...the sky is falling!

If a wise man ever once said "appreciate your bathroom ceiling, for one day it may come crashing down in a hail of paint chips, concrete slabs and damp, musty drywall", he was right. I now am missing roughly a quarter of the ceiling over my shower, and while I must admire the workmanship of whoever built the framework of the apartment, I'd much rather admire the workmanship of the guy who threw on the last layer of paint on the ceiling that worked. This went from a "whoa, I better get this looked at", to "I can't believe I've forgotten about this for a week, but its held up", to "okay, this is bad, does it constitute and emergency maintenance request as per my lease?", to "I better get some more packing tape on there to cover the newest crack", to "yep, there it goes." And, as Murphy's Law would have it, it gave way around 11pm last night, right about the time I was 2 hours into the 5 hours of sleep I was salvaging before work. The best part about that is, right about the time I can come home and get that sleep again, I'm sure I'll have at least 2, probably 3, maintenance men digging around my apartment, pounding and hammering right next to my bedroom. And, since the part that fell is a clever curved segment, I'm guessing the repairs will take the better part of 3 weeks to get done. Oh joy.
******
I'm a big fan of ESPN.com's "Sports Guy", Bill Simmons, but watching his segments in ESPN's "Top 25 Sports Movies of the Last 25 Years" left me wondering about the guy. Big time. I've never met the man, in fact, the only time I've seen him before last night was in his 25 x 25 black and white headshot on his ESPN Page 2 articles, but his appearance last night scared me.
For some reason, he didn't seem like the guy who I had read so many Vegas stories about, the guy who has more sports, and sports entertainment, knowledge in his left hand than I do in most other parts of my body, which is saying alot, because I know some pretty jacked up shit when it comes to sports. (Of course my family knows, but did the rest of you know that Steve Lombardozzi hit .412 for the Twins in the 1987 World Series? Didn't think so.) But anyway, this Simmons was different. Instead of breaking out with stories of how he once camped out with nothing but a keg fridge and a VCR until he had memorized every syllable of "Major League", I was seriously waiting for him to say like, "Oh my god, in college, me and Smitty would watch 'League Of Their Own' at the Kappa Grabba Wang house and do shots of Apple Pucker every time Rosie O'Donnell laughed. Oh, that Rosie. I got soooo drunk that night, Smitty didn't even want to spoon with me afterwards." It was just that bad. All my images of this man who would be welcome at any party, on any road trip, or even just to drive to Kroger to buy milk with were tarnished, nay, destroyed. It was like finding out that Santa Claus has never spent a 3 day bender in Vegas with a half change of clothes and a hotel reservation riding on his next hand of Caribbean Stud.
Fortunately, Tom reminded me that the Sports Guy is good. Granted, it was with a farting vs. smoking reference in the comments to this post, but it restored my faith nevertheless. So I spent a good part of my morning catching up, rereading, and then rereading again some articles from the Sports Guy archive, and I'm good to go. Even if he does have a silly frat boy look and a touch of a lisp on occasion, and even if he is the epitome of a Boston sports fan (Who, I firmly believe, at least privately, screech like Nancy Kerrigan with a steel bar across her kneecap everytime the wind so much as changes direction at Fenway, an ill-advised icing is called on the Bruins, or the Celtics pull off a blockbuster trade for the likes of Vitaly Potapenko.), the man is damn funny. I think it was just one line in his NBA Draft diary that reeled me back in:

8:45 -- My dad's take on Stephen A. (Smith): "I feel like I'm being yelled at."

That or it was the 50 or so other jabs at Stephen A., Stu Scott, Dick Vitale and others. I stand by my claim that when Stephen A. Smith comes on the screen, I want to quietly set my wallet on the TV and walk away slowly. The man scares me!
Okay, so I think, what, 600 words and 5 links should be enough penance right?
******
Incidentally, the comment that Tom made is the perfect analogy to the smoking ban issue. I had been trying to think of a correlation to something you could do in your own home, your own space, but not get away with in public, and somehow only heroin use and child abuse came to mind. And I don't think they look to kindly on those wherever you do it.
88 days and counting.
******
And finally, about ESPN's list of Top 25 movies in the last 25 years. I made the mistake of complaining about Slap Shot's omission, until I realized that came out closer to 30 years ago, just missing the cutoff. But still, while it was hard to argue with any of the top 5 (Hoosiers, Raging Bull, Field of Dreams, Bull Durham and Caddyshack, in that order), how Caddyshack doesn't get at least the two spot, I don't know. I never saw Raging Bull, and while Bull Durham and Field of Dreams are damn good baseball flicks, Caddyshack is Caddyshack.
Here's the complete list, which shows that with about 5 exceptions, the 6-25 is pretty much complete crap.

...smoke (free) on the water

In one of the more kick-ass, useful political moves EVER, Columbus City Council passed a smoking ban for bars and restaurants last night. So, as of September 29 or so, you're not allowed to smoke indoors in public in Columbus. Not that it really bothered me all that much, I'm plenty used to smoke filled rooms, but I can't explain how great it will be to walk out of a bar, and just smell like the beer I spilled down my shirt. I'm not even all that big on the health aspects, though that has to help some, but a perfect "case in point" came up last night. Sitting in b-dubs after a less than pretty round of golf, enjoying a couple beers and a round of Golden Tee, the girl sitting next to us playing video crack thought that she was well within her personal rights to hold her cigarette high over her left shoulder, clearly well within MY personal rights. I believe that public space should be shared, but when one party is introducing a known carcinogen into said space, clean air wins. So I can't wait until late September. Lady, the "personal space" for you and your cigarette is now outside. Enjoy the autumn air.

