Super Bowl Weekend Recap

Super Bowl Weekend Recap

Okay so despite the ridiculously random shots we took yesterday (Cuervo, Jaeger, Absolut Peach, Soco), I feel completely fine and it's because the COLTS WON THE SUPER BOWL!!!!!

Naturally it was all due to my lucky Peyton Manning jersey (thanks Stevie) and the fact that I kept rubbing my friend Alex's Chicago sweater for luck, WOOT! I'm still stupidly happy, Kwame said it best a couple of weeks ago when we were discussing their win over New England, it's a bit ridiculous to care so much about a team that isn't even yours. But I am giddy with joy and happy for the Colts.

Anyway, so on Friday I invited my friend Steve over to play. My mom called his mom and assured her that she would indeed, be home. And that she wouldn't feed us junk food for lunch and let us play with matches. Steve rolled in off the train from Manhattan at about 2 or so, and within 5 minutes I had placed a Guitar Hero controller in his hand and we were battling to Cheap Trick's "Surrender." One and a tenth movies later (Maid In Manhattan -- which I took pity on him and removed 15 minutes into the movie "You know how I know you're gay, you like that movie Maid in Manhattan" and Eurotrip) Steve decided to give me a guitar lesson, which ended up being him just playing songs, which then turned into "guitaraoke." Seriously though, guitaraoke rocks!! It's a lot harder than singing along with pre-recorded music, and more fun because for a short while you get to pretend you're an actual musician.

Eventually, Abel showed up with his Nintendo Wii and we (along with Geo) cracked open a bottle of Malibu. First of all, Nintendo Wii is off the fucking hizz-ay. Sorry, couldn't resist. Seriously though, it's a spankin' good time and I mean that in every sense of the phrase. Second of all, Steve and I need to stop hanging out with each other because we're both idiots who egg each other on. I swear we're 12. By the end of the night we had gotten trashed off Malibu Coconut Rum mixed with V8 (yeah you read that right, V-fucking-8) just for the stupidity of doing it and somehow got into a competition in my front yard to see who could handle wearing the least amount of clothes in 10 degree weather, at 4 in the morning, in Jersey fucking City, while Abel watched us and alternately laughed and shook his head at our idiot antics.

Incidentally, playing Nintendo Wii is more strenuous than half the things people do at the gym. Oh and enough shit talk flew that night to fill eight NBA All-Star Weekends, but it's fucking hysterical when it's coming at you in an Australian accent. At one point we were doing flips in my living room and I did a bridge then tried to turn it into a back-walk-over but needed a spotter. So Steve walks over and freaking flips me over in a full backflip. Apparently, I still landed it.

Malibu and V8, the choice of a new generation. "Wiiiiiiiii!!!"

On Sunday me, Geo, Tony and Abel headed into the city to meet up with Steve, Alex and Alex's friend Alex (dude that's like the Bob Newhart Show "Hi I'm Larry and this is my cousin Daryl and my other cousin Daryll") at Tonic to watch the Super Bowl

Tony finishing off the mini-keg (really, who lets us in public)
and Alex representing the Windy City. Alex is about as far from a
hoodlum as you can get so this picture is actually pretty funny.


We decided to do prairie fires, as in tequila with Tabasco sauce.
And by "we" I mean that I decided for the both of us. Steve's shot
has better presentation though. Or is that liquor feng shui?


Alex is pointing out the infamous Chicago sweater that I kept rubbing
for good Colts luck. Incidentally, that's not a Bears sweater, it's a
University of Chicago sweater, his alma mater. You can't mess with the
God of Sports Paraphernalia, he will shoot your team down.


Abel was rooting for the Bears and Geo was rooting for the Colts. Steve
was dubbed "Switzerland" because he's Australian and halfway through the
first quarter, was still waiting for the soccer players to take the field.

One thing (among many) that cracked me up was this random drunk girl in a Marvin Harrison jersey that kept walking up to Alex and screaming "Go Colts!!!!!!!!" and "The Bears suck!!!!!!!" right in his ear. It was mostly amusing because she was doing it to the other Alex as well and I really, really thought he was going to throw an elbow. And by "thought" I meant "hoped" because that would have been even funnier.

Also...

Me: Did you throw that football that just went behind the bar?
Steve: Yeah but it went through Alex's fingers. It was a perfect spiral.
Me: Oh, that's okay then.

Also also...

Never drink Tabasco sauce out of the bottle just because your friends Alex and Steve are doing it. This may seem like a basic instruction to life, along with "Always flush the toilet" and "Wash your hands after you use the bathroom" but apparently there are some people that don't understand this. Especially don't battle your friends, counting seconds VERY slowly, to see who can down it the longest. Especially don't plan to do it again one day, because your friend Steve thinks he blew your ass out of the water with his Tabasco-guzzling time, when in fact you know he lost it harder than a cheerleader on prom night.

Go Colts

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In Defense of Dodgeball

In Defense of Dodgeball

On the phone with Kwame the other day, I once again lamented the loss of the impromptu Wednesday dodgeball games of um, yore. Which led to a dual ten-minute rant on all those kids on today's playgrounds, who will never know the joys of the game. Here are "10 Things You Learn From Dodgeball:"

1. STRENGTH - When you get hit, rest for a bit then jump back in with the same enthusiasm. Don't sit and dwell on how horrible it was to get hit and don't worry about getting hit again. Marvel over how hard you got pegged and yet you're still playing.

2. COURAGE - Never let your fears control you. When you're the team's last hope and six people have their arms cocked back and you in their sights, don't let fear prevent you from getting the job done. Or when it's one-on-one and you're both locked in your tiny circles ten feet away from each other, man up and take that fucker out.

3. DISCIPLINE - As tempting as it is to peg that cocky jerk in the T.O. jersey with a close-range head shot, it's against the rules.

4. PERSEVERANCE - Sometimes you have to overcome adversity to achieve success. Tony broke his finger and finished the game.

5. AMBITION - To peg people properly, you sometimes have to take risks and leave yourself open for a moment. To win big you have to take big risks. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Whether it's one of the 6 balls set up in the middle prior to the whistle or a new job, only people that try will succeed.

6. TEAMWORK - Sometimes you have to take one for the team, such as setting yourself up as bait so that your teammate can take out the other team's best assassin when he goes for you.

7. RESPONSIBILITY - When you're the last person it's up to you to avoid being hit AND bring someone back in. No one else is going to do it for you.

8. AWARENESS - Sometimes the hits come from where you least expect it, so you have to be mindful of your surroundings, young Padawan.

9. HUMILITY - Everyone gets pegged some time. No one is above an ass whooping in the form of 6 rubber balls thrown hard enough to leave a mark.

10. SELFLESSNESS - There is no "I" in "Dodgeball."

Bad Smell Karma

Bad Smell Karma

First and foremost, LT rocks for his stellar play that has pushed our fantasy football team above and beyond the call of duty. Okay fine, and also for that whole breaking Shaun Alexander's record thing. LT restores my faith in pro athletes. If I worked at the NFL I would tote his picture along and flash it every time a player got arrested for drunk driving, murder, assaulting a police officer.

Anyway there's no appropriate segue, but I now have bad fart smelling karma.

It all stems from a text message Steve sent me from the airport last week. He asked me if I knew who Becky Hammon was and I replied that unfortunately, I still had some residual basketball knowledge left from my time at the WNBA league office. (It would be nice if you could climb into your own brain and scrub useless crap out but then what would be left.) He said that he'd conversed with her at the airport for 15 minutes or so, but thinks he drove her away with a fart because all of a sudden she "had to catch a plane." Being the good friend that I am, I laughed my ass off. A lot. If there's anything funnier than farting in front of a stranger, it's cutting a horrible one loose in front of a stranger who's kind of famous (Chill people, I said "kind of.")

So I was on the treadmill at the gym yesterday and an older gentleman next to me farted. The smell was overpowering, even if one hadn't been sprinting for ten minutes and out of breath because she lacks endurance. I tried to stay the course and keep running, so I wouldn't have to start my workout over at a different time. But his second one almost knocked me off the treadmill. I gave up and ran out of there, which actually served no purpose because I left my cell phone behind and had to immerse myself in the smell again to retrieve it.

