Friday, September 28, 2007

"It is Not Olden Times Anymore"

Okay, so I don't want to diss my favorite show, but The Office really, really, really does not need to be an hour-long affair. The jokes work better in a half-hour format, and it usually keeps from too much Michael over-the-topness. With an hour, you can almost feel the writers having to pad it out, and I may be the only person who was bummed to hear that they'd be doing a number of hour-longs this season. However, merely having it back is enough to make me forget all that. The awesomeness from last night:

Ryan: I don’t think you understand how jeopardy works.
Michael: Oh, right, I’m sorry. What is, “we’re fine”? -- KB's first laugh-out loud moment of what will hopefully be many

-- Jim's look toward the camera when Creed listed all the possible drugs Meredith could be on. It made me realize how much I missed the show over the summer.

Michael: Kelly, you are Hindu, so you believe in Buddha.
Kelly: That’s Buddhists.
Michael: Are you sure?
Kelly: No.

Also, Kelly believing there is no God because she and Ryan broke up.

-- Dwight firing a real gun at the start of the Fun Run.

-- Kevin's indignant exasperation when he found out Jim and Pam "weren't" dating, especially his disappointment of "PB&J" going to waste.

-- Jim and Pam bring teh cute without being nauseating.

--"Dangling participle" = best euphemism I've heard in awhile

-- Loved the return of Elizabeth the stripper, Michael thinking she'd gotten her degree in nursing, and Jan looking murderous.

-- Toby running better with Immodium. At least something worked out well for him for once.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Damn You, Joe Torre


Lucky 13?

This is why no one -- not fans, not sportswriters, not that random guy who wears a Yankee hat even though he thinks Tino is still playing first base -- can fancy themselves Nostradamus in May. This is why April/May/June bitterness on the part of ye-of-little-faith fans (disguised as "realists") is the most ludicrous and wasteful emotion out there and why it disgusts me so much -- because who can REALLY say what's going to happen four months later? Remember how the Yankees weren't making the playoffs this year? Shyeeeeeeeeah.

My fellow bloggers have been pretty good at digging up the "Fly the white flag, Yankee fans" stories from tremendously stupid sportswriters, who should really, really know better than to write off a team...six weeks into a season. Unless they like getting those "Hey, douchebag, you were wrong 139 games ago when you played swami" letters. I don't get it otherwise.

I'm not a fan of the wild card, and I'd be lying if I said I was overjoyed with the Yankees making it in this way. That said, if this gives the Yankees a chance to shut everyone up (especially since no one had a problem with certain other teams winning the whole shebang as Wild Cards) and make those springtime soothsayers eat their words with a healthy side of crow, well then bring it on.

Oh, yeah, and all of y'all who wanted to trade A-Rod for a sack of baseballs after last October? YOU WERE WROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG, BITCHES.

I've been holding that in all year. Ahh.

Déjà Vu Post

I think I'm like the only one who isn't all shaken up by the fact that Roger could possibly miss the playoffs. When did this man achieve such a high status with his old age? Can we review his past playoff exploits, please? I highly doubt that a few years of seasoning will make him lights out, which is what the Yankees need right now from a starting pitcher. Sure, I know there are a lot of question marks after Wang and Pettitte, but just because he's, OMG, Roger Clemens! doesn't mean he's necessarily going to get the Yanks where they need to be. I trust him and his "too pumped-up-ness" as much as I trust a rookie like Hughes in a big situation. Yeah, I said it.

Prove me wrong, Roger. Because I'm honestly tired of pondering this.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Here's Hoping

Should things, uh, turn out well, here's what the quick-fingered Steph procured for us, ticketwise:

ALDS, Home Game 2

ALCS, Home Game 3

World Series: GAME 7. Which, just so you know, is Nov. 1. Which is ridiculous. Thanks, Fox, for fucking us because you can't bear to lose ratings over two weekend series...

Best Backpage in a Long Time

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Though I would've loved to have seen EDWAR! dressed up as the Wicked Witch of the West...

