Wednesday, October 31, 2007

In Which Nobody Gets It

So, it's Halloween, and some people in the office decided to dress up. Now, I'm the type that if I can't figure out something ubercreative, I won't dress up, and this year was no exception. But I did get into the spirit a little bit by being a "ceiling fan." This required making a shirt that says "Go Ceilings!" on the front with the name CATHEDRAL printed across the back and a 23 under it. So far, only the people I've told know what I am. Everyone else is just giving me looks as if they're trying to figure it out but they know I'm a huge baseball fan and this might be some minor-league enterprise they've never heard about. Tsk, tsk.

Rana is also obviously Punky Brewster, but no one's gotten that either. And then Art and Web Guy Mike didn't dress up like Don Mattingly and Magnum P.I. respectively (because, really, the two are kind of interchangeable) as they had been talking about (though Art did come as Jerry Seinfeld, which was a nice surprise). What kind of Halloween is this? A bummer one.

Monday, October 29, 2007

Forewarned is Forearmed

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Boys are stupid.

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You can say that again.

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You mean they won't let you play with them when you're a grown-up?

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No, they won't let you watch them play anymore because they flake out and go to another team. Because men suck. Like broccoli.

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YUCK!

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I know!! Listen, Little KB, you're going to watch this movie Grease in a few years and it's going to be on at like every sleepover you attend and then on VH1 or TBS or TNT at least 40 times a week. There is a very wise line in that movie that says "The only man a girl can trust is her daddy." And possibly Don Mattingly. Because it's true.

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What about Papa Smurf?

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Maybe.

chickenTM
WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?

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A chicken!!!

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I'm imparting wisdom to my younger self so she won't be so taken aback when men are fickle jackasses who don't even negotiate a contract with their old team because he and his agent want to be overdramatic pricks.

chickenTM
Are you drunk?

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No, it's all the hurt and anger I've been avoiding all day spilling out now.

chickenTM
Don't be bitter.

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What's bitter?

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Bitter is like the most popular guy in school asked you out, you think he likes you, you basically act the part of the dude in "When a Man Loves a Woman" (the song, not the movie, and the Percey Sledge version, not the Michael Bolton one -- he's going to come on the scene and freak you out in about eight years) and jump to his defense when everyone tries to knock him, because you know, believe he's genuine, and then he dumps you to go bang all the sluts in your school, your crosstown rival and at the Catholic school. Because you sticking up and defending him in blog posts that took you weeks to write meant nothing.

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Slut?

chickenTM
A not-nice lady.

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Oh.

chickenTM
Maybe it's not like that at all. Maybe he just didn't like New York.

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No, Chicken, I'm beginning to think he didn't want us to love him. Because if we all did, he might've had to love us back and then he'd feel a responsiblity to not disappoint us, and therefore would never be able to go elsewhere to make more money without feeling guilty.

chickenTM
I personally think he feels the need to be the best at everything, but while you can be a Yankee and be really good, you'll never be bigger than the Yankees. You know?

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Are you talking about Lou Pinella? He's funny!

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No, we're talking about stupid, sucky men.

chickenTM
Listen, small one, don't take your older self too seriously. The only men who truly suck are the ones who are greedy and selfish and don't take other people's feelings into account. And most baseball players qualify under that. You seem to understand that later in life, when you're not so angry.

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What are you saying?

chickenTM
That you should know better by now. And you do.

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Perhaps, but right now, I'm really hurt.

chickenTM
You're entitled. If it's any consolation, Guy the Godzilla and I went and did some really frustrated dance gymnastics in an abandoned warehouse to ease the pain. And now we're worried we need tetanus shots. But you can't let it kill your faith in mankind. Or all the nice Yankees who stick around.

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I suppose we'll get over it at some point. Like, maybe Labor Day 2017.

chickenTM
That's the spirit!

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This is boring. Can we watch The Greatest American Hero now?

Uh?

I love that people who thought the Yankees couldn't win with A-Rod have suddenly done an about face and now think they can't win without him. What?