After doing some sit-ups, I went into the Nautilus room and got on the anal pron machine. Yes, I'm sure it has an official name but you get on your hands and knees, grip something and grunt until your ass hurts. Thus, the anal pron machine. I looked up in between sets, right into the ass of the same older man from the cardio room. He was now in the machine next to me. I held my breath, finished my leg lifts and ran to twisty side-to-side machine. Except we were apparently on some weird parallel wavelength because at the same time, he sat down at the ab machine, with his ass to me once again. Keep in mind there are like 50 different machines in this room. So this time, after working out on the machine, instead of moving to the other ab machine like I was planning, I sat there and waited to see where he was going. He sat down at the leg press, which was across from the machine I was going to next, and this time I would have been sitting five feet from his open legs, directly in the line of fire. I went back to the cardio room. Luckily, while I was back on the treadmill again I saw him leave the gym.

By the way, the "Kids Say The Darndest Things" stage has officially begun. A heavyset man with grey hair and a red jacket walked by Geo at the gym and one of our three-year-olds pointed and cried out "Santa Claus!!!!!!!!" Geo was mortified but I couldn't stop laughing when he told me about it later.

Groupies

Groupies

Kwame sent me an article about one of those groups of people we happen to mutually dislike, groupies. So our list of people that we dislike (and in some cases loathe) reads like this:

Pedophiles
Murderers
Rapists
Car thieves
Political extremists
Any team Terrell Owens or Kobe Bryant is on
Groupies

It may seem weird to dislike a group of people devoted to spreading their legs, until you work for a sports league and have to deal with them. Think of a woman with the aggression of a soccer mom fighting for the last discounted TMX Elmo on Black Friday, the attitude of a beauty pageant contestant who knows her competitors look better and the self-importance of a celebrity's best friend demanding that Hermes open exclusively for them when the store is closed and workers are rushing around trying to prepare for a promotional event. Then multiply that by a hundred and you have your average groupie at NBA's All-Star Weekend.

The article on ESPN's Page 2 discusses how groupies have now been given the Power To Act by book publishers. Great. I once read the autobiography of Linda Lovelace while waiting in a doctor's office. Knowing about groupies making money off their groupieness gives me the same feeling the chapter on Lovelace having sex with a dog did. Jemele Hill wrote some official rules for atheletes and groupies in the article but she missed some that should be covered in the lecture rookie athletes are given when they enter the league (the one that the existence of Shawn Kemp necessitated):

1. Use a condom. Use a condom with spermicide. Use a condom with spermicide that has been dipped in holy water and blessed by a rabbi. "I'm on the pill" is this century's equivalent of "I have a bridge to sell you."

2. Do not give a groupie any type of gift. That's called "evidence." Make her take a shower with you after copulation. Brush your clothes off with a lint brush. Remove what CSI refers to as "trace evidence." The rule of thumb for most cheating husbands is that if you're stupid enough to walk back into your home reeking of perfume, with a long blonde hair attached to your Armani sweater then you deserve to get caught.

3. The groupie's place is in the motel bedroom. Motel, not hotel unless you're on the road. There's no need to spend that kind of money on a sure bet. When you start taking her out in public you're opening a can of worms that also contains snakes, caterpillars, tarantulas and roaches.

It's not the sluttiness of the groupie's endeavors that's sickening, but the mercenary aspect of it. The idea that their vagina is their meal ticket, not for survival but for diamonds and furs. If a groupie was just having sex because she was a fan that's one thing, I mean how many guys are going to turn down the chance to have sex with Jessica Alba. Say there's one girl whose "magic number" would make her a defensive end on a football team. And another whose number is low but she bangs men for what gifts they can give her. The second one deserves the scarlet letter (S for super hoochie gold-digger.)

My point is that Kwame thinks I'm easy, he said so in this conversation:

Me: I was trying to explain to Geo how a guy could let himself be used by a gold-digger. But he's an attractive, charming, intelligent man. He's never had to work for it.
Kwame: Yeah, you barely even made him work for it. Not that you usually do.
Me: True. Oh and thanks for calling me a slut.
Kwame: No, I meant that once you decide you're going to sleep with a guy you don't play games.
Me: Haha meaning I didn't sleep around but I slept quickly. I don't have the patience for coy little mind games.
Kwame: See, you're not easy. You're EFFICIENT.
Me: Word. Nice recovery.

Okay that wasn't my point but I wanted to get it in there. Quickly.

Back To Our Regularly Scheduled Programming

Back To Our Regularly Scheduled Programming

I won't be putting up the download until later, but all you need to know about last night's show is that:

The Raiders were a mess on Monday night. ARE a mess, Kwame would correct me on his sports blog (which I love). Up against the team with the best rushing defense they decided to rush as much as possible. Then rush some more, despite gaining very little yardage. So then they came out after the half and decided to make up for it by "passing" as much as possible. I say "passing" because that implies a quarterback actually throwing properly to an intended target. Aaron Brooks was horrible. Allegedly he has a 54% completion rate, which is weird because *I* would probably have a 54% completion rate if I played in the NFL. In his minor defense, the few times he did manage to get the ball into a receiver's vicinity, that receiver dropped it. And his offensive line crumpled every time a Charger breathed on them. On top of all that, the ghost of Norv Turner/Kerry Collins is still around because the Art Shell/Aaron Brooks combo apparently also holds the notion that plays involving Randy Moss should be used sparingly. The only semi-bright spot in the whole miserable game (well, besides the fact that my fantasy team has LaDanian Tomlinson again but we're talking about the Raiders right now) was that the defense picked it up after the half. Oh and Shane Lechler. It's sad when there's so little to cheer about you have to get happy over your punter. But, like a true Raider fan I'm optimistic. We have to get better because we can't get worse. Plus (to quote Geo) "Our team can kick your team's ass." Literally, we mean. And what. By the way Jerry, don't sit on the sidelines and laugh at your quarterback getting sacked a hundred times. It's mean.

Now on to some random TV thoughts:

1. I take back what I said about Sanaa Latham, she is smokin' on Nip/Tuck. She came on last night in a sleeveless black dress and a Chanel bag, and even though some old woman was feeling her up I was still like "Damn, she's hot." Incidentally, what the heck are they doing with this new Dr. Christian Troy lusts after Dr. Macnamara storyline. They're killing me. If Dr. Troy were even remotely bi he would have nailed Bruno Campo's character. Before they found out he was a psychotic serial killer of course. Even Dr. Troy has to have some standards. And good call by the producers on the random scenes of full Julian McMahon posterior nudity. By the way, that Nip/Tuck commercial with the two doctors fixing up the sculpture still turns me on every time I see it. I'm like Pavlov's dogs.

2. They left Jack Bauer languishing in some Chinese prison for almost 2 years, and Wayne Palmer (the sleazy Presidential Brother) is now president of the United States, having run I assume on a platform of public sympathy for his assassinated brother. Season 6 of 24 is going to rock.

Look what I found at Target for 9 bucks.

3. My preference for the remaining contestants on Rock Star: Supernova in order of like is Dilana, Toby, Magni and Lukas. Yes, Lukas has a better voice than Toby and Magni (and pretty much all the rest of the male contestants) combined but it's not like he's entering a genre that places that at the top of its requirements. Vince Neal, Steven Tyler, Axl Rose and company don't exactly have great vocal talent. What I dislike about Lukas is how angsty he is. He acts like he grew up in a foster home, where his foster parents made him suck dick to support their own crack habit. So if that didn't actually happen then his entire persona seems contrived. Magni seems like a nice guy but to me he's like the flower-shaped carrot decorating your dinner plate. It's cute that it's there but doesn't really affect your enjoyment of the actual meal. Toby is just plain fun as hell to watch and the Australian accent is sure to draw in even more groupies. Dilana is awesome, I didn't think what she said was as bad as the editing made it seem like. And let's face it, rock stars have said far stupider things in the history of music.

