Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Trying to steal another's man wife can be very inspirational...

Maybe it's just me but I feel like whenever you see a grown man riding a bicycle in a leisurely manner (as oppossed to using it for exercise purposes) the chances of him being a really sketchy dude are, at minimum, 4-1. In my opinion those odds are far better when you see this guy riding his bike at night. If, in addition, he's carrying any type of alcoholic're better off getting into a conversion van with a man wearing an eye patch than sticking around to see what develops with Donny DUI.

Do you know what else I think? I think that whenever you see a guy rocking a bright blonde, curly mullet (as I did in the gym this afternoon) the chances that he's paid for sex in the last six months are right around even money.

Speaking of money...for my money there isn't a better 4 minutes of music than the instrumental at the end of "Layla". It's beautiful, full of feeling and does a fantastic job a conveying the emotions of the song. Admittedly, I seem to like instrumental music more than you average listener but it's really impressive and still stands up after thirty something years.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

More writing, less maturity...Oh yeah!

I've been really busy lately trying to work myself into a new line of employment and if things go well (read: If I pass my background check) then I'll be starting a new job within two weeks. That would be my fourth job this summer and, hopefully, my last for a while now. All this job switching is great and I have really enjoyed the constant raises that this summer has afforded me, but I think we all know that you can't accrue any real vacation time if you're always starting a new job. Frankly, I'm pretty wiped from all this cloak and dagger job searching and could use a nice 7-10 day vacation.

What does this mean for my inconsistent writing schedule? Hopefully it means that I will start to get back to writing on 4-5 day a week basis. That's been the one downside of all of my summer activities. I haven't been able to write as much and I miss it. I should know within a couple of weeks whether this new plan is feasable or not. Not a minute too soon I might add, as baseball's divisional races will be heating up and college football will be breathing down our collective necks.

As for these days, I'm finding it a little hard to get very wrapped up in sports at this point in the summer. Other than baseball there is very little to speak of in terms of newsworthy items. Even baseball has nothing more than my passing attention at the moment. The Cardinals are shoe-ins for the playoffs at this time and just need to focus on staying healthy (way to eff that up Reggie Sanders) and I wouldn't shed a single tear if the entire American League went the way of the Manzere (or the Bro, whichever). I think that I'm going to throw my late summer support in the direction of the Nationals, if only so that I have somebody/something to pull for over the next two months. If I had to hazard a guess I'd say that they'll fall short down the stretch but it won't be for lack of support from this guy.

Like I said earlier, there isn't alot to talk about...other than this stuff:

-Jim Rome is so damn annoying it pains me. Between him calling guys "dog" and proclaiming himself the "King of Smack" it makes me want to fly to LA just so I can kick him in the jewels. If it wasn't for his famous (and hilarious) fight with Jim "Chris" Everrett, I might purposely contract hepatitis just so the Make-A-Wish foundation could set the wheels in motion on this thing. Where does all of this come from? I got stuck watching his god-awful show this afternoon and had to listen to him repeatedly refer to Kenny Rogers as "The Roaster". Yes, we get it. No, it is not in any way humorous...not even a little bit.

- Manny Ramirez ducking into the Green Monster has been a top three story on every damn sports related TV & Radio show today. I know it's the middle of July but are we that hard up for news. Is it even worthy of discussion? It was hot and the guy has approximately 27 lbs of hair on his head, maybe he needed a cool drink. Relax already. I'm glad "sports" reporters can spend 10 minutes on Manny's pee break without ever mentioning that Johhny Damon's hit streak ended. Finally, we have our priorities in order.

- Here's something that's actually noteworthy (which is about all you'll hear about it, a note): Donyell Marshall signed with the Cavs. Count me among the people who've never really understood the infatuation with Marshall's game. He doesn't do anything great, just alot of different things above average. With that said, I think he'll give the Cavs some nice versatility along the front line (as well as a plethora of shitty, cheap tattoos) and allow them to throw alot of different lineups on the floor. He's not much of a defensive upgrade over Drew Gooden but he is certainly more consistent. Then again, most of my ex-girlfriends emotional swings were more consistent than Gooden.