Oh, yeah, and apparently they can't win without Joe Torre, because the three candidates the Yankees have interviewed to take his place are all despicable assholes or something. Even though the rumored heir apparent won Manager of the Year with the freaking cheap-ass Marlins last year. And Mo, Andy and Jorge might not want to play for a man they all seemed to like a whole lot when they played with him back in the late 1990s. Nah, their threats of testing free agency to get a better sum from the Yankees needs to be taken way, way seriously and we're on a sinking ship, y'all.

It's (hysterical) gloom and doom at it's best. Catch it while it's hot.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

A-Rod's Opting Out of Talking to the Yankees. For Now. Whoopidee Dooooo!

Well, this A-Rod hoopla sure is interesting. I won't know what to make of it until next April, when the rosters are set, but for now...

-- I thought "big announcements" weren't supposed to be made during the World Series, and I thought that counted "literally during a World Series game." If anything, this probably made Bud Selig's head spin off into another orbit, so that's at least one good thing that came out of this.

-- If the Yanks don't get him back as a free agent, A-Rod will have a nice big old stigma attached to him as the guy who couldn't make it in New York -- aka Big Pussy. I guess that would be his problem, not the Yankees' or Yankee fans'.

-- I know Cashman said they wouldn't pursue him if he's a free agent, but I get the feeling if the market can't offer a contract that's good enough (and there are maybe only four or five other teams who could come close) for Scott Boras, there'd be some kind of negotiating. Although, if what Boras is saying is true -- that he gave Cashman the news via voicemail -- perhaps Cashman would have no problem telling Boras where to stick it. And if that's the case, well more powere to you, Brian. That's a classless, dick, show-boaty move right there, and who wants to be the pawn of a slimy agent anyhow?

-- And also, if A-Rod's indeed gone, it would break my heart. But he wouldn't be like the first dude to do that to me, and it's not even like he said he loved me first, so whatever. I guess, to quote a genius song writer, It was great fun, but it was just one of those things.

Friday, October 26, 2007

Complete and Total Bisch Exclusive!

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You heard it here first! And Rick is going to be the wet nurse!

Thursday, October 25, 2007

"You Have a Son. And it is Me."

BWAH! God that...line?...killed me. Man, am I glad the half-hour format is back.

-- Michael's whole ad was just beyond sweet. Okay, it made me a little teary.

-- Loved the group sings, and that you got to see five different characters who normally don't interact harmonizing. Especially air-guitar Creed.

-- Dwight on Second Life is just...so Dwight. And so awesome.

--"I hate being titilated." Such a great Angela line right there.

-- Now, while I like that they're giving depth to Jim and Pam (ie, Pam's creative dreams and Jim's lack of them) I have to wonder why it is that whenever a female character is "finding herself" on a show, she turns to art? I feel like I've seen this on serveral shows in my TV-watching career, Felicity being one, the few episodes I've seen of How I Met Your Mother being another, Joey on Dawson's Creek... I mean, I think The Office is going to go in the direction of making it be Jim who eventually has to find himself, but what I wouldn't give to see a woman turn to, I don't know, chef school or TV/VCR repair or Chick-Fil-A franchise owner as a means of being fulfilled.

Did I mention how much I love it being back to a half hour? Because I do.

Oh, That I Lived to See This Day

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It's still one of the stupidest measuring sticks of a baseball player, but considering this man was considered the antithesis of "clutch" roughly a year ago, it's kind of amazing to see the respect now... and also kind of disgusting considering the hipocrisy of a probable good chunk fans who voted for him and who probably wanted to trade his ass out of here last year. I guess since that shining beacon of baseball smarts, Steve Phillips, didn't shoot his mouth off about A-Rod this year on Baseball Tonight (that I can recall), it's okay for the sheep to think he's clutchiful now... Whatever. At least it's props where props are due, I guess.