The even better, more immediate news is that I got home in time to watch the Rangers with a 2-0 lead on Seattle, then blow said lead, yet drill 3 more HRs and win it 8-4 or 8-5. Still in first place. And in Atlanta, the oldest player to triple in a Major League baseball game? Once again, its the great Julio Franco.

On a sad baseball note, this morning's 6th rerun of SportsCenter reminded me that the Red Sox and Yankees are set to start a series this week, which means wall to wall coverage of stuff I don't care about. On the bright side, the part of ESPN's contract that mandates the airing of at least 9 Yankees, Red Sox or Giants games a week gets a big boost, and maybe we can see some other teams for a change.

...wham, bam, thank you ma'am

If you haven't seen the video of this fight, you need to. And fast.

Someone needs to tell Tonya Harding that the way to win fights is NOT to punch the other girl's fists with the side of your face.

...feed me!

Whew! I'm pleased to announce that I've brought this site a little more up to some of the standards needed to make it MUCH easier to get around. Namely, I broke down a Blogger template and rebuilt the CSS to somewhat mimic the look I had before, and I added an RSS feed. Anyone who looks at their blog list regularly through RSS/XML, please check it out and let me know I'm doing something right! (If it does work, I have to give props to FeedBurner.com!)

And the most surprising part about it all is that I kept a very similar look, and it only took about an hour to get it reworked!

...we want you as a new recruit

Boulder, Colorado... young girls partying... yeah, this one has Gary Barnett written all over it.

...or maybe Kobe.

(Thanks to Jason for digging this gem up for us all to share.)

...un"contest"ed

Thanks to Charlie, I have something to do this morning. (Okay, work could probably give me something to do, too, but this is much more fun!) While most of this is silly, childish, and most of all, disgusting, its a hell of an idea! The theme is "What if there was a contest?", and its pretty self explanatory. My take on the fun:

1. What if there was a contest to lick the entire floor surface of one room in your house?

If I had the option of sweeping, cleaning, scouring, sealing and covering my floor in, say, cherry pie filling, I think any of them would work. If that's not allowed, I'm going to have to take Door #3.

2. What if there was a contest to stuff as many of one kind of food into your mouth as possible?

I used to see if I could eat a Twinkie in one bite/mouthful. But that would just count as one. Pretzels seem to work well, but the ensuing dry mouth and salt-related injuries is horrible. For some reason, candy corn is coming to mind right now.

3. What if there was a contest to guess a number for a million dollars?

This is the fun part. I would have no idea, but I'd probably guess 14. I'd be way off, but I'd guess 14.

However, as I explained at Charlie's, I don't have a million dollars, but I still have G-Mail invites to hand out. That said, I'm thinking of a number, just between 1 and 5,000. Whoever guesses closest without going over (Bob Barker-style), gets a G-Mail invite. Even if you don't want/need/care about G-Mail, please humor me.

Ready? Set? Go!

4. What if there was a contest to make the nastiest-possible-sounding hyphenated word from two not-so-especially-nasty words?

Well, I used the word "zebra-monkey" earlier, referring to this gem (courtesy Mr. Poon), though the word "shuffle-waddle" entered my mind, and that thought was disturbing enough for me.

5. What if there was a contest to wear a 'holiday mascot' suit every day for a full year?

The suggestion of a leprechaun suit seems outstanding, though outside of the proper, intoxicated setting, you're just the crazy guy in the leprechaun suit. Though the free beers seem appealing to me.

Is there a mascot for Labor Day? What about Flag Day?

If you go as the Easter Bunny, you have to deal with things like this, which could really, really suck. I'm sure Santa gets some of the same treatment, and who knows what they'd do to Cupid.

Maybe I'd just be a Hannukah bush.


Daily reminder: Texas Rangers, first place.

...losing the side bets of life

I don't know if its ingrained in my head from a previous lock, but I've lived at my current apartment for 10 or so months, and I still can't turn the key the right way to unlock the door. In fact, you could probably hold a gun to my head, offer me a trillion dollar bill, and hold a gas can and a match near those things which I hold most dear (that being the Family Guy DVD, 4 Hartford Whalers jerseys and the June '96 Penthouse...or was it July?), and I STILL wouldn't be able to turn the key the right way. I don't know what it is, but I never get it right.

Also, as I'm happily driving to work the other day, thinking about how I haven't filled my gas tank since June 7th, and am just now going under half a tank, I notice the unthinkable. The gas station at the corner, both of them, which had been sitting on $1.65 a gallon for the better part of a week, jumps to $1.87. Wha? I figured at the very least, I'd see it creep toward the $1.70 mark one day, cut my losses and top it off then. Now I'm left to wonder if my streak of never paying more than $1.98 a gallon is in jeopardy. I shudder at the thought.

P.S.... The Texas Rangers are still your "first place Texas Rangers"

...ain't nothing but the G-mail, baby

I understand the allure of free email.
I understand the allure of free email in roughly 250 times the quantity that it had been offered before.
I understand the allure of staking your claim to one of any infinite number of potentially untouched email addresses "@gmail.com".
What I still don't understand is everyone's NEED to get G-Mail.
What was (and still is, with some good weeding through) a great forum to exchange thoughts, ideas and answers to blogging and blog designs, has turned out a 630+ post thread of people begging for G-mail. Nothing but potentially a thank you in return, not that anything should be EXPECTED in return, but its the principle of it (there's principalities involved here!).
A check at e-bay listed 7500+ auctions for "gmail" (WITHOUT the hyphen, I'm sure the number is closer to 10,000 including all spellings). Someone is actually starting the bidding for "moviedirector@gmail.com" at $1,000. Dream on, Skippy. Of course, 9 people have boosted the pricetag on "nickyhilton@gmail.com" from $20 to $100.

