here's a question: does holding up your beer bottle and shaking it in my general direction make it more or less likely that i'll be inclined to get you a full one? speaking as a seasoned waitron, i can tell you the outlook is not good. yet there are still people, quite a few of them to be honest, who subscribe to this method. and when those people have me as their waitron, they remain thirsty. sad. on many levels.
while i'm talking about jobs, i have another question. first, a bit of background. i decided to give the ol' craigslist a whirl in scouting out some new hires for the news department at wrir. suddenly my email inbox is deluged with interested parties. which is good, except when you read something like this. now, does sending me an email typed in all caps that reads like the following make me more or less likely to get back to you? i'll let the reader decide.
TO WHOM THIS MAY CONCERN,I AM VERY INTERESTED IN THIS JOB. ALTHOUGH I AM CURRENTLY NOT A STUDENT, I ALWAYS ASPIRED TO BE A BROADCASTER. MY FAITH IN MYSELF HAS BEEN RESTORED AND I AM AWARE THAT THIS GOAL IS ACHIEVABLE. I HAVE INCLUDED MY RESUME AND CONTACT INFORMATION IN THIS EMAIL.
your faith in yourself has been restored? what does that mean? and why are you shouting?
moving on.
the yahoo! people have outdone themselves with their halloween graphic...it beats the crap out of google's sorry offering. does google have lightening? do they have bones that light up when you move the mouse over their letters? i think not. this is probably a moot point, since halloween is over and it will be gone by the time anyone has the chance to investigate. if anyone is bored enough to want to, which i geniunely hope they are not. it hardly matters, however. google is played out. i have one word for you: wikipedia. i love me some wikipedia.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Sunday, October 30, 2005
war, peacock.
ok, so at this juncture it has become painfully apparent that all this most-fucked-up-scenario- possible stuff has come to rest squarely in one specific place. our bathroom.
it is the nexus, the issue around which all other issues swirl chaotically, unrelentingly, ..ly. yeah.
so we had one day of unadulterated bathroom. yesterday, as i showered, the sun shining through the curtainless window(the only thing we hadn't put back in its right place) in blinding little beams, mixing with the warm(!) water and the old soul songs on the shower radio, i thought about how long it had been since i had a shower like that. i stayed in there for a long time.
then, at work later in the evening, the phone call from kels: i am not going to believe this, but there is water, pouring down the walls. from the ceiling. the new ceiling, it's sagging down. going to fall through. i am not believing this. she is correct.
there is something living in that bathroom. something that doesn't like to see me shower in peace. something that prefers it when i am dirty and miserable. something that's gonna have to go.
it is the nexus, the issue around which all other issues swirl chaotically, unrelentingly, ..ly. yeah.
so we had one day of unadulterated bathroom. yesterday, as i showered, the sun shining through the curtainless window(the only thing we hadn't put back in its right place) in blinding little beams, mixing with the warm(!) water and the old soul songs on the shower radio, i thought about how long it had been since i had a shower like that. i stayed in there for a long time.
then, at work later in the evening, the phone call from kels: i am not going to believe this, but there is water, pouring down the walls. from the ceiling. the new ceiling, it's sagging down. going to fall through. i am not believing this. she is correct.
there is something living in that bathroom. something that doesn't like to see me shower in peace. something that prefers it when i am dirty and miserable. something that's gonna have to go.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
peeing in the corner? priceless.
my family is having our first truly liberated thanksgiving this year, right here in lovely richmond, va. i am inviting just about everyone i know, since i do stuff like that, and since we're all so excited for our first liberated thanksgiving. we have, obviously, switched up the players: psychotic episodes are out, drunken uncles are in. ms. chrissy "once an eagle, always an eagle" fheskins has volunteered to stand in as "uncle bob".
for all those who didn't make the cut, there's always christmas, and we are auditioning for a "random girlfriend/boyfriend of brother/sister/uncle/aunt/mother/father/grandmother with a serious intravenous drug habit that comes to light before dessert" that's a good one people. get yourselves ready.
here, in honor of our upcoming thanksgiving bash, are two seperate instant message exchanges i had on the subject. chrissy, meet irv. irv, meet chrissy. you guys are gonna get along famously!!