4. Right now I'm moving Kwame to the bottom of my friends list for getting me addicted to that trainwreck of a show Flavor of Love. It's insanity. So far in the season one of the girls has taken a dump on the living room floor, contestants have come to blows over which bed they want to use, we've seen Warren G more times than we've seen him in the last ten years and Flav has banged about half of the contestants. And when he's not banging them he is swapping saliva in close-up shots that make me throw up a little in my mouth each and every time. Good Lord. And yet at 1a.m. on Sunday night, there I am channeling towards VH1. I can't eat while watching the show though. You never know when Flav might get the urge to tongue someone up and then all of a sudden it's one cheeseburger gone to waste.

5. I may have to jump on the Survivor: Season 13 bandwagon, only for this one season. They're going to divide the teams up by RACE. That's another trainwreck in the making, but I bet it will be funny as hell to watch.

Crikey

Crikey

1. While it really shouldn't be an enormous surprise that someone with his um, enthusiasm for wild animals was killed by one, I still yelled "Holy Crap Steve Irwin died!!!" Sure he shouldn't be dangling his kids near crocodiles, but I liked his show and liked watching him interact with the animals he loved so much. And it was plain to see that he loved his wife Terri and his kids very much, even if there's no way someone who wrestles with crocodiles is completely sane. Pour some Fosters out for our homey, or should I say mate, who ain't here no mo'. Fosters from the U.S. though, since apparently Foster's sold in actual Australia sucks.

2. This segue sucks but a month or so ago a group of us ate at some restaurant in the city called "The Sunburnt Cow" that boasts authentic Australian food. Some things I learned:

-Guava tequila is yummy.
-Kangaroo tastes like a cross between pork and beef.
-The "Aussie burger" or whatever is weirdly good. It is a regular burger with lettuce, tomato, a fried egg over easy, bacon, beetroot, cheese and a slice of grilled pineapple. Okay reading that you probably want to hurl a little but it is insanely delicious.
-I could eat a hundred "Lamingtons" (sponge cakes dipped in chocolate and rolled in coconut.)
-Even if the Aussies were critical of this specific restaurant's offering, pavlova (some dessert involving meringue, fresh fruit and cream) is also freaking good. I'm going to Australia. I don't know when but it's happening.

3. I cried like a baby during Agassi's farewell speech. I'm teary about sports ceremonies as it is, like jersey retirement ceremonies or when they award Olympic medals. But I straight up sobbed when Agassi was speaking. I love that guy. To me he is the quintissential face of tennis, someone who brought everything to the table, his A-game and the ability to excite fans. Plus he seems like such a stand up guy, as evidenced by the three extended standing ovations from three different groups of people (the fans, his fellow players, the media) today. I remember being a kid and watching him play exhibition matches at the Great Western Forum in Los Angeles, over 15 years ago. No really, I love this guy. I hope he takes up coaching or something.

4. Robb Todd of 8o8 blog fame wrote up an article on the MTV Video Music Awards, check it out. But I must pass on his own warning: "In the interest of journalistic transparency, I must reveal that I just bought a Crock Pot. What's worse, I'm really excited about it." I too am excited about his crock pot, but only because I plan to one day drop by his apartment unannounced and reap the culinary benefits of it. Oh and raid his bar. But that's kind of a given.

5. I like to think I'm pretty open-minded about the whole breastfeeding in public debate. I figure a woman should be able to feed her baby when he's hungry. But a little discretion goes a long way. We were at The Olive Garden the other day and some woman fed her baby at the table, then burped him, put him down, rummaged around in her purse for a bit, wiped his mouth, had a conversation, rummaged around in her bag some more and THEN tucked her tits back into her shirt. Yes, the biological purpose of breasts are to nurture children. But the biological function of the penis is to create children, and the biological function of the female genitalia is to create and deliver children, yet I don't want any of those next to my Fettucine Alfredo either.

6.If you hate Myspace you're going to hate Catch-27 even more. There's something intruiging though about the idea of trading people like they're a commodity. Oh who am I kidding. Like most bloggers I'm self-absorbed and just like to fill out questionaires about myself.

7. My current cause is to boycott Burger King. That's my official contribution to better society. I am boycotting Burger King in protest of their using that greedy fool Drew Rosenhaus (T.O.'s agent) in their commercials. There's no way in hell they should be rewarding such scum for his greed. Of course, I'm already keeping away from fast food so this boycott is no skin off my back. But it's the principle. Okay I'm just fucking around but still, shame on Burger King.

2006 U.S. Open

2006 U.S. Open

On Monday Geo and I busted out these:

And headed on over to Queens to join the masses converging on the U.S. Tennis Center for Andre Agassi's last U.S. Open. The last time Geo and I went was in 2002, before our kiddos were born. That day we apparently smoked some imaginary crack because we spent the entire day watching tennis matches, then headed to Jones Beach at night to catch Aerosmith live.

You know this picture gets taken like 46304 times a day.

When we got to the tennis center, we were scared out of our minds by this really long line that wrapped around the entrance. Turns out it was the security line though, so it moved pretty fast. Tennis fans don't carry too many suspicious-looking objects, except maybe the sunscreen and Evian. We went to go watch Tommy Robredo play, but the previous match was still on. Since we didn't recognize either of the women playing, Geo and I placed bets on the outcome. I joked that I was rooting for the Asian chick because I'm racist, but really I rooted for her because she brought a grocery bag filled with food onto the court. She's like my twin. She also whooped her opponent's ass, which won me a free homemade dinner of my choice from Geo (I'm thinking steamed crab legs and garlic mashed potatoes.)

Tommy Robredo played next, versus some guy who looked as if he'd been recently shipwrecked, as in "I HAVE MADE FIRE!" Not only wasn't he the cleanest-looking of people, he also hocked a huge lugie onto the court, right at the feet of two visibly disgusted ballboys. I am not racist when I pick who I want to win the match, by the way. I am a cleanist. I vote for whoever looks like they bathe regularly. Extra enthusiasm for people who brush their hair and maybe moisturize. Robredo's game started out well though, the first hour was basically a slugfest from the baseline. It's always fun to watch two players with awesome groundstrokes, the rallies are extra long.

One thing that irked me though concerned the guy sitting next to me. He looked like Niles (from the show Frasier) and picked his nose regularly. It didn't bother me that he was picking his nose, just that I couldn't stop watching him do it. I missed quite a few good points in the match while watching his finger go from his left nostril, to the right one, to his jeans and back up. You have to be careful at sporting events, there are cameras everywhere. Leave the wedgie in your crack until you can get to the bathroom, no matter how uncomfortable it is. During All-Star Weekend once, one of my friends told me that the MSG television guys thought I was attractive so they followed me around with their cameras (unbeknownst to me). He said they had like 20 minutes of footage. Hopefully in that 20 minutes I didn't do anything like scratch my ass or blow my nose, then study the contents of the tissue.

We left the match early and headed into Arthur Ashe stadium, to catch the end of Andy Roddick's game. Our seats were in the nosebleeds, we were closer to the jumbotron with Andy Roddick's picture on it than we were to Andy Roddick. But it's still worth it just to feel the energy of the place for a bit.

At one point an airplane flew over the stadium and it
seemed a lot closer to us than the tennis court.

After Roddick was done spanking his opponent, we wandered by the practice courts to see who was there. I was hoping to see Martina Hingis or Rafael Nadal, but no such luck. We did however get to see Martina Navratilova, who can still kick ass on the tennis court.

Since we were already there, we sat down at the court next to her to watch the match in progress. It was Justin Gimelstob versus some guy. His dad was sitting right next to us and kept up a running commentary during the game. "Come on Jay. You can do this Jay. Don't let it go. Right here. Right here." To be honest, it sounded like really bad gay pron. But it was funny as hell. And in all honesty, I do it too when my favorite players are on and I don't even have the excuse of being their dad.

"Yeah Jay. Right here." On a funny note,
some old man thought I was a player.

Afterwards, we jumped courts and watched someone named Marco Chiudinelli play Fernando Vicente, the 89th player in the world. Battle of the qualifiers I guess. Vicente is from Spain and every time anyone would cheer for the other player, his entourage would turn around and glare and say nasty words in Spanish. This of course, only encouraged me to cheer loudly whenever possible. It was also helped by the fact that Vicente must be like 30 and his girlfriend was about 16. After he lost I shook my head and said "You see? Pedophiles never prosper. Except R Kelly. And Michael Jackson. But just them. Not you." Geo still thought the girl might be his little sister, but I hope not since they started tonguing it up after the match.