"Don't you people have homes?"

Fortunately, I found a great outlet for my remaining G-mail invite(s). Gmailforthetroops.com is trying to connect military men and women overseas with people that have G-mail accounts to give away. I think its a great idea, basically giving soldiers the ability to have a "floating hard drive" to save pictures and movies from friends and family. While I'm 1-for-4 on actual military people replying, and there's no way to know where that person is located in the world that ARE in the military, but service stateside or abroad is worthy enough. Besides, when THEY get invites, they can more easily spread them to their friends and family overseas.

Man, I've written alot about this, and all I really wanted to do was rip on the losers that have to disguise themselves as soldiers, or otherwise beg, grovel, whine or pay for a G-mail account. Oh, and to pimp gmailforthetroops.com. It really does seem pretty solid.

******
Speaking of e-bay, I think this kid is either the biggest, smartest stud in the world, or he's about to be one rich-ass loser.

******
Oh yeah, as of this minute, 1:53PM EDT, your beloved Texas Rangers are in first place in the American League West.

Oops, its 1:54, and they're still in first place.

...streaks on the china

I hate, yet am always fascinated by, the times I catch a glance of a field of text, and swear I saw a particular word or phrase, then have to go back and either find the word, or figure out which words I might have seen that led me to believe I saw the word in question.

Anyway, yesterday I glanced at this page, and could have sworn I saw the name "Ilene Graff". Though I was pretty sure I would remember writing about the actress that played the mom on "Mr. Belvedere", I had to try to figure out where I saw that. (Okay, so I originally wasn't going to pass this story along, but I figure now, anyone that does a web search for "Ilene Graff" is going to hit my page, most likely. Why anyone would do that, I don't know. Of course, now that I've used the name "Ilene Graff" two no, make that three times now, I'm sure to be climbing up the Google list. For searches on "Ilene Graff", of course. Not David Graf of the Police Academy series of increasingly awful movies, or Steffi Graf, the former tennis star and pretty damn hot man-half of the Agassi-Graf marriage. But Ilene Graff. And its eating me up inside.. MARSHA! Okay, now its no longer eating me up inside that I can't think of her first name on the show. George (Bob Uecker) and Marsha Owens, with children Kevin (Rob Stone), Heather (damn, I'll get back to her...) and of course Wesley (Brice Beckham, child prodigy and current star of a series of porn flicks, entitled, obviously "Bent Like Beckham, Volumes 1-12". And of course, the loveable, yet currently deceased butler played by Christopher Hewitt, Lyn Belvedere.

My brother and likely Tom will kill me, but I can't think for a second who the actress that played Heather. (I found out, with some help, and I'm still kicking myself. But I'll let the other's flex their '80s TV muscle before giving this one away.)

So any-hoo, I think I had more to say in this post, but now that its the perfect google-able shrine to one of the best shows the 80's had to offer, I'll leave it alone.

...yellow brick road?

Ya know that TV ad where John Kerry says "we are the can-do people"? Everytime I hear that, I keep picturing the munchkins from The Wizard of Oz. "The Lollipop Guild" were can-do people, too, you know.

Retief Goosen wins golf's US Open, continuing my streak of way-off sporting predictions. And would someone please show Ernie Els to the course? I think he forgot something. Showing up.

...my day at Shinnecock

I shot exactly the same round as my pre-US Open prediction Brad Faxon did today, the 471st consecutive round of zero I've posted in major tournament competition. Who's this Tiger guy, anyway?

Speaking of Tiger, if he "shoots a 65 or 66" and wins this thing, as NBC's Johnny Miller predicts as a possibility tomorrow, I'll eat Johnny Miller's hat. That is if I can pry it off of his head from between Tiger's thighs. You know the scene at the end of "Caddyshack" where Judge Smails snakes in the putt on 18 and proceeds to slobber all over his putter, Billy Baroo? That's what I picture Johnny Miller as if he got 5 minutes alone in a locker room with Tiger.

As for the rest of the Open, I will never again complain when a fast green causes a putt to slide a mere 6 feet past. Okay, I'll complain, but those greens at Shinnecock border on silly. Not so much the fact that you have about 5 square feet of space to land on and hold most of the greens, but the putts that were lipping out and rolling 3, 4, 12 feet past.

As for a prediction (read: kiss of death), I really don't have a problem with any of the top 6 or so winning, but is it asking too much to get a repeat of the back 9 at Augusta? Only I hope the players decide it, more than the course.

Oh, you wanted a name? Well, it would be beyond cool to see Fred Funk win it. He seems to have a great personality on the course, and though he's scrambled on a number of holes, why the hell not?

Though I really like saying "Shigeki".

*****

New trivia question on the horizon:

Who holds the Major League record for most RBI after the age of 45?

Like I even have to tell you the answer. (Though a good hint is he's currently hitting .290ish with 5 HR and 25 RBI, and just took the Indians deep tonight.) That made up pretty good for a Saturday night at home, with no work in the morning.

Bud Light, you're my only friend.