ChrissyEF: yo, thanksgiving in Richmond or bust
lolan27: YES! we're doing it up down hurrr
lolan27: you gots to come
lolan27: it's gonna be spectacular
ChrissyEF: i've decided that i'm going to become that weird "family member" that shows at all the important events, but isn't actually a family member
ChrissyEF: you can refer to me as "uncle bob"
lolan27: excellent. we'd love to have you, uncle bob
ChrissyEF: hah!
lolan27: arrive drunk
lolan27: that's the only way to truly be uncle bob
ChrissyEF: totally
lolan27: you should come to rva for thanksgiving
TbirdGotti: i don't know if i'll be down for the actual thangsgiving, but maybe i'll leave after i have dinner with my family
lolan27: and eat turkey and get drunk as hell with the balls and uncle bob
lolan27: who is our friend chrissy. she's gonna be uncle bob
TbirdGotti: ahh, the awkward drunken uncle
TbirdGotti: nice
TbirdGotti: is she going to pee in the corner?
lolan27: yes, i told her she must arrive drunk, for starters and we'll take it from there.
TbirdGotti: ok
TbirdGotti: because the peeing in the corner was a deal-breaker
TbirdGotti: if she wasn't going to pee in the corner all bets were off
lolan27: whatever uncle bob is gonna do, uncle bob is gonna do
for all those who didn't make the cut, there's always christmas, and we are auditioning for a "random girlfriend/boyfriend of brother/sister/uncle/aunt/mother/father/grandmother with a serious intravenous drug habit that comes to light before dessert" that's a good one people. get yourselves ready.
here, in honor of our upcoming thanksgiving bash, are two seperate instant message exchanges i had on the subject. chrissy, meet irv. irv, meet chrissy. you guys are gonna get along famously!!
ChrissyEF: yo, thanksgiving in Richmond or bust
lolan27: YES! we're doing it up down hurrr
lolan27: you gots to come
lolan27: it's gonna be spectacular
ChrissyEF: i've decided that i'm going to become that weird "family member" that shows at all the important events, but isn't actually a family member
ChrissyEF: you can refer to me as "uncle bob"
lolan27: excellent. we'd love to have you, uncle bob
ChrissyEF: hah!
lolan27: arrive drunk
lolan27: that's the only way to truly be uncle bob
ChrissyEF: totally
lolan27: you should come to rva for thanksgiving
TbirdGotti: i don't know if i'll be down for the actual thangsgiving, but maybe i'll leave after i have dinner with my family
lolan27: and eat turkey and get drunk as hell with the balls and uncle bob
lolan27: who is our friend chrissy. she's gonna be uncle bob
TbirdGotti: ahh, the awkward drunken uncle
TbirdGotti: nice
TbirdGotti: is she going to pee in the corner?
lolan27: yes, i told her she must arrive drunk, for starters and we'll take it from there.
TbirdGotti: ok
TbirdGotti: because the peeing in the corner was a deal-breaker
TbirdGotti: if she wasn't going to pee in the corner all bets were off
lolan27: whatever uncle bob is gonna do, uncle bob is gonna do
Thursday, October 27, 2005
i'll make the most of it, i'm an extraordinary machine
kelli and i have been existing in a bizarre state recently; it's as if we have become trapped within this bubble that only gravitates towards the most ridiculously fucked up scenario available at any given time. i can't even go into detail here, for there are just too many. to put it simply, neither one of us can think back to a time in the recent past where we have done anything other than slog through whatever nearly insurmountable set of obstacles set themselves in front of us at the start of any given day.
luckily, we find most of this highly amusing. the people who pepper the daily slog, both the left-field dwelling characters(the guy who tried to sell me vodka out of a black trash bag at the bus stop on tuesday, or mohammed, who makes cat noises at kels every time he sees her) and the support system(the hill cafe houses most of these folks, who are willing to donate showers, cars, and most importantly, a deeply sarcastic sense of humor) are also responsible for why we continue to survive, and haven't dissolved into a pool of self-depreciating misery over our sorry state of affairs. how not fun would that be?
yes, all this is just straight up laughable. like my whore bitch landlord trying to go toe-to-toe with us by sending this ludicrous email intended to scare us into submission and getting slapped the hell down by one livid ex-english major with a serious ax to grind. that was fun. i should post that exchange. needless to say, the electrician showed up the next day.
god, i just want one of those days...what is the term? off? oh yes, that's it. i want a day OFF.
a day where nothing breaks and nothing that we need to live gets turned off and i don't wake up to find smarmy, visibly intoxicated contractors in my bathroom at 9am and my dog chooses not to eat my bed. i would ask that my dog chooses not to eat anything, but that's asking way too much.