I posed for this picture so everyone could see
the lovebird and his love egg in the background.

At one point though, I was a bit worried. I was reaching into my bag, which has metal chain straps and one of them fell onto the metal bleacher. The resounding noise caused my Swiss player to fuck up his first serve. Everyone turned to glare at me as I studiously avoided meeting the player's eyes. I had momentary nightmares that he would get broken that game, which would lean to a downward spiral that caused him to lose the next two sets. Luckily that didn't happen. On a side note, it wasn't as bad as the time I got shushed by Roger Federer by association.

At long last, it was time for what the entire U.S. Open grounds had been waiting for, Andre Agassi's potentially last match ever at Arthur Ashe. We weren't able to get tickets so we sat with the hundreds of people watching on the big screens outside the stadium. Agassi was losing and so I kept changing seats, trying to find the one that would help him win. YES, I'm one of those fans. We already knew this. Someone gave me a ticket to go in (after hundreds of people left without even glancing at us) but we only had one and I wasn't about to leave Geo. Plus I was obsessed with finding the perfect seat to help Agassi win.

So not the perfect seat.

Finally, after he was down in the third set I told Geo if it gets to 3-0 then we have to leave because we are "malas"-ing him. Malas means "bad luck" in Tagalog. So at 3-0, I rushed us out of the tennis center, despite wanting very badly to actually be in the stadium during what looked to be Agassi's last U.S. Open match. But I still had hope that if I could find the perfect seat somewhere that he would win. YES, I KNOW I'M A COMPLETE IDIOT. It was 4-0 when we pulled out of the lot, and I turned off the radio. An hour later, as we were crossing the GW Bridge, Agassi had come back and won that set. By the time we pulled into our house, he was serving for the match. Do you see??? Do you see how spectator sports work now???? You have to find the perfect seat!!! Incidentally, never have fireworks at an event with bomb-sniffing dogs everywhere. Please.

And that was Monday, good times.

Soccer Hooligans

Soccer Hooligans

6/26 12:55 p.m. edit: Please ignore the entire post following. I don't mean a word of it. Soccer sucks. I wish I were a man as tall as a tree, with balls the size of soccer balls, and then I would drop them right onto the faces of that whiny ass Italian World Cup team. There is no way I can get on board with a sport that almost requires men to cry like little girls when they trip and fall on the grass, in order to get game-altering calls. And in a contact sport with crappy refs, a player only gets two freaking chances and if he blows both he can't play in the next game either? What kind of idiotic crap is that. That bullshit penalty kick called in the last minute of the game was the most ridiculous moment in sports I've ever seen. FIFA should be ashamed of themselves. Now I know why refs get shot. This one should refrain from ever vacationing in Australia. Or ever standing at the edge of a crocodile pit. People would cover him in gravy, meat and peanut butter (Geo says "and cats") before tossing him in.

* * *

I am jumping on the World Cup bandwagon. Geo woke me up yesterday and told me to watch the games, since playoffs don't allow ties. That was my main point of contention with the sport, that I couldn't get into something that would more often than not end in a tie. Since then, I have watched the Mexico-Argentina, England-Equador and Portugal-Netherlands games and have enjoyed myself. There were a few moments of discomfort, mainly when some player would get his hair rumpled and a stretcher would be brought onto the field to carry him off. And the ref in the Portugal-Netherlands game apparently ran out of yellow and red cards and started handing out slips of paper he scribbled on with crayon. But other than that it was fun.

Since I'm not really a soccer fan, I have no sportsy and analytical reasons behind my order of teams to root for. The list stands as:

1. Australia (For Steve, Ray, Matt, Maria, Rhandy and company). You can't just get stinking drunk with people and not cheer their countrymen on. It's rude.
2. England (Just because I like the country). Even if they do make fun of Australians a little too much in their TV shows. Okay, I'll admit the real reason I'm cheering for them. IF YOU'RE NOT A MANC, YOU'RE A WANK! My baby takes the morning train...
3. Ukraine (They are my Croatia of 2006).
4. Portugal (Because I've always wanted to go to Madeira Island.)
5. Argentina (I have no reason for this.)

And there it is folks, quite possibly the dumbest reasons ever to cheer on a sports team. Geo said "Well those aren't the best teams..." And I was like "Dude, I don't care or know shit about soccer. I'm not cheering for the best teams I'm cheering for the teams I'd like to see win.") I'm a Raiders fan for God's sake. What the hell do I know about cheering for a winning team.

I don't understand why Americans don't care about soccer, and yet enough suburban kids play it that we've coined the term "soccer moms." Is it because our guys aren't number one in the world? I bet we could be if more black people played the game. Oh come on, you know it's true. We need to start implementing after school soccer programs in areas with a high black population. Maybe get Nike to officially subsidize full scholarships to colleges for soccer players. I bet by the next World Cup we'd be a soccer powerhouse. As long as the egos didn't get so ridiculous that we had another repeat of the men's basketball performance in 2004. Did I just offend a whole crapload of people? Probably. Oh well, what can you do.

One thing I've always loved about soccer though are how rabid the fans are. Soccer hooligans, one and all. It's great. I want to be a soccer hooligan.

Random Stuff

Random Stuff

1. The games this past weekend were just painful to watch. But during the Redskins game I heard this gem: "Brunell to Portis and he gets laid.............. down uh, hard." Hee.

Geo: You know who my favorite QB is now? Tom Brady.
Tony: What???
Geo: Just kidding.
Tony: I was about to smack you.
Me: I was about to step over you to smack him.

2. I accidentally vacuumed up a baby mouse the other day. I was pushing around the little dustbuster when something got jammed so I turned it off. Then this little baby mouse came flying out and landed on its back. I probably could have vacuumed it back up again while it was flailing around in terror but I was too surprised. Sucks. Now that thing is going to grow up and spawn 10 more mice, which are going to grow up and spawn 100 more. You know how people always say there's no point in re-inventing the wheel? I think it'd be good to re-invent the mousetrap. None of mine work. The glue traps just sit there until one of us brushes up against it and the mice seem wise to the snap traps. Either that or I need to have dumber mice. My father-in-law catches like 8 with one trap.

3. I had a dream on Saturday night that my friend Ant was on some sitcom about lumberjacks. Half the show was set like when Mr. Rogers would send viewers off to the Land of Make Believe. Afterwards, me and Lani were sitting at a bar set at the edge of an ice rink. The drinks were served through a hole under the counter (too many glory hole jokes) and there were ice skating performances going on. Half the solo performances were by guys that did some sort of hip-hop ice-dancing thing. It may seem like a weird dream but it's the norm for me. My brain has a ball when I can't control it.

Oh and the dream which was kind of appended to that one consisted of me being at a choir performance without the proper sheet music. So I was at this music hall filled with thousands of people and I was frantically searching through the deserted rehearsal area for the proper sheet music. Meanwhile, one of my dream friends, some little 10-year-old Spanish kid decided he wanted to run the performance and have people sing with "more flava." It was like Honey meets the Ice Capades meets The Sound of Music meets where-the-fuck-is-my-sheet-music.

4. And the dream I had last night consisted of me and Geo trying to escape some rabid Hells Angels types. I was on a bright yellow Ducati and he was following me in our car, with the twins strapped into their carseats. At one point he jumped on another yellow Ducati that materialized out of nowhere while my aunt and uncle from Queens drove our car (flying over us). It was very bizarre, we rode indoors and outdoors, by rivers, in caves and at one point I'm pretty sure there were fairies around. Note to self, stop dropping acid at night.

5. It'd be cool to have a domain name but I'm not creative enough to think of one that fits.

6. I've been craving those "Turkish Delights" (Fruit Delights) that I decided to buy after watching The Chronicles of Narnia. My thrifty heart was pounding at the thought that since their popularity is seasonal, they might be on sale at Target. Nope. Couldn't find them at Walmart either. I even checked Marshall's, though their cute country foods section is like 1/10th of an aisle big. They're pretty gross but I really really want them. Not for 14 bucks a box though. I paid $4 for the first one.

