A Load of BS

Fun With Streets

2012-01-26T20:03:00.004-05:00

There’s a street in San Francisco called Lois Lane.

There’s an Electric Avenue in L.A., and an Easy Street in Carefree, AZ.

Franklin Square, NY has both a Tennis Court and a Kings Court, while Bloomington, IN holds Peoples Court.

Harwich, MA has a Hard Way whereas Anaheim boasts an Easy Way. Sounds about right considering their respective climates.

Melrose Place is in Stamford, CT, and Wisteria Lane is in North Wantagh, NY. (My fiancé is from Wantagh. Should I be worried?)

Londonderry, VT has a Magic Circle – and here I thought they just had snow, Ben and Jerry’s, and Phish. Maybe that’s where Phish went to write all their songs!

There's a Malfunction Junction in Garden Valley, ID, and for all you symmetry nuts, there’s an Oregon Trail in Oregon … Oregon , WI!

New Territory, TX has a Grassy Knolls. Our Presidential hopefuls had best steer clear of that campaign stop. Speaking of Texas, they say everything is bigger there - everything except Little Loop in Lago Vista.

If you're looking to buy a car in Colorado Springs, CO, you’re in luck. They have a Test Drive.

Virginia has some back roads for sure, but none more fitting than in the town of Irvington. Just east of Nate’s Trick Dog Café is the Road To Nowhere. Luckily, it won't take you down State Route 666 in Forest.

There is a Hell, MI. 15 miles north in Howell, AAA has an office on West Saginaw Highway. If your car ever breaks down, rest assured that help is on the way, on the highway to Hell!

This Is Our League

2012-01-10T17:51:00.004-05:00

The Buffalo Bills recently announced that they’re in talks with Rogers Communications to renew their agreement to play one NFL regular season game per year and one NFL preseason game every other year at Toronto 's Rogers Centre. This is a move that was originally designed to create more revenue for the financially-challenged Bills, while developing more of an international presence for the NFL. However, the undertones are not-so-subtle and impossible to ignore. The Buffalo Bills, an American sports institution since 1960, dating back to the old AFL, are playing an American game on Canadian soil, essentially "sponsored" by one of Canada 's largest companies. What's more, they are playing in the same building as current Canadian Football League staple, The Toronto Argonauts.

Bills owner Ralph Wilson is 93 years old. His family has no desire to keep the franchise in the event of his passing. Thus, Bills fans have long worried about the future of their beloved team. The “Bills Toronto Series”, originally conceived in 2008, has only fueled their anxiety. Rogers Communications, Canada 's answer to Verizon, is essentially waiting for Wilson to pass away so they can offer a gazillion dollars to purchase the team. In a perfect world, they would surely move the franchise to their home base in Toronto , thus giving Canada 's largest city two football teams... in separate leagues!

A Rogers-financed team would create a financial windfall, the likes of which would make the Redskins & Cowboys green with envy. The NFL has made no secret of their desire to expand beyond the United States . However, a move to Canada would likely trigger an antitrust lawsuit from the CFL.

That’s not to say the NFL isn’t capable of winning in court, though. Remember when the USFL filed an antitrust suit against the NFL in the 1980’s? The USFL won. They were awarded $1 in punitive damages. The USFL never played another game. The CFL has operated on a limited budget for as long as I can remember. They have 8 current teams. Eight! A new Ottawa franchise has been in the works for years, but has yet to get off the ground due to financial difficulties. The CFL averages 30,000 fans per game. The largest crowd they’ve ever had for any contest is just over 69,000. The NFL has 32 teams, and it’s a big deal when any one of their games does NOT sell out. Their smallest venue is Chicago ’s Soldier Field, which holds 61,500.

Acrimony never used to be an issue between the two leagues. The CFL tried to expand into the U.S. in the 1990’s. However, attendance & revenue became a huge issue from the start, as American fans were largely reluctant to accept the Canadian version of football. In 1996, the CFL’s American expansion was dead and buried, and they needed a $3 million loan from the NFL to cover their losses. In return for the loan, the NFL was granted limited access to players in the final year of their CFL contracts. This essentially gave NFL teams the option to offer contracts to such CFL mainstays as Doug Flutie and Jeff Garcia. The agreement expired in 2006. The two sides attempted to reach a new deal until 2008 when the CFL broke off negotiations. The reason? Rogers Communications paid $78 million to host eight Buffalo Bills games in Toronto over five seasons.

The CFL currently has a U.S. TV contract with the NFL Network. Let me spell this out. The CFL won’t allow an NFL team to operate in Canada . However, they have no problem taking the NFL’s money to show their product on American TV. The NFL had no such issue with the CFL operating a franchise in the U.S. Now, they are paying money to the CFL to show their (inferior) product? Who does this benefit? Granted, the NFL Network made the deal in the midst of this past summer’s lockout, as their season was still in doubt. Certainly, the CFL isn’t getting the proper recognition south of the border, despite endless love and support from Chris Berman. I’ve never seen anyone actually wear an Anthony Calvillo jersey, other than Anthony Calvillo himself. You can probably find someone wearing a Peyton Manning jersey in any bar in any country on any given Sunday.

Hypothetically, if the CFL were to file suit, they would probably settle out of court in lieu of spending all their money on lawyers and bankrupting their league in the process. Either way, it wouldn’t surprise me to see the Toronto Bills take the field before the end of the decade.

There could always be a “Plan B” scenario in which Rogers buys the Bills, keeps them in Buffalo , and uses their vast resources to create a U.S. presence. Eventually, they could challenge Verizon and T-Mobile for U.S. communications supremacy. Imagine that? Verizon and T-Mobile sponsoring the NFL while losing revenue and customers to their competition via the NFL’s revenue-sharing agreement?!? Oh, and Rogers might build a new stadium in Buffalo while they’re at it. Enter Personal Seat Licenses and raised ticket prices. Who does western New York have to thank for it all? The NFL. Bills fans are probably better off letting their team cross the border.

It's apparent to me that there is only one solution that will benefit, if not please, everyone involved. The NFL and CFL need to merge. First off, there’s a perfectly good precedent. The NFL and AFL (of which the Bills were once a member) merged in 1970 to avoid a bitter fight over talent and revenue. Secondly, the NHL has teams in both countries, as does MLB and the NBA. They all have widespread North American appeal. I understand and respect the sanctity and tradition of the Canadian Football League, but the unfortunate reality is becoming apparent. When the largest of Canadian entities would rather invest in struggling NFL teams than their own league, something drastic needs to be done. If the writing isn’t on the wall yet, then the sharpie is cocked and ready. Suffice to say, it would be a tremendous financial opportunity for the CFL to join forces with the NFL.

Certainly, the biggest issue with such an undertaking would be to address the rules differences between the two leagues. Canada has 3 downs instead of 4, 12 players per side instead of 11, and 110-yard fields instead of 100-yarders. Some may suggest the games be played per the home team's rules, much like MLB plays the World Series with or without a DH based on which league is hosting. That's just too confusing. Unfortunately, the Canadian teams are outnumbered and under-funded & need to conform. My solution: all games will be played under traditional NFL rules, with one exception. The Pro Bowl will be moved to the end of the regular season PRIOR to the playoffs. That game will always have a Canadian host city and will always be played under traditional CFL rules. Plus, each Canadian NFL team will send at least one representative to the Pro Bowl.

The NFL Draft would include players from both the U.S. and Canada . There would no longer be “Import” rules like they have in the current CFL.

The new NFL would expand by 8 teams, 4 per conference, for a grand total of 40 teams. The following divisions would be added:

AFC Canada - Toronto , Montreal , Ottawa , Winnipeg
NFC Canada - Saskatchewan , Edmonton , Calgary , Vancouver (B.C.)

Unfortunately, we would say goodbye to the Hamilton Tiger-Cats. They are the most logical choice for contraction being that they are the smallest market and they're sandwiched between two larger-market teams in Buffalo and Toronto.

As for the Grey Cup, it will be awarded during the preseason. The NFL holds its Hall of Fame Game in Canton to start the year. The Grey Cup will now be held the same weekend in Hamilton between the two Canada division winners from the previous year. The winner of that game gets the Grey Cup. Sorry to piss on tradition even more so than I already am, but the Super Bowl winner already gets the Lombardi Trophy.

Week 1 always starts on Labor (Labour?) Day weekend. Using the 2012 calendar, 17 weeks later brings us to December 23rd for the final regular season game. As previously noted, the Pro Bowl is held the week after, followed by new playoff format! 5 division winners plus 3 wild cards. The lowest-seeded division winner in each conference must play in the First Round with the 3 wildcards. From there, 6 teams remain in each conference and the traditional NFL playoff rules apply. Thus, we have an extra week of playoffs. Seeds #3 and #4 get a week off, and the top 2 teams in each conference get TWO weeks off to rest up and heal. The extra week of Super Bowl hype is eliminated, and who needs it anyway? It’s the freakin’ Super Bowl! Using the 2012-2013 calendar, the big game happens on February 3rd, 2013.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my long-winded solution to all that currently ails the CFL, and all the potential headaches the NFL could have in the near future. I’m sure Canadian football fans would consider this whole thing blasphemous. Please believe me when I say I like Canada . If you’re not down with all that, feel free to take the New York Islanders to Moncton , Hamilton , Halifax , or Red Deer and have more hockey teams, eh!

My Jericho Theory

2012-01-05T17:16:00.003-05:00

It's really quite simple. When we last saw Jericho on TV, Randy Orton punted him in the skull, resulting in severe head trauma. Now that Orton is injured and needs time off, Jericho is back with a big smile on his face, happy with Orton's demise. He’s lost his ability to speak due to the aforementioned head injury. He approves of Barrett's actions wholeheartedly, but is unable to sing his praises.

It wouldn't surprise me if it comes out that Jericho recently approached Barrett with a lucrative bounty offer. It wouldn't surprise me if he tried similar tactics with the likes of Christian and Mark Henry, only to lament their inability to beat Orton. Perhaps when the Viper returns, Jericho will flip out on him. If and when Orton punts him again, he will regain his speech.

In the meantime, give him Barrett and Brock Lesnar as muscle to create a Super Stable. Feed Lesnar to the Undertaker at Wrestlemania. Give Barrett a match with Sheamus. Give Jericho the Royal Rumble win and a match with Punk. Let Punk rip him a new one on the mic for 10 minutes every week on RAW, while Jericho remains silent.

Hey, it's at least as good as what the WWE will really do.

Analogies 'R Us

2011-11-09T22:36:00.004-05:00

Okay, you know the "Gimp" scene in Pulp Fiction? Let's take Maynard, the Pawn Shop Owner, who watches his buddy Zed sexually assault Marcellus Wallace. Let's pretend that Maynard is a model citizen who goes to church regularly. He has a family. Everyone loves and respects him. He's been at the same job for decades, and he's widely considered to be the best at his chosen profession.

However, about once a month, Maynard fulfills a secret fetish by watching his buddy Zed assault and molest little boys.

One day, Zed gets caught doing this on his own time, away from Maynard. The justice system deals with him accordingly. Maynard still talks to Zed secretly. Some time passes. Then, low and behold, it comes out that Zed used to do his dirty deeds at Maynard's place of business during normal business hours.

Ladies and gentlemen, Joe Paterno is Maynard. He should be remembered as a man who befriended and enabled a pedophile.

Good riddance.

Fantasy Wrestling Booking: The Kliq Edition

2011-10-25T19:18:00.005-04:00

Now that Triple H vs. Kevin Nash is a forgone conclusion for Survivor Series, I've decided to brainstorm a little (okay, a lot). Here's how I'd play this whole thing out. At some point between now and Survivor Series, Shawn Michaels will come out, denounce Nash's actions, and show support for HHH. He says he'll be watching the match from home, but Shawn makes a surprise appearance at the PPV when it appears Nash will cheat to win. HHH wins with Shawn's help.

The following night on RAW, Nash calls out Shawn for being a liar and a bad Christian. Shawn specifies that a WWE ring will ALWAYS be his home away from home. Nash is not impressed and challenges DX to a TLC tag match at the TLC PPV in December. He says he'll announce his partner the following week.

NOW...Most people will think it's Scott Hall for obvious reasons, but unfortunately Hall is Mostly Dead in real life. Another possibility is Sean Waltman, but I have other ideas for him (more on that later).

Nash comes back the following week, and calls out his partner at TLC. The lights go out... GONG!!!.... GONG!!!.... Yep, it's the Undertaker!! Taker agrees to team up, NOT because he supports Nash, but because he has a beef with both HBK & HHH. HBK made a promise to Taker that he would stay retired, and how DARE he agree to wrestle again?!? As for HHH, he wants to finish the job he started at WrestleMania.

The TLC match happens. Taker ends up going rogue at the end, tombstoning everyone and leaving the match. Nash is outnumbered and loses. Nash comes out the following night, battered and bruised, and promises DX they haven't seen the last of him. HBK is all 'TTFN, Hunter.' They both stay off TV UNTIL...

Royal Rumble 2012 - Shawn is at home for real, thinking his help is no longer needed. HHH clears the ring at some point in the match. The buzzer goes off and it's Nash, back for one last showdown. HOWEVER, X-Pac bursts out with two baseball bats. He and Nash beat the ever-loving piss out of HHH and toss anyone who dares come down. Finally, the Undertaker comes out to clean house. He picks up a limp Triple H, does the throat slash taunt, and then leaves.

You still with me?...

So now, we're at the RAW following Royal Rumble. Triple H is in the hospital in critical condition. Shawn returns and challenges Nash/X-Pac to a Kliq Elimination Chamber match for the February PPV of the same name. Six combatants: Shawn, Nash, X-Pac, HHH (who will make his big return from the ICU). That leaves 2 spots. Taker comes out the following week to take one spot and remind Shawn that he still doesn't like him. The last spot is a mystery wrestler.

Chamber Match - the mystery guy is the last one to enter. His bubble is covered with a large black cloth, so his identity won't be revealed until the chamber opens. Sadly, it's not Scott Hall because he's still Mostly Dead. The match starts. Crowd chants for "Razor", "Hogan" and "Chyna". Nope! The final chamber breaks, and it's... Marty Jannetty! No, really. He and Shawn take out Nash & X-Pac, Rockers-style, while Taker and HHH battle. HHH eventually pins Taker to win the match. (BTW, Marty's appearance is also a nod to the "smarks" because of his involvement at Royal Rumble 1994. He was the "Undertaker" who rose from the video screen and ascended to the heavens after Yokozuna beat him.)

We're now in the home stretch on the Road To WrestleMania. Marty convinces Shawn that he can't go out a loser and must end his career the way he started, rockin' and rollin', struttin' and strollin', slammin' and jammin', etc. Thus, Rockers vs. Nash/X-Pac is set for Mania. HHH-Taker is also signed as a Career Ending Match. But first, it's a 6-Man Tag on RAW, two weeks before the big one: DX/Marty vs. Nash/X-Pac/Taker. All 6 men go at it, when suddenly a familiar voice is heard over the PA. It's none other than Mostly Dead Scott Hall! Hall cuts a VERY emotional promo saying how he doesn't want to die with his best friends hating each other. If they insist on being enemies, then he'll die alone. Hall drops the mic and walks off. The match ends in a no-contest with everyone staring at each other, then blaming each other for turning Scott against them.

Mania has arrived. HHH pledges to end Taker's career in Scott's honor. Nash/X-Pac don't care what Scott says and promise to whip the Rockers. Shawn is torn. Marty tries to fire him up. The Rockers match happens. Marty does most of the work because Shawn is emotionally out of it. Finally, God tells Shawn to kick some ass. He tags in and goes through his arsenal like the HBK of old. He superkicks Nash but doesn't cover him. He stops and stares as if to say 'What am I doing? I can't do this to my friend.' Marty is furious, spins HBK around, and superkicks HIM. Nash is all 'You can't do that to my friend!' and destroys Marty with a powerbomb to win the match. The three Kliqsters embrace and Shawn is a "winner" after all.

As for HHH-Taker, it's no-DQ. The finish is lifted from the HHH-Austin match at No Way Out 2001. Taker's chair meets HHH's sledgehammer. Both guys are out cold and Taker falls on top of HHH for the pin (Ironic since HHH beat Austin that way). Taker is 20-0. He lifts up The Game, hugs him, and leaves. The three Kliqsters come down and hug HHH. Then, they wave for Scott Hall to come in from the crowd. Hall hops the barricade, and the entire Kliq does one last Curtain Call together to close the show.

See, it CAN be Shakespeare after all! What do you think?

Sweetness Follows (Goodbye REM)

2011-09-21T20:25:00.004-04:00

Right about now, I’m 16 years old again singing Near Wild Heaven and dancing to Radio Song in my black blazer and khakis for no good reason. I'm picturing myself singing Shiny Happy People as a duet with my cousin Stephanie, who could knock Kate Pierson out of the park. I’m 17 years old riding through the backwoods of Virginia after visiting my (and Melissa's) old friend Gretchen, listening to The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonight on my cassette walkman.

No matter what kind of mood I’m in, I can hear the first few chords of Pretty Persuasion and cheer up. I discovered Memphis wrestling, not through my affinity with Vince McMahon's WWE or Ted Turner's WCW, but through an Athens, Georgia-based quartet crowing about Andy Kaufman, who once feuded with “The King” Jerry Lawler.