luckily, we find most of this highly amusing. the people who pepper the daily slog, both the left-field dwelling characters(the guy who tried to sell me vodka out of a black trash bag at the bus stop on tuesday, or mohammed, who makes cat noises at kels every time he sees her) and the support system(the hill cafe houses most of these folks, who are willing to donate showers, cars, and most importantly, a deeply sarcastic sense of humor) are also responsible for why we continue to survive, and haven't dissolved into a pool of self-depreciating misery over our sorry state of affairs. how not fun would that be?
yes, all this is just straight up laughable. like my whore bitch landlord trying to go toe-to-toe with us by sending this ludicrous email intended to scare us into submission and getting slapped the hell down by one livid ex-english major with a serious ax to grind. that was fun. i should post that exchange. needless to say, the electrician showed up the next day.
god, i just want one of those days...what is the term? off? oh yes, that's it. i want a day OFF.
a day where nothing breaks and nothing that we need to live gets turned off and i don't wake up to find smarmy, visibly intoxicated contractors in my bathroom at 9am and my dog chooses not to eat my bed. i would ask that my dog chooses not to eat anything, but that's asking way too much.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
some musings on not letting the bastards grind you down.
my brother brain once said to me, with a rather severe look on his face(severe even for him) "don't take shit from anybody. ever." i think of this statement whenever i am in the midst of being given shit, which is often, and i realize that it is not so much about the taking of the shit, because it's nearly impossible to avoid, but how you handle it that counts.
charles williams told me, directly after meeting me, that he had watched me at my job for quite a while before that, and that his curiosity regarding me was especially piqued by what he called my "hard face". the hard face is what i wear when dealing with the public, which i do every day, and it has evolved out of a desire to keep the amount of shit those people will try to get me to take to a minimum. it's the first line of defense, and at this point, i barely even realize i'm doing it.
it's a peculiar balance i attempt to achieve. some people live in one extreme or the other, but i have developed a contempt for extremes; there is nothing to be gained there. instead, i try to work with what i know, and buffer accordingly. occasionally i fuck up and block out the wrong people. occasionally i let the wrong people slip through. either way, it can be a pain in the ass.
i think i have evolved, however, quite a bit over time on this one. there is a certain seperation now. it is a task, this not taking of shit. and it must be viewed as such. i have ceased to conciously apply emotion to it, and though that emotion does find its way in now and again, it is a hell of a lot easier to sort out than it used to be.
in semi-related news, i think my admiration and observation of doug wilder's methods in dealing with assholes is having a positive effect on my dealings with the small-time assholes in my own life. there's a man who has a nice firm grasp on the take no shit equation. thanks, doug.
charles williams told me, directly after meeting me, that he had watched me at my job for quite a while before that, and that his curiosity regarding me was especially piqued by what he called my "hard face". the hard face is what i wear when dealing with the public, which i do every day, and it has evolved out of a desire to keep the amount of shit those people will try to get me to take to a minimum. it's the first line of defense, and at this point, i barely even realize i'm doing it.
it's a peculiar balance i attempt to achieve. some people live in one extreme or the other, but i have developed a contempt for extremes; there is nothing to be gained there. instead, i try to work with what i know, and buffer accordingly. occasionally i fuck up and block out the wrong people. occasionally i let the wrong people slip through. either way, it can be a pain in the ass.
i think i have evolved, however, quite a bit over time on this one. there is a certain seperation now. it is a task, this not taking of shit. and it must be viewed as such. i have ceased to conciously apply emotion to it, and though that emotion does find its way in now and again, it is a hell of a lot easier to sort out than it used to be.
in semi-related news, i think my admiration and observation of doug wilder's methods in dealing with assholes is having a positive effect on my dealings with the small-time assholes in my own life. there's a man who has a nice firm grasp on the take no shit equation. thanks, doug.
Monday, October 24, 2005
never a dull moment. or perhaps they're all dull.
i live next door to a bar, and that means that on friday and saturday nights around 2am, it's not unusual to hear and/or see a decent-sized group of richmond's finest doing things that they are not going to remember in the morning, at top volume.
i slept on the couch this weekend with my dog 'cause she was all out of sorts...kels was in new york and my idiot landlords decided to ambush us with a ceiling repair, meaning my doggie had to hang out with a bunch of drunken contractors and laborers all day while i was at work. not cool. anyhow, while *trying* to fall asleep on saturday night, i heard not one, but three or four, drunken rows out in the street. they were all of the "couple" variety, and they were all pretty vicious. and i found myself wondering, how is it that these people wake up the next morning and face the person that they carried on with in the street next to my house the night before in such an unbecoming fashion? and more importantly, how do they do it every week? i think the answer here is denial, people.