7. Why do people always want entertainment to be realistic? I think realism is overrated. Who wants to watch a fucking movie about work performance evaluations, high energy bills, car theft and whether or not the new microwave can wait until the next paycheck. I would rather watch a movie where the good guys always stop the bomb in time, the home team wins, miracle cures are found in magic gardens and the lovebirds always sail happily off into the sunset.

"Never go against a Sicilian when death is on the line!!! MUHAHAHA--"

*plunk*

Wasn't that fun?

Sperm, Blogs, Death and Ebay

Sperm, Blogs, Death and Ebay

1. My friend Nik passed around what may be the most valuable link of the holiday season. Some people may be having difficulty finding appropriate Christmas presents for their girlfriends, wives, mistresses, friends, whatever. What do you get the woman who has everything? The Sperm Necklace. Nothing says "You're special" like a pendant engraved with sperm. Seriously, I want one of these. And no "I'll give you a sperm necklace" comments please, it would offend me. Not the subject matter, but the obviousness of the joke. Obvious jokes are highly offensive.

2. I've been blogsurfing lately, to avoid productivity. People really take blogging seriously. "My blog is better because I talk about serious topics." "My blog is better because it's funny." "My blog is better because it's not a mommy blog." "My blog is better because I don't use 'memes.'" Blah blah blah. Dude. They're blogs. Who fucking cares. I'm a hypocrite though because I've read some blogs and thought "I could be folding laundry right now."

Wouldn't it be fun if they handed out Blogging Licenses? Like you had to apply for them at Blogger/Google headquarters. "Welcome people, you have 10 minutes to write a post on... Venetian blinds versus drapes. Start!" Anyone who can make that interesting deserves their Blogging License. By the way... what's boring to one person might not be boring to the next. Like when someone cries on their blog about how someone had the "audacity" to diss Led Zeppelin, I laugh my ass off.

3. I haven't written any football odes in awhile. I'm feeling inspired.

Ode to Jay Feely
The game was close and the pressure lay
Upon thine shoulders to lead the way
To victory, the team waited with breath held
For thee and thine foot to save the day.

The kick sailed wide, but still they believed.
Possessions in overtime could well be achieved.
Yet two more failures and the light was dimmed,
The Giants left Seattle, stunned and bereaved.

4. Speaking of bereaved, is it disgusting or sweet that some guy spread his mom's ashes all over the Eagles' field? One part of me is going "Eeeew, people get thrown face down on that field" while the other part is going "Awww, what a nice son." But surely, there had to have been a more hygienic way to deal with his grief.

5. Oh and... Can we pour one for Pat Morita? You know you all loved Mr. Miyagi. And I for one, am sad that one of the three Asian-American actors out there is gone. Now all we have left are Lucy Liu and Sandra Oh (as long as she doesn't get kicked off Grey's Anatomy). We really should have fought harder for the rights to Tiger Woods in the racial draft. He's more ethnically Asian than anything else but black people planted their flag first. Smart. But that's a whole different post, today it's about Mr. Miyagi and how sad we are that he's gone.

6. Since I can't seem to get off the subject of death, let me just say that I've been walking gingerly around my house like it was filled with land mines. We finally had to resort to rodent poison in our struggle to exterminate prolific mice. My sympathy for them, which once led me to pry a live one from a glue trap with a fork, is completely gone. The poison is working but it's impossible to plan where their dead little carcasses end up. I want to be the person who finds them because better me than my kids, who will probably throw them at each other. But I also don't want to be the person who finds them, because then I'd actually have to pick them up. My point is I hope Geo finds them. Fucking mice. Incidentally, PETA activists (Kaan) who are reading this should be screaming up bloody murder right now. It's worse than animal testing. We are killing mice for no reason. They have as much a right to exist as any of us and we are robbing them of that right. Shame on us.

7. And speaking of killing, some woman got tired of picking up after her family and is E-baying all the stuff they leave around the house in one week. Who wants to be a fly on the wall when her family finds out what she's done? She says she's going to videotape their reactions. If the tape doesn't have to be entered into evidence at her murder trial, I hope someone posts it on the internet.

Random Crap

Random Crap

1. Cross-marketing is out of control. Can someone please explain to me why there would ever be a need for Hummer brand cologne? There's even one for women. I wonder if it smells like that air freshener "New Car Scent." You know, for all those people that want to smell like a car. Mike J points out that the advertising copy reads "The Hummer adventure begins with a fresh and exhilarating burst of freshness..." I'm glad they clarified that. I hate it when freshness is unfresh and boring. Personally, I think it should be food companies that cross-market into colognes. If some guy smelled like popcorn or bacon frying I would follow him around for days.

2. I want to open up a restaurant that's going to be a cross between Bakers Square and IHOP. Of course, I only want to do this so I can name it "The Pancakery."

3. LT is back, much to my fantasy football relief. Testaverde blows. Donovan McNabb seems to be trying to prove something to critics that say he doesn't look for the pass enough. I personally think he should just play HIS game. Randy Moss is the third-option receiver on the Raiders. Torry Holt is playing next week, finally. Former players-turned-commentators are annoyingly biased. "The Eagles organization needs to respect T.O." Yeah okay, that must be because he's been so respectful himself and not undermined the team at all with his egotism. I would like New England to get spanked tomorrow night, but I'm not greedy. I'd take any win for the Colts.

4. When I was a kid, I used to LOVE the Pippi Longstocking books and movies. I'd push our two couches together to make a pirate ship, or pack a knapsack and run around our house pretending I was in Villa Villekulla. So I just about had a heart attack when I walked through Best Buy the other day and saw that all of the movies are now on DVD. Ain't technology grand? Add that to Shelley Duvall's Faerie Tale Theatre, The Black Stallion, The Journey of Natty Gann and The Black Cauldron and all my favorite movies as a kid are now on DVD. Toss in all the episodes of that old show Rags To Riches and I could sit at home re-living my childhood for hours. Anyone else remember that show? It was about a bunch of orphans who went to live with a millionaire named Nick Foley. They used to sing oldies like "Dream Lover" and "Yakety Yak" in every episode. I loved that show.

5. Speaking of fairy tales, I have a few questions and thoughts about them...

• If Cinderella's slipper was "a perfect fit" then why did it keep coming off?
• Why would Baby Bear's bowl be "just right" if it was the smallest one? Wouldn't his bowl be the one that's too cold instead of Mama Bear's, which had enough porridge to sustain heat?
• Instead of destroying all the spindles in the kingdom, why didn't Sleeping Beauty's parents just keep an eye on her during the year she was 15? And in those 15 years that there weren't any spindles in the kingdom, how did people make any clothes? I assume there wasn't a 15 year surplus of thread in the kingdom prior to the evil fairy's curse.
• In the original tale of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, she's seven years old when she's cast out and her Wicked Stepmother tries to kill her. After she eats the poisoned apple, she never changes in appearance, meaning she doesn't age. So when the Prince saves her and makes her his bride, she's still seven years old, which makes him a Royal Pedophile. Seems to be a common theme in fairy tales though. The Frog Prince married a kid who cried because her golden ball fell into a well.
• If the Old Witch was smart enough to build a house made of candy to lure children to her, why wasn't she smart enough not to lean into an oven with Gretel behind her?
• The Little Mermaid was the poster child for corporal punishment.
  

Which reminds me, on Saturday night we were driving through Clifton Commons around 9:30 and there were a whole bunch of scantily-clad young teenagers running around. Instead of ogling them like a lot of our friends do, Geo yelled "Go home before you all become sluts!!!" See what happens when you become a dad.

Stuff

Stuff
(I wonder how many posts I've had through the years with this one word as the title.)

1. I just walked barefoot through the kitchen and accidentally stepped on some random grape. It felt really gross. Like a cold little eyeball. Tasted good though. Hey, the 3-second-rule doesn't apply in your own house right? Just kidding. Eeew.

2. Ever since I quit smoking I've been fiending for coffee. How's that, instead of losing a vice I want to trade it in for another. Maybe it's just the bargain shopper in me. I naturally balk at the idea of losing something without gaining anything in return. Luckily, it's not a craving I find difficult to suppress. Unlike my constant craving for Indian food or taquitos or country-fried steak with southern-style gravy. I'm a pregnant person without the pregnancy.

