Monday, July 31, 2006

Off Day Amusement

So, with it being an off day and not having an opinion on Abreu, et. al yet (I can't comment until I've actually seen these dudes in Pinstripes), and since I'm bored, I've taken the most interesting questions from some recent meme surveys sent to me. That being, the questions that bring out the opposite sides of your personality and are easiest to answer. Unless you have multiple personalities, and then I guess you're screwed.

I'm good at: Trivia and word-related games. Crabbing with a dropline and net. And apparently baking, according to people I've fed recently.

I suck at: Anything math related. Confrontation. Getting blood taken.

What I love about blogging: Looking back and being like "Yeah, I wrote that!" And that there are people out there who I genuinely enjoy yet have never met.

What I hate about blogging: That what you write here can't get ignored. Like, I can't put up a venting/passive-aggressive post here without knowing someone will probably be like "Who/What/Where were you talking about?" But then I guess that's what real diaries are for.

The last time I laughed: Today at the Kid Rock/Pam Anderson nuptials.

The last time I cried: Today, when I had to wake up at 5:20 a.m. after not getting much sleep.

When I like someone I:
Tend to keep him at arm's length until I know how he feels, even if I'm crazy about him. I'm done playing the fool, yo.

When I hate someone I:
Call them a dickhead and send The Chicken and his inflatable bat after said person.

The last time I was completely comfortable:
Friday night at the game, just enjoying the warm weather, the lack of asshole fans, the winning and the Season Ticket Crew's company.

The last time I was scared:
Yesterday, when for a few scant hours I thought Jason had been kidnapped by gypsies.

Something I can watch over and over: Any game where the Yankees did something awesome. I think I watched SportsCenter after Aaron Boone's home run like three or four times.

Something I never want to see again:
Game 7 of the 2001 World Series. It was the worst I've ever felt as a fan. EVER.

I miss: Tonya :( Yankee games aren't the same without her.

I don't miss: I plead the fifth.

I love when people: Have a sense of humor and know how to use it.

I hate when people: Don't get the whole "to each his own" thing. And people who pick on Alex Rodriguez (or anyone else for that matter) because they are brainless jackhole bullies.

I am turned on by: Umm...MYOB, blog.

I am turned off by: Big egos, meatheaded behavior and condescending people.

I always: Eat breakfast. And say "bless you" when someone I know sneezes. I'm not sure why.

I never:
Go to Interleague games. And you can't make me, so there.


Picture 1


Sunday, July 30, 2006

Heat Beat


Why is it that whenever I take someone to the Stadium for the first time, the Yanks decide to lose in the most craptastic fashion? Yesterday was the Copy Desk's outing to see the Yankees and Devil Rays, and you'd think with it being the Devil Rays, and RanJo being decent lately that the chances were good that Jason and Michelle's first Yankee experience would include a win. But...not so much.

It started awesomely, what with Jeter and Giambi going back to back with homers, and then there was another fantastic Sound Man (TV Tunes -- with the Miami Vice theme song beating out the A-Team and The Greatest American Hero, which...sigh. It's totally not the best of the three, but as Jason philosophized "It won because of the jai-alai and boobs" in the credits so whatever) and then turned into a big old disaster. And it was stinking hot, yo. Plus, Elizabeth had to miss out from being sick and Rana, Art and Anya were all subjected to train delays, and Jason couldn't bring his bag in...even though it was the same size as Michelle's, and she didn't have a problem. When did security get sexist? Oh yeah, and after talking up the fact that Damone does "the Isaac" when called by the Bleacher Creatures during the Roll Call, only Rana got to see it, as Jason and Michelle's view was blocked by a vendor and Art and Anya were still like miles from the Stadium. SIGH.

But we made the most of it, our "obstructed view" seats not being that obstructed at all and providing mostly shade. There was a small water fight between Art and Jason, and then Jason and Rana, and I kept getting caught in the crossfire, I kicked ass on the between-inning quizzes, Jason wore his new laser-tag "diabeetis" sunglasses (part of the new Grandpa Couture line he and Rana are starting), Art, Michelle and Jason got all acrobatic with the railing in front of us when it came time to go to the bathroom or to the concession stand, Ronan Tynan did God Bless America, (even though there was no chance for 7th inning magic when the team was like 63 runs behind at that point), Rana wore her Yankee hat and didn't get struck down by God, Jason, Michelle, Rana and I sang Take Me Out to the Ballgame AWESOMELY, Jason protected us from all the lefty-hitter foul balls that came in our direction by bringing his glove, even if it presented a problem with his cast and giant beer, and we all had fun laughing about Jorge and his "pee hands" and Wilmer Valderamma.


But the Yanks still lost, and the train ride back was a crowded bizatch even though everyone and their mother left before the 7th inning. I then joined Jason and his and Michelle's softball buddies for some beer and porno-what's-wrong-with-this-picture (which my job has actually trained me for, oddly enough), which eased away the discomfort of the mauling quite nicely.

But I'm done taking people's Yankee Stadium virginity, especially during pennant races. So there.