Seriously, though, whoever thought the theme up for this year's hazing is a genius.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

The Irony That Couldn't Last

Okay, so I was just talking to Melissa about how I think Chewboken's moved out, and then I take out the garbage to the curb...where Chewboken, accompanied by a small army of luggage, is arguing with a cabdriver. Perhaps the driver offered to cut his hair? Anyway, I guess I'm happy because I can be excited to escape his rampaging feet again, but this probably means he'll be unpacking for the next six nights, which means I'll be so overtired that I'll sleep through my move next weekend and be stuck here forever.

Ah, there goes his rolling chair now... Good night's sleep, hopefully we'll be reunited next week.

Saturday, September 22, 2007

Bitter? Who, Me?

Yes, I stayed for all 14 innings of the whole "Hey, let's make you believe we're going to do something special... nah, fuck it" crappiness.

No, I'm not going to write about it.

Except to say that Carb Face and his posse weren't there, so we're done and we made it an entire season without neighborly bloodshed.

At least for that.

Friday, September 21, 2007

Bite Me, Irony

You guys want to hear something nuts? I think Chewboken has moved out. I KNOW. For the last three weeks, I've slept unbelievably well, and when I realized that, I also realized no one has been lumbering through the apartment upstairs since I got back from vacation on the 7th, at least. I heard some light footsteps up there two nights ago, but nothing to rival Chewy's normal thundering gait. I can't imagine he'd be on vacation this long, so if he has moved, with my moving day set for next Saturday, I will have to tip my cap to life and say well played, but you've got to be fucking kidding me.

What if he's my new neighbor? Oh dear god, I don't even want to know...

Thursday, September 20, 2007

I Hate Off Days

It's like you're in the middle of a good book and have to put it down for an entire day. I want to find out what's going to happen next to the heroes and villains, god damn it!

ETA: In the meantime, Jason has started to post his first comic, which he has been working on lovingly for awhile now, to his blog. It's a pretty mind-boggling true story of his friend Matt, but a tale with one of the best karma's-a-bitch endings I think I've ever heard. Think of it as a soap opera and tune in for the whole story the next few weeks when you're jonesing for Yankee action in the middle of the day.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

I Hearrrrrt Deadspin Today

I'm not even going to think about it unless it actually happens, but that Deadspin can take the topic and tie it into The Princess Bride on Talk Like a Pirate Day is pretty awesome:

The Yankees 2 1/2 Games Back? Inconceivable!
Well, today is International Talk Like a Pirate Day (as if I had to tell you), and fittingly we must report that the Dread Pirate Roberts is now in sight of the first-place Red Sox, and gaining rapidly. The Yankees, who were 14 1/2 games behind Boston in May, are now well within striking distance with 11 games left. Boston lost to the Blue Jays, 4-3 on Tuesday, while New York was beating Baltimore, 12-0. ... Anybody want a peanut?

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Quote of the Day

"Where were you when Leeza Gibbons said hello?" -- Art, on a life-changing moment in the Copy Department

Search Term of the Day

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...and Rick moved because of his flea problem.

Nice one, though, Ricardo.

Monday, September 17, 2007

A Yankee Vixen Ties the Knot

What is the sign of a successful wedding? 100 bottles of wine consumed and 5 kegs kicked. Granted, this will happen when you have over 300 people in attendance (the most I've seen -- the most the minister had ever seen -- at a wedding) and they are all in the mood to celebrate the marriage of one of the best people they know (Tonya) to a man who is equally as delightful (Brent). Both were absolutely brimming with joy, making you super glad to witness and be a part of the union, and they both have the sweetest families you'll ever meet, so it's quite an occasion. But let me backtrack.