"hey, baby...i'm sorry i called you a fat skank whore last night, in hearing range of several blocks...you wanna get some brunch?"
"honey, i'm sorry i peeled out and left you in the middle of the street at 2am while informing everyone that your penis is substandard. shall we get the paper?"
i mean, i'm just curious. there's gotta be a tomorrow morning, and i guess i just wish i could get a little quicktime movie of a few moments...it intrigues me. these people aren't your garden variety crackheads. they're the old money richmond elite...and the things they say to each other in the wee hours outside my house are no doubt steeped in a great deal of truth. there's only so much that a pink polo shirt and some chinos can do to hide the dark side, the facts of the matter, if you will. baby, you probably do have below average equipment, and she's fucking you for your credit card, and maybe for your m5, but that's about it. and she certainly will whore off with whatever she finds in the sidewalk cafe at 1:45am if you let her. but in the cold light of day, it's still gonna be you buying her brunch.
that's what the 2am street war is about, i suppose. keepin' it all in check.
i slept on the couch this weekend with my dog 'cause she was all out of sorts...kels was in new york and my idiot landlords decided to ambush us with a ceiling repair, meaning my doggie had to hang out with a bunch of drunken contractors and laborers all day while i was at work. not cool. anyhow, while *trying* to fall asleep on saturday night, i heard not one, but three or four, drunken rows out in the street. they were all of the "couple" variety, and they were all pretty vicious. and i found myself wondering, how is it that these people wake up the next morning and face the person that they carried on with in the street next to my house the night before in such an unbecoming fashion? and more importantly, how do they do it every week? i think the answer here is denial, people.
"hey, baby...i'm sorry i called you a fat skank whore last night, in hearing range of several blocks...you wanna get some brunch?"
"honey, i'm sorry i peeled out and left you in the middle of the street at 2am while informing everyone that your penis is substandard. shall we get the paper?"
i mean, i'm just curious. there's gotta be a tomorrow morning, and i guess i just wish i could get a little quicktime movie of a few moments...it intrigues me. these people aren't your garden variety crackheads. they're the old money richmond elite...and the things they say to each other in the wee hours outside my house are no doubt steeped in a great deal of truth. there's only so much that a pink polo shirt and some chinos can do to hide the dark side, the facts of the matter, if you will. baby, you probably do have below average equipment, and she's fucking you for your credit card, and maybe for your m5, but that's about it. and she certainly will whore off with whatever she finds in the sidewalk cafe at 1:45am if you let her. but in the cold light of day, it's still gonna be you buying her brunch.
that's what the 2am street war is about, i suppose. keepin' it all in check.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
i am flawed if i'm not free...
i have a tendancy to get wrapped up in stuff...sometimes that can be good, sometimes it can be not so good. i also, luckily, can usually come to a point of recognition that i have let myself sink below the water line. that first burst of fresh air through my lungs is an amazing feeling, and i wouldn't trade it for all the things that may have been passed over during the period in which i was under. i think that's part of what it means to say that everything happens for a reason.
there are certain things that i will never truly be able to be a part of, and the more i live, the more i realize that i don't really want to be a part of those things. in fact, to try is to regress in some way, and i learn that lesson every time i do. and i think i'm doing all right on my own. life is strange.
what the hell am i talking about? oh, it doesn't really matter. it could be any number of things, and all of them would be correct. i feel as if i have lost a giant weight that i have been carrying on my shoulders for a while, and it's absence makes me wanna run and jump and enjoy the new feeling of relative weightlessness. i think i'm gonna. at least figuratively. i'm not as spry as i used to be...
there are certain things that i will never truly be able to be a part of, and the more i live, the more i realize that i don't really want to be a part of those things. in fact, to try is to regress in some way, and i learn that lesson every time i do. and i think i'm doing all right on my own. life is strange.
what the hell am i talking about? oh, it doesn't really matter. it could be any number of things, and all of them would be correct. i feel as if i have lost a giant weight that i have been carrying on my shoulders for a while, and it's absence makes me wanna run and jump and enjoy the new feeling of relative weightlessness. i think i'm gonna. at least figuratively. i'm not as spry as i used to be...