My Next Place is a Penthouse. No, a Mansion With Lots of Acerage Between Me and the Neighbors

I don't know who I pissed off in a previous life, but I have again managed to live below people who don't use the nighttime to, you know, sleep. No, they use it to pace around and open and close drawers and pace around some more. They also hammer things to their front door at 11:45 p.m. and thunder down the stairs and yell things to each other two flights up at 12:30 a.m. Now, they aren't as LOUD as Chewboken (thanks to thicker walls and carpeting), but it is way more consistent and goes on ALL NIGHT (at least it has this week). Imagine lying there and having to hear "bump, bump, bump, SLAM, bump, bump SLAM" at 3 a.m. That's what I've got. And since they aren't doing anything like blasting music or slam dancing and I therefore feel weird complaining to them, my only hope is the wax earplugs I intend to try tonight, despite my fears that I won't hear the building burning down or something. Sleep is more important right now.

As I was laying here tonight, I thought that I was possibly a light sleeper. Then I remembered that I slept through like a 4.8 earthquake in Mexico. Because I was in a one-story house, and it couldn't shake the loudass people above me out of their beds and onto the floor in loud, crashing fashion.

This is probably payback for all those Yankee championships, I bet...

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Quote of the Day

Web Guy (and Midwesterner) Mike has just refered to a can of soda as a "can of pop."

Art: "Can of pop" out here means "my dad's ass."

I bet you never thought of it that way now, huh?

Monday, October 22, 2007

Imagine Burping That Sucker

Last night, I was going through a box of papers I'd saved and came across a few photo copies I had made during my time working in children's text book publishing. There were always some randomly hilarious things you could find in exercise books, be it in the text (seagulls having clawed feet, like a robin, was always one of my personal faves, as was the notion of kids camping on a beach in North Carolina during a "small hurricane") or illustrations and I am so glad I captured these memories, because I came across the following and I almost peed my pants -- just like I did when I originally saw it. It was a first-grade exercise, in which the kids were supposed to pick the picture that made the most common sense:

IMG_1967

I am still giggling over it. For several reasons. 1) I mean, the man is holding a demonic-looking baby dragon and doesn't look the least bit nonplussed. 2) The human baby's head is too big for its body 3) The dude looks like Freddie Mercury.

I have always wanted to meet the kids who picked the dragon baby as the correct answer.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Nerd Alert

So, I am pretty much addicted to Scrabulous, and I just started a game with Erica and I just HAD to brag about this moment (though I'm sorry it had to come at Erica's expense):



Which scored me:



78 POINTS, BITCHEZ.

And that's my geeky post of the day.

The Search is On

I like being on missions to find hard-to-find things -- remember the quest for the perfect navy-blue Yankee Journal? That didn't turn out so well (had to settle for a black one, decorated in Yankee fashion), but it didn't kill my searchy instincts. And now that I have a new place, the urge for a new mission is kicking in greatly. My first item of hard-to-findness? An antique porcelain enamel kitchen table. I first noticed them years ago, when Hollis had one in her apartment in Astoria. And I would see them everywhere when I didn't need a kitchen table. Now that I want a new one, of course I haven't seen one in my travels. My mom and I raided antique stores in Red Bank on Sunday, only to find one such table, and it was brown and 1970s looking and I already have an old brown kitchen table. I checked out some antique places in the city today, but no dice. eBay is no better, especially since it requires shipping or picking up in, like, Oregon. I saw one on Craig's List in Park Slope, but while I liked the top, the bottom left me kind of meh.



So, readers, I am enlisting you, or your eyes anyway. If you happen to see any tables that look like the above (with green or blue accents, preferably) or know of where I should expand my search to, give the Bisch a yell, okay?

Friday, October 19, 2007

Good Morning to You Too, Rick

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Nice.

Speaking of The Office (thanks for the segue, dude!), while last night was draggy in a lot of parts, the last five minutes melted my icy, icy heart with maybe the most human moments this show has ever had.

-- First off -- COUSIN MOSE!!!! Though I don't think he was so...special...in "The Initation" and I wish he'd actually gotten to say something.