3. Word verification is everywhere. I just had to type in odfjfyskj to save this post as a draft. I also have to type in ryhsdfnds if I want to send an e-mail to more than 5 people. Fricken spammers. All this eoitjerfgm is making my head hurt. Letters in random order make my head hurt. Who wants to look at this ojnfdjkgh fyslqkzmw pdtmqoxrf mwbsqykl over and over.

4. I forgot to ask Jesus something the last time I saw Him at Dunkin Donuts. Why do ultra-religious people consider cursing to be against God? I mean I understand why you're not supposed to say shit like "goddamn" or "Jesus fucking Christ." But what's so wrong with a person saying "It smells like shit in here" or "She's such a fucking bitch?" As long as, you know, you're not saying it in church. To a priest.

5. Been watching this World Series game since the 7th inning and it's in the fucking 14th inning. How can a sport be so boring and yet so exciting at the same time. I'm not even a big baseball fan and I'm glued to the set. 9 walks for the Astros (who I'm rooting for because of Andy Pettitte) and no runs. It's annoying and yet enthralling..... FUCK. Okay, that's what I get for bitching. Oh well. If a team can't capitalize on that then they don't deserve to win the World Series.

6. This is the funniest fucking thing I've read all week. Guess what, Sheryl Swoopes is gay. Also in the news, grass is green. Rain is wet. Snow is cold. The sky is blue, except over Los Angeles where it is this murky brownish yellow. I love it when gay people say the break-up of their marriages has nothing to do with their sexual orientation. What, you don't think the fact that you don't really want to have sex with your husband or wife will ever affect your marriage? Sex is an important part of marriage. It's the reason why even after you get married, you should still work out, bathe regularly, shave your legs, take your wife out on dates and dress up every so often.

I laugh when people say they should love each other unconditionally forevermore. If Geo gains 200 lbs from eating Big Macs like they're pretzels and stops bathing so that random cheese starts appearing in various pockets of his body guess what... I'm out. Payce! Don't let the door hit my ass on the way out. I can handle up to 60 or so extra lbs. Maybe more as long as he bathes. I think that's reasonable considering he's not popping out any children. But it goes both ways I assume. If I gain 200 lbs, have leg and armpit hair long enough to braid and my greasy ass head leaves stains on the pillow, then he has my permission to bounce and find himself someone cleaner. Actually, I am in more danger from my theory than he is. Geo has the metabolism of a hyperactive 8-year-old on a sugar high. And this theory doesn't take into account random medical conditions, just laziness. "I don't have time to work out." Right. I used to work over 100 hours a week, plus a 2-hour commute every day. Even I had 2 hours a week to work out, not that I ever did. It was either work out or go drinking and after my work week you know which one I chose.

7. I got an e-mail from Kwam the other day with the subject "Your Christmas Present." In it was a link to this. Is it me or is that just wrong? I don't want that in my house. If Kwam gets me that I am going to re-gift it to one of my guy friends. They can make homemade pron videos from hell with it. If their ladies are willing. I know if a guy came at me with that I'd be like "You're looking for a blowjob but what you'll be getting is a kick in the ass or three."

8. Which actually brings to mind more college stories. As many of you know, UC Santa Cruz is or was a clothing optional campus. Don't get too excited, no one attractive ever took advantage of it. What most of you may not know is that it is comprised of a bunch of colleges, each with its own theme. Like Kresge College is where all the hippies were. And Stevenson was where all the country club people were. I was at Oakes College, which was nicknamed (by the Oakes students) "The Ghetto" since it was predominantly black/Mexican/Asian while the other colleges were predominantly white. The preceptor of my dorm (adult supervisor) was also the proctor (security guard) at Porter College, which was the artsy college and had a reputation for being very bizarre and sexually free. He told me that one night on Halloween, he was doing the rounds when he came to an open door. Two beds were pushed together in the middle of the room, with white bed sheets flowing from the ceiling. In the middle of the beds were like 10 people having sex, all naked except for masks. The "head" guy (hee) was wearing a mask that extended above his head, comprised of a tree trunk with real branches and leaves. It's been over 10 years since I heard that story and the imagery is still implanted in my mind. Crazy ass people.

Stuff In My Head

Stuff In My Head (Besides My Brains)

I just spent half an hour brushing doll hair. And enjoying myself a little too much. My girls kept bring their Kelly dolls up to me so I could fix their hair up. At one point, I realized that they were occupied reading books on the floor and yet I was still brushing, and had been brushing for the past 5 minutes. I always figured I was 12, but didn't realize it was actually more like 6. Yes, I bought my girls Kelly dolls. I am being Ross on Friends, when he saw his son playing with Barbies and bought him G.I. Joes instead. They like to climb, run around and destroy things. I thought girls were supposed to have tea parties and play with dolls. Then again of course my kids don't do that. I never did that. My friends and I used to dress in cammies and smear face paint on, then slither around in their backyard with frogs and snakes playing War. I had this awesome black plastic gun that shot yellow rubber bullets. My friend's brothers each had one too, but she didn't because her mom said guns weren't for girls. So the rest of us shot rubber bullets at each other and she just kind of threw pebbles and twigs.

Janelle and I were plastered on Saturday night. We went to a family dinner at a cousin's house and her husband kept making us these vodka lemonades. Well, vodka and a splash of lemonade for color. My uncle/Janelle's father-in-law told him we would drink all his vodka. We didn't though, there was still a couple of inches in the jug when we left. I hope. We had a couple shots on the way out the door so I'm not sure. When we got back to Janelle's we made the brilliant decision to karaoke. It's a testament to how close our family is that no one killed the two drunken idiots singing Blondie songs at the top of their lungs at 3am.

At a birthday party earlier on Saturday, we were discussing that woman who just had her 16th kid. Someone asked how they could afford all of them, and I said I thought they were pretty well off. One of our friends chimed in that if you have over 8 kids though, the state will use tax money to put them all through college. Is that infuriating or what? Way to reward people for personal irresponsibility. Yeah I said it. If you can't afford to have 8 kids (excepting higher order multiples) without state assistance then keep your legs closed or your dick in your pants. Why should other people pay to send their 8 kids to school when they may not even have enough money to send their own. Ridiculous. How about you take my tax dollars and pay to have these peoples' tubes tied.

I made some idiotic fantasy football decisions this week for Geo's team. Given a choice between Eli Manning and Drew Bledsoe, I made a sentimental choice and picked Manning since he was from the Giants. There is no room for sentimentality in fantasy football dammit!! Plus, I benched Antowain Smith, who I picked up after Deuce McCallister got injured and started Corey Dillon instead, knowing he was a bit injured. Stupid stupid stupid. Luckily, Santana Moss had an awesome game, as did the Atlanta defense. And LaDainian was amazing as always. By the way, I always call LaDainian by his first name, as if we're friends or something. It's just one of those names that when you first hear it you're like huh, but after awhile you're like "Hey that's a cool name." Like Deuce. You can't get away with naming your kids that unless you're black though. It would just be weird to see some little Filipino kid walking around with the name "Deuce." I have to think on this. I want my nonexistent son to have a bad ass name.

Sunday Bloody Sunday

Sunday Bloody Sunday

My previous post was getting too long so I split it into two. On Sunday, we sat in front of the television and watched the Giants game. Then around 3:30 I looked over at Geo and said "You don't take me out anymore." Now Geo knows I never say crap like this so he accurately figured I had some place already in mind. "Okay, where do you want to go." At this point I gave my very best puppy dog eyes and said "The Raiders are playing the Cowboys this week." So Geo and I went to the sports bar, to nurse a beer for three hours so we could watch the Raiders game. While watching the Eagles game. While watching the Atlanta game. While watching the Jets game. I'm like a kid in a candy store around that place but I think I'm going to get whiplash.

Speaking of the bar, I'm not a fan of those fitted women's jerseys they make. They remind me of those slutty NBA jersey-dresses. I don't understand why they have to make them all hoochie, can't they just be smaller like the kid's jerseys?