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
good stuff, all around.
john darnielle has once again outdone himself.
crush story.
oh, and i must go ahead while i'm here and recommend another thing of beauty, the new stephen colbert show on comedy central, the colbert report. it's absolutely, postively dead-on perfect.
crush story.
oh, and i must go ahead while i'm here and recommend another thing of beauty, the new stephen colbert show on comedy central, the colbert report. it's absolutely, postively dead-on perfect.
Monday, October 17, 2005
more than this?
so, then there's...
He is kind and friendly and he does not takeoffense easily. He also very much supports our station. You'll be fine.
dustin, on l. doug wilder. could i ask for a more straightforward encouragement? i don't think so.
He is kind and friendly and he does not takeoffense easily. He also very much supports our station. You'll be fine.
dustin, on l. doug wilder. could i ask for a more straightforward encouragement? i don't think so.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
you don't stop loving something, simply out of shame...
i have issues. wish i didn't. that goes without saying, i suppose.
i am setting up to interview richmond mayor l. douglas wilder, and i'm already freaking out. my almost absolute lack of confidence in these situations floors me. i need to grow the fuck up already.
in the incredibly good news department, i once again have hot water. the prison camp days are over, yo...and not a moment too soon. i was about to scale the barbed wire and make for the highway, no joke.
'i've written pages, upon pages, trying to rid you from my bones...' how do i always end up here? is it because i'm batshit insane? that's what i'm inclined to attribute it to, honestly. i think i'm one of the most batshit insane people i know, and even more for being able to hide it so well that people actually think the absolute opposite of me. it's a scenario that reminds me of a certain someone i share dna with, and that scares the fucking hell out of me.
yes, sorry. it's dark in here right now. even with the hot water.
i am setting up to interview richmond mayor l. douglas wilder, and i'm already freaking out. my almost absolute lack of confidence in these situations floors me. i need to grow the fuck up already.
in the incredibly good news department, i once again have hot water. the prison camp days are over, yo...and not a moment too soon. i was about to scale the barbed wire and make for the highway, no joke.
'i've written pages, upon pages, trying to rid you from my bones...' how do i always end up here? is it because i'm batshit insane? that's what i'm inclined to attribute it to, honestly. i think i'm one of the most batshit insane people i know, and even more for being able to hide it so well that people actually think the absolute opposite of me. it's a scenario that reminds me of a certain someone i share dna with, and that scares the fucking hell out of me.
yes, sorry. it's dark in here right now. even with the hot water.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
helen thomas kicks about nine different kinds of ass
and has balls of steel. one of the last bastions of true integrity in journalism.
scott mcclellan=douchebag
NEW!!! thanks to my brother boom, here is the video footage of the entire press conference. i love c-span. and i love you, boomer...
scott mcclellan=smug sonofabitch
scott mcclellan=douchebag
NEW!!! thanks to my brother boom, here is the video footage of the entire press conference. i love c-span. and i love you, boomer...
scott mcclellan=smug sonofabitch
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
hey! newsflash! i have no money!
just in case there was any confusion on the subject, i DO NOT HAVE and probably WILL NEVER HAVE any money. so anyone who thinks that there's something to bleed dry here...wrong tree. or rock. or whatever.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
oh, and thank you for crushing my dreams.
um, yeah. extremely unhappy is to understate. to use a phrase coined by a.b., i want to eat poison. actually, last night as i listened to tim mccarver YAMMER ON about god knows what, for the better part of 4 hours, i thought, 'listening to tim mccarver makes me wanna eat poison.'
now i can amend that to 'having my team lose in such spectacular fashion after suffering through 4 hours of tim mccarvers incessant yammering makes me want to eat poison. a LOT of it.'
all right, before i put this entire season to bed and never speak of it again, here are my issues with last nights game.
1-moose. MOOSE. i mean, dude...how could you? we left you in CALIFORNIA for like, four days to get in top form. you should have been the fucking terminator out there, instead you gave up five runs in 2 2/3rds innings, and then we had to bring in RANDY FUCKING JOHNSON to save your ass. you know, the guy who is responsible for us even having to BE in cali anyway? yet the night before, we get a stellar outing from shawn chacon, a guy who's never pitched in the postseason. what is happening here????