...STILL perfect

I've discovered the key to maintaining a perfect softball managerial record is to only coach the games against the bad teams. And "bad" is a generous term. Sure, they were all nice guys and gals, but they just didn't have it on the softball field. There's no reason our scrubby team should beat ANYONE 21-4 in 4 innings. But it happened. Not to brag about accomplishments on the coed rec softball field, but someone went 4-4 and hit for the cycle in the debacle. That's right, 2-0 as a coach AND I was smacking it around like Ike Turner last night.

...starting at guard... THE MESS-IIIIIIII-AHHHHH!

I've long heard/told the joke about the athlete that thanked God for letting his team win (and the fact that you never hear the losers talking about how God cheated them, or Jesus made them fumble), but the last game of the NBA Finals the other night got me thinking. Series MVP Chauncey Billups (he of the well-inked biceps) made a comment about how "this is what God chose me to do, so I did it." It made me wonder if some priest somewhere felt cheated. Afterall, God told HIM to give away all his worldly possessions, live a relatively lonesome life, aside from a few nuns, a couple other priests, and the one weekend a year when he can let his collar loose at the church fish fry. Yet here's ol' Chauncey, and God's role for him is to play a game, get paid millions of dollars to play said game, and then get paid a little more plus a car after God helps him win MVP. That and he gets more tail than a priest could ever hope for, even at the world's biggest altar boy convention. I tell ya, its just not right!

*****
In other news, the long-promised photo gallery is on its way! I don't think its going to fit in with the template of the rest of the site, but that could change soon, anyway, so I won't miss it. But with it will look sharp and be quite functional. With the help of a few VERY helpful Dreamhost subscribers, and Robert's tutorial, I installed Gallery. I'd type more, but I'm too busy patting myself on the back. It took awhile to get started installing it, but once I got going, it worked like a champ!

*****

Just saw more about "the foul ball guy". He gave the ball back to the kid, AND tickets to a game in the future. Are all you freaks happy? Jeez, I can't believe this guy is still getting villified for that! Next time, he should make it worth the trouble and rip the kids leg off. As I said yesterday, going for the ball was not wrong, not giving it to the kid after the fact MIGHT have been wrong, but it should never be this big of a deal. I'm almost ashamed that it happened to the Rangers. It has made their fans and broadcasters (including former GM Tom Grieve) look like the real idiots. (When, after the past three games, they've proven the REAL idiots are on the field!)

Sticking with sports, another former Hurricane is now with the Blue Jackets, as they've signed goalie Arturs Irbe. He had a great run in the 2002 playoffs, got the Canes to the Cup Finals (and held them tough against Detroit in the finals), but then fell apart. Honestly, I think its because he got new pads. He had played with the same pads for years and years, they looked like two dirty pillows taped to his shins. The season after the Cup run, he changed to new pads, and ended up in the lowest of lows, the ECHL. Hopefully he's got a couple good years in him as a backup here in Columbus.

As for the U.S. Open golf tournament this weekend, I LOVE watching the best in the world struggle to make pars, and be brought to their knees by a borderline "unfair" golf course. That said, no championship should be decided by greens with a safe landing area the size of a dinner plate. Everyone has their eye on the big four (Els, Woods, Singh, Mickleson), and I'm inclined to think one of them will win it (I'm sticking with Vijay), but to go totally random and outside the box, the name Brad Faxon popped into my head. Who knows why. Though much like Mr. Poon, I'd like to see Stewart Cink win it. I stuck with him in fantasy leagues for years, and he came so, so close a couple years back, it would be good to see him get his.

...actually 6-5, with the afro, 6-9

He's a pretty good dribbler, too.
Yep, I guess the Lakers All-Star team needed Fletch a little more than they thought. Normally, I hate everything about Detroit, but Ben Wallace is a beast (and the 'fro is nothing short of dy-no-MITE!!), 'Sheed actually behaved himself and played ball, and a cast of 4 or 5 solid players stepped up and did their part, too, and down go the Lakers. I'm glad to see it. Until it happens with my team, I hate dynasties. Because with dynasties come bandwagons. And bandwagon "fans" are the worst "fans" you can have.

Speaking of fans, I'm about tired of hearing the bad press this guy has been getting. Sure, he made a bad decision going after that foul ball with as much effort as he had, but who cares? The kid got bumped around, not "assaulted" as some reports would lead you to believe. If you've ever been in the situation where you had a shot at a foul ball, EVERYONE is a kid, eight to eighty, blind, crippled or crazy...EVERYONE. The only thing I can think is that after the guy tumbled into the kid, and had to pick the ball off the ground, he probably should have given it up, or at least acknowledged the kid in some way. Buy him some peanuts or Cracker Jack, or something, if the ball means that much to you. (Which, in the case of the four foul balls I've caught in my time, it does. Then again, I've caught all of mine mostly on the fly. If you want proof, I'll email you proof. I just can't get the file small enough to pass along to everyone.) In fact, the last one I caught (the aforementioned "proof") was on the fly, reaching down in the area of the small boy in front of me. I made the catch, made no contact with the boy or ANYONE around me, didn't block anyone out, the ball just found my glove. I kept it, and got booed for not giving it to the kid. Screw them. That baby was mine!

This guy isn't a "jerk", "scum", "schmuck" or whatever other names I've heard him called in the past two days, he's just a fan. Maybe he crossed *a bit* of a line, but I don't think so. If anyone is just as much of a jerk, its the kid's mom. (Or maybe even the writers who took the time and effort to track down the guy's name, age, address and place of employment. Are you kidding me?) Instead of trying to shield her son, she took to beating the guy with a program and calling him a "jerk" in front of her son. Now she's parading her son to morning news programs, and he's made quite the collection for himself (which I say good for him, hopefully a baseball fan for life was made that day, especially a Rangers fan!), and she's still acting like her kid was a victim. Um, lady, you're sitting in box seats 12 rows back, I doubt your kid is much of a victim of anything.