Wait.... did I mention I watched the Raiders game? Who did they play again.... oh yes. The Cowboys. Oh and who won again.... oh yes. The Raiders did. Nicky, you are so lucky I left my phone at home. You were going to receive your very own serenade. The lyrics of that special song were something like this... "I said WHO'S HOUSE??? RUNS HOUSE!!! WHO'S HOUSE??? RUNS HOUSE!!!!" Yeah I know. We're 1-3 but it doesn't matter because guess who that 1 was. Plus Kerry Collins is kinda getting the picture. I mean he did actually realize that Moss was on the field a few times so the Sunday after next should be interesting. The defense should take the next couple of weeks to figure out how they're going to shut down LaDainian Tomlinson, the heart of my fantasy line-up. In my own little selfish world, the Raiders would win but LaDainian would score a crapload of touchdowns.

By the way.... "roughing the passer" because Warren Sapp rock-bottomed Drew Bledsoe? Come on!!! That's football!! Okay fine. And yeah it wasn't quite the rock bottom but it was close. I miss seeing the rock bottom. I did it to one of my girls the other day (very gently of course and on the bed). She thought it was hysterical. Especially since I yelled "ROCK BOTTOM!!! ROCK BOTTOM!!" while I was doing it. I'm a good mom. No really.

11:00 p.m. edit: I can't believe I of all people forgot to say this. I LAUGHED MY ASS OFF every time the 41-17 score flashed on the little ticker on the television screen. Every single time. I mean outright belly laughs, deep from within. It was a great, great day of football.

Also, I love it when they pan the crowds in Oakland. Is it me or are Raiders fans just the skeeviest, grubbiest football fans alive? One wonders how they can afford the price of admission. Or how often they bathe. This includes me of course. Also, concerning the Raiders' cheerleaders... where did they find so many white girls in Oakland? I've never even SEEN a white girl in Oakland besides them. I guess they had them imported from Minnesota or something.

Football Odes

Football Odes

People are very fond of haiku, but I am unable to jump on the haiku bandwagon. They don't make sense to me so my mind rebels at the idea of writing any. I say "Hey mind, write this haiku" and my mind says "No, asshole. You go write it." Since I can't write any haikus, I decided to write odes instead. And since today was game day, I decided to write odes with that theme in mind.

Ode to Kerry Collins

I think that I shall never see
A quarterback more fearful than thee
For what else can explain your need to remain
Upright and tackle-free.

Thine eyesight too, is much in doubt
For thy ignorance of Randy's whereabouts
When thine arm is back and set to release
To a fourth option scrub thou sends it out.

Ode to LaDainian Tomlinson

"Get Manning" some said, prior to our draft day
He'll put up points and win you the day.
But no, I decided and with the first pick in hand
I chose thou to come out for some fantasy play.

Every week thou work magic with thine legs to wield
But this night especially, I was thrilled with thine yield
192 yards and three touchdowns thou scoreth with ease
And even threw one touchdown thyself down the field.

Ode to An NFL Ref

Methinks the sport would be more of a blast
If thou removed thine tongue from the Patriots' ass.
In games whereupon New England parades the field
The gay fans cheer as yellow flags hit the grass.

"Roughing the passer" thouest cry, with hands on the hip
"Taylor bestowed a mean look upon Brady, I saw it."
"Encroachment" thouest cry, after blowing thine whistle
"James Farrior moved a hundredth of an inch, just a bit."

Me, Geo, Tony and Cue hit up one of those bars that show every game to watch the Raiders at Philly. As you can see, Cue and I were rooting for different teams but no blood was spilled. Only a little ranch dressing and some Yuengling (on tap, bleeccchh). I had to laugh out loud though when one of the commentators said the Raiders were "the best 0-3 team out there." Thanks. Our schedule did suck though.

Tony's new phone takes pretty good pics.

My favorite part of the afternoon was when the Raiders scored and a loud cheer erupted. Then 30 seconds later, the Jets did something good (not sure what because I wasn't watching) and one guy cheered. Then stopped because he was the only one and said "I guess no one cares about that huh." I patted him on the back sympathetically and said "It's not like they're our area team or anything." My sarcasm seemed to comfort him immensely. See I'm good for something.

Monday night edit: We lost our fantasy match-up by TWO FUCKING POINTS. TWO FUCKING POINTS. Jason Elam kicked a 51-fucking-yard field goal which gave our opponent 8 fucking fantasy points and the win. Why do I torment myself with fantasy football leagues. Of course, it could just be my karma biting me in the ass for secretly wishing he would get a bone spur in the first quarter.

Crap In My Head

Crap In My Head (Not Literally)

1. Yesterday was a bittersweet day for football. Well, for me at least. The Raiders lost but oh... so did the Pats! Waaaaaaaaaahh.... and yet WOOT! I had a mini-heart attack when Jake Delhomme threw a high pass on second and goal at the 2-yard line. Twice. Can I get a run play? Thanks. Oh and remind me to send a note to Kerry Collins that the coverage on Randy Moss wasn't as strong as he thought. There were quite a few times I saw Moss reading a magazine on the field. Once, he started doing pilates. And I'm not trying to be greedy since I think we've got a lock on our fantasy match-up, but if Janikowski had made that 50-yard field goal it would have been 8 fantasy points! Eight!! Next week the Raiders are playing in Philadelphia, so my two favorite teams will be going at it. And I can't watch it live. Because Eagles' tickets are more expensive than black market kidneys. Judging from ticket prices, every person you see in that stadium is filthy rich. But the Raiders will be back in our hood again on December 11th, to play the JETS (hint hint Kwame).

2. I finally made my donation. I know it took forever but I had to get funds in order. Couldn't decide which organization to hit up so I split it between Habitat For Humanity and the Presbyterian Children's Home and Services in Corpus Christi, which is placing children in their own group home and private foster homes. A woman from that town I was talking to last night said their department of childrens' services was taking care of hundreds of infants/toddlers that parents just handed to rescuers. And they're too young to say who they belong to. How sad is that?? They're being cared for by volunteers so I'll put together a package of some sort with baby supplies to send.

3. Been sick since last Monday. Caught it from a sick kid who gave it to my kids at a party the weekend before. Is it me or should parents who knowingly bring sick kids to a party full of kids, be drawn and quartered in the town square? I especially hate those parents who tow their sick kids around because they take it personally that anyone might think they're germy. Guess what, kids are germy. So take your germy ass kid home and cook him some fucking chicken soup will you? On the not-so-plus side, I finally get to refer to my twins as "those snotty kids." Because they are snotty, or rather snot-filled. I feel like I'm going to cough up some major organs. Covered in green slime. Was that too much information? I am one of those people that likes to open the tissue afterwards to check.

4. I am starting to hate my blog template. I mean don't get me wrong, I still like the simplicity of it. But I've had the same one for almost 4 years now (only changing the color here and there). It is literally Blogger's original "Simple" template with an image in the header and a table thrown in. So any suggestions people? I've tried re-building a new one from scratch but that turned out to be a ridiculous undertaking for someone who is html stupid. My table is like the Frankenstein of tables. I would just like something nice and neat and perhaps a bit funky. And even though I'm Asian, I don't want any techno music or twinkle twinkle little star jpgs or Hello Kitty shoutboxes or flourescent pink anything. I know, now they're going to revoke my racial membership (wait 'til they find out there are no stickers on our car either.)

5. Now that I know that being gay isn't actually against God, I need to come up with a contingency plan for the future. Because you know, when the time came, I was just going to sell Ray out. Toss him towards the fire and be like "What are you coming after me for, he's GAY." Now what the hell am I going to do. This whole "being a better person" thing just seems beyond me.

New England Blows

Last Night

Don't you New England fans start thinking you're all that. Well never mind, you already do. You always did, even before the existence of that pretty boy fruitcake Tom Brady. But though you have good reason to gloat, even I admit that, I still fucking hate your team. Your day in the sun will end eventually. I am prepared to wait it out.

And don't count the Raiders out because of one fucking game. Though it would help them if I had NFL Sunday ticket and could sit in my chair without moving while watching their games. Hey, it worked when I did it for Agassi remember.