-- Loved the whole "who/whom" discussion and "Ryan used me as an obect."

-- Michael singing "Runaway Train" in forlorn fashion.

-- Jan's little speech to Michael. It finally showed why she digs him so much in a non-pscho way.

-- Oscar helping Michael out with his finances. It's nice to see that as impossible as Michael is, his employees still have a desire to help him.

-- Jim's heartfelt pep talk to Dwight, which came off as sweet without being sappy, and Dwight going to hug him, which was also kind of funny and sad at the same time.

-- And while I usually don't approve of feeding into fan-shippers' frenzy (because I used to work at a soap opera publication, and I've learned you never, NEVER want to give a psychotic group of fans the notion that they have control), I totally loved Jim wordlessly kissing Pam and his "I'm in love with Italian food" after briefly reliving his pain when he couldn't have her. I didn't consider it fan-wanking, as their rooftop date last week seemed, as it came about organically and realistically.

-- THANK GOD the half-hour format is back in the next episode, though. And let's hope NBC doesn't push them into doing to many more of the hour-longs, because it takes away so much, and adds way too many commercials (Bee Movie, anyone?).

In Which it is Noisy and I am Cranky

-- I'd like to know how it is that it's the 21st Century, and yet there have been no modernizations to garbage trucks (or any large trucks, for that matter) to make them less wake-the-fucking-dead noisy. Like, come on now. We can make a jet-plane "stealth" for the every 15-20 years we're in a war, but what comes through our neighborhoods several times a week (and usually during hours when people are sleeping -- or at least that's how it's been in every place I've lived)? Well, they can be as loud and obvious as all get-out.

-- I'd also like to know why Jersey City requires about 6-7 said wake-the-fucking-dead garbage trucks per hour to service a street...and none of those trucks has yet to collect my building's garbage, and the hour is 12:50 a.m. which means more must be coming. My guess is it has something to do with Hudson County's good old-fashioned corruptness and the mafia always owning waste-management companies and the two going hand in hand or something ridiculously shady like that. Because I can't imagine why so many would have to travel by and collect so many times and if I can at least think there are death threats and cannolis involved, I can understand it a little. Otherwise, it makes no god damn sense.

-- And also, the weather needs to man up and act like fall already because having to sleep with the windows open is what's making all of the above more obvious than usual. GOD.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Aaaaaand So Starts the Hot Stove

12 years ago, when I heard Joe Torre was going to be manager of the Yankees, 18-year-old KB was all "Why?"

12 years later, I can thank him for being a part of the some of the best memories of my life.

Good luck to him, and if there's no hard feelings between him and the Yankees (it's hard to tell at this point), I hope he gets a job at the YES Network. He may not be able to manage a bullpen very well, but dude's got a nice, calming way about him that would even out the Mood Swings of Michael Kay quite well.

And dear god, please keep Tony LaRussa AWAY from this team.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

And I'm Watching This Game Why?

You know, I was only half watching the game just now and planning on going to bed, but I am going to have to stay up to make sure a Cleveland pitcher goes way, way inside to Manny in his next at bat, because that shit he just pulled with his 8-minute-long home run stare was just begging for it. I know the dude isn't right in the head (or at least that's what I've deduced over the years), and he does this a lot, but COME ON. I mean, there's admiring a home run, and then there's practically masturbating over it...probably the worst Manny Being Manny I've ever seen...

And what's with all these rally towels/thunderstix/homer hankies in recent years? Is using one's hands to clap no longer en vogue?

Maybe I Was Too Busy Stewing to Hear it But...

Today Nomaas says that a Paul O'Neill chant went up at the game last Monday, and though I got there juuuust as the first inning was starting and was sitting in the bleachers far from the main stands, I can honest to god say I never heard this. Erica doesn't remember it either. A few "Joe Torre" chants went up in the later innings, as has become custom when it seems a Yankee is going to leave, and when Tino was shown on the JumboTron, the crowd went nuts, but that was it. I went to the bathroom at one point, but the crowd was pretty silent then, so unless it was going around the upperdeck or the far-reaches of the Loge or something, I'm not sure this went down....