2-the bubba crosby/gary sheffield collision in center field. the most horrific image i have been forced to burn into my brain, since...i don't know, maybe since mo let the arizona diamonbacks unload on him to lose the world series in 2001? can't say. anyhow. just before this happened, actually, they showed gary sheffield out in right and i said to my sister, 'don't you think sheff is one of those guys who probably won't talk to any of the rookies?' and she was like 'yeah, he probably just grunts at them...'
and then two seconds later, sheff and bubba crosby are having an intimate moment at the center field wall. i think someone shoulda been calling someone else off, and if they were, that someone should have been listening. hands down, the turning point of the game. we were like bitches after that. we got emasculated in the middle of the outfield in front of six trillion A's fans and hundreds of thousands of television viewers. we just weren't o.k.
speaking of just not o.k., i really do hope that ol' bub can get over this. i am worried...i picture him at home right now, contemplating ways to make himself disappear. and yeah, i am pretty upset about it, but i'll get over it. and i don't want this to be the sort of thing that ruins that boy's career. because even though he now has carnal knowledge of gary sheffield's inner thigh, he's still got a lot of potential.
that brings us to 3-
ok, so, what the fuck is up with the entire batting order except for derek jeter going to sleep in the clutch? he can't do this by himself, people. dj goes and gets himself on in the top of the ninth, just like he's fucking supposed to because he's DEREK JETER and we're the motherstinkin' NEW YORK YANKEES, and then a-rod comes up... you know, the guy who led the league in homeruns, rbi's, doubles, triples, quadruples, etc. etc.
what does he do, after going 0-4 for the night? HE GROUNDS INTO A DOUBLE PLAY. yes, that's right. i'm not gonna say it again. it's almost inconceivable. i mean, this is the dude who should be pulling some crazy shit out of his ass in that moment. like CRAZY earth shattering shit. he should be driving a hole through that stupid waterfall thing they have out there in the outfield. but at least, if you're gonna go out like a punk, keep everyone else out of it. one out is more than enough.
instead, a-rod basically hands them the ballgame, signed, sealed, delivered. why the fuck did we even bother to come to anaheim? how can we play a game like the one we played in new york the night before, and then turn in a ridiculous performance like last night? it just doesn't compute.
and you know, in randy johnson's defense(not that anyone should have to defend anyone making that much money to throw a fucking baseball), he came in last night in the third and threw 4 clean innings of three up three down ball, and our fucking bats DIDN'T DO SHIT.
i'm mad, can you tell?
quote of the evening, via a. ball:
tim mccarver(after the crosby/sheff collison) "THE YANKEES ARE LUCKY THAT WASN'T AN INSIDE-THE-PARK HOME RUN."
a. ball "what? why would that even be an issue? i mean, it's not like one of them lost conciousness."
now i can amend that to 'having my team lose in such spectacular fashion after suffering through 4 hours of tim mccarvers incessant yammering makes me want to eat poison. a LOT of it.'
all right, before i put this entire season to bed and never speak of it again, here are my issues with last nights game.
1-moose. MOOSE. i mean, dude...how could you? we left you in CALIFORNIA for like, four days to get in top form. you should have been the fucking terminator out there, instead you gave up five runs in 2 2/3rds innings, and then we had to bring in RANDY FUCKING JOHNSON to save your ass. you know, the guy who is responsible for us even having to BE in cali anyway? yet the night before, we get a stellar outing from shawn chacon, a guy who's never pitched in the postseason. what is happening here????
2-the bubba crosby/gary sheffield collision in center field. the most horrific image i have been forced to burn into my brain, since...i don't know, maybe since mo let the arizona diamonbacks unload on him to lose the world series in 2001? can't say. anyhow. just before this happened, actually, they showed gary sheffield out in right and i said to my sister, 'don't you think sheff is one of those guys who probably won't talk to any of the rookies?' and she was like 'yeah, he probably just grunts at them...'
and then two seconds later, sheff and bubba crosby are having an intimate moment at the center field wall. i think someone shoulda been calling someone else off, and if they were, that someone should have been listening. hands down, the turning point of the game. we were like bitches after that. we got emasculated in the middle of the outfield in front of six trillion A's fans and hundreds of thousands of television viewers. we just weren't o.k.
speaking of just not o.k., i really do hope that ol' bub can get over this. i am worried...i picture him at home right now, contemplating ways to make himself disappear. and yeah, i am pretty upset about it, but i'll get over it. and i don't want this to be the sort of thing that ruins that boy's career. because even though he now has carnal knowledge of gary sheffield's inner thigh, he's still got a lot of potential.
that brings us to 3-
ok, so, what the fuck is up with the entire batting order except for derek jeter going to sleep in the clutch? he can't do this by himself, people. dj goes and gets himself on in the top of the ninth, just like he's fucking supposed to because he's DEREK JETER and we're the motherstinkin' NEW YORK YANKEES, and then a-rod comes up... you know, the guy who led the league in homeruns, rbi's, doubles, triples, quadruples, etc. etc.