Sports Fans, Marital Sex, Pregnancy Tests and Scotty Doesn't Know

Sports Fans, Marital Sex, Pregnancy Tests and Scotty Doesn't Know

1. Two weeks into the Riss Versus Philip Morris No Smoking Open and the score is 28-0 for the home team. 28 times I was tempted to give in and take a drag and 0 times I gave in. The answer of what I would do when faced with a night of drinking has been answered. I pump my fist in the air in triumph and invite all my friends who didn't think it could be done to blow me. On your knees, ye of little faith!! Or you could give me Chex Mix Turtle. That works too. I think two bags would go a long way towards easing the hurt of this appalling lack of faith in your dear friend.

2. Any day now I will be expecting my thank you card from Andre Agassi. Because you know, it wasn't his skill, superb athletic ability, endurance, belief in himself and mental toughness that enabled him to beat James Blake in 5 sets after losing the first two sets and being down a break in the third. No, it was not. It was because of me, and the fact that I didn't leave my seat or even move it for the last 2 1/2 sets. Seriously. That alone is what caused the win. Because I sat down and he started winning games, so Geo and I decided that must have been the catalyst. So for the next two hours, my idiot self stayed put. I didn't get up to get a snack, didn't get up to take my allergy medicine, didn't get up to pee. I just stayed in my chair and yelled things like "That's it Andre you can do this and I know you can hear me!!!" I felt bad cheering against James Blake because I like him and the story of how he recovered from a neck fracture is amazing. But it's Andre Agassi so I had to cheer for him. And sit in a chair without moving for two hours for him. Aren't sports fans stupid?

3. You know those people that say all the mystery dies after marriage. It just might be true. Geo's new pick-up line to me is "Let's lie on the bed naked." And my oh-so-sexy and witty repartee is "Okay." But you know me, I'm a fan of efficiency and bluntness. To me removing all the verbal foreplay is a good thing versus a bad one. And our sex life would probably be set back if Geo was inclined to give some big pre-coital speech every time. Though the idea of Geo giving some inspirational speech remniscent of Mel Gibson in Braveheart before we have sex makes me giggle. I picture him striding around at the foot of the bed and saying "Tonight, is an act, not about biology and procreation but about passion and the hearts of men and women..."

4. I was watching the Sharapova-whoever match a couple nights ago and they showed a pregnancy test commercial. Is it me or do the makers of these things not have much confidence in women at all? First tests were dot or no dot. Then they were pink mark or blue mark. Then they were one line or two lines. NOW tests will actually have the words "pregnant" or "not pregnant" appear. Then again maybe the idiot-proof tests are a result of women complaining about confusion. I'd like to know so I can hang my head in shame if they are.

5. Speaking of commercials being played during the U.S. Open, they keep playing that Expedia commercial with the father daydreaming about going on vacation with his son. There's a cheesy Simon and Garfunkel-type song in the background that goes "Being a dad is awe-some" and it's just supplanted the "Scotty Doesn't Know" song from Eurotrip in my head. For the past few days I've been walking around randomly singing that one line. At least with the Eurotrip song I knew like three lines ("I can't believe he's so trusting, when I'm right behind her thrusting. Scotty doesn't know, Scotty doesn't know, Scotty doesn't know...")

Take Me Out To The Ballgame

Take Me Out To The Ballgame
(I know, unoriginal as hell but you have to give me some latitude, it was my first time going to a Yankee game. Prior to tonight I was a Yankee virgin. Okay that sounds like the title of some sports-themed porn.)

The owner of the company Mike works for gave away two of his seats, he has a whole crapload of season tickets in the FIRST FRICKEN ROW right past third base. At first I was apprehensive about going. I admit it, I had fears of one of the following occuring:

A) I get hit by a foul ball off a 90 mph fastball.

-or-

B) A fly ball gets hit into our section and instictively I interfere, when it would have been the last out of the inning with bases loaded, so I get booed and escorted from the stadium, while people throw food (not so bad) and beer bottles (bad) at me.

Can you just imagine someone throwing a half-eaten hot dog at me and me catching it and then eating it anyway? I can.

But my fears were unfounded because we didn't get hit by anything and no plays came our way. Except one, a grounder which brought Derek Jeter in close proximity to us. I motioned to him and he came over, leaning over into the box questioningly. I leaned over in a cloud of Bath and Body Works' Sun-Ripened Raspberry, looked up at him with smoldering eyes and in my sultriest voice said....

"Hey Derek, can I have Jessica Alba when you're done with her? Thanks."

Okay so that didn't happen but it was a good night anyway.

This is me about to turn around and hug Yankee Stadium.

We got to the stadium in the 3rd inning, and the score was tied at 4-4. Mike said that we had to order a crapload of drinks and food from the waitress because they don't come around very often and the food takes awhile. Let's just say that by the time I stumbled into my house, the contents of my stomach included four Budweisers drunk from a PLASTIC bottle (ghetto ass Yankee fans need special precautions), one Italian sausage sandwich with grilled red peppers and onions, two bags of potato chips, some fries, two captain and cokes, one Ketel one and cran, four SoCo and lime shots which I just remembered right this very second, two White Castle Jalapeno cheeseburgers, White Castle fries, onion rings and chicken rings. Yes, you fucking read all that right.

But back to the game.

Sitting close enough to pick the players' noses definitely has its advantages, mainly that you REALLY get into the game because it's almost as if you're actually playing too.

Fun Fact #1: The front row that Mike and I were in was added to the original seating, it used to be part of the field. You guys can thank Mike for that one.

So the score was tied, but then Tampa Bay scored some more and then there was some really exciting moments when the bases were loaded and the Yankees could have tied it. It was especially exciting for me because I looked up at the Jumbotron or whatever it's called in a baseball stadium and it said "WARMING UP IN THE BULLPEN: MARIANO RIVERA" and I jumped up and down because he's my favorite player and if this fucking Yankee at bat would just hit a double they would be bringing him out in the next inning. Alas. It was not to be. They didn't score so they didn't bring out their closer. But I did get to watch him sit in the dugout and blow bubbles.

Fun Fact #2: I am NEVER going to a baseball game again unless I am sitting in seats like those. Otherwise it's just not going to be as much fun. Which won't be for awhile though becuase the next time Mike gets seats, he's taking Tony, since the time he took Tony it was raining. Rain schmain.

The game went downhill from there, but it was still a good night. There was this dorky little Staff guy who was walking around all full of self-importance. Two hoochie-esque girls a bit younger than him asked to be let past, even though he denied a whiole bunch of big guys that were behind them. He let them in and one of the Tampa Bay outfielders tossed one of them a ball. The guys were so pissed, I've never seen people angrier. They started threatening the dorky guy and he was mad quiet... until they started walking away. He heard Mike and I making fun of what he'd done so he kind of tossed out a weak little "You should have said that when you came in" comeback to the pissed guys. I was like "Quiet, you're going to get your ass kicked. And we won't help you." I wouldn't have either. Any guy that pulls shit like that because he thinks he might get some poontang deserves to get his ass whooped. I still had some fries and half my beer left, would have been a good show.

Fun Fact #3: The chick behind us almost got bitchslapped because she kept yelling "HOLLER!!!" First of all, you're not supposed to pronounce the "er." Second of all, article 12 section five of the White People Constitution says "None of our people shall use terminology like 'fo shizzle' and 'holla' and 'wack' unless they are named Eminem." Just like Commandment 7 of the 10 Asian Commandments is "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's dog for a good stir fry."

On our way back to the VIP parking lot one of the players almost ran us over. Forgot which one though.

Anyway, here are the pics:

Couldn't resist a picture of me and the field.


Everyone else was sending Derek mindwaves like "Hit the ball."
I was sending mindwaves like "Come on Derek, give me Jessica."


Ooooh Joe Torre does NOT look happy. Not that he ever does.


Who says taking it to the head isn't ladylike? Do you SEE the
extension of the pinky? Ladylike. All I need are some crumpets.


There's no indignity in having to clean up after people...
unless maybe, they make you do the YMCA dance while doing it.


Thanks Mike, you rock!! And thanks staff guy, for providing the entertainment!!