And, seriously, it was one of the better playoff crowds I've had a chance to be a part of. I've never heard one so...encouraging and hopeful, I guess is the way to put it. There didn't seem to be any bitterness, not that I could hear, anyway.

Too Many Cooks, Or Just One, Will Spoil The Baseball Broth

You know, I keep seeing these headlines about how this NLCS is the lowest-rated of all time or something, and I reallllly don't get why this is such a shock when games are starting at 10:19 p.m. ET, thus alienating about 20-30 some odd states where people have to get up for work 8 hours later. On the one hand, it benefitted the people of Colorado and Arizona greatly, as it was in their time zone and starting at a reasonable time (If you're MLB, that is, and you think starting at almost 8:30, when a game usually goes 3-plus hours, is reasonable.). On the other, a good chunk of casual fans, who I'm guessing tuned in for all the other NLCSes, are probably living in Eastern and Central time. No big shock there if you're losing viewership.

Also, I'm wondering how an LCS being on TBS affected things. For years, you could find all the League Championship Series on non-pay TV, even if it was the sucktasticness of Fox. So 1) I'm not sure a person who's randomly channel surfing is going to get past channels 2-13 if every network is presenting their new fall programming and 2) People have been conditioned to see baseball on Fox all these years -- if it's October and there's no game on and you're not all that into the teams playing to know their schedule, you're probably going to assume there is no game on. 3) Oh yeah, and having another game on at 8 on Fox prior to the NLCS game is going to help that notion. 4) Also, I know people who get basic cable and TBS isn't part of the package, so, yeah, not a wise move to put a high-level series on pay television. But what does MLB care? They got more money from TBS, so they should be satisfied, not all agog when they see the ratings go down, right?

But, wait a minute, hold everything. There IS another, completely legit reason the series was low-rated. Why did I not think of this before? Why did no one ELSE think of this before: Dane Cook. Can you say instant turnoff? Three months before the playoffs even start? I'm sorry, but when they first started showing his MLB ads around the All-Star Game, it was like...Dane Cook telling you that baseball and the playoffs are compelling. Like, shut up, ads. Maybe it's because I'm too old to be part of his target audience, but I can't say I know one person who finds him funny or in any way endearing, and here he is promoting the sport we love. If your team isn't involved in the playoffs and people are worried douchieness is catching, I could see why they would spurn the NLCS. And also, it's not like the ads stopped before the playoffs. Nay, you get subjected to them during the games as well. You get subjected to them AT THE GAMES. On the JumboTron. Where you can't avoid it. Perhaps many of us just wanted to escape the insanity when our teams were out, and thus the NLCS took the brunt of it.

I guess it was MLB's way of reaching out to a younger audience and I should just be glad it wasn't the cast of High School Musical trumpeting the merits of the remaining teams. But still. Douchieness is not part of the national pastime. Let's hope they keep that in mind before games begin starting at 11:30 p.m. Eastern time and are aired on HBO.

Saturday, October 13, 2007

Because Bud's Such a Purist, Y'all

"I don't like instant replay because I don't like all the delays. I think it sometimes creates as many problems or more than it solves," Selig said Friday night during Game of the NL championship series. "But I am willing to say we'll at least talk about these if people want to talk about it. I'm going to let the general managers discuss it, let them come back and make recommendations. No, I'm not a big advocate of instant replay."

This from the man who gave us realigned divisions, interleague play (which isn't really putting fannies in seats anymore beyond local rivalries. I'm just sayin'), a cut-off All Star Game, the This-Time-It-Counts All Star Game, and for years pretended not to notice the rampant use of steroids in the sport...and still really hasn't done much about that.

That's right, Bud, put this one on the GMs. Because we know YOU at least have the game's best interest at heart.

Friday, October 12, 2007

La Cucaracha...Why, God, Why?