Friday, July 28, 2006

What, No "The One That You Love?"

OK, let's not talk about how awesome Wang was, or how the lineup finally busted out on a night when I was there, or how I've strung together two consecutive Friday night wins. Let's discuss the fabulously sublime Sound Man from this evening. What's that, you say? How could a little between-inning segment top a complete game shutout or a Bernie homer? What if I told you the subject was AIR SUPPLY? Yeah, you're with me now, I know. And it made for the best Sound Man EVAH.

The absolutely horrified looks on some of the players' faces was what made it so special. They had the choice of "Making Love Out of Nothing at All", "All Out of Love", and "Every Woman in the World". Jeter, Moose and Chacon were like "Egads, WHAT?" and practically stunned into silence, Posada was all "Um, the first one?" and the interviewer was like "Making Love Out of Nothing at All?" And Jorge looks disgusted and is all "No. Um, the second one" which is what Tanyon also went with. Bubba deadpans "I don't even know who they are" and this is all interspersed with players finding this topic utterly hilarious and giggling (Bernie) and completely wigged out (almost the rest of the team).

And then they get to the three guys who now have a free-standing invitation to my apartment for dinner anytime they like. That would be Damone, who gives this huge grin and is like "All of them!" A-Rod, who actually looks like he may sing along with Air Supply along with gangsta rap in the car when he says "Every Woman in the World" with a look of complete certainty, and Giambi, who also looks way excited and pretty sold on "Every Woman in the World."

I may have been laughing too hard during all of this, because somehow "All Out of Love" wins out. Steph, Erica and I were practically on the floor, such was the awesomeness, and we weren't even drinking or anything. You kind of have to see it to get it, but trust me, Sound Man — and this one especially — rocks my world. Even the nights are better with it...Oh, come on, I had to go there...

Thursday, July 27, 2006

And Use Your Heaviest Bat While You're At It


Seeing as how Alex Rodriguez has been the proverbial piƱata for most of this season, here's hoping he spends his 31st birthday beating the crap out of one himself, with the picture of the media member of his choice on the ass.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Almost Makes Me Wish the Stadium Had Kiss Cam. Almost.

Alex Rodriguez caught the crowd's attention in the seventh when the Kiss Cam focused on the Yankees' dugout. Seeing his mug on the screen high above the right-center field seats, A-Rod threw his hands in the air and planted a smooch on Phillips' head.

"I loved it; they loved it," A-Rod said of the crowd's reaction. "They couldn't get enough of it. Andy said, 'Do it again.' "

I'm sure the whole "Gay-Rod" crowd is looking to get their mitts on this piece of footage, but man, that must've been f'ing adorable. And George King gets points for following that bit up with this:

For those who can't get enough of A-Rod news, he walked twice, scored twice, was hit by a pitch and fanned. He also made three flawless throws.

I don't know about you, but I can almost see the exasperation dripping off the words. Good show, George, good show.

Also, just to FYI, Aaron Guiel is a spritely leprachaun. Or at least that's what Steph and I are going to contend.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

If I Could Trade in My Journalism Degree Right Now, I Would

Hey, y'all! Did you see how the Yankees won last night? Oh, RIGHT, it's supposed to be all about A-Rod, thanks, Joel Sherman for reminding us of that:

For these Yanks, it is all too taxing. One-third of their current roster looks like something the Long Island Ducks dragged in. So they needed the AL MVP version of Rodriguez. Instead, they have gotten a soap opera that gets more draining by the day. I initially thought the injuries to Matsui and Sheffield would force Rodriguez out of the insincere just-one-of-the-guys cloak he brandished and propel him to carry the club. But rather than put a team on his shoulders, A-Rod might be taking the Yanks down with him.

That's right, Joel, it's A-Rod's fault that you folks in the media can take a completely normal night from the guy, a night where he wasn't anywhere near the big story (that'd be RanJo's good performance, which I have yet to see any paper focusing on) and STILL make him the ENTIRE story. I know he had those quotes and whatnot about making like Tiger Woods and flipping off the media (and good for him for doing this), but this column doesn't even focus on that. It's like it was written beforehand, something to hold a space in the black-and-white. Something to add to the hysteria monster that has gotten far, FAR out of control.

And he can blame the "throwing yips" as a cause for Yankee concern all he wants -- it doesn't become a "soap opera" without someone adding to the drama. The way I see it, A-Rod's doing all he can to fix himself, and in the three of the four games the Yanks lost to the Blue Jays, and the last game they lost to the Mariners, A-Rod was only a tiny part of the problem -- but the focus went entirely on him because the media is like a bored bunch of little Puritan girls who need to spice up the otherwise boring back pages. (And if you think I'm just being a defensive Yankee fan, how about that now they're all trying to get people concerned about the Mets and their -- freak out now -- 11.5 game lead. Is New York baseball really THAT blase right now that you have to try inspiring hysteria in both fan bases?)