- The Nets are going to sign Shareef Abdur-Rahim, whom I consider wildy overrated. He's not very athletic and doesn't dominate in the post. He's never, ever played on a winner and is definitely a full level (or two) below the elite power forwards in the league. Yet, he should do really well in New Jersey. Provided that he's willing to run at Jason Kidd's pace. If he does that then he'll get an easy 8 points a night on layups and dunks. Plus, the Nets figure to run alot of their halfcourt offense through him. Which is good for him because he is the kind of guy who needs alot of touches to leave his fingerprints on the game. If he can pry the ball ball of Vince Carter's hands then he should definitely make the All-Star team in the East. Though that says more about the East than it does about 'Reef. Did I just call him 'Reef? I'm sorry about that, it won't ever happen again.

- Alot of people are talking about Andrew Bogut getting tossed from a Summer League game. What they aren't talking about is how he got smoked by David Harrison prior to that. In just over a half Harrison lit up Bogut for 14 pts and 9 boards. Ouch.

- I was listening to The Clash today and started to wonder if Chris Farley got some of his inspiration for his Matt Foley sketches from "London Calling" (the song, not the album). I'm probably waaay off here but do me a favor and give it a listen. What do you have to lose? It's better than any of the crap on the radio.

-Oh yeah, Stephen A. Smith is getting his own show on ESPN. In related news, I'm getting my own pistol-grip shotgum

Monday, July 11, 2005

We can't really call him Pudge anymore can we?

For Christ's sake, he weighs a buck eighty now!

That's right the eyes of the world have descended on downtown Detroit this evening. By the way, when I say eyes of the world I mean sports starved losers like me.

I usually could care less about the Home Run Contest. In fact, I get visibly mad when ESPN shows it during a random afternoon. However, tonight was definitely the exception. Bobby Abreu's first round was absolutely riveting. I had just walked in from the gym and ended up sitting on the edge of my couch watching his entire run. It wasn't just the number of homers but the size of the homers. A couple of them were just ridiculous, unbelievable really. I know it's only batting practice but I still had to pick up the phone and call my Dad. I could pretty much care less if he wins or not. The first round is all anyone will ever remember anyway. A couple of other things I've noticed:

- Why can't the kids who are shagging flys during the Home Run Contest ever make a catch? These little rats flail on every routine pop up hit their way. Are the organizers using the same blind and deaf kids from the NAtional Anthem at the Super Bowl? That's nice.

- I always thought Anduw Jones was from Caracas, Venuezuela. Evidently, I have been wrong for a very long time. He's actually from Willemstad, Curacao. Which is a territory of Holland? Does that mean he's going to have to play for Holland in the new Wold Cup of Baseball? Man, that blows.

- I have a friend named Joe McGrail who I think looks alot like a white version of David Ortiz.

- It's really too bad that Ivan Calderon got blasted a couple years ago. He'd have been a fun guy to have hanging around tonight.

- There is absolutley no way that I would ever choose to watch the ESPY's. I'd rather watch a snuff film.

Saturday, July 09, 2005

I'm looking forward to kicking people's asses again.

Sunshine Network ( basically a Florida version of Fox Sports Net) is showing a replay of the 1997 Florida-Tennesee Football game. For those of you that don't remember this year was the beginning of the Doug Johnson Era. It's interesting to watch Johnson now when you think about how good he looked in the early part of the 1997 season. Florida was ranked #1 at the time and Johnson actually looked like a true heir apparent to Danny Wuerffel at the time. Of course, this was a just an aberration, as it soon became clear that Johnson had about as much feel for the quarterback position This year was the beginning of the collective worst four years of my football life. Just amazingly frustrating. Obviously the Zook Era was worse, much worse but it only lasted three years. Which is good because I probably would've killed myself this fall if it had gone on any longer. A few other things that I find noteworthy about this game:

- Jacquez Green was the only real quality college receiver on this team and saw alot of double coverage this year. It really didn't matter though, even with Johnson and a fat walk-on throwing to him he put up terrific numbers. Numbers like: 61 rec for 1024 yards and 9 tds. He also ran for a touchdown and took back two punts. All in all, a hell of alot of fun to watch.

- This Tennesse team was loaded. Not all of of these guys panned out in the NFL but they all came in as highly regarded prospects. Just look at some of these names: Manning, Jamal Lewis, Peerless Price, Leonard Little, Terry Fair, Raynoch Thompson, Shawn Bryson, Marcus Nash, and Dwayne Goodrich. These are just the names that I've heard throughout the replay. I'm sure that their are plenty more guys who I'm missing. Florida had Green, Fred Taylor, Jevon Kearse, and Mike Peterson but neither Kearse or Peterson were guys you would game plan for at that point in their careers. Winning these games didn't seem all that amazing at the time but it definitely does now.