First, let me say that last night's episode of The Office may have been one of the boringest in the series (and saved only by Andy's bizarrely charming ABBA-wooing of Angela), and I think there's only one more hour-long episode left for awhile and I am way excited by that. Like, when I can't mine it for blog material, that sucks.

So we'll talk about what I found in my kitchen this morning: My very first JC Cockroach!! Wooooo! It was on its back and huge and scary and I swear to god I may be an independent woman (can put my own furniture together, program a VCR, change the office watercooler, drive 1,200 miles roundtrip by myself) but there are times in life when I'm just like "OH MY GOD I NEED A BIG STRONG MAN" and this was one of them. I can't deal very well with roaches -- I haven't really had to deal with them since I lived in Astoria, and I can't count the ones at work because there are three guys in my area who are willing to dispose of such things -- but since it was on its back, I sprayed the living shit out of it with some Clorox Cleanup (because I hear you're not supposed to step on roaches, lest you want to track their eggs around or something to that disgusting effect), a trick I learned when there were no menfolk in the copy department one day, and Art's Clorox bottle was handy to kill such an invader. I then put about 12 pages of newsprint over it and balled it up and chucked it into the garbage, which I quickly disposed of outside, skeeved out the whole time.

Anyhow, I hate knowing there are...critters in my kitchen, especially since I'm quite anal about cleaning it and keeping food secure. Which is why the stack of unused mouse glue traps (which, god, what a stupid invention. It isn't humane for any party involved) left under the sink by the previous tenant frightens me slightly. I know, I know, this comes with urban apartment living, especially in a building that's about a hundred years old but...yuuuuuuuck.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

You Know What is Awesomeness?

When you're watching the deleted scenes from the third season of The Office, and in a segment from "Women's Appreciation," Michael Scott is reading your magazine (when he's supposed to be reading the Wall Street Journal). Like, something I actually worked on made it into the show I hold most dear. The whole worlds colliding thing made my head spin, man. That rules.

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

Going Out to Bob Sheppard in New York, Klymaxx's "I Miss You" from KB in New Jersey

So, the last two regular season games I attended featured a Bob Sheppard sound-alike (Bob himself was down with laryngitis at the time), the first time I'd ever been to a game where "The Voice of God" wasn't present. The last two nights, Bob was again absent because of what the TBS people were calling a bronchial infection. Man, I know he is ancient and he could just up and retire at any moment, but a Bob Sheppard-less Yankee Stadium is going to be a very strange place if the guy who announced last night's game gets the permanant gig. It wasn't the sound-alike guy, who I can deal with, even though he isn't Bob Sheppard. No, last night's guy was...not right. Imagine a player coming to bat, and the man announcing him sounding like a Top 40 DJ serving up a long-distance dedication of Atlantic Star's "Always" to a lovelorn teenager in Oregon. The guys behind us drew the movie-trailer-voiceover-guy parallel, if that gives you any idea what I'm talking about. He was just too...smooth or something.

The weird thing is, when Jeter came to bat, it was a recording of Sheppard announcing him, while everyone else got...Shadoe Stevens. I'm not sure how that worked out (though I can see Jeter requesting something like that -- he seems quite attached to Bob, if his "Numba 2, De-rek Jee-tah" imitation is any indication) but it was all very strange and bummed me out majorly.

In Which I Am Melancholy

There is nothing more vexing than being able to see the potential in something and getting your hopes up, only for it to turn around and slump off into the sunset, as if you had more faith in it than it did. For the life of me, I will never understand how this team can chug along convincingly through September, and once October hits, they're like pumpkins again. Nay, cabbage. At least pumpkins are cheerful looking and don't smell bad when you cook them.