Of course the Yanks are going to be "drained" by the A-Rod fiasco. I can't imagine what it must be like to try and come up with a thousand different ways to say "It's an issue, but he'll be fine" when all they probably really want to do is be all "Fuck off already." Because if anyone DID do that, THEY'D be painted as the monster, and the cancer of the clubhouse, and the negativity that's dragging the Yanks down.

This summer has been the most complete and utter disgusting display of mob mentality by the New York press (and ESPN) I have EVER seen and my former journalism student self has been wretching on the inside as a result. That it's gotten this far out of hand is completely insane to me and that they seem to be intent on literally taking down a human being is the most disturbing part of it.

The funny thing is, the only people who can really call them out on this fucked up behavior is themselves. Which I really hope starts happening at some point so these assholes start canibalizing themselves. Now THAT would be a soap opera...

ETA: Ask and ye shall receive -- I know I'm supposed to be boycotting the Daily News and all, but I just saw a link to Bob Raissman's column about the old bad blood between A-Rod and Steve Phillips. I had no idea it even existed, but god damn does this put Phillips' "Trade A-Rod!" tirades in perspective. I'm glad SOMEBODY in the media did their homework and is calling this dickehead out on his agenda.

In Which I Win at Foosball, and Therefore Win at Life

Dude, I don't know what kind of superpowers I became blessed with when Erica and I did our little Will-the-Real-A-Rod-Please-Come-Back spell yesterday, but I can now win games of Foosball without even trying. It doesn't matter that I pretty much sucked in a losing game (in which I played defense and Jesse and Vicki kept scoring and Dexter was all "Uh, you move over to offense, KB") before mine and Dexter's winning effort. Oh no, it only matters that my Foosball kung fu was strong when the game was tied, Vicki drops the ball in, and instead of being distracted by the Yankee game on the corner TV (it certainly didn't help when I'm supposed to be keeping my eye on the ball and stuff) I flicked the spinning dudes as hard as I could without even seeing the ball and THWACK! Game winning point.

Dexter was all jumping up and down and hugging me and all I could do was just stare open-mouthed at the table in disbelief...before running over to the corner to see what Kyle Farnsworth was or wasn't doing with runners on base.

I must remember to consult Erica to see if she's gained any new-found mad skillz in Nok Hockey or skeet shooting or something...

Sunday, July 23, 2006

Thirteen Candles

So, Erica, The Chicken and I have taken it upon ourselves to dispose of this hex on A-Rod. After he struck out today, we put our heads together and decided we had to do some kind of ritual involving candles and good thoughts (The Chicken was relieved to know that no animals had to be sacrificed), and Erica decided we needed 13 candles to make the good happen. Well, we gathered all the candles we had in the apartment, including birthday candles, blackout candles, scented candles, etc. We then realized we had nothing to stick the birthday candles we went with a piece of bread. Hey, you take what you can get. Add a photo of A-Rod with his No. 13 apparent, lots of kind words and chanting and voila! We've got us some kind of "sacrifice" that will hopefully bring A-Rod back his "spirit".


Yeah, that oughta do it.

Friday, July 21, 2006

Batter Up!


The Chicken's got some pent up anger he wants to take out on some bitchez out there. You can tell he's pissed because he's got that crazy look in his eye. And he's wearing his batting helmet. All the better to use with the inflatable bat Tonya bequeathed us upon her moving...

"OMG, if you go out to a park in New York with your wife and child on a 98 degree day and take your shirt off you are evil, I tell you, EVIL."

And you're a fucktard. THWACK! Oy, what is Taylor Hicks doing here...

"I get what I want, I go where I puhleaze..."

ACK! STOP IT! I'm glad I have the 'possibility' to beat your sorry ass. And can you get your stupid commmercial to stop airing a bazillion times during Yankee games?

"I ---"

BANG! THUMP! Oh, what's that Lupicass? Are you afraid I'm making you shorter by bashing you on the head?

"200 million in pay roll -- OUCH! MY NUTS!"

Thursday, July 20, 2006

What I'm Not Doing Tomorrow

-- Reading the newspapers. Because even though there's lots of blame to go around, the stories will all focus on you-know-who's you-know-what in the 6th. And no, I'm not talking about Moose melting down after the you-know-what and letting three runs score on top of the unearned one.

-- Taking zithromax. Like a pitcher will stop throwing the pitch that a dude has converted into two home runs, I am DONE with my prescription. I don't care if the sore throat and fever come back, it's better than Frank Sinatra's Revenge.

Zithromax Needs to Die

Yeah, so, you'd think that when you get a prescription medication you're supposed to feel better, right? Well, not so much with me and zithromax, which appears to have cleared up my fever and sore throat, but has now sidelined me with a fucked-up stomach. Like, thanks, zithromax. And it's right there on the prescription warnings that its number one side effect is "[Fucked-up] stomach". Well isn't that special? Aside from residual sinus related stuff, I feel otherwise fine, so now I'm going to be extra cranky today because I'm going to be bored out of my gourd by 3 p.m., in between runs to the bathroom.

Though it's totally given me the awesome idea of sending some zithromax-laced brownies to certain members of the New York media...