Would you believe I actually wore eyeliner for a week when I was a freshman in college, not because I was pledging a frat as my friend Ryan likes to think? Nope. I wore it because I had a crush for Crush With Eyeliner.

My first childhood essentially ended when I discovered REM. From that day on, I embarked on my "second childhood", so to speak. I wasn't cool in high school, but REM spoke my language fluently.

Today, after 31 years and 15 albums, my all-time favorite band "called it a day." Today, after the initial shock and sadness, I realize something wonderful and scary all at once. My second childhood is over. I'm now a real adult.

I want to thank Bill Berry, Peter Buck, Mike Mills, and Michael Stipe (and everyone who filled in for Bill when he retired) for their immortal and timeless music. I will always treasure it, just as they still treasure each other today as much as they did in 1980. Today is not a divorce. It is not about a band breaking up. It's about boys becoming men, writing a new chapter after boyhood.

Goodbye, REM, and godspeed.

We Teach Tacoma... er, well, actually...

2011-09-15T20:52:00.004-04:00

http://www.cnn.com/2011/US/09/15/washington.teachers.strike/

Welp, you can't spell Tacoma without coma. I guess no one will be spelling anything in class tomorrow anyway.

All joking aside, this is wrong. 1) A bad economy is not the time to bitch about salaries, etc. 2) These people are putting themselves ahead of the students they supposedly live for. The Tacoma School District needs to pull a Reagan and fire all those on strike.

Fellow teacher friends, your thoughts?

Skittles vs. Wonder Monique

2011-08-30T20:24:00.002-04:00

Editor's Note: The following post is Rated-R by the Skittles Blogging Association of America. This is one of those stories that's perfectly suited for adults, but not for the kiddies. No matter, I'm pretty sure anyone who's under-age doesn't know how to access my blog anyway....

In every relationship comes a handful of memorable moments. I'm talking the kind that are told and re-told to friends at parties in a drunken haze, the kind of moments that elicit laughter that such abbreviations as LMFAO cannot properly justify. Yesterday, my sweet Pepper and I shared one such instance.

It started out innocently enough. We were talking about Jen and her behavior when interacting with her closest friends. Apparently, there's a video that is "must-see," but that's besides the point. :-) My purpose last night was to show her how I interact(ed) with my closest friends. I found an old video where Ryan and I went to the Belmont Park Fair and met Mick Foley. I popped the disc in, but it didn't start automatically. I opened my seldom-used Windows Media Player and hit a lot of buttons with no real clue how to start it up.

The next thing I knew, I was greeted with an old video clip of a woman with gigantic natural breasts, slapping said melons together feverishly. This lasted all of three seconds, and was worth a lifetime of humiliation for those who are unfortunate enough to have a jealous, psycho wife or girlfriend.

In the interest of full disclosure, this was a video clip that I downloaded about two years ago. It would appear I hadn't deleted it from my playlist, as I never use Windows Media Player. I have not seen it in several months, and since I've met Jen, I have not looked for any other forms of online "entertainment."

Fortunately, I do not have a jealous, psycho girlfriend. I have the greatest, kindest, most giving, most understanding woman in the world! I was horrified by my gaffe at first, but wouldn't you know it, my awesome lady love was not phased by it. She thought it was rather funny, and was pleased that I don't have a secret stash of MALE videos LOL. We both laughed about it afterwards, and for a good portion of today. I assured her that her boobs are the only ones that I care about now, even though she needed no such reassurance. She totally understood! I am the luckiest man alive. After that, my Ryan and Brian video seemed like a PBS show!

By the way, for those of you wondering the identity of the massively-endowed woman hiding in my Windows Media Player, I am not 100% sure. I can no longer locate the evidence. I must have deleted it in my haste; thus, I cannot give a positive ID. However, I'm taking an "educated guess" and blaming none other than Wonder Monique. For all you single men out there (or curious ladies), you can find her info here. I, for one, will NOT be accessing her sites any longer, for I'm in love with my REAL wonder woman. ;-)

And that is how a drunken humiliation story is born.

Lady X

2011-08-10T18:30:00.003-04:00

Here's a short story from the “Irony Can Be So Ironic” Department.

About a week after I started my new job, I noticed a tall, attractive, young woman walking throughout the office. When I say ‘attractive’, I don’t just mean by everyday people standards. I’m talking ‘Megan Fox looks like Larry the Cable Guy standing next to her’ attractive. I know a good-looking lady when I see her, but rarely do I feel like I'm in a Looney Tunes cartoon where the eyes bug out, the tongue hits the floor, the feet start running in place, and the heart protrudes, pounding visibly through your chest. I had one of those moments. For the sake of this missive, we'll call her Lady X. She stands about 6’1 and has curves to end all curves. She makes Christie Brinkley from 1983 look like Rosanne Barr from 1989. Suffice to say, she is hot.

My desk is situated next to a main walkway. Lady X doesn’t work in my department, but she walks past my desk constantly when going on breaks or to lunch. In the beginning, I tried in vain to get her attention, to no avail. I would look up at her when she passed by, nod, smile, say hello, & do everything short of exposing myself. The woman never even looked at me! When I’d walk past her down the aisle, I’d go through the same routine. Nothing! No smile, no eye contact. I became strangely fascinated with her for a brief period. I wanted to find out her story and figure out why Lady X was so aloof. She’s literally said two words to me: thank you. That was the one time she came back from lunch right behind me. I held the door open for her, but she STILL didn’t even bother to look at me.

It was then that I decided Lady X wasn’t worth the effort. Slowly but surely, my interest wained. I'd see her walk down the aisle, but I didn't attempt to catch her eye. More and more, my thought process became more of an ackowledgement, like 'There she is again', instead of 'Why won't she talk to me? She's gorgeous. I'm a nice guy. We don't really work together, blah blah blah...'

Fast forward to the present. Your friend and humble narrator is now happily in love. My eyes bug out on a routine basis. My heart is constantly protruding, pounding through my chest. My tongue doesn't hit the floor, but that's because someone special is there to catch it for me. :-) I decided to take the elevator down to the cafeteria today. I approached the lift, and looked to my left. Low and behold, there stood Lady X. Wouldn't you know it, I did not have the urge to smile at her. Really, what's the point? I barely made eye contact. Surely, it would have been polite to at least say hello. Not that I'm overtly mean, but I couldn't even muster up the desire to do that. Simply put, the woman who once turned my head and peaked my curiosity was standing right there, and I didn't even care. My thought process was pretty much 'Oh, it's you. Meh.'

True to form, she didn’t even glance at me once - not when I glanced back at her, not when we entered the elevator, and not when we exited. She may be tall, young, tan, toned, and curvaceous, but she’s just another girl with an attitude. Whatever reason she has for not looking in my general direction, it doesn’t matter anymore.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why you should always treat people with respect, even if they disgust you for whatever reason. Even if you think you’re all that, even you’re having a bad day, be courteous and human. You never know what opportunities will walk past you when you’re not making eye contact with them.

Crazy, Stupid, Love

2011-07-30T07:42:00.000-04:00

Almost lost in my being smitten with a certain lady is the fact that I saw a tremendously good movie last night. Crazy, Stupid, Love is a refreshing throwback of a rom-com. It's a modernized hybrid of My Blue Heaven meets City Island, which is actually modern in itself, but bleeds Neil Simon so profusely that it feels like a classic.

If you take out the Mafia plot vehicle from the former, it's essentially Steve Carell playing the Rick Moranis role and Ryan Gosling playing the Steve Martin role. Gosling, a bonafide ladies' man, takes pity on Carell, a hapless soon-to-be divorcee, and sets out to mold Carell in his image.

Before you know it, the film takes a wide left and morphs into "City Island 2", which chronicles the sheer dysfunction surrounding the supporting cast. In particular, Carell's adolescent son over-dramatizes his feelings for an older classmate so profoundly that you wonder if he does it more out of teenage lust or as a form of rebellion against his father, who cannot adequately express his feelings to his estranged wife.

There's a twist at the end that is eerily reminiscent of City Island's climax. All in all, this is a must-see movie that strays from the formula just enough to make it stand out.

It's Fantasy Booking Time Again

2011-07-17T00:30:00.009-04:00

Just because I like playing fantasy wrestling booker so much. Please bear with me...

What if...

Money In the Bank- CM Punk actually beats John Cena clean and takes the WWE Championship with him to Ring of Honor or wherever he darn well pleases.

Vince fires Cena the next night on RAW and announces a three-way "unification" match at SummerSlam between Orton, Sheamus, & Del Rio. Del Rio bashes Cena via promo. A week later, "Juan Cena" emerges, stealing all of Del Rio's catchphrases and really goes over-the-top pretending to be Mexican (Think Eddie Guerrero from the Attitude Era). Vince announces that if "Juan" loses any one match, no one named Cena is allowed to wrestle ever again. Cena beats R-Truth at SummerSlam, but Del Rio overcomes the odds to beat Orton & Sheamus for the title.

Juan & Del Rio then go full bore into their feud, which culminates at Survivor Series. Cena wins the title, reverts back to "John" and all is right with the WWE Universe UNTIL....

The Rock returns for the 1st RAW in 2012. He announces that Vince McMahon personally invited him to enter the Royal Rumble so he could not only face Cena at WrestleMania, but challenge for his title. Rock has been granted #30 (or #40 or whatever the last number is this time). Rock helps Cena defend against someone (Ziggler?) because he wants him all to himself on the big stage. However, The Miz wins the Royal Rumble.

Rock bullies, pesters, pokes, prods, does anything & everything to get Miz to face him at the Elimination Chamber PPV, with the winner getting the shot at Cena. Miz refuses. Miz is then beaten backstage by an unknown assailant (assumed to be Rock) and is unable to compete for a long period of time. Thus, a new Mania contender will be decided in the Chamber match, with the stipulation that Rock enters first. Rock survives & wins, thus setting up Rock/Cena proper for the title, UNTIL...

The night after Elimination Chamber, CM Punk re-emerges!!! AND brings back the old WWE Championship belt! He proceeds to run down Cena & Rock. Oh and BTW, Punk has a new WWE contract because he couldn't deprive the fans of seeing the best wrestler in the world anymore. Cena is uncharacteristically disgusted & angered at Punk's return. The decision is made to make the Mania Main Event a Triple Threat Unification Match between Cena, Rock, & Punk. Cena gets more & more agitated, claiming that Punk should be fired, doesn't belong, he's a hypocrite, etc. Rock eats it up & calls him out for whining & crying about it.

At the "Go Home" show before Mania, Cena snaps & says that Punk stole his thunder. He had to beat Rock all by himself to shut up the fans who said he couldn't do it! He's done EVERYTHING for the fans, but he's not good enough in their eyes. He's not DWAYNE! They dare to cheer Rock & boo Cena. The fans know NOTHING about Hustle, Loyalty, or Respect. He had to go it alone & Punk ruined it. Cena reveals that HE took out The Miz so HE could face Rock in the main event. Cena proceeds to turn heel, destroys Rock & Punk, turns to the fans & says "YOU did this!".

Finally, at WrestleMania, face Punk beats heel Cena & The Rock, with help from a returning Miz. Rock endorses Punk & Miz and retires for good.

And so on from there.... Who thinks that wouldn't be cool?

Ryota Igarashi vs. Chumlee

2011-07-15T22:43:00.002-04:00

As you may have guessed by now, I'd rather have Chumlee pitch in the late innings.

Top Five Ryota Igarashi Fun Facts

2011-07-15T22:00:00.001-04:00

Presenting the Top Five Ryota Igarashi Fun Facts:

5) Ryota Igarashi is like the proverbial drum solo. You know it's coming & there's nothing you can do to stop it.

4) Ryota Igarashi is like Jason or Michael Myers. No matter how many times you kill him, he always comes back to fuck shit up.

3) Ryota Igarashi looks like Chumlee upon realizing, once again, that he doesn't know jack squat.

2) Sadly, Ryota Igarashi does NOT have a vesting option in his contract.

And the #1 Fun Fact...
Ryota Igarashi just plan sucks.

Another Brief Marlins Post

2011-06-19T13:25:00.003-04:00

If it sounds the least bit like I hate the Marlins as much as Cleveland hates LeBron, you've got a point. Surely, I'll never forget the last day of the 2007 season when the Marlins (and Tom Glavine) broke our hearts & ended the Mets season. What really sticks with me, though, is the last day of Shea Stadium in 2008. It's fine that they beat us, but they celebrated on our field like they just won the World Series. Then, they had the audacity to scoop up OUR dirt & keep it for themselves, like a deer hunter would hang a head in their den for all to see. I still believe that was a classless act in front of 55,000 angry, depressed Mets fans & I still haven't forgiven the Marlins for it.

Thus, anything bad that happens to the Marlins is good for me, despite my love for Patty Hanna & her blog. ;-)

A Brief Marlins Post

2011-06-19T12:55:00.005-04:00

I was all ready to sit down and type a long, drawn-out rant about how the Marlins are nothing but a second-rate carbon copy of the bad Yankees teams from the 80's. I was all set to blast Jeffrey Loria all the way to Cuba for being George Steinbrenner-lite, a complete bastard who has done more than his fair share to turn the Marlins from 2003 Champs to 2011 laughingstock. I was going to point out that, even when their new stadium opens next year and they change their name to the Miami Marlins, they will still have only 2 1/2 real fans, and they live in Pasadena, CA. (Shameless Plug for my friend Patty Hanna & her blog)

Then, I realized something very important. I haven't taken my shower yet. If I don't do it now, I'll miss the Mets game.

BTW, Jack McKeon again? Really....REALLY?!? How old IS he? He's going to need one of those old-school bullpen carts to take him to the mound for pitching changes.

Shower Time Skittles - OUT!

Daniel Murphy vs. Stephan Jenkins

2011-06-12T20:13:00.003-04:00

I KNEW he looked like SOMEBODY, and I finally figured it out. Considering Third Eye Blind is one of my favorite bands, I'm surprised it took me this long. What do you think?

Jose & Fred

2011-06-05T14:17:00.000-04:00

Meanwhile, in the TNA locker room....

2011-06-05T13:27:00.000-04:00

Dog Poop

2011-05-26T14:19:00.000-04:00

Does anyone have any to lend me so I can step in it?

Yankees Baseball: All Things End Badly

2011-05-15T08:56:00.008-04:00

I'm always fascinated to see what happens when an aging sports star comes to the end of the line. The hope is always that he'll see he's no longer great, or even good enough to remain active, and he'll exit with grace and dignity. Unfortunately, great players are both proud and delusional. They believe they're still capable of avoiding the pass rush, being the gunslinger of old, making that crucial jumper late in games, patrolling center field, or hitting one out of the park, even though their driver's license says they're on the wrong side of 40. The end is inevitably ugly and controversial, especially if that aging star is a Yankee.

I am constantly reminded of my all-time favorite Joe Torre quote, whch I believe was lifted from the movie Cocktail. "All things end badly, otherwise they wouldn't end." Torre uttered that line to Mike Francesa on-air in his final year as Yankees manager, when Mike speculated that he might be shown the door at seasons end.

Last night, we saw the beginning of the end for Jorge Posada, a once-great and still proud Yankee. Last night, we saw that Jorge Posada is more a champion by proxy, and less a champion of class. The former backstop-turned-alleged DH was dropped to 9th in the batting order, subsequently threw a fit, and decided not to play. Any such stories about a back injury are as believable as Santa Claus and The Tooth Fairy. Posada's average is the worst in the majors amongst qualifying batters. Chris Capuano and Homer Bailey currently have higher batting averages than Jorge's .165. He flat out deserves to hit 9th, if he is to play at all. No one likes a Diva, especially one who is being asked to provide more offense than the aforementioned pitchers (and last I checked, a DH was supposed to hit in place of a pitcher).

In recent times, we've seen the likes of Brett Favre, Ken Griffey, Jr., and Manny Ramirez provide codas that sadly rival Hall of Fame predecessors like Willie Mays, Emmitt Smith, and Muhammad Ali. If they didn't fall down in center field, it's because they were too busy sleeping in the clubhouse when their number was called. If they couldn't avoid the pass rush one last time, it's because they were too preoccupied with scoring with the eye candy on the sidelines. If you thought the all-time greatest rusher looked slow and out of place in the desert, consider that signing a well-known head case who couldn't hit a high schooler without the aid of a fertility drug wasn't nearly the worst decision Frank McCourt ever made.

The crime is two-fold, however. There's no doubt that Posada is proving once again that star players who are full of themselves don't see the cliff until they've already fallen from it. What's equally damning is that, as a Yankee, he above all others should know what it's like to have the pinstripes (and your dignity) heartlessly stripped from you. This is an organization that was practically founded on the ideal that winning takes a back seat only to breathing! If you dare wear the Yankee uniform, you perform NOW or else. They pushed Mickey Mantle to first base. They acquired Goose Gossage to close out games because having the previous year's Cy Young Award-winning closer, Sparky Lyle, wasn't good enough. Bobby Murcer literally took off the pinstripes in June 1983 and went to work the next day as a Yankee broadcaster. They went out of their way to humiliate Reggie Jackson, Dave Winfield, Billy Martin, Lou Piniella, etc. When he got tired of toying with his players, the late George Steinbrenner started abusing his GM's. Brian Cashman might as well have had "red-headed step-child" stamped across his forehead before George's health issues wore him down.