I can't tell you how dejecting a game that was to be at in person. The crowd was great, trying to will things to happen, grasping onto even just the slightest chance for a comeback. And when Jorge struck out, I've never heard such a quick come down into silence. I forced myself to look at the Indians, a giant clump of gray moving across the infield, as I walked out, because I'm not sure there's anything worse as a fan than being at an elimination game. And though it is nowhere near as bad as 2001, I can still learn from this and keep it in mind when I'm feeling all sorry for myself after Friday losses next season. I can also be like "You fell out of contention on my watch, muthafuckas. TRY to top THAT now" and maybe they will now be able to string together some good games that Steph, Erica and I so richly deserve. It's still kind of numbing, though, especially when you think about what could've, nay, should've been if everything had been clicking. You wonder who will and won't be back next year and how long the blame game will be played across the media and it's kind of dizzying.

But most of all, I'm sad. Tired, confounded and sad. I hate when I see casual fans get all bent out of shape over something like this because they have no idea how much shit you invest in this all year while they're only in for like four weeks in the fall. Yes, it's my choice how much emotion I put into following something trivial like a sports team, but goddamn it, it's real, it's heartfelt and it fucking sucks when this bizarro extended family of men you've never met gets taken away from you for half a fucking year. And you miss the texts from your fellow psychotic fans, reading up on fellow fanatatic bloggers' takes on games, the AFLAC Duck ushering in the triva question, even Kim Jones and Michael Kay. So yeah, I'd say I'm entitled to a good wallow and pondering period whereas a casual fan who watches like 10 games a year and is now calling for the head of Alex Rodriguez isn't. You know?

God, I hate the offseason.

Oh, yeah, and The Yankee Chicken takes a break from sobbing his eyes out to let you know his faith is still very much alive, even if his heart is in a million pieces at the moment:

IMG_1959

Sunday, October 07, 2007

A Request, Via Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my [Yankees], there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


Because you are really a much better team than this, and because I have tickets to tomorrow's game, and anytime I can get out of a no-good, rotten, terrible Monday deadline early, it's a good thing.

Friday, October 05, 2007

The Most Annoying Thing About the Playoffs?

Aside from having to listen to Suzyn and Sterling because you're stuck at work thanks to the messed up start time? That'd be having to listen to an opposing team's crowd. All my years of watching playoff baseball, and it's the most irritating thing on the planet, and I really hope the Yankee Stadium crowd has been just as annoying for fans of other teams.

Also getting under my skin? When fans who aren't of the Red Sox persuasion start the "Yankees Suck" chant. Like, if you're going to take part in lemming-like hatred, at least be original, people.

Thursday, October 04, 2007

"What a F*&#ing Mess"

Steph summed tonight up pretty well, so I won't go into it.

Except to say the Yankees won ALDS game 1 last year, the year before, in 2002, 1997 and 1995 and a lot of good it did them then. So we'll see.

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

The ABC's of Your iPod -- Presented to You By Off-Day Boredom

Here's the deal: You go through you iPod by either song title, album title or band/artist name, and alphabetically list your favorite songs/albums/artists. I went with artist name, and my favorite songs by said artist, skipping letters where I couldn't find inspiration:

Arlo Guthrie: "Alice's Restaurant." It's not on my iPod, so that's cheating, but I don't care. Thanksgiving Tradition (and a song that taught me a lot about the meaning of dry humor) outweighs the rules.

Beatles, The: "Two of Us." Maybe one of the best "buds" songs out there.

Creedence Clearwater Revival: "Born on the Bayou." I've never been to the Bayou (and I know John Fogerty is from California), but this song makes it sound pretty bad-ass. And they always play it during Ron Guidry video montages at Yankee Stadium.

Dolly Parton (and Kenny Rogers -- Hi Ken!):
"Islands in the Stream." I hear this song, and I'm 4 years old again, which is never a bad thing. Also, awesomely used as karaoke in an episode of The Office.

Erasure: "A Little Respect" A few weeks ago, I was hanging with the Hoboken Crew at a local bar and the dude playing there that evening busted this out in acoustic fashion, and we all found ourselves singing along. Not sure if it's because we conferred that it was used fantastically in an episode of Scrubs, or we were just all really drunk, but it was pretty great.