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

I Could Give You My Germs And You Wouldn't Boo Me

I know I have a fever and a sore throat (it started on Sunday, so I can't blame the office, though I'm sure swealtering the past two days didn't help) and I'm hopped up on DayQuil right now, but I am ready to hop on the PATH, transfer for the D, head up to the Bronx and await every fan that comes out of Yankee Stadium tonight who booed A-Rod...after Jorge and Damone both whiffed with Nick Green on second and heard NOTHING...and beat the royal snot out of them. Where the hell are we mining these stupid masses? And can they all be shipped off to Asshat Land? That's right between Assclownville and the borough of Asshole, for those who don't know.

I've had a very long, hot, uncomfortable day. Don't Fuck With Me.

Your AccuCube Weather Alert


Yeah, that's inside, baby. It's a little dark because we've turned the lights off in our section in an attempt to cool it down a bit. And no, it's not working.

Ken's department is leaving, and his area is a good 5-10 degrees cooler than our little section of hell is. We are now considering threatening getting Shame on You up here, because nothing puts the fear of God into someone like being exposed on New York television. And that would be awesome.

Another idea thrown out there is to "fake our own heatstrokes." Jason is currently on the floor, cast and all, practicing his convulsions. You think I'm kidding:

Picture 1

I Suppose We'd Be Better Off With Mike Lamb...

So several people in the media are suggesting that the Yanks trade A-Rod right now, because, oh my gosh, he's a "headcase" and comitted a career-worst three errors last night (one of which while possibly injured). And fans are, get this, booing him, and therefore he needs to be disposed of. I suppose we should start listening to the morons now, right? I mean, it obviously didn't work on Jeter or Mo, so it's time to prove that the fucktards really do run this city. And he obviously doesn't know how to handle the NY media when he has awful analysis of himself such as "That's baseball," Rodriguez said. "The day before, I had a brilliant day defensively. Tonight, I stunk. The good news is we won, and move on." And I mean, A-Rod TOTALLY had that MVP season in the South of France and not the South Bronx last year, didn't have a key home run in Sunday's game, didn't have a crucial home run against the Mets in their final game (before the game got out of hand, mind you) and didn't win the game against the Braves two weeks ago with a home run. And he's not looking at a season that could end with 40 home runs and 120 RBI or anything like that either.

HE's the headcase in this scenario, y'all, not the media. AT ALL.

Perhaps next they'll be calling for him to do the "honorable thing" and off himself. Because I'm beginning to think this is what it's getting to...

Monday, July 17, 2006

Bring in the Albatross!

Now, I know Michael Kay and I aren't on the best of terms lately, but I gotta give him props for making me almost spit out my tea with this corny exchange after the AFLAC trivia question of "Who has the most career hits off Mariano Rivera?" comes up. Kitty, Flaherty and Kay decide that the answer is most likely someone from Seattle, as that's who the Yanks are playing right now and:

Kitty: I'm going to say he's probably retired.
Kay: ancient Mariner.

I don't know why, but I think I'm going to find that amusing for at least the rest of the night...

A Bunch of Hot Air

I'm wondering if we can kick-start the Copy Desk Pipeline to God to get us some air conditioning in our little alcove. The rest of the office is cool, but since there's a large wall blocking us off from airflow, it's juuuuuuuust a bit warm back here. And it's going to be 100 degrees today, like, for real, complete with "stagnant air" warnings and everything. So I'm hoping that maybe if we talk about how much cool air sucks or even just wonder if there is such a thing as air conditioning, the vents above us will actually start pumping something out. With our luck, though, it will be heat.

But seriously, if drawing parallels between Jason and Hideki Matsui awhile ago can sit dormant in the Pipeline and a few months later nab Jason a busted right arm (after chasing a fly ball in the outfield, no less), God OWES us something nice for once. And no, Jennifer Grey movies that aren't Dirty Dancing don't count.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Oh Yeah, And the Game...

From the non-drama-y portion of Friday evening:

The Soundman was way awesome on Friday, as the segment was "Movie Songs", with Eye Of The Tiger, GREASED LIGHTNING, and Stayin' Alive as choices. I was all "Damone is SO going with Greased Lightning" but I was wrong, as he went with Stayin' Alive, as did Moose after much, much pondering, which was hilarious. But who did go with Greased Lightning? Jason Giambi. And he looked way psyched about it, which ruled. Steph, Erica and I had fun considering what Giambi would look like being all Danny Zuko to the other Yanks' T-Birds. This so has to happen at some point -- perhaps the next entry in The Yankee Diaries...

Anyway, Steph predicted right away that Eye of the Tiger would win out, and of course, it ran away with top Soundman honors. El Capitan, A-Rod, Ranjo, Sad Clown, Bernie, damn, pretty much the entire team went with it, and I am going to be so sad if Chacon has to leave, because he really takes the Soundman seriously. Like, this time he actually sang a bit of Eye of the Tiger, just like he did with Raspberry Beret. He seems to really enjoy it, and therefore he is OK in my book.

