is no joy there when any of them sing -- just going through the motions. At least Paris attempted to feel her music, which I can't say for the remaining four (and no, writhing around on your back to funk is NOT feeling music -- it's spazzing out, plain and simple),

Not that I wanted Paris to win. I think she'll do better without that 19E contract hanging from her neck. And I'll go out on a limb and say this -- it may not happen this year or next (as she still has some maturing to do), but Paris Bennett will outsell and have a longer career than whoever wins this season.

Put that in your hater pipe and smoke it.


The's...down to the last handful. Oh my god, what am I going to do until next spring?!?!?!

Ah well, it was a good run, I guess.

Monday, May 01, 2006

Sweater Weather

So I walk in my room after tonight's way dejecting Yankee loss and this is what I find...


KB: Chicken, why are you cleaning out your closet? We set your spring wardrobe up the other day.
Chicken: Because I am sending the Yankees my sweaters!
KB: Excuse me?
Chicken: Don't you see? They don't win when they're cold! They only win when the sun is out or it's a warm night.
KB: And your sweaters will keep them from being cold.
Chicken: Exactly. I don't have many sweaters, but the cold weather won't last for much longer. It will get them through till June. Don't you think Derek Jeter will appreciate my sweater with the duck going "quack, quack"?
KB: Um...
Chicken: And I can see Hideki snuggling up in my Valentine's Day hearts sweater...
KB: But Chicken...
Chicken: And Randy Johnson will totally love my "God Bless America" sweater!
KB: Chicken, Randy Johnson is almost 7 feet tall. You are. like, 10 inches tall. Don't you think this can be a problem?
Chicken: Hmm. You are right.
KB: Ok, then let's put this stuff away.
Chicken: No, wait, I've got it! We'll get a tailor!
KB: Sigh...
Chicken: Don't you want them to start winning night games?
KB: Oh, all right FINE. But please include a nice little six-pack-of-whopass-o'gram while you're at it. Some players need to know they're not cool right now.
Chicken: Oh please, you think I'd let them get my sweaters and not send them a few choice words? How about, "Dear Tanyon Sturtze. Enclosed is my favorite Halloween sweater with the pretty pumpkin on it. I would like nothing more than to peck your big, black alien eyes out right now, so how about you get off your ass and do something good for a change? Love, Chicken."
KB: wiping away tears That's beautiful. I'll go find some boxes and packing tape...

In Which I am Carl Pavano

After weeks of trying to figure out how one hurts only one side of their buttocks, a la Carl Pavano, I think I understand now. Because last night I went to cheerfully plop on the couch to watch Grey's Anatomy, and somehow fell into this gap between the back cushion and the bottom one and the left side of my backside met with the hard bar thing between them and HOLY CHRIST IT HURT. It's still sore today. Alas, I don't get a team trainer and a whirlpool machine to help met through my pain, so perhaps I can't feel too badly for Carl, who is also making more money than all the tenants in my apartment building combined.

Also, be sure to check out What Your Yankees Shirt Says About You over at Paul Katcher's site today. It's interesting to note that the three dudes who have inflicted so much pain in Sux fans over the years have worn the numbers 18, 19 and 20. Which means we've got to get a guy wearing number 17 in a big situation sometime soon (because it was Damone's signing that betrayed the fans, so I think it would be asking too much for him to homer in a tight playoffy atmosphere).

And while I have a Bernie and DJ shirt (given to me as gifts) I do have trouble wearing them in public, if only because I hold the whole "The real Yankees don't have their names on the back of their jerseys" thing kind of sacred and it weirds me out to hold people's hands in such a way. But I guess I can look past this Yankee marketing ploy because you can get away with it with the T-shirts, as the Yanks don't really wear those, and you can take some poetic license with it. However, I do take issue with the actual jersey and name thing. Like, if you're wearing 23, I know you're honoring Mattingly and his name above it isn't necessary. And if you're wearing 24, I know you're a Tino guy/gal and I'm not going to mistake your for a Kevin Maas worshipper. I know some might think others may get confused when they see a No. 3 and no name above it (and those people should be smacked upside the head with some rolled-up scorecards if they call themselves a Yankee fan and can't recognize a retired number, especially one of that magnitude, I'm sorry) but I say stick with the authenticness of the only team in baseball that doesn't put the names on either the home or road jersey, you know? The simplicity of the uniform is one of the best things about it, IMHO.

And speaking of Tino, his Yankeeography premieres after the game tonight. I think Tonya has been waiting since the inception of the YES Network for this one to air, so huzzah!