From there, the abused became the abuser, as they often do. The aforementioned Torre was kicked to the curb, along with his 4 World Series titles and 2 other series appearances, by Cashman and the new regime. Seemingly overnight, Bernie Williams went from starting center fielder to glorified pinch hitter to retiree, eerily similar to both Mantle and Murcer. Worse yet, Williams had to concede his spot in the lineup to Johnny Damon, the enemy from Boston. One minute, Hideki Matsui is a Japanese folk hero and a World Series MVP. The next, he's a washed-up nobody who can barely patrol the outfield for the Angels (eerily similar to Mr. October). Derek Jeter, the greatest Yankee since The Mick, had the audacity to hit .270 in 2010. He damn near left town when the powers-that-be made their negotiations public, in an ill-conceived plot to shame Jeter into accepting their offer. Hank Steinbrenner all but dared him to sign with another club. Yahoo! even posted a sarcastic "what if" illustration of Jeter in a Reds uniform.

Now, the Yankees are at a crossroads with another under-performing, aging star in Jorge Posada. Yankee fans often walk on egg shells when one of their own goes into a slump. They know full well that the Bronx Bombers front office doesn't exhibit patience, nor do they let fan sentiment factor into their decision-making. Most importantly, they don't let a thing called loyalty get in the way of winning at all costs.

No one name is bigger than the Yankees organization. Why do you think they don't put names on the backs of their jerseys? One day, Mariano Rivera will find himself on the outs when he can no longer get the last three in the game. #42 will be retired in honor of Jackie Robinson, not the all-time greatest closer in MLB history. Alex Rodriguez will someday be a guy who wore unlucky #13 and ceased being a Yankee when his hip gave out. At least he'll have Cameron Diaz and his money. Even Jeter must know by now that his days are numbered.

As for Posada, he's always been a hothead. After all he's seen as a player, he should know that his employer will give him the cold shoulder when he doesn't produce. He needs to heed his former manager's words and find some class, because Brian Cashman and Joe Girardi don't see any such stat in the box score. Posada needs to take a long, hard look at the #20 on the back of his uniform. It wouldn't surprise me if that's how many days he has left in the Bronx.

Skittles Meets the Psychic

2011-05-04T12:17:00.007-04:00

So, there's one little tidbit that I haven't divulged because I thought it was initially ridiculous and embarrassing. However, looking back now, it's a little eerie.

A few weeks ago, I visited a psychic reader at the Unique (Tri-County) Flea Market. I'd always been curious about them, wondering if they are all a bunch of frauds and quacks. I was pretty sure she wouldn't show me an extra body part like in Mallrats. I was also fairly certain she wouldn't have me venture off to the basement of the Alamo a la Pee-Wee's Big Adventure. As we all found out, there IS no basement at the Alamo! I figured I'd go in, she'd say something outlandish, I'd dismiss it, dismiss her, walk away, and never think of it again. Basically, I was looking for answers, but I was also looking for an excuse to call her a bullshit artist. Okay, I admit it. I was hoping she'd have a third nipple, too. No such luck in finding out ;-)

I was curious about the immediate future in Florida. Will I enjoy it? What will I do for work? Will I meet someone? Will I be happy? The lady grabbed my hands and looked at me. She kept saying my name, which I thought was lame. She said there was a lot of trouble and confusion in me. Gee, thanks, Dick Tracy! She proceeded to say a lot of general things that could be true of anyone. I figured I had my fun already and tried not to laugh. She saw me working in the city. HA! Gotcha! QUACK JOB! I'm not going to work in the city because I'm moving to FLORIDA! Game, set, match, Skittles!

She said I meet someone in the end of July or early August. Yeah, she lost me when she said I'd be working in the city, so I took that with a grain of salt. She then told me that there was someone close to me who was holding me back. Now, this is I DID find interesting. I wanted to see what kind of story she'd conjure up. I don't remember the exact words she used, but she said someone was manipulating me and adding to my confusion ("Maybe even a family member") and that I need to break away from that person's influence and find my own happiness.

Madame Teresa gave me her card and offered to do an in-depth reading for more money. I declined. I walked away having confirmed that psychics are no better than meteorologists in Seattle who predict rain.

Well, as it turned out, I am staying in New York (for now, maybe for good) and I have a job interview tomorrow morning with a company in the city. I'm skipping the family drama for now, but suffice to say I had a hunch. I never said anyone's name nor did Madame Teresa, but I have the answer I was looking for.

Wait a tick. I'm not going to meet my special lady until late July. That means I can be Austin Powers Skittles until then. OH BEHAVE!!!

WWE Hypocrisy: Exhibit #145,348

2011-04-19T09:08:00.005-04:00

Let me get this straight. R-Truth smokes a cigarette on RAW, but WWE censors old footage of Hacksaw Jim Duggan whacking Andre the Giant & Haku with a 2x4 on their Classics On-Demand archive because it's inappropriate for kids?!? (Fast forward to 3:45 & again at 4:10) I remember vividly that the WWE used to sell FOAM 2x4's to young ones. It's not like they could cause irreparable damage to anyone or anything if they wanted to emulate Duggan, who by the way, is now a WWE Hall of Famer.

Remember kids, if you see your buddy getting beaten down and/or choked out by a martial arts expert and a 500 lb. monster, all you have to do is wind up and NOT hit them, and they will magically fall down and run away.

Smoking is still okay, though.

The Preceding Public Service Announcement has been paid for by Vince McMahon and WWE.

We Won't Rest (unless we suck)

2011-04-13T15:50:00.004-04:00

It's rare that I pick on the Red Sox, but it seems they've found a lame way to avoid double-digit losses until Friday. Yes, it's been raining all day. Yes, the Sox are 2-9. However, rather than even TRY to prep Fenway for a 7pm start time, they've postponed tonight's game against Tampa Bay at the urging of their own private weather service! Yes, the Red Sox have their own weather service!! And I thought the Yankees were full of themselves.

I suppose the Red Sox should have their own weather service. After all, they are a NATION. Already, people are calling into Mike Francesa to joke that the Mets should have their own weather service to postpone the rest of their season. However, the real punchline belongs to The Nation on this day, by virtue of their slogan for the 2011 season: We Won't Rest.

Oops! See ya Friday Saux!

RIP World Wrestling Entertainment

2011-04-08T10:12:00.013-04:00

It's been said that, even with the presence of TNA, there's only one major pro wrestling company in North America. As of yesterday, it is official. TNA is the only major pro wrestling company in North America!

WWE released a statement in which they officially re-branded themselves as WWE, Inc. In other words, WWE no longer stands for World Wrestling Entertainment. It simply stands for WWE! The company headed by Vince McMahon is no longer a wrestling company. That's a shame because I'm a wrestling fan, and I'm going to miss WWE wrestling.

Ever since they changed their name from WWF to WWE in 2002, due to losing a much-publicized lawsuit by the World Wildlife Fund, Vince has tried to de-emphasize the wrestling aspect and focus on other ventures. The results have been a string of B-movies, a litany of mediocre music (mostly entrance themes and horrible pop music by Lillian Garcia), and most damning, bad wrestling from boring "superstars." That's right; people like John Cena are not considered wrestlers. They are "superstars." Ladies are not wrestlers or valets; they are "divas." Vince and his minions have said over the years that they do not promote wrestling. They promote "sports-entertainment." Imagine you grew up your whole life dreaming of becoming a baseball player. You finally make it to the summit and become the starting first baseman for the Yankees. When you get there, the Steinbrenners inform you that you're no longer a baseball player. You're a "pinstriped-entertainer." What if you finally got to play bass for the Rolling Stones and was told by Mick and Keith that you're no longer a musician? You're a "Stones-entertainer." Paul Heyman was right when he said that Vince McMahon has made wrestling a dirty word. I have overlooked all (okay, most) of Vince's eccentricities for the past several years. However, now that WWE wrestling is officially dead, then the WWE is officially dead to me.

Everyone knows pro wrestling is pre-determined and intended to be entertainment. That's no reason not to call it wrestling. Do we not call the Harlem Globetrotters a basketball team, even know the outcome of their games is pre-determined and intended strictly to entertain? Should we retroactively re-brand Mickey Rourke's movie, The Sports-Entertainer?

Wrestling is, indeed, a dirty word these days, but not because of the job itself. It's because of people like Vince McMahon who insult the intelligence of their fanbase. Last I checked, there was a ring with ropes, a referee, a timekeeper, and two or more "superstars" attempting to perform wrestling moves on each other (most of the time). I shudder to think that the WWE would even consider doing away with the ring altogether. Worse yet, the company that revolutionized Pay-Per-View by virtue of their annual blockbuster event, WrestleMania, might very well rename it WWE Mania.

What if other entities followed Vince's lead? What if the NFL suddenly decided they no longer played football and dubbed themselves the National Fantastic League? Actually, that's a bad example because the NFL doesn't play football currently. Besides, if that were to happen, McMahon would have just cause to restart the XFL, and that didn't work the first time around.

WWE is now geared towards children once again, and has gone to great lengths to tone down their product. It's funny because when we watched as kids, it was still known as wrestling, but nothing bad ever happened to us. We had common sense, unlike the select few idiots on YouTube who get hurt and have their parents cry foul. Just to be clear, I didn't sports-entertain with my classmates after school. I didn't sports-entertain with my cousin on our beds growing up. We all knew the difference between hitting someone and hurting them. If someone really did get hurt, the match was over and everyone went home (literally and figuratively / kayfabe) or back to their rooms. Bobby Stavrapoulos never killed anyone with a vertical suplex during a fight at recess (at least, not that I'm aware of). I never killed cousin Steve with a piledriver; yet, that move is forever banned in WWE anyway. That's what gets me. WWE was made for children back in the 80s, yet they didn't ban anyone from doing any so-called dangerous moves. 90% of the guys on the roster could give and take a standard jumping piledriver every night until 1997. Owen Hart drops Steve Austin the wrong way one time. Suddenly, only The Undertaker is allowed to do it, and Taker does it so gingerly these days, my baby sister could tell he's not really dropping the guy on his head. Not even Jerry Lawler, the man who used the move every night for 30 years, could finish off his opponents with it. Paul Orndorff wouldn't have a career nowadays.

WWE is the Rosetta Stone of hypocrisy. They preach their drug-testing program, yet Triple H comes out looking like Mark McGwire in his prime. They go to the ends of the earth to tell people that they are strictly entertainment, and then they fire someone for posting a video of Rey Mysterio eating lunch without his mask on. By that rationale, we should all crucify anyone who takes a picture of Robert Downey Jr. on the red carpet because he's not wearing the Iron Man suit. Besides, how does one eat while wearing a mask anyway? When I was 12, I knew that the Honky Tonk Man was not really Elvis. (Ironically, he influenced my choice to play viola in high school. I wanted to play guitar, but my high school didn't have a guitar class. They put me in beginning strings. A violin was too small to be a guitar, and the cello was too big.)

I knew that there was no way Hulk Hogan could beat Andre the Giant in a real fight, nor could he revive himself immediately if Randy Savage really hit him with a flying elbow. I knew The Undertaker couldn't possibly hold his own against 10 guys, one of whom was a 500-pound evil sumo wrestler, nor could he disappear from inside a casket, teleport himself across the arena, and rise to the heavens. I also know that the WWE celebrates the greatness of fallen performers such as Eddie Guerrero and Mr. Perfect, both of whom were well-known drug users. Yet they refuse to acknowledge that Chris Benoit even existed, let alone became one of the greatest stars of his era, because of the infamous double murder and suicide. Football players literally get away with murder on a regular basis, but their names and records remain intact. OJ Simpson is still a Hall of Famer. Do you think the parents of Nicole Brown-Simpson and Ron Goldman don't wish that the NFL would ban the mere mention of The Juice rather than drop his name every time a running back passes him on the all-time rushing list?

At least TNA doesn't claim to be something they are not, and they don't pretend to be GOOD at something they aren't good at. It's wrestling. Everyone knows it's wrestling. Rob Van Dam is a wrestler. Matt Morgan is a wrestler. Kurt Angle may be a drunken douche in real life, but he's still a damn good wrestler. They don't have to call themselves entertainers because it's already a given that they are entertainers, just like other athletes who happen to entertain while doing their job. Ichiro has an elaborate ritual for every plate appearance in which he wields his bat like a samurai sword. Brian Wilson wears a dyed black beard not only for intimidation but also for showmanship. Dennis Rodman and Deion Sanders wrote the book on entertaining the crowd. They are both in the Hall of Fame for their basketball and football prowess, respectively. The WWE also has a Hall of Fame. All you need to know about it is that Koko B. Ware is in, Bruno Sammartino is not, and there's no physical address or structure.

I've given the WWE numerous chances to keep my attention over the years. As far as the WWE is concerned, I'm out. I am still a wrestling fan. Vince McMahon, apparently, is not, and it's painfully clear to me now that the only person he sees fit to entertain is himself.

Dream Analysis?

2011-03-31T07:57:00.000-04:00

Nothing like a crazy-ass dream to kick off my brief return to NY. Here goes...

I live in Hollywood. Seth MacFarlane is my neighbor. He's a nice guy, but he's a bit anal about me leaving my garbage cans in front of his house. Kevin Spacey lives across the street. He and Seth are always planning new ways to zing me, but I am always too smart for them. One day, Seth tells me that Kevin has a rare skin condition that forces him to wear space goggles when he's not working on the set. Sure enough, he's sitting outside drinking lemonade and wearing space goggles. Later on, I hear them talking in Kevin's driveway. They're planning a new joke in which Kevin pretends to be extra-sensitive about the glasses and wants to kill himself as a result. I walk over there and start to poke fun at the eyewear... and then proceed to make fun of Seth's inability to realize that I have super-hearing! Thus, I have foiled their practical joke once again! LOL

Here's where things get a little weird. The whole time, I have a Japanese woman stalking me, wanting to be my girlfriend - kinda like Charlie Harper's stalker-turned-ex. One day, I finally give in to her advances and we screw the hell out of each other. She's gone the morning after, but who should I see waiting outside on my front lawn? My old college flame and one true love of my life, Andrea Zuckerman. Yes, THAT Andrea Zuckerman! (NOT Gabrielle Carteris, mind you. Suddenly, Andrea is a real person, yet my neighbors Seth and Kevin are just actors. Go figure!) We embrace and kiss and it's a good ol' Hollywood ending. We lived happily ever after... almost!

My Japanese stalker re-emerges, sees Andrea in my house, and proceeds to throw beads at both of us. She then transforms into a female Megatron! It must've been the radiation that made her angry and change from a human (Huzzah!)... Anyway, being that she's no longer classified as a woman, I beat her down with a porcelain doll. She tries to run away but I catch her on my front lawn, and put her in a Sharpshooter. My poor Andrea is horrified by the violence and starts to vomit.

And that is when I woke up. Friends, Romans, lend me your dream analysis, por favor!!

Brian Scala vs. Andre the Giant

2011-03-31T00:41:00.000-04:00

No, this is not another lookalike post. This is a letter I just penned to the fine folks at Delta Customer Care...

Dear Customer Care,

I would like to briefly commend your in-flight crew for their courtesy, respect, and professionalism shown to me on the above flight. I was assigned seat 12E. Unfortunately, the person next to me in 12D was a very large man (probably over 400 lbs.) who clearly did not fit in his assigned seat. His frame extended into roughly half of 12E. He asked for and received a seat belt extension because his belt did not fit him.

It was a tight fit for me to say the least. In fact, I was not comfortable at all. I didn't feel like I had enough room to reasonably stay in my assigned seat for a 4 hour & 33 minute flight. I asked one of your in-flight crew members if I could please change seats. They allowed me to do so, and I am grateful for that.

I understand that it's not an easy task to accommodate someone who is larger than the average person. It's probably equally as tough to satisfy other passengers without offending a man or woman of "size." Thankfully, the man in 12D was not offended.

Thank you for helping me enjoy my flight!

Sincerely,

Brian Scala

Oh, by the way, I'm officially out of Washington and back home on Long Island for a few weeks. :-)

Monday Random Ramblings

2011-03-14T14:21:00.000-04:00

I wanted to do a quick post, but I have several short comments/questions, so I'm posting it here....

My mouth hurts more today than it did yesterday. I'm getting antsy. Hoping for the best. I can only eat "soft" foods for so long. Remind me a) to brush, floss, use mouthwash, and use Mr. Miyagi's old foot powder if necessary to prevent any future wisdom tooth decay, and b) to NEVER do this again. My sinuses are messed up. I also have this tiny white bubble on top of my head. I've tried to break it open but it's not going away. Hoping it's nothing.

I suppose now is a good time to try some anxiety/depression meds. I've read that Seredyn is a natural supplement without any side effects. Has anyone tried Seredyn?

Brief wrestling comment: If TNA isn't planning on running some lame Charlie Sheen-esque angle with Jeff Hardy, he should be fired effective immediately. That's twice in four months he's been "unable to perform" at a Pay-Per-View.

16 days till I fly home.

Cobie Smulders vs. Maria LaRosa

2011-03-10T17:00:00.000-05:00

I think the writing staff for How I Met Your Mother should contact The Weather Channel and work out some angle for the show.

A Fragmented Defragmented Update

2011-03-04T18:23:00.000-05:00

As I previously noted here, the danger of sites like Facebook and Twitter is that you feel compelled to talk about anything & everything on a daily basis, in short spurts of 140 characters or less. When it comes time to perhaps write a long missive, there's nothing left to say. You've already said everything in 129 easy steps. I figured I would give a recap/update; it beats the alternative of doing work.