what does he do, after going 0-4 for the night? HE GROUNDS INTO A DOUBLE PLAY. yes, that's right. i'm not gonna say it again. it's almost inconceivable. i mean, this is the dude who should be pulling some crazy shit out of his ass in that moment. like CRAZY earth shattering shit. he should be driving a hole through that stupid waterfall thing they have out there in the outfield. but at least, if you're gonna go out like a punk, keep everyone else out of it. one out is more than enough.
instead, a-rod basically hands them the ballgame, signed, sealed, delivered. why the fuck did we even bother to come to anaheim? how can we play a game like the one we played in new york the night before, and then turn in a ridiculous performance like last night? it just doesn't compute.
and you know, in randy johnson's defense(not that anyone should have to defend anyone making that much money to throw a fucking baseball), he came in last night in the third and threw 4 clean innings of three up three down ball, and our fucking bats DIDN'T DO SHIT.
i'm mad, can you tell?
quote of the evening, via a. ball:
tim mccarver(after the crosby/sheff collison) "THE YANKEES ARE LUCKY THAT WASN'T AN INSIDE-THE-PARK HOME RUN."
a. ball "what? why would that even be an issue? i mean, it's not like one of them lost conciousness."
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
oh, bring it.
oh HELLS yes. on the heels of the sox getting routed worse than ever before in their postseason history by the white sox(in a game that seemed to last forever, and since it seemed that way to me and i hate them, i can only imagine that it was interminable torture for the red sox nation. excellent.) the yanks come out strong playing incredibly tight ball tonight in anaheim. i mean, there really were no flaws, except for tanyon fucking sturtze(which is the only thing i will call him at this point. he needs to be flown out and dropped off in the middle of the desert where he can't hurt anything anymore) who is a flaw in and of himself. moose was freaking brilliant. it was a stellar outing. calm and controlled, reminincent of randy johnson the other day in boston, i never once felt nervous or uncertain. moose was on top of it the whole time.
derek jeter is the mizzity man, as if that wasn't obvious. i still need to say it, because i am just constantly amazed. even after all these years(which we figured out is, like, 9...christ, i'm getting OLD). bartolo colon hit my boy a-rod square in the back, making me miss the hell out of roger clemens. and that doesn't really ever happen, being that he's dead to me and all. but rocket was the guy you wanted coming out in the next half-inning after one of our guys got beaned...he's a freaking sociopath. rocket will aim and your head and mean it. he ain't scurred.
so it was a great start. an AMAZING start. i couldn't be more pleased. personally, i hope the white sox do us all a favor and off the red sox right now. i could do without them entirely for the rest of the month. send them back to boston to lynch curt schilling. come on, you know it's eventually gonna come to that. that's just how they roll.
in a semi-related sidenote, my sister and i realized that with the possible exceptions of david ortiz and manny, all the rest of the red sox non-pitching staff are like dirty, unshaven clones of each other. it's like they have an assembly line in the green monster that just churns them out. they have minor differences that kinda help you tell them apart, like the fact that kevin millar looks like the dad from that cartoon "the littles", but from afar, they're basically the same person.
derek jeter is the mizzity man, as if that wasn't obvious. i still need to say it, because i am just constantly amazed. even after all these years(which we figured out is, like, 9...christ, i'm getting OLD). bartolo colon hit my boy a-rod square in the back, making me miss the hell out of roger clemens. and that doesn't really ever happen, being that he's dead to me and all. but rocket was the guy you wanted coming out in the next half-inning after one of our guys got beaned...he's a freaking sociopath. rocket will aim and your head and mean it. he ain't scurred.
so it was a great start. an AMAZING start. i couldn't be more pleased. personally, i hope the white sox do us all a favor and off the red sox right now. i could do without them entirely for the rest of the month. send them back to boston to lynch curt schilling. come on, you know it's eventually gonna come to that. that's just how they roll.
in a semi-related sidenote, my sister and i realized that with the possible exceptions of david ortiz and manny, all the rest of the red sox non-pitching staff are like dirty, unshaven clones of each other. it's like they have an assembly line in the green monster that just churns them out. they have minor differences that kinda help you tell them apart, like the fact that kevin millar looks like the dad from that cartoon "the littles", but from afar, they're basically the same person.