We'll start with my wrong turn out of the Eastern Iowa Airport. Now, I grew up in an area where there is farmland nearby. However, I have never been through an area of such DENSE farmland. Nor have I ever driven on a dirt road that seemingly leads nowhere, but you're seriously waiting for Shoeless Joe Jackson and Moonlight Graham to jump out from the cornstalks and carjack you and I'm glad I figure out I'm going to wrong way and find the highway and then the suburbs and then Ken and then the local Chick-Fil-A and can decompress. Erica doesn't have it nearly as easy, though, and doesn't arrive until the next morning, because she had to attend to some prostitution in Chicago. Or at least that's what her hotel clerk thinks.

Anyway, it's awesome on Friday night because the game was on ESPN, and while it got real shitty real quick, I got to witness that semi-mind boggling comeback with Tonya and the ohter Yankee Vixens in attendance. At one point, I'm sitting there and I look up and see it's 7-5 with the Yankees threatening, and Tonya's standing next to me and I'm at a loss for words as I point to the screen, eeking out noises of disbelief. Tonya looks down and is all "What, are they coming back?" because she speaks Yankee. I don't move from my seat till the game is over, which is very close to being Tonya's wedding day on the East Coast, so we're going to say that's the game that counts, not the suckiness that was the next day.

The day of the wedding was gorgeous, and after I pick up Erica at the airport, we head to Chick-Fil-A. Because nothing spells pre-wedding food like chicken nuggets and waffle fries, and the bride would have wanted it that way. It sustains us through the ceremony, which is lovely, complete with Tonya looking like a soap opera heroine, Brent glowing, Ken being all attendantly, Tonya's brother Brian singing kick-assedly and somewhere Tino Martinez shedding a tear of sadness over what might have been.


And then the barbershop quartet crashed the reception. What? This hasn't happened at weddings you've attended? Actually, I'm not sure if you can call them a quartet as it was an entire men's chorus that sang barbershop style. I'm not familiar with what you call that, but they stayed for two songs after wandering in, leaving Tonya and Brent with "Hello Mary Lou" and no one knowing exactly where they came from. But it ruled because I got to type barbershop quartet and wedding crashing in the same sentence.

And then came the Money Dance. I was unfamiliar with this, but what happens is that the bride and groom get auctioned off to the highest bidder for a dance, and then people get to line up to dance with them after, each giving a bit of cash to use toward something like the honeymoon fund. Anyhow, when the bidding for Brent starts, it's pretty tame and he nabs a nice chunk of change from Julianna. And then there's a literal bidding war for Tonya between Ken and her brother, and Ken juuuuuust wins with a bid of $140. The song the DJ picks for them? "Through the Years" by Kenny Rogers, which just about makes me fall out of my seat because I know what's going through Ken's head, and then he verbalizes it later with "I paid 140 dollars for Kenny Rogers."


There are some awesome moments on the dance floor, what with everyone who was in the know doing the Yankee Stadium Grounds Crew version of the YMCA, Tonya and I putting our Hot Feet (in Reefs) to use when Earth, Wind & Fire comes on, rocking out to "Your Love" with Brian (on air drums) and Tonya's mom (and missing Steph terribly), rocking out even harder on "Pour Some Sugar on Me," in which Tom and I go particularly nuts with "Do you take sugar? ONE LUMP OR TWO?!" part, Erica and Ken turning into Sandy and Danny Zuko, Ken finally getting Rihanna's "Umbrella" played, and the final dance of the night being "New York, New York," for OBVIOUS reasons. Also awesome is that Tonya made a firm request that "Sweet Caroline" NOT get played, for OBVIOUS reasons, and people actually were trying to request it and were like "Where is it?" Heh.


The next day we're treated to a brunch at Brent's parents' house, and it comes complete with such Midwestern fare as corn casserole and hamballs, which are AWESOME. And then we have to say goodbye, which is a bummer, but we know we'll be returning to Iowa when Tonya and Brent relocate there in the coming months. Which means a trip to the Field of Dreams and maybe that Czech and Slovak museum we saw advertised on the highway.

All in all a great weekend. Anytime you can work a happy occasion, Chick-Fil-A, good friends, a gripping Yankee win, love, '80s music and wedding cake into a two-day span, you know it's going to be great.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Thank god you can't use a cellpgone while flying. THANK GOD.