- This edition of the Volunteers featured not one, but two murderers. For anybody who doesn't keep up with this sort of thing they are the aformentioned Leonard Little and Dwayne Goodrich. They sure do run a tight ship up in Rocky Top.

- This was Peyton Manning's last game against the Gators and consequently, his final chance to defeat Florida. Alas, Peyton lost again and took the collar for his career against the University of Florida. 0-4. In my opinion this fact was as or more instrumental in Mannng losing the Heisman Trophy to Charles Woodson as anything that Woodson did.

This leads me to a story from my friend John John was living in Knoxville during this time while in high school. He was a at a play or some type of school function where everybody was being quiet and respectful and all of that other crap. Well, some dude in the crowd was listening to the Heisman ceremony on the radio. When Woodson was announced as the winner he stood up and screamed out (in deeep southern drawl), "Peyton lost the Heisman! Peyton lost the Heisman!".

Have some drinks tonight, you've been a real snooze lately.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

We could be referring to white chocolate, you damned racists!

I love the NBA. I mean I really love the NBA. That's why I was a little mad at myself for not posting anything about the NBA Draft. I'm sorry. It wasn't right.

But...I had my reasons. These reasons are twofold: First I couldn't adequately express my rage over the Magic drafting a man named Fran. Not only that, but a man named Fran who only averaged 8 pts and 4 boards a game in the Spanish League...oh yeah he's also 22. Actually, it's not completely true that I couldn't express my rage. I did so quite eloquently by banging my head against my bedroom door for a solid five minutes after the pick. It's not just that he's a guaranteed bust, but that he is a guaranteed bust who plays the same position as the Magic's franchise player. It's not like there wasn't any talent available at that point in the damned Draft. I mean, would it really have been a bad idea to have Gerald Green or Danny Granger learn the ropes from a guy like Grant Hill? Instead we're going to end up with Kelvin Cato giving Fran Vasquez the NBA Gentleman's tour. Did I mention that Vasquez thinks he might not be able to get out of his contract this year? Jesus. Sometimes I think that David Stern awarded Orlando a franchise just to personally torture me.

Nevertheless, I said there were two reasons that I didn't write about the Draft last Tuesday. The second reason is that I was packing for my trip to Washington, D. C. I only call the city by it's proper name because, apparently, Chocolate City is frowned upon these days? Are you kidding me? Most cities would kill to have a nickname that cool. I bet Cleveland would like oppossed to their latest moniker "Hell on Earth".

So with a lump on my forehead from the night before, my friend Vitas and I went to the Orlando Airport to fly up to DC on Wednesday night. The way we figured it, we'd get in town just in time to start drinking. Too bad only we figured it that way. After we boarded the plane in Orlando, both of us were asked to find new seats on the plane. No, we weren't sitting in someone else's seats just the seats we had purchased. This was the first sign that something was amiss. After a solid 45 minutes of sitting on the runway, the pilot informed us that we'd be getting off the plane for at least an hour. Or as we figured, just enough time to drink 3-4 drinks while barley making it back to the plane in time for takeoff. So, that's exactly what we did right down to the making everybody wait part. After all of that, we landed in D.C. around 1ish. Our buddy Greg was there to pick us up and we ended up back at his place in Arlington by 1:45 or so.

The next few days are were one big beer and jager induced haze. We went to a Nationals game at RFK on Wednesday and did our part to boost the beer sales (both inside and outside of the Stadium) in the greater DC area. Later that night, Greg tried to put on his jammies and go to bed while attempting to placate Vitas and I with Russell Crowe's cinematic debut "Romper Stomper". Now I'm sure that it's a hell of a flick but I didn't come on vacation to watch DVD's and least not every night. With that in mind, I summoned the hellacious guilt trip techniques of my mother Judy. After about 30 minutes of this, Greg could no longer stand my incessant bitching and broke down. Just like that we were on our way to the Rum District (that's downtown for all you virgins) and Greg's favorite little bar, The Bottom Line. The BL (that's right, I'm hip) was a cool and uncrowded venue which immediately felt like home. We proceeded to imbide until the wee hours of the morning while listening to ridiculous rugby stories from Greg's buddy Superboy. I didn't ask why he was called Superboy and, frankly, I don't want to know. The best part of the night was probably when we got out bill. $41.75, for three of us. Now, I'm not saying that we drink like Rod Strickland (who does?) but I'm quite sure we received a sizable discount this evening.