Don't get me wrong. I do work. It's kinda funny in a way, because I was recently asked not to do too much too fast. The department head gave me an outrageous stat for the month of December; I did 900% more than the mean for the department. I can't even fathom that. I wonder if Arthur Andersen did their numbers. I think my brain itself works in spurts. I can do a bunch of things in the span of 2 hours, but then I don't feel like doing anything for the next 45 minutes. Thus, I find myself surfing the aforementioned social networking sites at various times throughout the day. Besides, they want me to slow down and do less. If my brain doesn't feel like slowing down, I may as well occupy it with something else. I keep hearing Peter Gibbons in my head saying "It's not that I'm lazy. It's that I just don't care!"

My mother is leaving for Florida sooner than originally planned. She says there's nothing holding her back in New York. She, her husband, and my baby sister are going down next week on vacation to look at a few places. If they like one, they'll take it as of April 1st and start moving things down after that. As most of you are now aware, I've decided to move to Florida too. I'm planning on driving cross-country at the end of April. Apparently, there's an opt-out clause in my lease, and I need to give notice at the beginning of the month that I'm leaving at the end of that same month. I also have to pay an additional "cancellation" fee, roughly equal to one month's rent. Seattle is still a wonderful place to visit in the summer, but I don't much care for it in the winter. I know rain & 40 degrees beats the alternative of snow & 20 degrees, but it's just too dreary. Now I know why those Twlight people live in the Pacific Northwest. There's no sun to kill them off. I think the lack of sun and surplus of rain leads to crazy mold, which has wreaked havoc on my allergies. I have bleach for the bathroom tub, but I suppose you can't bleach the entire region.

Plus, I do miss my family & friends in NY, and I don't make enough money to live alone. I could just as well find a roommate situation and stay here. However, if given the choice of living with strangers or living with family, that's a no-brainer. Being in Florida will make it easier to visit people in NY and vice versa. My father just came out to visit me. It was nice having him, but it's costly to fly from one end of the country to the other.

I'm surprised that I found a nice deal on flights to/from NY for next month. I couldn't stay away any longer, so I'm visiting NY in early April. If anything, I'll get to see everyone (hopefully) before I move again.

My next "project" is to get my poor car fixed. I've got the ball rolling on that. Seriously, I need to step in some dog shit ASAP. It's bad enough that the car is 6 months old. I take the bus to work, so I only use it on weekends and do mostly local driving during the week. How ironic is it that I'm on my way to the Cortiva Massage Clinic to be a practice body for future Licensed Massage Practitioners (half the price of a professional massage) and to help de-stress, when I get into a car accident to add more stress? If Alanis Morrissette is reading this, there's some lyrics for your next album, Jagged Little Pill II: Even Jaggeder. Thankfully, I wasn't going too fast. I just wish I had Quentin Tarantino filming that lady for 2 days prior to the accident, so I could see the chain of events that led up to it. I still have no idea where she came from prior to her hitting the car behind me and subsequently hitting me. Was she drunk or high? Did she spill hot coffee in her lap?

Alls I know is that my insurance company found an insurance carrier associated with her, but they were uncooperative with divulging any information. Thus, they deemed her uninsured. They ran a tag trace on her vehicle and found her full address. I can see it on my claim. I find it odd that I would have access to her full name & address. I mean, what if I were Paulie Walnuts and decided to pay her a visit? ("Lady, I got your deductible RIGHT HERE!!") Of course, that's not going to happen :-)

This weekend, I'm cat-sitting for Carrie as she goes to Oregon to visit her Dad. Isaac is a scaredy-cat, but he's sweet. He's actually gotten used to me now (just in time for me to leave town, Alanis). He runs away from 99% of the people that come through the door. I have to give Isaac his heart medication, but luckily I can stuff them in Pill Pockets and smush them up. He gobbles it right up. I think the meds have made him more friendly.

So, in addition to the countdown at the top of the page, I have approximately 59 days until Moving Day 2011. Is it sad that I will have 5 different addresses in as many years? In all seriousness, anyone who has traditionally sent me a Christmas card, you have my permission to stop sending them. Just shoot me a Merry Christmas email. Better yet, post it to my Facebook! Stupid Facebook. Am I high? Yeah, I'm high on Facebook! LOL

Ciao for now,
Skittles

Billy Beane vs. Seth MacFarlane

2011-03-04T12:22:00.000-05:00

Holy crap! David Brown is right!

Biting the Hand That Feeds You, Much?

2011-02-24T18:42:00.000-05:00

Dear Mr. Sheen, I've always loved you as an actor. To hell with Rick Vaughn, I wish I had your real baseball ability. I wish I had 5% of the sexual charm that Charlie Harper has. BUT... Interviews like THIS will not help your already-tainted image.

I'm sure the reason you took this part in the first place is because that film career you speak of was doing SO well. You'll "make movies with superstars", eh? You mean porn superstars? Is there a Celebrity Rehab movie in the development stages that I'm not privy to?

I file this one under "Drug-induced mid-life crisis panic because I know my show has run it's course and will end soon anyway, with or without my crazy ass."

p.s. - If you're still on good terms with the powers-that-be after this outburst, can you please suggest they rename the show "Three Men." Jake Harper is no more a half man than Dylan McKay was a teenager.

The Impossible Dream II (and III) Begins

2011-02-14T17:15:00.000-05:00

Today is the start of The Impossible Dream II. It's the day pitchers & catchers report to spring training. I have faith in the Mets pulling off the impossible, beating the Phillies and winning their division in 2011. Happy Bobby Valentine's Day to me!

I've also decided that today is the start of another impossible dream. I need to be more of a positive, outgoing, happy person. I have less faith in me accomplishing that LOL. I need to try though.

My blood pressure is unusually high. My doctor thinks my head throbbing issues stem from that. I find that reasoning odd because it was normal the last time I saw her, and I was having the head/sinus issues then as well. She wrote me a prescription for a weekly massage therapy appointment to work on my head/neck. Seriously! I'd never heard of such a concept. A doctor writes a prescription for massage?!? How do you fill such a prescription? Typically, I'd just go for a massage at the usual (professional) place.

Well, I looked up some massage therapy providers on the First Health website. There are a few in the general vicinity (Tacoma-ish). I need to call my provider to find out exactly how much they would cover should I go to said provider(s). I don't have regular insurance through the temp agency. It's akin to a discount plan. My last office visit was $115, and it was $47 to fill a prescription for Flonase. If it's not too dear, I'll follows the doctors orders. Otherwise, I'll use a heating pad. What I really need is one of those scripts from Dr. Leo Marvin that says 'Take a vacation... from your problems!" :)

So, in an effort to try & be more positive, I've started the following countdowns to give me something to look forward to:

4 Days Till The Decembersists
11 Days Till Dad visits
49 Days Till I visit NY (which, coincidentally, is Opening Day!)
140 Days Till I leave Seattle

The last one is tenative. Right now, I'm calling my departure date July 4 but the exact date will probably change later on. I figure I can pay my last months rent & scram.

Carrie likes to do "3 Good Things" every day. It would be too easy to pick money, roof, & food as my 3 things for today, so I'll try to make it interesting. 1) Nobody has fired me from my temp job yet, despite my lack of desire or ability, 2) My head is feeling a LITTLE better today, 3) Cats are cute.

I also have other things to look forward for ther next 4.5 months, such as hanging out with Carrie, the sun returning for a prolonged period of time, & winning the Super Bowl with the Buffalo Bills in Madden. Heck, I've played as most of the other teams already. If nothing else, I have the ability to make Aaron Maybin the NFL's MVP, its all-time single-season sack leader, and second-coming of Ray Lewis. If you don't know who or what I'm talking about, don't worry. You're not missing much! :)

In the meantime, if you're reading this, you're probably my friend. Thanks for either being my friend or not being too ashamed to keep me as one of the faces on your Facebook/Twitter feed.

The King Is Dead: The Review

2011-02-10T14:07:00.000-05:00

Well, you knew this was coming....

I refrained from attempting a competent review of The Decemberists' previous LP, The Hazards of Love, for a couple of reasons. One, trying to decipher the meaning of a Decemberists album is like trying to beat Kobayashi in a hot dog eating contest. It's physically possible, but it takes too much time & effort, and by the time you succeed, your body might very well explode. Indeed, they are the Dennis Miller of music; the parts you get are brilliant, but you need a dictionary, thesaurus, Wikipedia, and/or a UW History professor for the rest. Thus, when it comes to the Portland-based bastard child of REM and Springsteen, I find it easier to just listen and let my instincts do the work.

Two, it pains me to say that I thought Hazards was a shade below their previous major label release, The Crane Wife. I know this much. Virtually every Decemberists song centers on fairytales, tragedy, blood and death, as if Quentin Tarantino remade The Princess Bride in the style of Grindhouse: Planet Terror. Too much of a good (or tragic) thing can be hazardous to one's growth or success. Perhaps this is why the aforementioned REM penned the peppy Out of Time (and enlisted the sublimely-happy Kate Pierson to boot) or Springsteen put on his happy face in the 80's (and danced with Courtney Cox to boot). Nobody likes a Debbie Downer. I should know.

That being said, it was time for The Decemberists to put away the evil storybooks and to get back to just making (evil?) music. In that regard, The King Is Dead is a success. If you break it down to its lowest common denominator, it's Nebraska meets Murmur. By enlisting the services of Peter Buck's 12-string and Gillian Welch's harmonica, it would appear that was intended. The lead single "Down By The Water" dares me not to sing the chorus to "The One I Love." "January Hymn" is straight outta the Automatic For The People recording sessions. You can literally take out the vocals on "Calamity Song" and place the track on any REM record from their IRS days, and people would be none the wiser. Ditto "June Hymn" on any Bruce album not named Born In the USA. Some may cry ripoff, but the correct answer is homage. Their credibility is spoken for by virtue of their creative, trailblazing history. Colin Meloy has long sited the Athens-born Hall of Famers as an influence, and it's nice to see them endorsed proper.

As for the actual songs that remind me of The Decemberists themselves, "Don't Carry It All" is a pleasantly uplifting opener, as in 'at least it SOUNDS like nobody dies in this song'. I'm very surprised the powers-that-be didn't choose "This Is Why We Fight" as the first single. It's a stronger, more rousing, radio-friendly cut. Then again, since when are The Decemberists all about the Billboard charts? (Oops, did I mention the album went #1 on Billboard?) "Rise To Me" is a strong callback to "The Drowned." "Dear Avery" is a nice, country-folk song that screams Kathleen Edwards or Lucinda Williams, but then we're getting into that homage grey area again. Plus, Ms. Welch is present and accounted for, so there.

All in all, The King Is Dead is a rare piece of Americana from an artist that has made a habit of looking outward instead of inward. It sounds just as good backwards as it does forwards, and luckily, there's no glaring concept to speak of. The music speaks for itself, and The Decemberists act as gifted narrators. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to log onto Wikipedia to find out the REAL story behind The King Is Dead....

Easy Wonderful: The review

2011-02-09T17:47:00.000-05:00

Anytime I write one of these, I feel an obligation to find both praise and criticism, even if it's unfair or unwarranted. I typically write about artists that I know a lot about. That way, I have a clear before-and-after picture. This was a slight challenge for one simple reason: I don't know old Guster. I've listened to old Guster in passing. I'm told they were once a hardcore, underground sensation. I think that train left the station long ago. I have an even more damning confession to make. I've never seen Guster live. I'm told that's their main selling point, along with their irreverent sense of humor. I think Barenaked Ladies - before fame, illness, and drugs ruined them.

Ganging Up On the Sun is where I came in. With no frame of reference to rely on, it became one of my favorite albums, the perfect blend of mainstream guitar pop-rock and off-the-beaten-path romp. To me, Guster is "The Decemberists East", hardened if no longer hardcore, modern if no longer alternative. Whereas Colin Meloy & Co. are bound to take you through a journey of fairytales gone wrong, Guster's Easy Wonderful takes you on a straight path through the present-day streets of Baltimore, Boston, or someplace more-challenging, but makes you feel uplifted. There are no mystical forests, evil witches, or ancient mariners. They wake you from your dream (as foretold in "Do You Love Me") and plant you at the beginning of the rest of your life. I think Beatles vs. Stones, with a twist.

The only downside is that practically nothing is original anymore. "This Is How It Feels To Have A Broken Heart" is a stripped, under-nourished child of Adam Levine. "Bad Bad World" is not to be confused with early Steely Dan, but the raw beauty remains intact. "Do What You Want" seems to be a New Order B-side.

Guster's signature sound is present in spades on "Architects & Engineers", "What You Call Love", & "This Could All Be Yours," (the latter not to be confused with Mumford & Sons). "That's No Way To Get To Heaven" is a sweet ballad that radio can't get their hands on soon enough. Pay no attention to the opening riff that's eerily similar to The Decemberists' "Sons and Daughters"; it's short and sweet pop gold. "Hercules" is a welcome departure on an otherwise straight-forward album.

I didn't want to find a reason to criticize Guster. I almost wonder if I actually found one, or if I just made one up for the benefit of this review. Ganging Up On the Sun was a tough act to follow. Easy Wonderful would have been better served with less cookie-cutter, but in an era where anything can be traced back to anything else, enjoy these delicious cookies without looking at the ingredients.

Al Davis vs. Stripe

2011-01-31T22:11:00.000-05:00

I know. This one's too easy. I just saw this picture of the esteemed Mr. Davis and couldn't help myself!! :-)

First the Bad News, Then the (Maybe) Good News

2011-01-13T20:20:00.000-05:00

I'm going to be 35 this year. My Seattle move hasn't worked out. In fact it's been a disaster. I've recently realized that I am a control freak. I'm incapable of handling stress or being in a romantic relationship. I don't have a job after June. I'm not really that good at it to begin with. I am not good with handling money - kind of ironic for a control freak like me LOL. I still have anxiety. I still have confidence/self-esteem issues. I still don't like myself all of the time.

Seriously, where do I begin to fix my life? I feel like all I am good at is ruining everything.

And yes, I'm aware that my father reads my Facebook posts, but I don't care right now ;-)

And just when I think I don't have any "start over" left (Charlize Theron, North Country), I spoke with my mother. I called about something silly, and she dropped a nice big chunk of news on me. It may actually be a good thing. It almost brings a smile to my face - almost... because I naturally think about all the things that could go wrong, immediately after thinking about the good of it.

Mom says she's moving to Florida this year. She's been wanting to go forever, but she couldn't leave my grandmother alone. According to Mom, my cousin Melissa & Anthony are going to move into Grandma's house because it's closer to his job. Mom is going to look for a place to live in Florida near Port St. Lucie. She may go in October, if not sooner.

And I am invited to join them.

I do miss my family terribly. Florida IS closer to NY. It costs less to fly to FL than it does to fly to Seattle. And who doesn't want to go to Florida in the winter?

And yes, I'm aware that a proper sentence doesn't start with the word "and." I love proper English & grammar, but for now, fuck it.

My Dad (another shout out) goes to Florida to visit Uncle Danny at least once a year. Technically, he's not my uncle anymore, but to me, he'll always be Uncle Danny. Mr. Steve Lemmey also lives in Florida. My Great Aunt Lisa & Lisa Cora live about an hour north of Tampa. Tampa would be about a 3 hour drive from PSL.

And, oh BTW, the NEW YORK METS play in PSL for a whole freakin' month in March. AND, they play the Marlins in Florida twice a year (2 hour drive). The Class A St. Lucie Mets play from June to September. I believe there's another minor league team in Jupiter nearby. The aforementioned Tampa is the aforementioned 3 hours away. I could go catch a Rays game.

As for work, there are ample insurance jobs in Florida.

Which begs the question - what's the catch? Yeah it's hot in August. It's not REALLY much hotter than NY in August. I was foolish enough to think that Seattle would be this Utopia that I always thought it was when I visited. In reality, it's a nice place to be. Really. It's not perfect. No place is.

I know it sounds like I've started breaking this down in great detail. (I have.) Perhaps I should try a simpler equation. Seattle = rain, a little bit cold, no family, friends, sports.... Florida = rain, a little bit hot, family, no friends right away, sports, more sports.

Oops, I forgot to factor in the rent. Seattle = $800 + utilities + food expenses. Florida = much less due to living at home. Seattle = Brian's broke & has no cable/internet at his apt anymore. Florida = Brian's not broke & has cable/internet in his apt/house.

I have 10 minutes left on the library computer, so I'd better think of something snappy or witty to wrap this up. Well... that's my mama! (cue Peter Griffin laugh)

Seriously, your thoughts and comments are welcome and appreciated.

Okay God, I'm listening....

2011-01-06T23:25:00.000-05:00

Dear friends & followers,

As if the holidays weren't bad enough for me in terms of missing my family and NY, as if my questionable job situation and cash flow issues aren't enough for me to start wondering if I made a mistake coming here, it seems Cupid is now screaming in my ear.

"This time, I really mean it," he says. "She's GOOD crazy, not BAD crazy! You know you like her. You know you want her. Admit it!" Okay, I admit it.

Like ol' Yogi said, it's deja vu all over again.