Though at the very least, it has taken some of the focus off of the back to back losses the Rangers have suffered. The St. Louis one, I can handle. But Cincinnati!?!? Ugh.

...Cannonball! Cannonball coming!

Looking through the latest group of baby pictures of my niece, I came across an amazing discovery.

My brother has given birth to a greenskeeper.



At least she has the total consciousness thing coming to her....which is nice.

...Cliff Huxtable, you're my only friend

It's funny how one of life's little dramas can open your eyes to a world you've forgotten. For that, I'd like to thank my wisdom tooth for giving its life so I could rediscover Jello pudding. Chocolate, in the little cup. Now that's good eating! No prep work, aside from peeling a little foil aside. No clean up aside from walking to a trash can. And mmmmm-MMM! that's some good pudding. Sure, I'm craving steak tacos from down the street, and I could really go for just about anything solid, but since that isn't happening until tomorrow, I think I'll just be happy with the Coz and his Jello pudding.

*****

Yahoo! broke out a big surprise for me this morning. They've increased their mailbox size from 6MB to 100MB, and you can send larger attachments. Of course, this doesn't mean your recipient can necessarily RECEIVE the larger attachment, but its a start. Now if they could get the site to work well without all these errors, we'll be set. It makes me much less inclined to use the new G-Mail account I set up, though 1GB of space is huge, not to mention a new address for when the spam beasts catch up to me.

I've also got three invitations to give out to others so they can set up a G-Mail account, right now it looks like they're all available. Since about 2 people read this site regularly, they're yours for the taking, all others... "Neener neener neener!" (Okay, that only works if you picture me with my tongue out and waving my hands by the side of my face.)

...my johnson is 12 inches long

Just when I think I sing the praises of digital cable enough, they remind me that I can watch the occasional classic that pops up on both East Coast *AND* West Coast time. That means a double shot of PCU tonight. And when PCU is on once, its usually on a dozen times. Hey, I'm not gonna protest!

Of course, TV does hurt us sometimes. Today, the Buick Classic golf tournament had a three way playoff for three holes. ABC bailed, and we got America's Funniest Home Videos instead. (Tom Bergeron style, they couldn't even break out an old school Bob Saget, if only for the sake of the Olsen twins....speaking of, I completely forgot to throw Lori Loughlin in the mix earlier.) Hmmm....

I learned one more thing today with this site. (Or at least applied something I had learned awhile ago.) The only thing is it only really works outside of IE, unless you save this page to your favorites and then check it out in that list. The only real clue... favicons kick ass!

I know there was more, but there are thunderstorms coming, and I currently have a fly doing laps around my head. (Seriously!)

...you're in here, for some marijuana?

So I went a little out of the way to get that title, but it works, and I'd be TOTALLY remiss if I didn't give a big Happy Birthday shoutout to the Olsen twins. An *18th* birthday shoutout, mind you. It seems like just yesterday that we watched you two share the role of little goat-eyed Michelle Tanner on "Full House", now we're on the verge of being horribly annoyed by the mention of your names, but still eagerly awaiting the day your career(s?) take a nose dive and we find you gracing the pages of Swank. I imagine somewhere John Stamos (who is reportedly coming back with an ABC sitcom sometime in January) and Bob Saget are wrestling over who gets which one of you first, only in time for Cousin Joey to make an annoying laughing duck sound, do the "cut...it...out" thing with his hand, and take both of you away to learn the meaning of adulthood.

Interestingly enough, check here and here, and realize that the Olsens still have a ways to go before they're the hot Tanner girls.

******

Watching Comedy Central re-run the NBC show "Last Comic Standing" last night, I realized a few things:

1) If it were me on there, I'd be awfully pissed if they had a competition filled with mostly amateurs, then dropped in people that not only have done late night talk shows, but have their own half hour specials. Jim Norton, as damn funny as he is, should have been held off the list after his 45th consecutive appearance keeping Colin Quinn on the air. ESPECIALLY when Colin Quinn is one of the judges! (Colin Quinn a judge of a comedy show? I think I just might become Chief Justice of the Supreme Court yet!) And Kathleen Madigan, as damn funny as she *isn't*, should be left to her half hour special the network runs every other week. Its like Major League Baseball calling me up to participate in a home run derby with my brother, a few friends from college, some kid down the street, and Barry Bonds. Unless Barry shares his juice with us, it just isn't right!

2) Female comics have come a long way since they weren't funny in the 80's to not being funny in 2004. Sure, they bust off some good lines now and again, and the stripper they had on the show was worth the price of admission, but how many decades of "he dumped me because I'm fat" jokes do we need to hear before they get the hint?

3) Why do 90% of the introductions for comics (on this show and in general) have to remind me how funny the guy is? "Now let's welcome to the stage, a very funny man, Mr. Homer Simpson!" If he wasn't "very funny", why would we be paying money to watch him? Even if the guy just passed as "funny", is that enough to get a stand up gig? Or should he just be the guy in the office, or at the bar, cracking jokes that hit about 60% of the time? (I know this one from experience. Hell, I might even think of myself as "a very funny man" from time to time, but I sure as hell am no stand up!) Just once, I'd like to hear an emcee introduce a comic as "a so-so guy, he might get you to chuckle once or twice, but other than that, you're expecting too much".