Oh, and the Grouchy Season Ticket Dudes were like "Man, you totally called it" to Steph who was all, "Yeah, because what self respecting athlete would NOT go with Eye of the Tiger?" which, so true.

With the rain deciding to take a Friday off, I finally got to bring the new camera to a game, so check out my standard, everybody-else-has-these-too-but-I-don't-care Yankee Stadium photos.

And this is a video of Mo coming in to save the game. What got me was the sick amount of flashbulbs that went off as he was warming up, which Jeter always gets, and now that "unpopular", overpaid jackass A-Rod also gets. I just don't think I've seen it for a pitcher before.:

Friday, July 14, 2006

In Which I've Had Enough

Oh, how I wish this post could be about the awesomeness that was getting to see my first Friday win at the Stadium, how it was a beautiful night with, wait for it, NO RAIN, and how Steph, Erica and I enjoyed bonding with the usually grouchy season ticket guys behind us. But alas, it was not meant to be. And it climaxes when a Beaster-like yours truly, and some very well-put sentiments by Steph, make a guy "leave" a baseball game.

It starts when the Grouchy Season-Ticket Dudes are like "Damn, you girls are here for every game, and you (me) are always writing about it. That's awesome!" We joke with them a bit and it feels like it's going to be a fun night. Frank and Julianna arrive in our row and end up leaving a few minutes later when Frank's friends sitting a few rows behind the Yankee dugout call the two of them down to join them, as had been planned earlier. Well, when Frank's leaving, he calls over his shoulder that "some nice Midwestern guys" were coming to sit in the remaining seats. I think he's being serious, and that he's trying to pimp us out to some nice friends of his. Oy, was I wrong. I'm pretty sure that was his way of being facetious and warning us of what was to come.

A little bit later, two White Sox fans come into our row and sit down in the empty seats, and...well, that's where the night changes. One guy was quiet and didn't say anything, but the other was quite the Chatty Cathy, if Chatty Cathy were aided by 9-dollar beers. Now, know that I have NO PROBLEM with the White Sox. I pulled for them in the playoffs last year when the Yanks were out of it. I felt bad that they had to live in the shadow of the Cubs, when the Sox's "curse" was far more interesting to me. So there's no deep seeded hate lying in me for the White Sox. And I can count on one hand the times I've gone off on people -- confrontation is not my thing. So what is about to unfold is a VERY rare moment for me. OK? OK.

Our new friend starts off by drunkenly wondering why we're not "wearing enough blue." Erica's in her Shef shirt and Yankee hat, but Steph and I had forgone Yankee gear tonight, fearing it might be a jinx. We explain this to him and he's like "Alright" and I think that's going to be the end of it. But no, it was just the beginning. Bring on the "Two-hundred million dollar payroll buys you jack!" and "The White Sox are the World Champions.You can't say that about your team. Your team's not even making the playoffs! Nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah" comments. We were just like "Yeah, whatever" and started getting kind of snotty with him when he won't leave us alone or make any normal, non-antagonzing baseball conversation. He brings up the "You guys aren't even going to win your division" thing again, and who steps in but Grouchy Season-Ticket Dudes behind us, with a "And where are the White Sox? They're behind who right now? The Tigers? Were they even NEAR .500 last year?" AWESOME. And it shuts our friend up. For a little bit.

But the trash talking continues (including him calling for "whiffs" from Jeter and A-Rod, and which I, admittedly semi-immaturely give it back to him when members of the Sox strike out after he says they're going to homer), and Erica overhears the dude say he promised Frank he wouldn't give us any trouble but "that was many, many beers ago." The YMCA comes on and he's like "It's time for the Yankees gay song" and I snap back "Well your manager's a fucking homophobe." (Yeah, genius, I know) And that's pretty much when my patience was gone with him -- earlier I'd tried to indulge him in normal talk, like "So how many Sox games do you get to see" but he's more interested in being "funny" or whatever he thought he was. He starts laying guilt trips on us about how we're not being nice to him and can't take a joke and we need to "lighten up" to which 1) Steph has had enough and starts in with the "Hi, you're being disrespectful of us and our team, how do you expect us to react?" And 2) I cut it a little differently and say that it has nothing to do with needing to lighten up, just "Don't be an asshole and we'll be OK with you." WELL. Clutch the pearls. He NEVER!

Seriously. First he gets all bummed out after this and, to his credit, gets apologetic, because I guess once you get the girl with the big innocent eyes, ponytail and Yankee Journal all pissed off at you, you realize you did something wrong. But then his quiet friend starts complaining to the guy behind him that he's from Chicago and that you talk to people at ballgames and have fun, but then you come to New York and people call you assholes.

I KID YOU NOT, I AM NOW THE POSTER CHILD FOR ALL THAT IS EVIL IN NEW YORK CITY. Me, the person who has been branded "sweet and innocent" by, oh, almost everyone and their mother, will forever live in the friend's stories as that bitch who doesn't know how to be friendly to drunken jackasses and calls them assholes for no reason whatsoever. I'm sorry, but if what his drunk friend pulled is what's considered "friendly" in Chicago, I'm pretty fucking worried about my trip to Wrigley now.