If you recall (or scroll back far enough in my blog) you will notice that right before I left NY (or VA, as it happened at my cousin's wedding), I met a lady who blew me away. She was one of those people who you looked at for the first time and heard that special instrumental love song playing in your head, rendering you gone for the rest of the evening. After some deliberation and heartache, and a few other silly things that don't bear mentioning, I decided that I could not pursue her. I had made a committment to move to Seattle and live in Seattle. I chose to start anew, and I figured she would just hold back my heart and my head.

Well, it seems to be happening again. It's not exactly the same, but I definitely feel those emotions brewing inside me. Whereas in August it was like a fireworks display that is quickly over and forgotten, this one seems more like turning on a stove and letting the water boil slowly but surely. I have a funny feeling one of two things will happen here: a) she will be The One, the elusive One, or b) if by some chance she's not The One, I won't be hurt like I have been in the past. Seems like a win-win situation, right?

Naturally, in typical "me" fashion, she doesn't live in Seattle. Heck, she doesn't even live in NY, though she does live somewhat close to NY. She actually lives close to the "August Girl" fir lack of a better term, which is pretty ironic in itself. Hell, I guess I am the epitome of irony. I went to the other side of the country & THEN found something I liked close(r) to home. Do I always want what I cant have? Is the grass always greener on the other side?

This isn't "woe is me." This is "I found something that makes me happy, but now how do I get it? And if I do, was it all a waste of time coming HERE?"

In any event, I'm of the opinion that God is trying to tell me something. If that's true, I'm listening. I'll be listening to God tell me how to get what I want.

And here's the best part. I have nothing to lose. In a life seemingly full of wrong turns and misdirections, if I get lost yet again, I know how to get home.

And I Quote....

2010-12-28T15:07:00.000-05:00

From my previous blog dated 12/22/10:

"Let's go with Option B. Next week, CM Punk brings out the Nexus sans Wade Barrett. David Otunga has convinced his colleagues that Barrett's mismanagement led them astray. They have "fired" Barrett from the Nexus (in a callback to HHH firing HBK to form the 2nd incarnation of DX) and they are now all ready for new leadership in the form of Punk. SES II or Nexus II is born - either name works."

Point, Brian!! :-)

More Fantasy Wrestling Booking

2010-12-22T15:20:00.001-05:00

I know, I know.. "Brian, why do you still watch that crap?" Well, it entertains me. Granted, the more boring it gets, the less it entertains me.

Still, I couldn't help but think to myself (and comment on 411mania) that the only way CM Punk has a puncher's chance in a feud with John Cena is if Punk a) reveals himself to be the RAW GM, or b) recruits the Nexus to be a part of his new Straight Edge Society.

This got me thinking of a nice little plot twist. Let's skip Option A because "WWE Mega Superstar Babyface vs. Evil Owner/GM/Boss" has been done to death. Let's go with Option B. Next week, CM Punk brings out the Nexus sans Wade Barrett. David Otunga has convinced his colleagues that Barrett's mismanagement led them astray. They have "fired" Barrett from the Nexus (in a callback to HHH firing HBK to form the 2nd incarnation of DX) and they are now all ready for new leadership in the form of Punk. SES II or Nexus II is born - either name works.

Fast forward to the Royal Rumble. Wade Barrett returns as a mystery entrant, and is pissed! How dare Nexus disrespect him after all he's done for them? Barrett goes Diesel, tossing everyone left and right and gaining some serious face heat in the process. Soon, Barrett approaches Cena, his once sworn-enemy, and says something to the effect of "You need me. You need me to win this fight. Only *I* can rid the WWE of the Nexus for good."

Cena eventually agrees to form an alliance. Presto! Wade Barrett is the new cool edgy vigilante face in the WWE, supplanting Orton in that role (Because, much to my chagrin, the WWE has managed to screw up a sure thing in Orton by making him as vanilla as Cena). Wrestlemania comes and goes with Cena defeating Punk and vanquishing Nexus.

Along comes Orton, who still hates Barrett, never liked him to begin with, and doesn't trust his intentions. Cena assures him that Barrett has changed. In reality, Orton is jealous that Cena has befriended Barrett and not him when he did everything to help Cena fight Nexus the first time. Soon after, Orton turns on him and sides with Punk against Cena & Barrett. There's your SummerSlam 2011 main event.

OR... Better yet!!... Cena & Barrett are allies. Orton disapproves but watches from afar. Barrett slowly gains more favor in the fans' eyes than Cena. CENA starts to develop jealousy towards BARRETT and HE turns heel (in a callback to Orndorff turning on Hogan in 1986). Cena blasts the fans, calls them fickle, hypocritical morons and bears his soul to the masses (in yet another callback to when Hogan turned heel in 1996). "I gave you everything I had. I bled for you for YEARS. I did all the tributes for the troops, signed every last autograph, snapped every last picture for you... and you have the audacity to cheer for BARRETT?!? The man who almost ended my career?!? The man who almost wiped out the entire WWE?!? Without me, none of you would be here! To hell with you!"

Thus, Cena and Barrett are sworn enemies again, and the underlying question in all this is 'Whose side is Orton really on?' This sets up a Triple Threat Match at SummerSlam 2011 where, in theory, Orton's allegiance will be revealed. He sides with neither and continues to be the real vigilante.

Long-term planning in a otherwise meaningless aspect that is sports-entertainment.

Triple Threat Match: Rex Ryan vs. Ron White vs. David Bowie

2010-12-19T11:55:00.000-05:00

They call me.... Ziggy Tater Rex

Alberto Del Rio vs. Jason Segel

2010-12-18T22:06:00.000-05:00

I think I figured out who would play the WWE's coolest aristocrat heel in a movie....

No sausage for you, Cougar!

2010-12-08T23:22:00.000-05:00

So, I was supposed to have dinner tonight with Rich Older Lady. We took the voiceover class together a few weeks back. She was taken by my talents and approached me with her business card. After establishing that she is not a talent agent and that she is looking to befriend me, we agreed on said dinner. She insisted that she pay. No really.

Well, she called at the last minute to say we are now having dinner HERE instead of here. She didn't ask "May I please change it?", nor did she initially explain herself. I guess she's used to being priviledged and getting what she wants because she's a Certified Financial Analyst. Naturally, I had no idea where this place was and (Murphy's Law...) my cell phone battery was dying. If we had stuck to the plan, I would not have needed to use it up. Even after I told her I couldn't talk for long, she took her sweet-ass time trying to tell me where it was, giving me landmarks and whatnot. It's all Greek to me. I had no address, nor did I have access to a computer to look it up. All I knew was that it's a sports bar somewhere near 5th and Denny. I probably should have declined at this point, but I carried on.

She didn't show at the agreed upon time. Of course, I couldn't call her to find out what's up. I waited 45 minutes, ate some fingers and fries, and left. Apparently, there are TWO sports bars near 5th and Denny, and I was at the wrong one. It seems there's a newer, "nicer-looking" sports bar. I should have figured that a woman of her pompous nature would not set foot in a regular guy-girl establishment such as the 5 Point Cafe. (Note to self: food + sports + rock music + nice-looking regular female clientele = a place I will visit again.)

Rich Bitch left two messages on my house phone to check if I was okay, and I dutifully called her back. I made sure I sounded the slightest bit perturbed at the situation. She then, in so many words, tried to pin it all on ME by slipping in a comment about my cell phone. Yes, Rich Bitch, the reason you are not getting any of this is because of my lack of cell phone battery. Surely, I must have known that you'd change plans abruptly an hour before we were to meet, after you initially told me you couldn't "fit me into your schedule" until three weeks later. We've had this all planned out for THREE FUCKING WEEKS. Sorry, next time I'll make sure I have a full charge the next time. OH, that's right! There won't be a next time. I'm not willing to play your cat-and-mouse game and listen to you wax poetic about your success, all for free dinner and the honor of being patronized by you.

BTW, she wasn't even that attractive in the first place.

Not-So-Great Dane

2010-11-29T11:49:00.000-05:00

It's official: I don't like Dane Cook. I've tried for years to like him; really I have! He's just not funny! He doesn't tell jokes. He acts like a total asshole onstage. He tells boring, lame-ass stories for 15 minutes that have no punchline whatsoever. He wreaks of arrogance. He sets stand-up comedy back 30 years. He's like the high school jock who never grew up. I can see him right now at age 38 talking in that juvenile 'I wanna get laid' voice that he does, giving freshmen wedgies, pouring milk over kids' heads in the lunch room, and throwing them in the garbage after school. He's just lame!

That is all.

Fantasy Wrestling Booker

2010-11-02T09:14:00.000-04:00

Not that I shouldn't have better things to do, but I just thought of a perfect booking scenario for Survivor Series. For those who don't know the storyline, you probably don't care so forgive me for a) skipping the back story and b) wasting valuable blog space. For those who do care, you probably know what's going on, so I'll proceed. :-)

Cena screws Orton out of the title to gain his freedom from Nexus. He then calls out all of his WWE buddies (i.e. R-Truth, Morrison, Big Show) as "lumberjacks" for the NEXT match. Barrett is all "Huh?". BAM! Attitude Adjustment!! Nexus comes down and is taken out by the lumberjacks. Cena, who is still an assigned WWE referee, announces Barrett's new opponent, The Miz! Miz comes out, beats Barrett down with his briefcase, and pins him for the title. Cena and Miz have a written agreement where Cena never challenges Miz for a one-on-one title match for the duration of his reign. Miz is all too happy to carry this new legal document in his briefcase.

Thus, Cena is still a face. The kiddies love him and his merchandise sales are intact. Barrett gets what he deserves and Nexus begins to fall apart around him. Miz gets to be super-obnoxious a la The Rock Version 2.0, and now he's the AWESOME CHAMPION to boot. Orton is super-pissed and goes vigilante for a month, re-establishing his Stone Cold Viper persona, dishing out RKO's to every man, woman, and child, especially Cena, Miz, and Barrett. The fans eat him up. This sets up a Fatal 4-Way at TLC in December: Cena, Orton, Barrett, and Miz. Off we go from there, eventually setting up the inevitable Cena-Orton title match at WrestleMania.

Happy Election Day!

No Chocolate Cake: The Review

2010-10-27T22:54:00.000-04:00

There are a thousand cliches in the music business, but none more common than the one that plagues the Gin Blossoms. One minute they're selling out The Greek Theater and Mid-South Coliseum, the next they're playing a free show at a Long Island high school - quite a ways from their home base in Tempe, AZ to boot. The tragic part is that they fall victim to another cliche that's equally common. As a band whose sound is timelessly catchy, they've endured obscurity, attained success, suffered untimely death, inevitably broke up, and later reconciled.

Their comeback effort, 2006's Major Lodge Victory, became the proverbial tree falling in the woods. Despite containing new gems (i.e. "Long Time Gone") as basically structured and profoundly riveting as the well-known tracks of their 90's yesteryear, no one heard its sound and fury. Surely, the decade in between new releases contributed to its demise. Thus, it was back to the drawing board, and off to play Hicksville High.

Despite their luck turning sour over the years, their new serving of No Chocolate Cake is as sweet as any of their previous main courses. At their best, they were the soundtrack to your road trip. Fittingly, the driving opener "Don't Change For Me" offers a proper callback and reminder of their excellence. Further up the road, "Miss Disarray" (not to be confused with "Mrs. Rita"), "I'm Ready", and "Somewhere Tonight" make the highway to wherever seem like a trip back through time with guitars twanging and clashing perfectly. "If You'll Be Mine", while an ivory-oriented departure from their typical Byrds-esque offense, is the proverbial (cliched?) mid-album ballad that keeps the uptempo ditties in their place.

"Dead Or Alive On the 405" (not to be confused with a potential teaser for KOMO 4 News) is a cutesy, old-school, paint-by-numbers romp that gives a nod to Eddie Money and "Mustang Sally" and heads "right up Nickelback alley." Even when ripping on their less-talented radio-friendly successors, they sound surprisingly content with their own destiny. "Something Real" takes you into the home stretch with a progression and refrain that's as dominant and old as the hills. However, like a Mariano Rivera cutter, you know it's coming. You've seen it a million times, and it still looks as pretty as it did in 1997.

Your journey ends too soon in California - "Goin' To California" to be exact. Some bands deserve a second act, and this release would give the general listening public more than enough fodder for one. Whether or not the Gin Blossoms are musically walking on a treadmill is irrelevant. With all they've lost over the years, one thing they haven't lost is a step.

A Penny Stolen Is Still A Crime

2010-10-02T22:11:00.002-04:00

Dear Taco Bell Management,

Normally when I have an issue with service or behavior of an employee at a chain establishment, I would write something sarcastic like a complaint in the guise of a romance novel or a series of haikus. However, I'm in the midst of watching Jake Locker and the Huskies try to defeat the mighty USC Trojans, so I'll be concise.

At halftime of said affair, I drove through Taco Bell Store # 22622 for dinner. My total was $5.57. I handed the nice drive-thru girl $5.60. She promptly gave me my food, said thank you and goodnight, and proceeded to walk away from the window - without considering my change. I could care less about the 3 cents. I am NOT looking for a 3 cent refund. What irks me is that she ASSUMED I would let her keep the change. Surely, I could have waited for her to return, but asking for 3 cents sounds like a trivial matter. Besides, I had the second half of exciting Pac-10 football to watch.

However, I had a thought. What if the person who worked drive-thru at 6:45pm on October 2 for Store # 22622 does this to every customer during her shift? What if she had 20 cars to serve? That could be 60 extra cents in her pocket that day. What if she does this 5 days a week to 20 people a day? That's $3 a week. Surely, her register will not reflect these transactions. I think you see where I'm going with this.

They say a penny saved is a penny earned. A penny stolen is still a crime. Please take whatever precautions are necessary to prevent this from happening in the future. Do this for your sake, not mine.

For what it's worth, your food is still awesome.

Your loyal customer,
Brian

Intermission

2010-09-23T01:27:00.014-04:00

I realize that I have largely ignored my blog lately. I didn't remember the last time I had posted a full missive until just now. Low and behold, I haven't officially blogged since I arrived in the state of Washington! The perils of Facebook and Twitter are becoming rapidly apparent to me. We think we have one or two things to say to the whole world, and so we update our status instead of blogging. Hell, it's easier than sitting at the computer/laptop/whatever for an hour or two writing about something that is important to you and 5 others. I now see that those other social networking sites, while fun and useful to most people like you and I, are specifically designed for the select few who either suffer from ADD or just want a shitload of attention. I mean, why else would you tell your 350 so-called friends (at least half of whom you don't even speak) that you took a shower and put on deodorant today? Therein lies the hidden truth. It becomes like a drug addiction. You get a rush from one thing and you go full bore into it, hoping for that next big rush, until you need more and more to get a bigger rush.

Case in point: Have you ever posted something on either of those sites for the sole purpose of getting just ONE person to comment or "Like" it? Be honest. I know I have. Do you ever feel just a little down when you find that no one cared to respond to your ultra-important memo to the world that NPH just uttered the greatest one-liner in the history of television on How I Met Your Mother? If you think that sounds like something I would do, well, you're absolutely right. I have been duped - lured into a false sense of importance via Facebook and Twitter. Thus, I will be keeping closer tabs on my tweets, postings, and, subsequently, my sense of self.

One last mini-tangent before I get to how I'm really doing (Oops, so much for keeping my sense of importance in check!).... I got a little chuckle when I skimmed through my last post on August 8th. I'd wondered aloud what kind of message God was sending me a message with the lady I'd met just before moving here. Was He really playing a practical joke on me? Was He trying to tell me in His own way that this person was THE ONE, and that I can go romp around in Seattle all I want but I'll be back east arm-in-arm with this girl? Was He just testing me through this person to see if I could let go of everything I had offered to give up, and was I really ready, willing, and able to start over? Now that ample time has passed, the answer is clearer. It was a test. I will withhold certain details, but it occurred to me that my mind was being compromised and pulled back, even though I was already here. As well-intentioned as she was, she was a distraction. I needed to let go, and start anew, as I had truly intended. It actually felt good to let go because, for once, my head overrode my heart and my heart didn't regret it after the fact.

Which segues into the only part of my current, up-to-the-minute existence that really blows. My job. Here's the deal, and let's back up to late June. My boss has known for quite a while that I feel like I am spinning my wheels, both personally and professionally, and that I need a change. I finally decided that I'm going to leave NY. When I first mentioned my desire to relocate, he was very supportive. However, I thought he tried to put up certain road blocks that were designed to test my true intentions. I wondered if he was trying to passively-aggressively get me to quit altogether. I've heard rumors that he doesn't fire people because he doesn't want to pay unemployment. Instead, he makes them feel like dog crap, promises them the world, doesn't give them anything he promises, and makes them miserable until they do quit and call him a first-class pussy on the way out.

Of course, I can work from home from Seattle BUT I am no longer an employee. I am a self-employed contractor. I am responsible for my own medical benefits. I am obligated to pay an obscene amount of income taxes on behalf of myself, the employer AND myself, the employee! Plus, I have to do this quarterly. In order to get paid, I need to send Uncle Jimbo (I'm tired of calling him The Boss, so I'll make up funny names instead) an official invoice. I have to come up with my own proprietorship name and send him a time sheet, with the hours I worked, and a total amount due. I do not get the luxury of direct deposit every two weeks because I'm not an employee anymore. If I am to get paid, I send him an invoice from "Brian Scala, Insurance Admin Services", and I get a check in the mail for the amount requested. To their credit, the Head Cheese Puffs have been quick to return payment to me. I've gotten my checks in the mail on the following Friday each time thus far.