All in all, a pretty good show, I might have to follow it to NBC on Tuesdays, though I guess at some point they stop doing stand up and they move 10 of them into a house. Great, its "Big Brother" with a bunch of fat, chain-smoking funny men, a couple not-so-funny middle aged women, and we get to watch them eat bugs or something for the right to headline one night at the Improv in Portland, Oregon.

Maybe I'll just wait for the article.

...you got the right one baby!

So the death of former President Reagan wasn't a total surprise, but Ray Charles, too? I don't think he saw that one coming.

*insert rimshot and/or sound of crickets chirping here*

Now that we're into what, month 9 of the Reagan funeral, I keep having conflicting feelings about Nancy. Since the Reagans were the first "First Family" I ever really paid attention to (thank God I was too young to notice what the Carters were about), I've always pictured Nancy as the consummate First Lady. Now, watching this poor, frail woman spend a week having to see her husbands coffin carried all over the country (which, while dignified with the parades and planes and all, isn't nearly as cool as if we'd have a "Hands Across America"-esque relay with a flimsy pine box holding the former President like they do in the Middle East. Do you realize the international relations gold mine that would be?), I can't help but think that at some point in the next hour or so, as they lower Reagan's casket into that kickass vault overlooking the mountains and the Pacific Ocean, Nancy might belt out a loud shriek, yell "I'm coming, Ronnie!" and clutch onto the casket for dear life as it is lowered into the ground. That, or she'll turn into a crazy reclusive cat lady like Jackie Kennedy did in her later years.

I think the thing I'm most amazed with is that Presidents are asked to submit a full funeral plan upon leaving office. If this is true, I can't wait until Clinton goes.

"I, William Jefferson Clinton, wish to have my body on display for 3 days at the U.S. Capitol building, followed by a large formal memorial service at the National Cathedral. On the evening of the third day, my remains are to be carted, by horseback, to a barbecue in suburban Little Rock, where my casket is to be propped up next to the keg, and the enclosed "No Fat Chicks" bumper sticker to be applied to the head of the casket. Please also purchase and attach a light-up license plate frame that reads "My Other Car is a NASCAR", and a decal of that cute Calvin kid taking a whiz on a picture of Hillary. If you can secure a Confederate car flag to secure in my casket before closing, that would be appreciated as well. The Marine Corps band can take the week off, as I wish for Lynrd Skynrd to perform at all official functions. At the end of the week, please remove me from my coffin and pose me in the window of the Lincoln Bedroom, semi-nude, if possible. Thank you."

How bad is it when Larry King is a nice break in the arrogance of CNN from Wolf Blitzer and Paula Zahn. If they'd have thrown in those cheeseheads Aaron Brown and Miles O'Brien, I might have to break my TV. And I keep waiting for Larry to break into one of his memories of Reagan like it was one of his old USA Today columns:

"I had the pleasure of knowing the Reagans, and a finer man you'll never meet... OJ Simpson killed his wife 10 years ago tomorrow. Club soda will get blood off your Bruno Maglis...Sources say Nancy Reagan likes her bourbon. I say, she likes her moonshine, too."

They say that every gift the President receives is filed and stashed in their Presidential Library after they leave office. I wonder if the Reagans still have that get well card I sent in first grade after he got shot? Maybe I'll make some calls.

*****

From the Unintentional Humor Department, ESPN News was interviewing the spectator that stepped in to caddy at this weeks PGA tour event, and when asked what his responsibilities as caddy were, the man replied, "you know, carry his bag, clean his clubs, clean off his balls, just take good care of him." (If its not funny to you right away, say it with a New York accent.) Coming in second place, from the same broadcast, is the guy from the National Amateur Dodgeball Association, who commented that in the time since the organization was founded, they are proud to report there "have been no ball-related injuries." Well that's good.

Cincinnati men's basketball coach Bob Huggins got in a little trouble with the "drinky drinky, drivey drivey" this week. No wonder UC basketball players have such a hard time with academics, with as much trouble as their coach has with the alphabet!

Huggins had slurred speech and red, watery eyes, the report said. Officers said he "staggered" out of the car and couldn't keep his balance during the sobriety test.


Asked to recite the alphabet from the letter "E" through "P," Huggins said, "E, F, G, H, I, K, L, N, Z," according to the police report. Asked to count backward from 67 to 54, he counted from 62 to 52, the report said.


Officers tried to give a breath analyzer test, but Huggins couldn't complete it, the report said.

No word on if he'll be out of a job or not, but if he is, Larry Eustachy is still in the lead for the "Coolest Way To Lose A College Coaching Job With Alcohol Award". Unless Huggins had hookers in his trunk, too.

...jackass

Its been a whole weekend and change and I never congratulated Pete and April on getting hitched in Vegas. As far as I've heard it all went well, and as of 5pm Saturday, no one was in jail. (Though I fully expect that to change.)

And for the record, that's not this Pete, its this one, the guy with the noticeably empty blog. He really should work on that.

Speaking of friends with empty blogs, I'd like to announce Tom's blog, a subsidiary of Have You Met Tony?, still empty, but I'm sure he'll fill it nicely. He always does.

...do not yield

Say what you will about the current President, but this guy needs to get hit by a bus. Or six.