Anyway, then the drunk guy starts in with the whole "I came to a game to have fun, not be around all this animosity" and that me refering to him as asshole was "ignorant" (sidebar: Can people just realize the word doesn't mean "rude" already? For Christ's sake, go buy a dictionary) which is rich coming from him, and then he says he has to leave, he can't be there anymore. I'm all "You don't have to leave, just DON'T TRASH TALK." But he and the friend will have none of it, and slink out as if their day has been ruined.

Well, this sets off the dudes behind us, who are like "Yeah, you go, girls!" and "I thought you guys were gonna rumble! It was so great!" and I'm momentarily proud of myself, but...then I feel bad. I feel bad that I was just mean to Frank's friends and that I helped drive them from the Stadium because I was a bitch, not because I was right. I feel bad until the 8th inning, when the Yanks rally to break the tie, and Steph's all "there goes our friend. I think he said 'Bye, girls.'" And I'm like "Who?" and she's like "The one who was annoying us before." Yes, he and his bud hadn't left the game as they drama-queened when they left our row. No, they moved down to the Tier Box seats and stayed until the Yanks were up 6-3. And that's when I stopped feeling bad.

In all, I wish maybe I'd put my anger a little differently, but after living an entire life of "Yankees suck!" and "You guys buy your championships and still suck!" you begin to lose your patience a bit. I think this may have been what set Steph off too, as both she and I are normally the "mutter under your breath at the stupid people" types when we get annoyed at games. You can only hold it in for so long. Also, I've gone into other team's ballparks (hello, Fenway) and never pulled this "instigating as friendship" idea on anyone. I watch the game, I absorb, I respect people with different opinions than mine (who aren't Lupicass). I expect the same treatment when you're in my house.

But now I may look like the bad guy, all because drunken antagonizing isn't something that sits well with me. I guess if that makes me a "bitch", well, then so be it.

We got to enjoy the rest of the game in peace, after all.

Thursday, July 13, 2006

I'll Believe It When I See It...

...and I'm not covered in a poncho and stealing paper towels from the ladies room to wipe off our seats after a 2-hour rain delay for like the 42nd time this season.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

A Little Late...

...but damn is Weeds an awesome show! I just got the first disc of Season One from Netflix, and man, I am so impressed with the writing, the depth of the characters, and the fact that a network would take a chance on a show about a suburban drug dealer, maybe the most intriguing plotline on television in years. It's a shame it's on Showtime because I'm not sure it's getting as big of an audience as it deserves. Hopefully people pick it up on DVD because it's really enjoyable -- and this is coming from someone who's never touched a bong/joint/pot-laced baked good in her life, so spare me the self-righteous "but it's about drugs and you have to be a pothead to enjoy it" spiel. If you like your TV smart, you'll like this show, no toking necessary.

Back-to-Back Back Page Ridonkulousness


Oh my god, you guys, I can't believe the absolute audacity of the American League to come in and win the All-Star Game in dramatic, clutch fashion, thereby making sure that only the Mets would go home disappointed. I mean, there are no other National League teams that could be bummed out since they are SO obviously not making it to the World Series this year. Perhaps those teams will feel bad for ruining the Mets' home-field chances by not pitching in in July and lie down for the playoffs and be all "No, Mets, YOU go to the World Series. This is our self-inflicted punishment for making your divine right to the crown all that much harder."

And, you know, with climbing back from a three-game defecit in a division being damn near impossible, we know that it wouldn't matter for the Yankees to be part of the winning side last night. Talk about it meaning nothing to them, the big losers. What a complete waste of time that must've been for Mariano, getting a save in a big situation when he is nowhere near making the playoffs this year. Tsk, tsk.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Listening to Chewboken's Rolling Chair is More Interesting Than This

So after five minutes of McCarver and Buck, Erica and I had pretty much rolled our eyes out of our sockets and we employed the SAP button. Hence, why my WTF posts pretty much ended awhile ago.

But I did see the trivia question, which was in English, of course. It asked what was the record for fresh meat at an All-Star Game, i.e., the most All-Star virgins. And, hello, wouldn't that be the first All-Star Game in 1933, when NOBODY of the 36 players involved had played in an All-Star Game Before? Of course, Fox went with a different answer, but then they also saw a need to play "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" when Vlad was up, when the most appreciative audience of that segment was probably in bed long before that. They are not to be trusted on any level.

And what a snoozer this game is. If I wasn't having so much fun mocking the whole "second coming of George Washington, The Babe and Gandhi"ness they're spraying on David Wright (I can tell by the pictures -- don't need English to tell me the Foxies have a new love, unseating Derek Jeter as their Valentine, which, THANK GOD), I'd go to bed myself.