This brings me to the working environment and the work itself. I have a 1 bedroom apt. It seems that most people who work from home have a 2 bedroom setup with 1 of the bedrooms as an office. That way, they can go inside and pretend they're at work, and come up at 5:00. It seems I'm no longer capable of sitting at my desk and doing what I should be doing. My work computer no longer has a block on it, so I can access the aforementioned Facebook and Twitter, as well as any other website in the universe. I can go for a 2 hour lunch at Spiro's if I want to. I can take a break and go to Fred Meyer. I can literally sit at my desk in my pajamas, look at pictures of naked women on one tab, and see an Acord application for an insurance policy on another tab if I so choose. Of course, that has not happened... ;-)

What HAS happened is that the way we as Technical Assistants process work has changed dramatically since I have relocated. We have a Quality Control procedure. Until 2 weeks ago, QC would check the policy 45 days after it was issued. If we needed to make any major changes, we would endorse it. Now suddenly, the policy issuers such as myself don't issue the policies anymore. When we're done with our work flow, we send it to QC. If there's ANY slight, minor, tiny, unimportant, idiotic thing that is not "consistent" with the way THEY want it, they send us back an error. It's marked in the system and we are forever branded as having made an error. This includes my personal favorite wrong-doing: abbreviating N. Main Street in the address field instead of writing out North Main Street, as if the mail will not reach it's intended destination if someone writes N. on the envelope instead of North! What's more, the Head QC person even told me that technically it's not wrong if I abbreviate it, but we have to be "consistent." A) I was being consistent with the Acord application which listed the address with the N. to begin with. B) If it's not technically wrong, why is it an ERROR?!? The only consistency I see is that the entire QC team is now drunk with power, and the other TA's hate it too. The management team only cares that each and every policy goes out completely error-free, a respectable goal. However, to me it feels like the equivalent of dropping an H-Bomb to end the War On Errors.

Seriously, if they are only going to tell me that everything I do is wrong, why do I bother trying? Between that and all the other distractions and perils of working from my living quarters, I literally don't want to do my job anymore. Without going into too much detail, both to avoid jinxing it and in case Big Brother is watching, I may have another insurance opportunity coming down the pike soon. I'd be working downtown, so I'd have a job site to commute to again. I'd be eligible for benefits, which means I don't have to fit the bill on my own anymore. For everyone who wishes they, too, could work from home, take it from me. It's not always worth it. Also, I'd be working for a Seattle company. It's a strange feeling having left home and moved out here, yet every day I log into my computer, I'm doing the same thing I did in NY, dealing with the same people in NY. It feels counter-productive, and it feels like another force is trying to pull me back to the place I left.

I did a phone interview for my possible new employer 2 weeks ago. The first thing the lady told me when we greeted each other was that I had the nicest, smoothest-sounding radio voice. I get that a lot. I love hearing that compliment. My cousin Stephanie keeps reminding me that I need to find a radio station in Seattle for which to work. Unfortunately, my radio "career" is practically non-existent at this point. I last did college radio in 1998. We never had anything digital in the studio. When I went to UNH, the radio station equipment was straight outta 1975. I'm pretty sure Peter Gabriel was still in Genesis at that point. I haven't found any broadcasting schools out here so I could re-learn the tricks of the trade. The tuition for the Connecticut School of Broadcasting back in NY is $12,000. I don't have $12,000. The only way radio stations will take you if you're totally inexperienced is via an internship, and they only accept you if are a college student getting school credit.

What I do have going for me is inspiration. One of them is Erica Shaffer. She is the ultimate "I've seen her in a million things and I love her, but I don't know her name" actor. One night a few years ago, I saw her on an infomercial with Barry Williams promoting the Time Life 70's Music Explosion collection. It's great enough that I love 70's music and needed to complete my collection of 70's tunes, but all I kept wondering was "Who is that STUNNING redhead?" I found Ms. Shaffer's website, along with her resume, demos, and contact info. Every few months, I check back in with Ms. Shaffer at http://www.ericashaffer.com/ (there's a plug for ya!) to see what projects she's been working on, and where I might find her next. I happened to find her voiceover demo today, and suddenly it hit me. Voiceovers!! I KNOW I can do voiceovers with my nice, soothing radio voice that turns Regional Insurance Managers into Jell-O (just kidding, Big Brother!). I've decided to look into the process of recording a voiceover demo. From there, I can pass it along to many different talent agencies, including Ms. Shaffer's representatives, and see if I can land a gig or two. They say a good voiceover artist can make close to $50,000 a year. I imagine that if I could somehow procure that kind of annual salary, maybe I wouldn't have to worry about doing insurance for a living. I'm getting way ahead of myself though. I just got a new microphone for the computer. Baby steps...

Seattle is truly a wonderful city. Everywhere you look, you see trees, water, or mountains. You can see all of those things at Alki Beach. The outdoors won't leave you dripping with sweat if you walk down the street. Most of the people are nice. I have my friend Carrie to hang with, I actually have a... oh, what's that D word where you meet someone new of the opposite sex that you really like?, You know where you go to a coffee shop and talk, and maybe have dinner, and then maybe you walk around and smile at each other and hold hands if all goes well? Ahh, I'll think of it later.

All things considered, I am really starting to feel like I'm home and that I'm slowly turning the corner. If I had to convert my whole life from birth to death into a Broadway musical, I'd say right now is where the curtain would drop and the intermission would start. The first act ran the gauntlet of emotions, and maybe this will be the payoff. It's up to me to decide whether or not this play turns into a tragedy, a comedy, a tear-jerker, or a rise-to-your-feet-and-applaud, Tony Award-winning epic production.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I just saw the lights in the theatre flickering. It must mean that Act II is about to start.

The Definition of Irony

2010-08-08T07:29:00.005-04:00

Every once in a blue moon, you see someone, and with just one single, solitary look, you feel "it." The whole world stops and there is only you and her (or him, but for the sake of argument, we'll make it a female). Everything turns into a cartoon where your eyes bug out, your jaw drops, your legs start running in place, and your heart start pounding twice as fast, exploding ten feet out of your chest with every beat. You hear Love's Theme or The Delfonics in your head and you see yourself lifting her up and spinning her around and around through a sea of daisies.

Then, you actually get to meet her, talk to her, and hang out with her! Low and behold, she is everything you'd hoped she would be. You just want to melt right then and there. Of course, everything is cool and calm on the outside, but on the inside, it's chaos of the heart. As Leslie Nielsen once aptly stated, you just want to drop to your knees and thank God you were a man (or woman, but for the sake or argument, we'll make it a male). Unfortunately, she lives in Virginia and you are moving to Seattle the very next day. That, ladies and gentlemen, is the very definition of irony and proof positive that God is alive and well with a sick sense of humor!

Dear Lord, please bring me her identical twin or someone JUST LIKE HER who lives in the Seattle area (and likes baseball, too). In Jesus' name, Amen.

p.s. - If she weren't already in a relationship, I'd really be pissed. ;-)

Wiley Wiggins Vs. Tim Lincecum

2010-07-13T20:21:00.003-04:00

Well, they've got ONE thing in common. Her name is Mary Jane... ;-)

Breaking College Football

2010-06-14T18:32:00.009-04:00

I understand that the term "student-athlete" is a dubious one, but apparently it's the NCAA itself that needs an education. For one, they've forgotten how to count. The Big Ten now has 12 teams. The Pac-10 now has 11 teams. The Big 12 will carry on with 10 teams. College football is messed up enough as it is, and now we need to watch them play musical chairs and ignore basic mathematics? Recent speculation that Texas, Texas A&M, Oklahoma, and OK State would join the Pac-10 was geographically mind-boggling to me. There are literally 2 times zones separating Texas and Oklahoma from the Pacific Ocean. How could they have been considered Pac-Anything?

Then, there's the whole BCS formula / brain surgery, which is the genesis of this whole mess. Every school wants to be considered for a BCS Bowl Game and are willing to join the Yukon Territory conference if it means more money and a better chance of being the Undisputed Champions of College Football. It may be true that the Pac-10 is more prestigious than the Big 12, but you still have to win practically every game to be considered for a BCS Bowl. I don't know about you, but I'd rather have Baylor on my schedule than USC. Then again, the infamous BCS computer may draw the "strength of schedule" card and penalize you for beating Baylor 44-7, as it rewards another team for losing to USC by the same score.

Bob Lemon once said that baseball "was made for kids, and grown-ups only screw it up." I feel the exact same way when it comes to the powers-that-be in college football. Therefore, pardon me as I offer a solution so simple a New Haven grad can do it. We need an NCAA College Football Tournament. Everyone has been screaming for it ever since the BCS came into existence. Surely, it would ruin everything... or would it? It would take quite a bit of planning and negotiation... or would it? In between doing my day job, I came up with the majority of my plan. Here goes...

Conferences - No more switching conferences unless a) the NCAA President approves it, and b) there's a team to replace the departing team. Last I checked, the Pittsburgh Pirates cannot up and leave the NL Central and go back to the NL East on their own. Texas and Colorado and everyone else is stuck where they are (or were, in the case of Colorado). And while we're at it, Penn State is deported to the Big East to actually give the Big Ten the precise number of teams again. The Nittany Lions have instant rivalries (re-born?) with Pitt and West Virginia, and new rivalries with Rutgers, UConn and Louisville.

BCS - Dead. Finished. NOW! See ya! The top 2 teams in each conference play for their respective conference championship. Some already do this. The remaining teams are seeded and a football tournament is held.

College Football Tournament - You have 11 Division 1-A conference champions (or "Bowl Subdivision" or whatever they call it this year) and 14 Division 1-AA conference champs (or "Championship Subdivision" or whatever they call it this year.... That's another thing. Forget about Bowl Subdivisions and FCS and all that crap. It's too confusing. You have 1-A teams and 1-AA teams. Simple. Done.)

So, take those 25 conference champions. Add the 1-A Independent with the best record, the 1-AA Independent with the best record, four 1-A conference wildcards with the best record, and one 1-AA conference wildcard. That makes 32 teams. The rest of the 1-AA teams go home. Season over. No more 1-AA Football Championship. The rest of the 1-A teams are eligible for bowl games.

College Football Post-Season - Yes, there are still bowl games. More on that in a bit. Unlike the NCAA Basketball Tourney, the Football Tourney cannot be finished in a mere 2 weeks due to the grueling nature of the sport, the need for injury recovery time, and the sheer size of the teams. The College Football Tourney starts at the beginning of December, thus eliminating the ultra-long break between the regular season and bowl season. In theory, college football stops so the "student-athletes" can take finals. Well, everyone knows that football players are not exactly treated like everyone else, so let's stop kidding ourselves. Make an NCAA exemption giving them until the end of January to take finals for their fall semester classes. In return, they lose their winter break. That's the price you pay for playing the game.

16 first round games are held from the first Tuesday through the first Friday of December. 4 each day. (BTW, We eliminate one week of the regular season, thus scrapping one bye week. We also move the Army-Navy Game to the day after Thanksgiving, thus eliminating another week.)

8 second round games are held the following week. Tuesday through Friday. 2 each day.

4 third round games are held the week after that. 2 on Tuesday, 2 on Wednesday.

Christmas Eve - The Hawai'i Bowl is played. 8pm Eastern start time.

Boxing Day (December 26th) - The International Bowl is played in Toronto. 8pm Eastern start time.

December 27 - The first Final Four game is played

December 29 - The second Final Four game is played

New Years Eve - The Fiesta Bowl is played. 8pm Eastern start time.

New Years Day - All remaining bowl games are played. Rose Bowl, Cotton Bowl, Papajohns.com Bowl, Shit-On-A-Stick Bowl, etc. If my calculations are correct, if we subtract the Hawai'i Bowl, International Bowl, Fiesta Bowl, and the would-be defunct BCS Championship Game, there would be 30 bowl games left to play. Divide them into 3 start times: 10 games at 12pm (Eastern), 10 at 4pm, 10 at 8pm. Ten channels get TV rights, most likely ABC, NBC, CBS, FOX, ESPN, ESPN2, ESPN U, Versus, TBS, and TNT.

Then, add one additional bowl game to start at Midnight (9pm Pacific Time) to benefit the west coast fans who want to see a night game. Call it the Midnight Bowl, played at Oakland-Alameda County Coliseum, featuring one Pac-10 home team and one unlucky at-large road team from the east. Any fan who comes to the gate dressed in black and/or Raiders gear gets one free beer, or one free soda pop if they don't drink or they're under 21.

Finally, on the Saturday night after New Years, the College Football National Championship Game is held. 8pm Eastern.

There it is. We have bowl games. We have a tournament. We have an undisputed college football champion. Every team has an equal opportunity at the National Championship and doesn't necessarily have to worry about running up the score against an inferior opponent.

We also have a shitload of revenue to boot! Last year, the NCAA had 34 bowl games including the BCS Title Game. With my new system, we have 35 bowl games and 31 tournament games including the title game. Take those 32 extra games and say an average of 60,000 people attend each one. That's 1,920,000 people. Take THAT number and times it by an average of $50 a head.... 96 million dollars! I hear this whole musical chairs thing is also about money.

SO, who's in favor of the Scala Method of fixing NCAA College Football? :-)

Jim Joyce is the Worst Umpire Ever!!

2010-06-02T21:09:00.002-04:00

Jim Joyce used to be my favorite umpire. I know physically assulting the guy is way out of line, but these umps have sucked beyond recognition this year. I want to see someone deck Joyce - player, coach, fan - it doesn't matter. He robbed Armando Galarraga of a perfect game by claiming he missed the bag when covering first. I was sincerely hoping Miguel Cabrera or Jim Leyland would beat the crap out of him.

Seriously, WTF is with these horrible umps? We need instant replay like they have in the NFL. Human error is one thing, but this is bullshit!! Give the managers one challenge a game. Do it. The umps apparently can't get it right.

Cobras in Crisis?

2010-05-23T20:54:00.002-04:00

Tonight's Top Story... My fantasy baseball team sucks!

What Grinds My Gears

2010-05-11T21:07:00.000-04:00

You know what really grinds my gears? People who devote all their time & energy to the church, but still act like complete jerk-faces constantly. It's like they think just because they go to church and praise JC that, no matter how badly they act towards others, their poop doesn't stink and they will be forgiven for all sins. That's not good enough for me. People just need to learn to be considerate towards others. And just because you ask the man upstairs to forgive you shouldn't mean you are immediately exonerated. I mean, I pray and ask for stuff too, but I don't get everything I want. Why should these a-holes be forgiven just because they congregate with other a-holes in a big building and say a prayer or two before going back out into the world to be a-holes again? That's not acceptable to me!

And that's what really grinds my gears.

The Honorable Thing

2010-05-10T18:11:00.002-04:00

I guess it's only fitting that in a season where the Mariners offense is asleep (and thus, putting their loyal fans to sleep as well), the past and present face of their franchise would rather drift off to Hall of Fame Dreamland than pinch-hit . Perhaps Junior is taking his label as a good clubhouse guy too literally.

In all seriousness, if that article is indeed accurate, it's time for Ken Griffey Jr. to do the honorable thing and retire immediately. I understand that there's something to be said for finishing the season, but when you've got absolutely nothing left to give physically, you're better off stepping aside for the betterment of the team. Junior loves the Mariners or he wouldn't have returned to Seattle to begin with. The best thing he can do for them now is leave with dignity. The fact of the matter is he's hitting .208 with no dingers. That's not the Ken Griffey Jr. I want to remember.

Some of the game's best have called it a career mid-season. Bobby Mercer said goodbye in June of 1983, which paved the way for a guy named Mattingly to take his roster spot. Mike Schmidt knew when he'd lost his way: May 29, 1989. Despite having the most RBI by a National League third baseman at the time, Schmidt felt he couldn't continue and gave a tearful farewell. Hell, Babe Ruth retired mid-season, and if anyone defined baseball it was the Bambino!

I'm not saying that Alex Liddi or Carlos Peguiero are ready to pull an Ike Davis and carry a struggling big league club on their backs. However, there is no shame in walking away a hero. Ken Griffey Jr. will always be the man who saved baseball in Seattle. Now it's time to save the Mariners' season, and give fans in the Pacific Northwest something else to remember in 2010.

The Want To vs. The Have To

2010-05-02T19:29:00.003-04:00

Why is it the moment I feel like I have to do something, even the things that I really enjoy, I have no desire to do them whatsoever? I like to do things. I feel I'm a creative, articulate person. I have genuine interests in music, movies, and sports, and I like to write. I like anything that makes me laugh. What I like even more though is the freedom to enjoy these things whenever I choose. I'm not sure if I should add this to my list of ever-growing reasons why I should seek counseling (again). Is it laziness? Is it depression? Lord knows I suffer from both. All I know is I do things on my time, when I have both the time and motivation to do it.

Work doesn't count in this equation... or maybe it does. Do I like working? Not really. I enjoy getting paid, and I enjoy that feeling of accomplishment, whether it be work-related or otherwise. Still, I can't shake this problem where a lack of desire, drive, and determination go hand in hand with deadines and requirements of any kind.

If anyone is reading and has any idea what I'm talking about, or any experience dealing with this issue, please feel free to comment.