The next day we did a little shopping. I would've liked to have bought something cool that I can't buy in Florida (Virginia is for Lovers anyone?) but instead all I ended up with was a $27 cell phone charger. Thanks buddy, would you like to drag my bare balls across some grip tape while we're at it? As the afternoon turned into the...well late afternoon, we went out to meet some of Greg's college friends at a place called Ray's Saloon. We met up with T.J ( and a few others and settled in for some pitchers and a game T.J. likes to call Classic Rock Shootout. Basically, a group of people draft 3 rock bands and/or solo artists and then listen to the local classic rock station. If your band comes on, you get a point. A simple and fun way to pass some quality drinking theory. On this evening the game should've been called "Rusty Coat Hanger Abortion", because that's what it was. Between the rock station playing 10 minute epics like "Freebird" and Greg constantly forgetting his bands, the game quickly lost steam and we all ended up drinking ourselves into a manly stupor. T.J. : It's not your fault. I promise we'll play when I come up to visit again in 5 years. All in all, it was one of the better happy hours I've spent in a while. Greg's friends were funny guys who seemed alot like the guys I hung out with in college...except, you know, without the cocaine habits. As the early evening was winding down we began to make plans to due some heavy drinking. All of Greg's friends turned us down with one reason or another, though none as classic as Geoff Burr's ( excuse of "I have to help my sister move at 9 in the morning". C'mon. Give me something better than that. Was your sister using you as a burro for the moving? Can her puritanical senses not handle the smell of alcohol emanating from your pores? I'm just saying, Lang Campbell would've expected better than that.

Anyway, we ended up going back out to the Bottom Line since we'd had such good luck there the evening before. Boy oh boy, were we glad that we did. On this evening, it was absolutely packed. Greg, being the mimbo that he is, met some 7 footer that Vitas and I quickly dubbed "Dutch Boy in the Paint". Greg is a big guy but this was a total mismatch. She was killing him on the boards all night, even swatting a couple of his meek offerings into the stands. Eventually, Greg was forced to submit and take her home for the grand tour. Though not before Greg, Vitas and I (okay, mostly me) made fun of some dude standing with his girlfriend on the curb so loudly that he was forced to defend his manhood. It started with his car (waaay nicer than mine) and then we moved onto his clothes. Then we were just plain making fun of him. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and decided to see what our problem was. I don't remember exaclty what I said to him at this point, but I'm pretty sure that I was doing one hell of a CT (from Real World: Paris) impression. That's right...I'm an awesome dude. Once that was all settled, sans fisticuffs, we all went back home where Greg would get posted up all night long by the Dutch Boy.

Saturday was our final night in D.C. and we decided to support the "lively arts" as Greg would say. First we went to the Crystal City Restaurant which, surprisingly, was a strip club AND a diner. Despite Greg's vehement insistence that the food was fantastic, I decided the better of ordering anything because...well, women get naked in there. After a few beers we moved on to some bars in the Rum District which were ridiculously crowded. So crowded, in fact, that we actually watched the conclusion of a NASCAR race on a TV in the far less crowded upstairs of one bar ( a personal first for me). Finally, Greg took us to another home of the lively arts named Camelot. I din't see any round tables in there but there was certainly plenty of scenery. As the evening was drawing to a close, I asked our somewhat portly cocktail waitress if she gave lapdances. Don't aks me why I did. I guess I though it was funny. Well she sure as hell didn't. She responded politely enought that there are no lapdances in D.C. Fair enough. Done deal. Not quite, about 15 minutes later one of the bouncers came by and then unceremoniously escorted us out of the building. I guess I can officially check "Kicked out of a Strip Club" off the list.

We flew back on Sunday and I ended going out drinking with my girlfriend and some buddies of mine. By the time the 4th rolled around, I could barely choke down a beer. I drank three and called it a day at that point. Since then I've been trying to get back into the swing of things at work, which is alot harder to do without the internet at your disposal. The only real event of note thus far this week is that I had a second interview with the YMCA for their Membership Director position. Keep your fingers crossed, I may be starting my fourth job of the summer by month's end and, just in case you were wondering, it pays more than the job I have now.

Sometimes I love me...okay I always love me. Who did you think Carly Simon was writing that song about anyway?

Finally, here's something to think about on your drive home from work today: Dusty Bibles lead to dirty lives...