Saturday, September 15, 2007

OMG Iowa! comebacks! Did that just happen?

Thursday, September 13, 2007

I Really Don't Get People Sometimes

So, I was just standing in line at the store, when this teetery old lady accidentally bumps into a woman with her walker-on-wheels, kind of obliviously. The woman who got bumped, probably in her 20s at most, got all hissy-fitty and was like "Hey, Grandma, you just ran me over!" The old lady was confused then seemed to realize what was going on and was like "Oh, I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to hit you." At this point, you'd think the hissy-fitty bitch would be all "No, it's okay," but I guess if you're the type to get all bent out of shape over someone (with limited control over their arms and legs) hitting you with a walker, you're the type not to say anything gracious back. The old lady then exited the store, looking sad and confused.

It bothers me more because I saw something similar a few weeks ago on the subway. Erica and I were coming back from a Yankee game, and this time, a teetery old man banged a young woman's foot with his cane as he was getting off the train, and she went batshit crazy on him. When Erica and I got off the train, I muttered, "That, my friend, is what we call a c***." Because while that isn't my favorite word in the English language, sometimes it just really applies.

In both these instances, I wanted to say something to the offensive, overly angry ladies. But something in the back of my brain keeps telling me that these are the type of people with no soul and would therefore 1) Fuck my shit up if I said something to them and 2) It wouldn't make a difference anyway.

God, but it pisses me off.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Corn and Gondolas, But No YES Network

What happens when one Yankee lifeline is in a foreign country, another is getting married in Iowa and the other two lifelines are witnessing it? During Yankees/Red Sox? Yeah, you get Steph, Tonya, Erica and myself with nary a person to text for the scores on Saturday. Thankfully, texting Google is always an option, and Tonya has said there will be means of gaining a score at her wedding (which is why she is my friend) which means we can get the scores to Steph, who will be bringing her BlackBerry to Italy. But for a few brief, horrifying moments at the game two weeks ago, we realized that not one of us would be watching the games live, and would in fact be in places where the games wouldn't be important. Like, relying on ESPN in your hotel room for your sports info is just...*shudder*.

Oh, and Moose is off my shit list and therefore won't have to avoid me on the sidewalk should we happen to pass. For now.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

It's Called a Finale Because It's Over

I just wanted to say, right here, right now that I will NOT be seeing the Sex and the City movie. I just decided this. The whole concept is mind-boggling. I mean, you had a SERIES FINALE. You wrapped up loose ends. You put everyone in a good place. It doesn't need to be expanded upon, especially on the big screen. It is such a sign of milking for dollars, that it almost grosses me out, and I am not forking over anymore money than I already did with my HBO subscription to such a greedy enterprise.

Put that in your Jimmy Choo and smoke it.

Sunday, September 09, 2007

The Return of KB, Dirty Old Lady

So Rana and I just joined the Superbad party and I have to say, if there were guys like Michael Cera's character in my high school, I would've actually dated. Alas, I guess this is why they call it fiction.

And since June is already driving the Michael Cera train, I do not feel bad in buying a ticket and boarding, as he is the most adorable thing on the planet. Shut up. I know he's 19. But then y'all know I have a thing for the younger men, so you should've seen this coming. Toot, toot!

Saturday, September 08, 2007

Friday, September 07, 2007

The Chicken's Travel Diary: Wildwood Crest, N.J.

Do any of you know how traumatic it is to have your birthday canceled? Because you are moving? To Jersey City? Where baseball wasn't even invented? Well, I do. And to put a bandaid on that gaping wound, KB decided to take me and Cousin Bert to Wildwood Crest for a beach/apology-for-ruining-my-birthday vacation.

Some people use limousines, but I think luggage carts are just fine. Anything that moves so you don't have to is luxury in my book.

I do not understand how a hotel does not have the YES Network at their disposal. Is this Communist Russia or is it New Jersey?