The George Lopez Arizona Diamondbacks

2010-04-29T22:58:00.003-04:00

So, I just noticed that the Arizona Diamondbacks uniform font looks very similar to the Lopez Tonight font. Coincidence?? OR is it all part of George's secret plot to be the most powerful Latino in America?!? I guess we know who really benefits from that new immigration law.... ;)

Dear Subway Employees

2010-03-23T20:02:00.007-04:00

First and foremost, I understand that you are all doing your job and that most of you are not as proficient in the English language as I am. This request is likely falling on deaf ears as a result, but it surely won't stop me from voicing my opinion in a sarcastic yet entertaining fashion.

I am a long-standing customer of your fine sandwich establishment. I have no issues whatsoever with the quality of your product. I enjoy it very much. What irks me of late is the apparent new edict that has been passed down from the powers-that-be in your Milford, CT headquarters.

I have never been a fan of "upselling." I, myself, was forced to do it once upon a time at the Showcase Cinemas, which ironically was once located in the very same town of said headquarters. It has long since been replaced by the nearby Cinema De Lux, for all intents and purposes, a movie theatre on steroids designed to entrap the masses of teens who frequent the Connecticut Post Mall and care not for the cinema itself. A few times a year, I make my way back to the old college stomping grounds. Sometimes I even drive past the old theatre and remember the good times, the pre-release screening of Austin Powers, all the popcorn I could eat, and the free clothes. I remember with great joy meeting my manager Nick. I knew that when I declared my favorite films to be A Clockwork Orange and Quadrophenia, and he immediately beamed from ear to ear since the Stanley Kubrick classic was his favorite as well, I had the job right then and there. I barely remember going to my manager's bachelor party and getting so extremely drunk from some mystery blue beverage that Nick "encouraged" me to consume, I could hardly keep my eyes on the bumper in front of me as I drove back to the theatre. We snuck into a midnight showing of Kiss the Girls. I took my leave about 10 minutes in, having not the sobriety to follow the already-convoluted storyline.

What I do NOT remember with great fondness are all the times I had to inquire "Would you like the large for a quarter more?" I knew that most movie patrons were not stupid, especially the ones over age 21. They can read the prices. They can see the sizes of the cups. As many a movie patron pointed out to me over the years, a) "The regular size is a quarter less!", and b) "If I wanted the large, I would have ASKED for the large!"

Which leads me back to Subway, and back to my dilemma after a long and hearty tangent. I have always ordered the 6 inch sub. I've always believed the the 6 inch sandwich is the ideal-sized sandwich for an average-sized person, or even an above average-sized person. I've always viewed the footlong sub as either a sexual joke waiting to be told or the ideal-sized sandwich for two. The first time I heard one of your Merrick, NY-based employees try to upsell the footlong for just a dollar more, my first reaction was shock. My next was dismay, and the one after that was a sense of irony, for the reasons described above. I attempted to converse with the Middle Eastern-born sandwich specialist instead of simply declaring yes or no. I said I didn't need a footlong and that the 6 inch would suffice as always. Apparently, English was not her second language, but rather a language that she was not qualified to comprehend, let alone speak. She kept trying to tell me that the footlong was JUST A DOLLAR MORE!

I tried to rationalize my Subway experience as a one-time freak occurrence, but I knew better. Deep down, I knew that this was the beginning of a new era for Subway. From this day forward, I knew that every time I walked into your fine sandwich palace and asked for my customary 6 inch sub, I would be reminded that the massive footlong (giggity!) is only one whole dollar more.

I feel it is only fair for me to point out what so many had replied to me several years ago at the now-defunct Showcase Cinemas in Milford. Quite simply, if I wanted the footlong, I would have ASKED for it! Besides, the 6 inch is a whole dollar LESS than the glorious 12 inches of heaven you feel compelled to market to unsuspecting patrons.

Furthermore, I feel it is only fair for me to warn you of what will take place the next time one of your fine sandwich specialists tries to upsell the $5 footlong when I ask for something different. My first response will be that of sarcasm, much like this written piece you're reading right now. If Habib or Sanjita respond with a quizzical look, followed by "Are you sure?" or "Only one dollar more???" or something that barely resembles a complete English sentence, I will emphatically say "NO." In addition, if I do crave a future sub, I will take my principles with me for a nice delicious meal at Quiznos or Blimpies for a period of time yet to be determined. I will do this despite my love for your quality product. It is the only way I can successfully protest your decision to mock the willpower of your patrons and push more calories on the masses, simply for the benefit of a mere whole dollar!

It seems like a lose-lose situation to me. All you gain from this is a buck, while we must endure another hour on the treadmill. And here I thought you were the healthy fast-food alternative. Americans have a long-standing reputation with the rest of the world for being stubborn, arrogant, fat, and lazy. By trying to upsell even after my initial declination, you reflect our stubbornness. By assuming we want cheese on our sub when we don't even ask for it in the first place (Oh that reminds me... Stop asking me what kind of cheese I want on my sandwich. I didn't even ask for it in the first place!!), you reflect our arrogance. By pushing more food on us, you attempt to make us fat. As for lazy, if I were that lazy, I would not have written this piece in the first place.

I encourage you to discontinue your newly-founded practice of upselling. Take it from me. It'll save you and your multi-cultural staffers a lot of headaches. If you'd like, I will plead my case to you again in a much nicer way - for just one lousy buck. ;)

Saturday Morning Post

2010-03-13T09:54:00.005-05:00

Now that I've invited everyone to follow my blog, it would help if I had something to blog about. Herein lies the problem, so I'll just wing it and hope I'm not too boring.

Tonight, I'm going to the Islanders game. Tomorrow, I'm off to see my cousin Steph in Westchester, whom I haven't seen in ages. One of my favorite college pastimes was driving down to Fordham University at Lincoln Center from New Haven and showing up at Stephanie's dorm unannounced. I've since learned that the Surprise Visit is not an ideal option. Damn you, A Clockwork Orange, for turning me on to that in the first place (fear not, so my surprise visits were non-ultraviolent LOL). Anyway, I'm excited to see my cousin. As a bonus attraction, I'm going to see Henry Rollins at Tarrytown Music Hall tomorrow night. This will mark the 4th time I've seen Henry, tying him with REM and Air Supply. Yes, that's Henry Rollins, REM, and Air Supply. Talk about diversity. I'm sure there's a joke in there about the three of them walking into a bar, but I'll leave you to find it. ;)

From there, I have a short work week. I'm off to Florida Thursday the 19th thru Sunday the 21st for my first-ever taste of Grapefruit League baseball. I attended a few spring training games in Arizona when I lived there. With all due respect, Florida spring training feels more special to me. It's symbolic of the baseball season about to get underway. Maybe it's because I didn't grow up on the left coast, but with Arizona baseball, I just got the feeling like 'Hey, it's baseball season again, and it's warm. Cool!' With Florida baseball, it's feel more like 'OH YEAH! It's baseball season again. THIS is what I'm talkin' about!' It's like comparing HoHokam Park to Wrigley Field. One is baseball, and the other is BASEBALL.

I'll be meeting my mom down there, who has made it a yearly ritual to go to spring training. I'm also meeting my friend Lauren, whom I haven't seen since high school. I'm also having dinner with some of my mom's cousins. Should be a nice time.

I don't know about you, but I'm happy to see the rain as opposed to the snow.

Shameless Music Plug...

2010-03-08T18:50:00.001-05:00

Heather Thornton is awesome!

Breaking Vince's Hall of Fame

2010-03-07T09:52:00.030-05:00

Foreword: a special thank you to Scott Criscuolo for indirectly and unwittingly inspiring this missive...

It is now 3 weeks until WrestleMania, and it's just like old times. The talk of the WWE centers around Bret Hart and Vince McMahon screwing each other (giggity!). Hulk Hogan and Eric Bischoff are about to commence Monday Night War II. Shawn Michaels and The Undertaker are on a collision course, the same collision course they were on some 13 years ago. Yet, lost in all this retro hoopla is the fact that Jim Hellwig (aka Ultimate Warrior) has left the WWE holding the bag yet again.

As most wrestling fans have noticed, this year's glorious WWE Hall of Fame class doesn't look so glorious. Sure, DiBiase and Inoki belong in there, but there's no giant mega-superstar on the card for this year's honors, no household name that any 85-year-old grandmother would say 'Ohh YEAH! I remember him!' Many of those same fans are also aware that the reason for this Ho-Hum Class of 2010 is because the WWE's star inductee this time around was to be The Ultimate Warrior, who accepted... then declined to enter Vince's Hall of Fame.

Yes, that's right. It's still VINCE'S Hall of Fame, and that's the problem. No one really takes it seriously, and rightly so. There is no actual building to visit, no plaques on display. There is no Bruno Sammartino because he hates Vince for taking the sports out of sports-entertainment. There is no Randy Savage because Vince hates him. The reason for the snub may or may not involve an urban legend regarding The Macho Man and a then under-age Stephanie McMahon. The WWE Hall of Fame induction ceremony is an annual party where Vince invites new friends and former colleagues to kiss his ass in public. Those who are not willing to do so are ostracized. Those who are willing are celebrated. For God's sake, KOKO B. WARE is a WWE Hall of Famer!! I honestly cannot for the life of me remember him winning a match, ever!! It's a sad, pathetic joke. Okay, maybe Koko beat The Brooklyn Brawler a few times, but still.

Don't get me wrong; Vince McMahon is a forgiving person. He graciously honored Superstar Billy Graham in 2004, despite Graham's very public burial of Vince and his "Steroid Policy" some 15 years earlier. Nevermind the fact that when Vince finally re-extended the olive branch, Graham's health was so deteriorated, his body so severely ravaged by years of steroid abuse that the Superstar acquiesced and opted not to kill him. This year, the WWE is also inducting Wendi Richter, the once-decorated Women's Champion of the Rock N' Wrestling Era. It really says something about a man's character when you order an over-the-hill Fabulous Moolah to don a mask, go out and beat up your champion for real over a contractual dispute, and then graciously bring her back into the fold after 25 years of being disgraced and blackballed - just to prove to Ultimate Warrior that he can make peace with ANYONE and how dare he spurn the mighty Vince.

Funny, I don't recall any baseball player ever refusing induction into Cooperstown, and baseball has had some very unpopular commissioners over the years. I don't remember anyone ever refusing induction into any other sports or entertainment Hall of Fame. There is precedent for a Hall of Fame refusing to induct a player, such as Pete Rose, but that's a different story. Vince McMahon didn't hesitate to accept a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and he sure took great pleasure in inducting Major League Baseball's all-time hits leader into his WRESTLING Hall of Fame! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Pete Rose is a WWE Hall of Famer. The man who wrestled in Madison Square Garden every month as champion from 1964 to 1971, and again from 1973 to 1977, the man credited with selling out the world's most famous arena 187 times, the man who holds the longest single WWE Championship reign in history is NOT a WWE Hall of Famer, because he hates Vince.

I'm fairly certain that Bud Selig, Gary Bettman, and David Stern haven't gotten along with every great player that has graced the sports stage. Yet, they always say the right things about everyone, regardless of their own personal feelings. There will come a time when Bud Selig will have to stand on a stage in upstate New York and read Barry Bonds' plaque inscription. He may curse the day he does it, but he'll do it on live television in front of the whole world (unless he retires when his contract is up in 2012). I guarantee you that Bonds' plaque won't read anything about steroids. Barry Bonds will not be refused induction because he lied to everyone. He won't be refused induction because everyone hates him. The Major League Baseball Commissioner, whether it be Selig or his replacement, simply has no choice in the matter. Point being, if Vince McMahon wants to be taken seriously as a sports-entertainment giant, he needs to take his Hall of Fame seriously, regardless of his own personal feelings.

I have pondered this off-and-on over the years, and I've determined that if I could be granted my dream job, ANY job, it would be President of the WWE Hall of Fame. Naturally, I would need total autonomy. By comparison, Baseball HOF President Jeff Idelson does not report directly to Bud Selig, nor does he answer to him. Cooperstown has a Board of Directors and an Executive Committee. WWE also has a Board of Directors and an Executive Committee. However, Selig doesn't go around firing people for disagreeing with him to placate his inflated ego. Kevin Dunn and John Laurinaitis might be the Executive VP's of TV and Talent Relations, respectively, but the E's website might as well say 'Vince McMahon, King of the World' and omit everyone else except his daughter.

Simply put, I would need to do my job, and this is what I would do to restore credibility. First, I'd create a building and museum. Shane McMahon, Vince's son, is the only person to ever elude to the possibility of a future WWE Hall of Fame and Museum exhibit. Guess what? He's no longer with the company! Vince is sadly missing the boat on this one. A Museum and Hall of Fame exhibit is a cash cow waiting to be milked. The Baseball Hall sees approximately 350,000 visitors every year. Let's say a potential WWE Hall brings in half as many people. If you charge $12 admission for 175,000 people, that's 2.1 million dollars! Plus, you've got the souvenir gift shop to bring in more revenue. The cost of construction would be covered rather quickly. Plus, if you build the facility near an already popular vacation spot, such as Mystic, CT, you attract so much more people. That's what the National Soccer Hall of Fame did. They built their facility in Oneonta, NY, some 23 miles away from Cooperstown. I can see it now. "Hey, we're going to Mystic Seaport. Let's hit the WWE Hall of Fame in Old Saybrook on the way there or on the way back. It won't take long. There's no Bruno Sammartino wing yet..."

Which brings me to my next act as WWE Hall of Fame President. Bruno is in, and so is Randy Savage, Ultimate Warrior, and Demolition. End of discussion. If they refuse to attend, we induct them anyway. We show a nice video package, find a cousin 5 times removed to accept on their behalf, and all is right with the world. Reportedly, the Class of 2011 will be a "WCW-themed" induction year since WrestleMania will be held in Atlanta, WCW's former home base. Bring in Sting, Luger, The Steiners, The Road Warriors, Tully Blanchard, Arn Anderson, The Rock N' Roll Express, Jim Cornette, and Ron Simmons for 2011. Then, we play "catch-up" in 2012 with Bruno, Savage, Warrior, Demolition, The Rock, Stan Hansen, & Vader. Plus, we still have to honor most of the old Stampeders, so 2013 can be is Stu Hart, Owen Hart, The British Bulldogs, Leo Burke, Bad News Allen, Archie Gouldie, and Ed Whalen. Away we go from there, that is if the writers vote them all in....

Which brings me to my next act. WWE Hall of Fame induction is determined by a Pro Wrestling Writers Committee, working in conjunction with Pro Wrestling Illustrated and the Wrestling Observer. Dave Meltzer can be President of the Writers, with voting privileges extended to Bill Apter, Gene Loyfenfeld, Stu Saks, Frank Krewda, Scott Keith, Calvin Martin, Shaun Plummer, Joseph Gentry, and Rob Feinstein. Hell, place a call to Sean Shannon and good ol' CRZ as well for shits and giggles. Voting privileges are then given to 3 new writers every calendar year, as determined by said committee.

Ballots consist of all wrestlers who debuted 15 years ago. Forget about retirement stipulations because wrestlers never retire. Cornette once said that the statute of limitation on wrestling angles is 7 years, so double that and add 1. 75% of the vote is required for induction. One final criteria: All inductees had to have wrestled at some point with WWE or any of its acquired interests, such as WCW, World Class, or Stampede. In other words, wrestlers exclusive to TNA are ineligible. Nothing personal against TNA, but, this is the *WWE* Hall of Fame after all.

I understand that everything that happens in the WWE is pre-determined. I would never go so far as to call wrestling fake. The Hall of Fame is a different story. I look at it as a laughingstock. I'm always hopeful that someone deserving will actually get in. However, every year I'm left with a feeling of disdain. That's saying a lot considering Hulk Hogan once pinned Kevin Nash with a fingerpoke and David Arquette once won the WCW World Title, and I look at those travesties with indifference.

It's ironic that the so-called Genetic Jackhammer despises the media for failing to bestow credibility upon him, yet he squanders every opportunity to establish credibility. Maybe it's because he once dubbed himself The Genetic Jackhammer. The product may be TV-PG now, but some people don't forget. Maybe it's because for all his stoicism, the Chairman and CEO of the company still walks down the ramp on live TV like he just shit his pants. Regardless, every year around this time, Vince McMahon proves that he is the greatest sports-entertainment promoter that ever lived. Maybe one of these days he'll learn to stop entertaining himself and give his fans what they really want.

After all, the Oscars are fake too, and no one seems to mind.

New York: Bastion of Overrated Sports Stars

2010-02-26T15:55:00.002-05:00

This started out innocently enough. My friend Carrie wrote me and said that while most Christians give up something for Lent, she wishes she could give up Bob Costas. She made a funny. :) Bob Costas does not irritate me on a regular basis, despite his high opinion of himself. I like him as an interviewer. I like his passion for the game of baseball. What I find irritating though as his actual views on baseball. All too often, he gets on his high horse about the travesty of the DH, how Mickey Mantle was God, and how St. Louis is the greatest city in the world.

This is where the lightbulb went off in my head. The whole Mickey Mantle lovefest drives me crazy. I say this with great reservation because my grandfather on my Dad's side was a huge fan of The Mick. The last birthday present I ever got him was a mini-plaque of Mickey Mantle. Basically, it's a baseball card encased and attached to a small wall plaque. When he passed, my Dad went through his things and found it. I've kept it ever since, despite my allegiance to the Mets.