Frank Sinatra: "I Wish I Were in Love Again." You see that title and you'll think it's a sad song. "The conversation with the flying plates" should be your clue that it's anything but sad.

Grand Funk Railroad: "I'm Your Captain." It reminds me of two things: A road trip to Boston my senior year of college, and that captain, Derek Jeter. If ever there is a musical based on the Yankees of 1996-present, and DJ is sick or fearing a mutiny or something, this song has to be part of it.

Harry Belafonte: "Jump in the Line." Because of Yankee Stadium excitement, not Beetlejuice.

Jackie Wilson: "(Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher." Joy radiating through song. What a concept.

Kinks, The: "Lola." Ever since I was 8 years old, I'll think of this song, and within a few minutes it will appear on the radio or speaker system of whatever establishment I am in, be it a bar or a Hallmark. Several people have actually witnessed this, and it freaks them out every time. And yes, I found the song completely hilarious as a kid, not disturbing at all.

LL Cool J: "Loungin'." Because 1996 kicked all sorts of ass, and anytime I can be reminded of it, I am happy.

Murray Head: "One Night in Bangkok." Come on, you know you love it too.

Nat King Cole: "The Christmas Song." It can't be December without it.

Otis Redding: "These Arms of Mine." One of the best songs to extoll on the sucktastic emotion of of longing.

Pointer Sisters: "Dare Me." A song that captures the awesomeness of the 80s and a great mood enhancer.

Rolling Stones: This changes all the time, but right now I'm digging "Tumbling Dice" a lot.

Stevie Wonder:
"I Love Every Little Thing About You" I listen to Stevie more in the winter for some reason, probably because I need cheering up. This song is great for that.

T. Rex: "I Love to Boogie." Perfect. And The Chicken digs it too.

Vince Guaraldi Trio: "Oh Tannenbaum." You cannot get more in the Christmas mood than with the entire Charlie Brown Christmas album, but this one is my favorite.

Who, The: "Eminence Front." If you're really pissed off and walking and this song comes on, it just works.

Yaz: "Only You." I never thought much of this song until it was used during a pivotal moment of the British version of The Office, in which it was the most perfect song for the part.

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

It's Belated, But You Want the Yankees to Win, Don't You?


KB: Chicken, it's safe to come out now. We have cable and internet.
Chicken: I wasn't hiding. I was avoiding you.
KB: How many times do I have to apologize for making you ride in the moving truck?
Chicken: You mean taped in a cardboard box in a moving truck? I could've been crushed by that fugly 1970s chair or that cast-iron dutch oven.
KB: But you came out alive and now you have stories to tell.
Chicken: Oh, you mean like having to listen to Sterling and Waldman on my birthday? In the kitchen? With no birthday party? Because we didn't have the YES Network?
KB: Non-sequitur much?
Chicken: I don't know what that means, but I'm assuming it's something to do with you feeling terribly for ignoring the fact that I had an 8th birthday on Sunday.
KB: Enough with the guilt trip, shortstack. Guy and Gary and Cousin Bert made you a nice cake and we all sang "Double Shot of My Baby's Love" since you hate "Happy Birthday" so much and now you have a nice new place to live, complete with a fire escape for you to stage theatrical productions on.
Chicken: I do like the fire escape...but...does everyone in blogland know I had a birthday?
KB: I think you've made it so it hasn't escaped their attention.
Chicken: Good. Now I can get back to focusing on bringing good-luckness to the Yankees again. If everyone wishes me a happy birthday, of course. I will feel utterly useless otherwise.
KB: SIGH.

Monday, October 01, 2007

Welcome to the JC, Bisch

I have moved. The Chicken has moved (but he had to ride in a taped-up box in the moving truck and is still very, very bitter about it). We don't have Internet or cable in the new place until tomorrow (which, when you need playoff info is, oh, SUCKAGE), but know we are scouting out the building for potential Yankee fans.

And no, we don't miss Chewboken. Not even a little.