ETA: Oh, how one's attitude can change after seeing the man who owns your pitching heart warming in the bullpen, and then his team ties the game and pulls ahead. I got all fidgety and nervous for Mo when they brought him in, like it was a real game or something. Basically, I just didn't want to see him fuck up on a national level after the AL comeback. Especially after Jeter and A-Rod didn't do much to help the cause. I wanted to shut up the fuckers who booed the Yanks today too, so yeah, I'm kinda pleased with this result and that my prediction was wrong.

I still wish it would go back to being a real-deal exhibition, though.

Early All Star Notes

-- The NL is so winning the All Star Game this year. Why? Because there's a 50/50 chance of it happening, and they are making too big a freaking deal over the AL domination thing -- like, where was this the past 3 or 4 All Star Games? The media is setting it up so they can have "Finally!" headlines tomorrow, when really, this game still means jack.

-- That Fox opening with the "Stars are coming to Pittsburgh" crap was the lamest opening I think I've ever seen. Why must Fox assume we are all five years old?

-- The showers are a "celebration of Roberto Clemente"??? What are you smoking, Jeannie?

How I Love Slow Sports Day Fodder

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This "poll" that the Daily News even bothered with, that they actually paid a reporter to put together, is a huge reason why I consider the paper (my once favorite) a giant piece of shit right now. "Ooooh, let's sell some papers by having a backpage asking 'Who's better: Jeter or Reyes'?" And when we get down to it we'll state the obvious." If these guys were the same age, it'd be one thing, but there is a NINE YEAR AGE DIFFERENCE, and both are at very different parts of their careers. And with the two leading questions the News asks these reporters, it's obvious they know this too. Which player would you want to have right now? Of course you're going to want the guy who is a veteran and knows how to handle pennant pressure. And three years from now? Yeah, you're going to want the guy who is 26, not 35. I fail to see how this makes either shortstop better or worse than the other, when neither decided to be born in the years they were born in. I suppose somebody clutch like David Ortiz could set his time machine back and switch some digits around, but the rest of the world can't.

This is the reason I hate living in a town with two teams -- there will always be ridiculous comparisons between the two to soothe the inferiority/superiority complexes of the stupider fans who root for either team (because, seriously, if you're truly invested in and enjoying your team, whatever the other one is doing shouldn't be an issue). And the papers know this and want to capitalize on it by pulling "stories" out of their asses, and thus feeding the notion that these two teams need to be compared and contrasted, when right now the only thing they have in common is that they are both New York teams in pennant races.

Between this craptastic excuse for a backpage story, and the whole "Oooh, the Mets left side of the infield is INFINITELY cheaper than the Yankees and look how great they are!" stat that pops up in every news medium now and then (Which...seriously? You're comparing two guys in their second full years, who will probably be making OODLES of money the next time their contracts come up, to two dudes who have proven themselves to be way above average at the Major League level and were thusly rewarded at re-signing time?) I'm about ready to gag.

But back to the subject: Shut up, Daily News, until you can say something that's actually based in reality. And while we're at it (and just for the hell of it), shut up, Lupicass.

Monday, July 10, 2006

Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'm Lovin' It

So I think Chewboken is in a snit because the dog belonging to the girl above him was barking before. I heard him mutter "Shut up, dog" upon stomping into his room.

Ah, karma's a bitch, ain't it, Chewy?

Nah, That'd Be Too Easy

You know, if MLB really wanted to show how dedicated they are to this whole nabbing evil steroid users thing, they should just "randomly" test all the dudes participating in the Home Run Derby tonight. I have this strange feeling it'd be like shooting fish in a barrel. Fish in the fugliest shirts ever, mind you, but performance enhanced fish just the same.

But the owners are a bunch of cowards and until the home run stops being maybe the most popular thing in the game, they'll just turn the other way. Like they always do.

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Shout Out


Because I appreciate my readership, yo. Especially when they are blood related.

Ah, if Only it Were the Yankees...

The Italians in Hoboken (and real Italians with "social clubs," mind you, not half Italians like me) are freaking the fuck out right now, complete with car horns blaring, flags waving and whooping in the streets. I knew it would be as such if Italy won the World Cup, when I saw two "social clubs" decked out in balloons and Italian flags today, and tons of people going inside that didn't look like the grouchy old men who usually inhabit them. It's nice that everyone is so celebratory, and not in a "I'm so drunk, let's go pee on someone's car and burn it" kind of way.

I wonder if maybe our landlord will be so giddy that he lets us have the month of August for free...

ETA: Here's what it sounded like. I would've gone outside, but I was afraid I'd get runover or shot or had my knee caps busted in all the excitement.


If I have to hear the word "catwalk" one more time, I am going to dive through the TV, travel through the cable wires to Tampa Bay, come out through the broadcast booth and beat Michael Kay senseless. Unless Al wants to chime in any time, which I'm sure would consist of him being all "That one time when I was with the Yankees and hung from the catwalk with my awesome pitcherly superpowers..." Because as the roommate pointed out, the man has an anecdote from his playing days for ALL of life's situations...

Saturday, July 08, 2006

I Bet He'd Be Wearing a Fitted Striped Banana Republic Shirt While Blowing Things Up


And you wonder why I don't trust Metrosexuals....