Monday, October 03, 2005
crankosaurus rex
i have been on a mood swing rollercoaster for the past few days, boy...
saturday was fucking awesome. we won AND we clinched. and i was a happy, happy girl. yesterday, the red sox got in via wildcard, and i wasn't especially pleased. but i bought a new scarf at target, and it's black and has tiny silver sparkly thread running through it, so things were looking up.
this morning i woke up in the foulest of tempraments, for no real reason other than i had to get up far earlier than i would have liked so that we could have our apartment windows replaced. the bad mood lasted all day, fueled by ill-defined stress and the knowledge that tony danza has a daytime talk show.
that is, until i just arrived home and saw our new windows. they kick ass, and now i can actually open my bedroom window, which is absolutely key, especially now that good sleeping weather is here. so i would say we're on the upswing. at least at press time. we'll see how the rest of the day goes.
saturday was fucking awesome. we won AND we clinched. and i was a happy, happy girl. yesterday, the red sox got in via wildcard, and i wasn't especially pleased. but i bought a new scarf at target, and it's black and has tiny silver sparkly thread running through it, so things were looking up.
this morning i woke up in the foulest of tempraments, for no real reason other than i had to get up far earlier than i would have liked so that we could have our apartment windows replaced. the bad mood lasted all day, fueled by ill-defined stress and the knowledge that tony danza has a daytime talk show.
that is, until i just arrived home and saw our new windows. they kick ass, and now i can actually open my bedroom window, which is absolutely key, especially now that good sleeping weather is here. so i would say we're on the upswing. at least at press time. we'll see how the rest of the day goes.
Saturday, October 01, 2005
this tied bullshit ain't no good.
obviously not the outcome i would have wanted AT ALL... can i just say, that if the fucking announcers don't stop calling david ortiz "big papi", i am either going to suffer an aneurism or someone(S)* are getting a contract put out on their lives? i mean, it's a ridiculous nickname on its own, and bad enough to have to read it on signs held by the nitwits in fenway, and hear it chanted when the dude comes to the plate(and only then, since he's the dh and probably sees fifteen minutes of game time TOTAL. but make him the mvp. that's appropriate). but to hear these announcers saying, in their dopey announcer voices "and now here comes big papi" or even worse, when they're talking about stats or what he had for breakfast or whatever the hell it is that they yammer on about and they refer to him as such, is just an insult to my intelligence and the intelligence of every other fan who is not smoking crack, inbred, worshipping the red sox, or a combination of all three(the typical scenario).
ok, to make myself feel better, here are the quotes from my sister on tonight's game.
"he's like the village bicycle" -about john olerud. she would later say "he should have one of those suitcases with all the stickers on it."
"was that a 6-6-6-6-3 double-play?" -about, obviously, jeter.
"god...he looks terrible" -about manny. it's that fucking helmet, dude. it makes me shudder.
"does anyone else, anywhere, wear a C on their jersey??" -on resident herb jason varitek.
"can't some rich new york businessman buy out all the seats in the green monster?" -i mean, seriously. remember when some new yorker won that charity auction on ebay to rename the fleet center for a week and they wanted to name it the derek jeter center? they had to refuse it though, for fear that bostonians would start killing each other in the street in protest.
"who gave rudy guiliani the keys to the beamer?" -musing over the impeding stadium-building nonsense that is going to ruin our lives forever. i'm serious.
aight. i'm gonna regroup for tomorrow night...it is destined to be quite the long weekend. randy johnson better have a hall of fame night out there tomorrow, or else.
ok, to make myself feel better, here are the quotes from my sister on tonight's game.
"he's like the village bicycle" -about john olerud. she would later say "he should have one of those suitcases with all the stickers on it."
"was that a 6-6-6-6-3 double-play?" -about, obviously, jeter.
"god...he looks terrible" -about manny. it's that fucking helmet, dude. it makes me shudder.
"does anyone else, anywhere, wear a C on their jersey??" -on resident herb jason varitek.
"can't some rich new york businessman buy out all the seats in the green monster?" -i mean, seriously. remember when some new yorker won that charity auction on ebay to rename the fleet center for a week and they wanted to name it the derek jeter center? they had to refuse it though, for fear that bostonians would start killing each other in the street in protest.
"who gave rudy guiliani the keys to the beamer?" -musing over the impeding stadium-building nonsense that is going to ruin our lives forever. i'm serious.
aight. i'm gonna regroup for tomorrow night...it is destined to be quite the long weekend. randy johnson better have a hall of fame night out there tomorrow, or else.
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