Here I am at the beach! I was very disappointed that we were only seeing the Atlantic Ocean and not the Billy Ocean, but we all have to start somewhere.

Just so you know, just because something has feathers and you do too, it doesn't mean they want to be your friend, as I found out when I tried to make the acquaintance of these two snobs.

Cousin Bert is all on top of the news and warns about the importance of suncsreen. He says that we shouldn't look old before our time.

Since Cousin Bert is so worried about UV rays, he let me bury him in the sand.

Sometimes, when the stress of the world is too much, all you have to do is climb into a beach chair and do some sudoku and it makes everything better.

While I'm trying to sleep, Cousin Bert tries to understand the free book that was left in the nighttable. I couldn't get past whatever "begetting" is, but Cousin Bert read it all in one night. He says no Yankees were referenced in it, so I am doubtful that it's even good.

Nothing says relaxation like a balcony and a Hawaiian shirt.

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Wheel in the Sky Keeps on Turnin'


Oh come on, you know this just screams Journey. I mean, half the men on the Wildwood Boardwalk had Steve Perry hair anyway.

The Chicken's Travel Diary to come. He expects you to all be jealous.

Oh, and I think I'll sprain my ankle if it means I'll be half as productive as A-Rod has been tonight.

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

B'gock! Vacation!

Monday, September 03, 2007

Sex Post! 1950s Style!

So, my parents have this hilarious book at their house, which I intend to take home and bust out at dinner parties in the near future. What is it, you may ask? Well, have you never heard of The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Sex? KB, you are saying to yourself right now, clutch the pearls! But now let me tell you the publication date: 1950. And it is from this era that the comedy is mined. I would not normally write something with such words, fearing what kind of search terms it's going to net, but it's just too fabulous not to share.

For example, in the chapter about feminine masturbation, it champions the vaginal orgasm cause (Hooray!) over the clitoral (Booooo!), and when the woman who is satisfied through her clitoris is described, you may want to rethink your forms of pleasure, ladies. I mean, would you want to look like the following: Women of masucline appearance, with broad shoulders, narrow hips. long legs, angular outlines, flat chests, a deep voice, growth of facial hair, etc., are likely to have a clitoric sexuality (the clitoris being a rudimentary penis). Conversely, women with soft, round outlines and full breasts, that is to say, women of feminine appearance, are more likely to have the stage of development where vaginal sexuality predominates.

So did you get that, kids? Horomones and genetics have NOTHING to do with your body type. That facial hair you're sprouting and that deep voice? That's all because you and your partner focus WAY too much on achieving the big O the wrong way. Shame on you.

The chapter then goes on to say "For although clitoric sexuality may in certain individual cases be associated with intellectual and artistic gifts (Pardon? Is one going to paint a landscape a la Bob Ross with their lady parts?), it is the capacity for vaginal orgasm that makes the woman, (btw, they italicized that, not me)and only a physically and psychologically fully developed woman can be an equal partner in a physically and intellectually harmonious union.

Are you keeping score at home? Unless you are having a vaginal orgasm, you are not equal to your man (who doesn't have a vagina). And you are probably just some dumb bitch anyhow.

Other spectacular chapters are titled "Hysteria of Sexually Unsatisfied Women," "Sins of the Male," "Tragic Wedding Nights," and "The Cold Woman." And as the book lives up to its title, it's chockfull of illustrations. My personal fave is the listing for "Cock with normal testes" as you are expecting to see a drawing of manhood and you get:


Yeah. Even better. The Yankee Chicken wants you all to know he is not related to any of those, uh, cocks. Especially that one in the middle. Poor thing.

As I'm currently reading The Best of Everything, have recently started watching Mad Men (good stuff, check it out if you haven't), and now being exposed to this book, it is safe to say I am glad I was born when I was. Because while 1950s dresses and skirts rule, and I love retro kitchen furniture, I am SO glad I was not a woman during that time.

Does that make me a Cold Woman?