(barring A-Rod, of course)

Thursday, July 06, 2006

Tax This

I wonder if the new sales tax of 7 percent will be in effect in Jason's favorite NJ places like Mahaka and Messex?

But Jesus Montero, they had to shut the god damn state down to raise the sales tax one freaking percent? I feel like it's been 6 percent forever, and a hike has probably been a long time coming. I wouldn't have bitched and moaned about it -- there's no real difference between 6 and 7 dollars if you're buying a 100 dollar item anyhow. Maybe if they trusted "the people" a little more, they wouldn't have made such a mockery of the state over the past few days...nah, they still would've found a way.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Who Is This Man?

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Wooly Willy, you say? NO.

David Justice with his new crippled caterpillar of a mustache? YES!

Lies My Paper Told Me

If you didn't believe the media can totally take a player's words and use them as a weapon, even if the meaning is just sliiiiiiiightly misconstrued by the author, please take a look at this post over at Lupe's.

The moral to the story is never believe a word out of a columnist's mouth. Not that many of you were doing that anyway....

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Barbecues: What the Forefathers REALLY Had in Mind

So with it being a four-day summer holiday weekend, it was all about BBQ parties. Saturday, Art had the copy crew and some of his non-work friends to his new house for some barbecue fun, beach hiking and Cornhole, which I sadly missed out on being that I came late. And yeah, it's safe to say everyone was pretty good and liquored up when I got there. Two things that make for an awesome party:

-- Seeing your boss dressed "like Magnum PI"
-- Jason introducing the awesomeness of his current band obsession Man Man to the wild, mysterious, and all together frightening animals in Art's swamp.

But Art and his fiancee Anya have a way beautiful home, complete with marshland, a hammock and bizzaro neighbors. We didn't get to meet his one infamous neighbor, though we did get to hear the people on the other side of them calling their cat in, which Anya had been explaining like ten minutes earlier, and man, I can't complain too much about Chewboken since he doesn't stand there calling " Here, myow-myow!" Though it was kind of awesome.


And then there was KaBoom! the Red Bank fireworks spectacular, which is conveniently located about a half a mile from the Bischer homestead. This year, I decided to let the Hoboken Crew (plus Colette!) in on the awesomeness that is the pretty fireworks display set to the cheesiest of cheesy radio simulcasts (and really, I expect more from a classic rock station -- Shania Twain's "From This Moment"?? Are you serious? 1) She's Canadian and 2) How, preytell, is this Fourth of Julyesque?). We walked down to the river on the steamy night and had a front-row seat for the extravaganza, which everyone in the Crew was alike "wow, we've never been this close to fireworks before" I guess I took that for granted all those years in Red Bank because you really do get to get upclose and personal with the fireworks if you get a good enough seat. Two things that make for an awesome party:

--15-year-old, overly caffienated girls trying to work their obnoxious magic on a 28-year-old.
--My parents' bathroom handsoap, which apparently makes it smell like someone is smoking up in the backyard. Don't ask.

All in all, a groovy weekend.

Monday, July 03, 2006

It's Over. Thank GAWD

Ah, the Interleague storm has passed, the sun has come out, and I can enjoy my fave team again without having to worry that I'm encouraging the owners to mess with the game's integrity even more. I never thought I'd be so happy to see the Cleveland Indians, but there it is.

Oh yeah, and after watching highlights of last night's game 1) I heart A-Rod even more for going at LoDuca and his bitchface at home plate, and 2) Giambi just earned muuuuuuuuuucho points for being all "You wanna piece of me?" as well. And it begs the question -- why are the catchers always the whiniest players on the team? (And yes, I include Jorge in that, especially after his cry-babyness a few weeks ago) They should understand the game better than anyone, yet they are always the ones ready to pick a fight over the lamest of causes. Sticking up for your pitcher my ass. Just admit it's a pain in the ass squatting with all that equipment on in the heat and humidity in a losing cause. You're allowed to feel annoyed, but don't fucking take it out on the opposing player whose been struggling in popularity and at the plate, and then gets a lowgrade case of the staring when he blasts a grand slam in a "clutch" situation. If you'd even taken your head out of your ass for a second you'd know it wasn't even close to being about your pitcher, dickhead.

But boy is he gonna love Manny at the All-Star Game. It might just be the only time I root for the guy to hit one out...

Sunday, July 02, 2006

Nature's Wrath!

So it got a little stormy here today. And while I got some nice little lightning MPEGs, YouTube is being pissy, so these pretty cloud shots will have to tide you over until it starts working again...




ETA: For the rest of my storm vids (whenever they decide to fully load) just click on it so you can view if from YouTube's site, then click on the kabsy77 link:

Because Exclamation Points Make it True, Yo

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I get this search phrase a lot when people are directed to my blog, but never before with the emphatic ! at the end of it. I don't know why I find this hilarious, but I do.

And yeah, he sucks! so bad and everyone hates him so much, he's going to be your American League All Star Shortstop, so suck! it, bitchez.