...ummm, "continued"

So I was called out on forgetting alot of the weekend happening-ness, in particular, the Belmont Stakes. I think its time for another list:

-While it would have been awesome to see Smarty Jones win a Triple Crown, having been at the Kentucky Derby, made sure I caught the Preakness on TV, and made it to a horse track to bet on the Belmont, I think its fun that the dry spell will stretch for another year. Some say his loss hurts what horse racing could become this year, but really, I think the longer a horse goes WITHOUT winning a Triple Crown, the more exciting the chase becomes year in and year out. Though if one had to win it, this was a great story to get it done.

-Even more disappointing was "Purge" finishing dead last. That's not part of the Exacta, is it? How much does a 9th place finish pay on my $2 bet?

-This makes it so much easier to get a decent EBAY price on a replacement Derby program, though. Mine got kind of, um, wet.

-I've only read two or three articles/posts/whatever about how Philly fans are cursed because this horse didn't win, but if I read one more, Philly fans will officially join Boston fans and Cubs fans as the most pathetic people on the planet. Um, you booed Santa Claus, you'll be lucky if your karma comes back around before your children's children have grandchildren.

-Courtesy of ESPN Page 2, via SMP?, this could be the greatest quote about sports ever.

Watching Smarty Jones run the final stretch of the Belmont was like watching Cecil Fielder try to stretch a double into a triple.

Not that the death of President Reagan was unexpected (in fact, I'm starting to wonder if the very end was planned by the family somehow), but it's certainly a sad moment. I'm really not sure it qualifies as a "remember where you were" moment, but for posterity sake, I was eating nachos at a horse track in Anderson, Indiana.

Here's my list of "where were you when?" moments:
-Challenger explosion: In the lunch room at Glenwood Elementary School outside Toledo, Ohio. As a sixth grader, I thought it was really cool, then I remember all the "old people" crying like crazy and I guess it wasn't that funny. But still kind of cool.

-Sept. 11 attacks: Just waking up for work in Columbus, heard someone on the radio talk about "a plane has apparently flown into the WTC." Thinking it was some drunk in a CESSNA, I thought "Cool! Jackass!" Then I saw the video and while awe struck, it wasn't all that cool.

Is that all? I think most of the rest involve sporting events or recreational drug use, and don't seem all that important in this context.

So there's no better feeling than breaking out the first batch of sweet corn of the year. And there's no worse feeling than not being able to find a pot to boil it in, and having to improvise. Oh well, either way, I have sweet corn and steaks coming.

Needless to say, I gotsta go.

P.S.- A couple scattered thoughts as I wrapped up. "Miracle" really is a damn fine hockey movie about hockey, and Ohio State is about to can their men's basketball coach for violating NCAA rules... here I thought that program ran everything by the books? Must be someone else's books.

...I can't drive 55

I'm not really a speeder. I've never owned a radar detector for my car, or used one while driving anyone else's car, either. In fact, I've only received two speeding tickets in my life (knock all kinds of wood), and the last one was 7 1/2 years ago, and neither was for a horrible rate of speed.

But I really really REALLY can't stand people who drive slow. Especially on the highway. In the left lane. I understand that trucks are slow, and the slightly less slow trucks need to pass, too. But just because you're doing 66 and your buddy is doing 65 doesn't mean you have the right to clog up my lane of traffic for 5 miles while you try to pass. The same goes with passenger cars who think that 68 MPH earns them a spot in the left lane, because they might be in a position to pass that semi 4 miles up the road before they know it.

However, this isn't the worst. The move that gets me the most, and gets me riled up really good is how if one car is doing 64 and sees a speed trap, they have to hit their brakes. Seriously, people. I don't know what the exact "allowed window of speed" might be, I've heard 9MPH over up to 15, and technically they could probably get ya for 66MPH if they were in a REALLY bad mood, but people, you're NOT gonna get a ticket for doing 64. Keep your foot on the gas and go. In fact, while your foot's on the gas, give it a little push. You'd be amazed how quickly you can get places.

Okay, enough with the hate. You know what I love? Game Seven. Not just any Game 7, but hockey's Game 7. I'm about as neutral as neutral can be about Tampa Bay and Calgary (though with Tampa in the Southeast Division, I should probably have rooted a little more against them), but a 2-1 final in Game 7 for the Cup is awesome. The only thing that could have made that better is if Calgary would have pushed one of those late chances in and the game had gone 120 overtimes. The only thing better than playoff overtime is Game 7 playoff overtime. The thrill that any goal will end the season is awesome. Hell, back in '96 Colorado and Florida went 3 or 4 overtimes in Game FOUR and it was awesome. (Which again brings me to my promised list most memorable drinking nights I talked about a few weeks ago.)

And its just hockey. While a ninth inning win in Game 7 of the World Series is great, hockey's fast pace and scoring chances at any moment for both sides makes it better. The NBA tries to hype itself as the greatest thing since Jheri-Curl, but I find it boring. Even if someone hits a last second shot, it was preceded by a TV timeout, then a timeout by the offense, and one by the defense, likely with a criminal trial somewhere in between, and by the time the shot goes, you forgot all the excitement that built up to that moment anyway. It doesn't even compare. And until the NFL adds land mines and stripper poles to their OT, don't even bring that to the table. Hockey wins, hands down.

The weekend was good. I hung with the new niece and family on Friday, made a trip to Indy for the rest of the weekend, and even got my car cleaned out pretty well on Sunday. It hasn't looked like it does now in probably 5 years. Parts of it actually shine, now.

So, in the process of posting this, I've been informed that people care about Marc Anthony and J-Lo getting married and all the other celebrity crap that's shoved at us daily, because it's "escapism".

This world needs help..... and fast.

...just a small note

This flick might be one of the best things ever put online.

All it needs is monkeys.

...perfection

I think I'll now retire with my 1-0 record as an amateur softball manager. Sure, it wasn't my idea to change pitchers in the 4th inning, and I think Cousin Geri was hitting cleanup for the other team, but a win is a win, right? I mean, I did catch that one ball in left field, and my well-timed softball cliches and words of encouragement had to do some good, right? I mean, how else was our second baseman supposed to know to "be a hitter" or "hit your pitch now, c'mon"?

Okay, so maybe I had nothing to do with it, but as the guy that filled out the lineup, I'm taking credit.

I'm perfect.

...today was a good day

11:50am - I leave work, having edited pretty much the entire newscast on my own, and doing a damn fine job, very little effort, and even less managerial interference. Good start.

1:15pm - I fall asleep for an afternoon nap, happily knowing that the Rangers were up on the Indians 3-0 in the middle innings of their game in Cleveland.

5:25pm - I wake up, find out the Rangers needed two homers in the 9th to beat the Indians, but they beat them regardless, which is nice. A good little two game sweep, which hopefully was enough to wake the Tribe up enough to beat Anaheim around a little bit.

7:15pm - The softball game starts, and while it was a little rough on the defensive side, with alot of walks and 11 runs scored in the first two innings, we get by all right.

8:20pm - We ended up holding them to one or two runs in the last five innings, but still lost 13-4 or 5 or something like that. Regardless, yours truly goes 3-for-3 with a couple of doubles, a run scored and two of the ugliest slides in the history of softball. (One of which was actually successful.)

8:52pm - I become an uncle for the first time. As if turning 30 three and a half months ago wasn't enough, now I've got a little nephew-ette running around. But I've got the easy part, I just get to be cool Uncle Tony. My poor little brother is now on the 13 year clock to figure out how to beat away a stream of horny teenage boys and do a minimum amount of jail time.

Now its time for bed... or at least a little nap before work. But today was a good day. I even had a breakfast with no hog...

...I'm home again, from Indiaaaannnaaaaa

There is another Indy 500 post that's about 2/3 of the way done, waiting to be posted. But its long. Damn long. It will get special treatment elsewhere, but in the interests of staying short (and hopefully funny), here's what I learned this weekend about Indy this weekend. (Most of which I knew before, but I didn't have a blog last May, so deal with it, aight?)

1) 20 beers doesn't feel like 20 beers until you're counting the leftover soldiers at the end of the day (or the next day, as the case more often than not ends up being.)

2) Thong-watching, while an exceptional sport in its own right, needs to be reserved for caution periods. No need missing a two-car wreck developing right in front of you to check out the 4 square inches of fabric covering the backside of the girl two rows down. (I'm a guy. It's what I'm supposed to do.)

3) I'm thinking AJ Foyt (the four-time winner, not the bumbling idiot that kept up a humming lap average of about 47 MPH on Sunday) is looking for a time machine so he can go back and either have all daughters, or have his boys crushed in a horrific wheat threshing accident. Anything has to be less painful than watching AJ (the fourth, the aforementioned bumbling idiot) and Larry drag his surname through the mud.

4) If any drivers are reading this and need someone to carry their helmet and taste their food to make sure its not too hot, I can have my resume to you yesterday. All I ask is a basic living wage, and any of the groupies you don't want. I don't know the easiest way to Google for pics of the hotties these guys are toting around on their arms, but if you've seen Sly Stallone in Driven, that's about the only part of the movie that's realistic.

5) While I was pulling hard for Bruno Junquiera to get the win (see Friday's post about baby names), I can't wait to see Buddy Rice on Letterman this week. And speaking of Rice, I'd like to retract this line from an MSN conversation 3 weeks ago:

"I think I might just hang around the tailgate and drink at Indy... I mean with Team Rahal bringing such stars as Buddy Rice, Roger Yasukawa and Vitor Meira, this one's over before it started. *smirk*"

Although, looking at it again, if I take the smirk off the end, there is no sign of sarcasm, and I look like a genius, right? Okay, probably not.

6) Any woman that is going to wear a bikini top in front of 300,000 people and proudly show off the birth control patch on her back probably needs to wear two birth control patches. Maybe three.

7) One sentence I could live without ever hearing again while standing on aluminum bleachers surrounded by hundreds of thousands of people: "There is a tornado warning for (whatever county I'm in at the time) County. Please leave the grandstand area immediately." It turned out to be a tornado or eleven 20-25 miles away, but I had fleeting thoughts of Jim Nabors and Florence Henderson singing a duet at my funeral.

8) The next time I need an email address to sign up for porn or other "exciting offers", I now have one, thanks to the jackass that almost hit us with his truck after the race. I won't give him the dignity of posting the site here, but if anyone needs an out, let me know. Sure, people in cars needed to get away from the storms, too, but doesn't common courtesy say to let the pedestrians who are walking through the lightning storm and tornado sirens get through first? Then again, if I were the driver, it might be a different story. Oh well, I'm sure he'll like his porn either way.

9) It still amazes me how far people can get their heads up their asses when they're in a relationship. Especially the ones that are in one for the first time in forever. I'm not the best at walking the fine line between spending time with both sides proportionately, but to totally abandon your friends for a chick, especially in the middle of an event? That just ain't right.

10) Sarah Fisher actually finished the entire race. This means she gets a bye until next year when she's out in the first 25 laps.

Okay, bosses are starting to swarm. Time to bail.