Still, I don't understand why so many people revere Mantle and treat him like he parted the Red Sea. Costas, Billy Crystal, Mike Francesa, Grandpa Scala, and countless others worship him. Yes, he hit a lot of homers, but he also struck out a ton. He drank himself to death, was frequently injured because he didn't keep himself in shape, and finished his career with a string of sorry years in last place because he didnt have Roger Maris and Yogi Berra to hit behind him. A true baseball God should do better than that.

That's the problem with becoming a New York sports celebrity. No one around here ever takes them to task for being terribly overrated. Once you're "made," you're made forever despite everything, including the truth. Let's take a closer look at a few more New York Sports Gods....

Joe Namath: Great motivational speaker and a smart guy, but an average quarterback at best. He threw 173 career touchdowns to match his 220 interceptions! He made his name and livelihood based on Super Bowl III. He was lucky enough to play a supremely over-confident Colts team who took them lightly and didn't account for the Jets running game. Here's a direct quote from the NFL's Super Bowl website.. "Namath, chosen the outstanding player, completed 17 of 28 passes for 206 yards and directed a steady attack that dominated the NFL champions after the Jets' defense had intercepted Colts quarterback Earl Morrall three times in the first half. The Jets had 337 total yards, including 121 rushing yards by Matt Snell."... 17 of 28 for 206? THAT is an MVP performance?!? Bullshit! They gave it to him because he ran his mouth and the girls wanted to sleep with him. Nevermind the fact that his defense and running attack did the bulk of the work. What else did Namath do for his career? Nothing! Zero! But NOOOO, Broadway Joe is a GOD in a fur coat! My ass!!

Derek Jeter: A poor man's Pete Rose. He works hard. He's got heart and he's got Michael Jordan's gift of gab. ;) Otherwise, he's a singles hitter who benefits from going the opposite way for cheap Yankee Stadium homers. OH, but he's a 5-time World Series champion! Yeah, well, so is Rivera and Pettite and Posada. Where's the love-fest for those guys? And what about Bernie Williams and Paul O'Neill and Tino Martinez? News Flash: Jeter has NEVER EVER carried any Yankee team to a title. The Yankees of the late 90's (and 2009) were a collection of good players who played well together and were greater than the sum of their parts. Yes, he's a great leader. He's Mike Eruzione in a pair of spikes. How many NHL games did Eruzione play after the 1980 Olympics? Zero.

Patrick Ewing: There's a Kathleen Edwards song called "I Make the Dough, You Get the Glory," which references Marty McSorley in a tongue-in-cheek manner. Wayne Gretzky was able to showcase his talent because McSorley would pop anyone who dared knock down The Great One. Ewing was surrounded by a bunch of defensive-minded thugs who intimidated lesser opponents (i.e. Charles Oakley and Anthony Mason). He had the benefit of reaching the finals in 1994 when Jordan played baseball. John Starks took the bullet for the loss, by virtue of his 2 for 18 shooting performance. Ewing couldn't get the job done in subsequent years, and was finally shown the door when it was clear the Knicks were never going to win with him, or in later years FOR him or DESPITE him.

David Wright: a poor man's Jeter, kinda like listening to an Oasis cover band. 4 for 25 in the 2006 NLCS. The face of a franchise that has become infamous for choking and mishandling... well, everything. While his teams collapsed in '07 and '08, he himself collapsed in '09, posting only 10 homers. Suffice to say, the jury is still out.

I find it a bit ironic that New York is a place that demands success, yet the above individuals are put on a pedestal when they really didn't do anything. I'm not even going to bring up Mark Messier, who is credited with single-handledly winning the Stanley Cup in 1994, as if Brian Leetch, Mike Richter, Adam Graves, Mike Keenan, and Stephane "MATTEAU! MATTEAU! MATTEAU!" Matteau had nothing to do with it. Oops, I just did.

Maybe one of these days the media will learn to treat everyone like they do the New York Giants. They have won it all on several occasions, and that team is almost always identified AS a team. It wasn't just LT in the 80's. It was LT, Simms, Bavaro, Carl Banks, Harry Carson, Bill Parcells, etc. When they beat the Patriots, it wasn't just Eli Manning. it was Eli, Tyree, Plaxico, Strahan, etc. Maybe it's because the Mets, Jets, and Knicks have won so infrequently that people tend to build up anything that has the slightest bit of appeal with those franchises. That still doesn't explain the other-worldly fascination with Jeter and The Mick. Maybe the girls just want (or wanted) to sleep with them.

Now, THAT'S a soap box for you. Read it and weep, Bob Costas.

Where I Stood

2010-02-25T23:20:00.001-05:00

Seems like the perfect song for a dreary, snowy, late-winter's night.

Getting to Know Your Family and Friends: 2010 edition

2010-02-24T22:18:00.004-05:00

I found this on another lovely blogspot and decided to post it for the benefit of those who don't know me that well...

Welcome to the new 2010 edition of Getting to Know Your Family and Friends: The Blogger Version. Change all the answers so they apply to you, then send this to several people you know — INCLUDING the person who sent it to you (that would be me).

What's your occupation right now?
Underwriting Technical Assistant for commercial insurance company

What color are your socks right now?
Not wearing any as we speak. They're usually white

What are you listening to right now?
Forrest Gump

What was the last thing you ate?
A few chips ahoy cookies for dessert

Can you drive a stick shift?
No

Last person you spoke to on the phone?
Ryan Irons of Geneseo. THE Ryan Irons of Geneseo!

Do you like the person who sent this to you?
Yes I do.

How old are you today?
33

What is your favorite sport to watch on TV?
Baseball by far, but any sport will do. Except golf. I can't get into it.

What is your favorite drink?
Sprite

Have you ever dyed your hair?
No. I lost it before I decided to do so.

Favorite food?
chicken anything

What is the last movie you watched?
Edge of Darkness (in the theater). The Graduate (on demand).

Favorite day of the year?
Opening Day (baseball)

How do you vent anger?
Many different ways. I need to pick one and stick with it. ;)

What was your favorite toy as a child?
WWF action figures

What is your favorite season?
Summer

Cherries or blueberries?
Blueberries!

Living situation?
Living with dad and stepmother until the summer of 2010. Long story short, I recently got out of a financial mess. I've been trying to build up my savings by living at "home." I've learned to be more fiscally responsible. I have a target date of July 1 to be on my own again.

When was the last time you cried?
Recently. I don't remember when or why I did it, but I do cry sometimes.

What’s on the floor of your closet right now?
shoes and laundry basket

What did you do last night?
I watched Olympic hockey and surfed the web a little

What are you most afraid of?
Failure
Succumbing to Procrastination
Bees
Becoming a father someday
Not doing something rewarding with my life
Not falling in love
... pretty much in that order

Plain, cheese, or spicy hamburgers?
usually plain, sometimes cheese

Favorite dog breed?
None in particular. Cute dogs are cute dogs. Besides, I'm more of a cat person.

Favorite day of the week?
Saturday

How many states have you lived in?
3. New York, Connecticut, & Arizona

Diamonds or pearls?
I'm a guy. I don't get either one. I give them.

What is your favorite flower?
I'm a guy. I don't get flowers. I give them.

Which of your friends in this distribution list have you had the longest?
There is no "distribution list" per say, but of all my real true friends, I've known Kim Eden slightly longer than the aforementioned Ryan Irons.

The Return of Blog!

2010-02-24T22:09:00.002-05:00

It's true. Your dear friend and humble narrator has decided to re-open his blog. I now officially have too many social networking sites to upkeep between this, Facebook, Twitter, and the MySpace page that I never use and haven't updated in roughly 6 months. I'll do my best to make my boring-ass life seem semi-interesting.

Tonight we had a family dinner at the new IHOP in Freeport. It's in the "English optional" section of Freeport on Sunrise, about 1/4 west of the train station. Food was nice. Service was meh.

Snow sucks.

Battle Studies: The Review

2009-11-21T20:08:00.002-05:00

I’m going to say this right off the bat. I am unabashedly biased towards John Mayer. He holds a special place in my heart. When I exited the most significant personal relationship of my life to date, John Mayer was there with help me pry open my chest and hold that wounded heart in my hands. With apologies to Graham Russell and Diane Warren, no one writes a love song like our generation’s cross between James Taylor and Stevie Ray Vaughan, whether it be love gone wrong or right. As the tabloids would indicate, no one is more battle tested in that area than he. Therefore, it’s only fitting that Mayer now provides us Battle Studies, a thinly-veiled tell-all about his miserable experiences with one of our favorite “friends.“

It’s a tried and true statement that no one ever went broke singing about love and people get filthy rich singing about heartache. To say this album is a one-trick pony is not fair considering where Mayer has been, and who he’s been with. Thanks to said tabloids, it’s no big secret he has a lot to get off his chest. Contrary to his last radio-friendly short in which he simply said what he needed to say, Mayer uses 11 tracks - 12 if you order through iTunes - to speak eloquently yet clearly (“Heartbreak Warfare“), soft yet firm (“Half of My Heart“, “Who Says“)., raw yet soulful (“Perfectly Lonely”), piercing yet smooth (“Assassin”, “Edge of Desire“).

He carries a big stick, that being his guitar and his playing prowess. Unlike his last two offerings though (Try! and Continuum), the stick does not carry him nor does it overshadow him. A cover of Robert Johnson‘s “Crossroads” seems more like a callback to his slow, premeditated “outing” as a guitar virtuoso than a proverbial round peg in a square hole. Don’t get me wrong. Mayer still brings the heat. As a musician, he’s matured from a fire-balling phenom who is “uncomfortably wild” to a skilled hurler who paints the corners and makes the big pitch when it counts.

He also has the audacity to redo my all-time favorite Bruce Springsteen song (“I’m On Fire“) . He did right by Bruce, and by me too. You’ll need the aforementioned iTunes to hear that one. Otherwise, fear not. There’s still plenty of timeless greatness from the man and his stick to go around. An artist often produces their best work when subjected to adversity or heartbreak. As selfish and perverse as it sounds, if this is the resulting by-product, I hope John Mayer keeps bleeding and hurting for us.

Save Me San Francisco: The Review

2009-11-20T23:43:00.003-05:00

Very few artists can achieve mainstream success, maintain a solid fanbase, and still produce good, earnest pop songs that are musically appealing, lyrically appeasing, and still taste bubblegum sweet. Maroon 5 comes to mind as such an example. However, those who resist the urge to embrace the pop flavor of the week (i.e. Rihanna, Kanye West) and stick to their own trusted formula without diluting it with foreign ingredients are more likely to keep walking that fine line between pop success and rock respect.

In that sense, Maroon 5 could learn a thing or two from Train. Coming off of the heels of a well-intended but disapponting 2006 effort, For Me, It's You, the San Francisco pop/rockers did not panic and prematurely disregard their classic formula. They simply went back to the drawing board, and came up with Save Me San Francisco - a collection of songs that drive like the band's namesake. The proof is in the pudding. A little bit of pop (If It's Love, title track, Brick By Brick), rock (You Already Know, Breakfast In Bed), country (Marry Me) and soul (Hey Soul Sister, Words), mix in a little sugar and spice, and let the cream rise to the top. When the timer goes off, you have their best effort since 2001's awesome Drops Of Jupiter.

To shamelesly use another analogy, the best team doesn't always win, but the right personnel running the right plays will produce desired results more often that not. Give Train credit for not throwing away the playbook and chugging on with power and purpose instead.

Wrestlers Eating Chicken Francese

2009-11-11T20:13:00.011-05:00

First off, forgive me if this comes across as a bit cryptic. I've learned the hard way to keep certain things private. Once upon a time, in 2007, I changed jobs. I blogged on MySpace about my starting a new position. I also voiced my excitement at leaving my old job and announced my displeasure about working with a few soon-to-be-ex colleagues. Well, one of those people had too much time on their hands, and decided to "spy" on me. I was foolish enough to have my MySpace page available to the whole world. Suffice to say, my last few days at the old job were a bit tense.

That is not to say that this particular missive is work-related (or is it?). ;) I don't like to blog about work anymore because of the aforementioned farewell incident. You never know who is watching, and before you know it, someone tells someone else who tells someone else who tells everyone else.

Here's the deal. There are some people that you like who you trust unconditionally. There are some people that you love unconditionally, and trust is a given. There are some who you like and wouldn't trust if your life depended on it. Some are real. Some are fake. Some are full of kindness. Some are full of shit. For me, work is like pro wrestling. All in all, there is little truth and justice. There's a plethora of backstage politicking. There are people who know how to work a match, make everything look good, and send the fans (or the bosses) home happy. There are those who don't know the first thing about wrestling (or insurance), but they have "The Look." Some are pushed to the moon without paying their dues because the powers-that-be like having them as drinking buddies. Some are passed over for various reasons and are relegated to being "enhancement talent" or "jobbers" (Technical Assistants). Either they don't have the desire or the ability to be champions, or they don't have the "look" of a champion (or they don't drink or have the right friends, or they are the wrong race, color, or gender. We'd all like to think that can't be the case in 2009, but sadly it still is.)

Some jobbers are more than happy to make others look good in exchange for a paycheck. Some are bitterly jealous and only care about making themselves look good, to the detriment of the company. Bill Goldberg was once made to look like an unstoppable wrestling machine, even though he was but a rookie with limited wrestling knowledge. He LOOKED like a star and the fans ate it up. The man now known as William Regal was a jobber who was sent out to make Goldberg look good, despite Bill's inadequacies in the ring. Regal promptly wiped the mat with the monster before allowing him a fluke victory. The brass was not amused and fired Regal for his insubordination.

Wrestlers grow weary, paranoid, and riddled with injuries over time, which is why they often take time off. This works in the fans' favor as well; that way, they don't get sick of seeing the same people perform over and over again. It's a proven fact that those who are in constant contact with each other will eventually grow tired of each other. They find the most trivial of things to argue about, and if you're not careful, the arguments escalate to things more significant and ultimately destructive. A perfect example of this is the relationship between Bret Hart and Shawn Michaels. Long story short, mutual respect and admiration turned into bitter hatred and jealousy slowly over time, to the point where there is no possibility of reconciliation. At first, there were petty disagreements and misunderstandings. Before long, there were fist-fights and life-altering circumstances.

Is it possible that the behavior that eventually drove them apart was either overlooked or unimportant in the beginning? You see the same people every day, which means you seem the same truth, justice, politics, respect, admiration, kindness, bullshit, etc. It's like eating your favorite meal (let's call it chicken francese) EVERY DAY! It's fine for about a week. Before long, you don't want to eat it anymore. After a while, you hate it and would rather do anything else in the world that eat that damn thing again. Perhaps this is why some people change jobs frequently - to avoid the most trivial of conflicts. Unfortunately, in today's day and age of economic unrest, there is little to no chance of that happening.

This is where you come in. Despite circumstances being perfectly acceptable, if not ideal, you find that you've been eating chicken francese over and over again. You see the same people around you and wonder why they breathe so heavily, why they walk so loud, why they talk so proud, why they do anything and everything. Things you never cared about or noticed before are like nails on the proverbial chalkboard.

The truth is you don't hate anybody at the office. You like 95% of the people you work with, and the other 5% are tolerable. You need to take a moment to remember what makes you enjoy working with 95% of the people you like, and how to completely ignore the other 5%. Bret Hart used to admire Shawn Michaels' athleticism and his ability to connect with the audience. Shawn used to admire Bret's professionalism and knowledge of the business (or maybe he was just always a prick, but anyway).

For those of you who are neurotic and paranoid, ignorance is bliss. The less you know about everything, the better you'll feel about coming to work every day. Trust me on that one!! Look around at your colleagues and cherish the fact that they make you laugh and you share common interests. Remember what made you like the person in the first place. It's still there. You just can't see through all the bullshit - in your mind. You're all stuck there for several hours. Make them mentally productive hours, not mentally taxing ones. Worst case scenario: If the people you like but don't trust end up screwing you over in the end, just remember this. There's a bigger boss out there looking down on everything and everyone, keeping track of all productivity.

Tomorrow, remember how much you love chicken francese. Remember how much you love getting PAID to eat it. And by you, I mean I.

Private Lessons

2009-10-05T18:20:00.004-04:00

I found an awesomely bad movie on FLIX this weekend called Private Lessons. I was channel flipping for something good to watch on Saturday late night. I found the description for this movie, made in 1981, to be shown at midnight. I had to watch out of morbid curiosity.

The film is about a 15 year old boy (played by Eric Brown) who is just starting to discover girls. His dad is filthy rich and goes away on business for a week, leaving his son in the care of his limo driver (Howard Hesseman) and his housekeeper (Sylvia Kristel, a then-gorgeous Euro actress who played Emmanuelle in the 70's movie series). The boy starts looking into her bedroom window to catch her undressing, just as he does to every nice-looking older lady he comes across. She discovers this and then she starts to seduce him!

From there, it turns into a borderline porno flick, with such soft rock classics as Lost In Love, Just When I Needed You Most, and the ultimate cherry-popping anthem, Rod Stewart's Tonight's The Night, providing the soundtrack to their numerous love scenes. At first, the man-child feels awkward due to her advances. Eventually though, he comes around (no pun intended). I'm talking dinner, movie, kissing, taking a bath together, and of course, sex. From there, there's a semi-interesting but badly executed plot twist where the limo driver is really paying the housekeeper to seduce the boy so he can catch them together and extort money from the dad.

THEN, it gets REALLY weird! The boy and his 30-something companion are having sex when she fakes her death during the act. However, she changes her mind about the whole plot afterwards because she has fallen for the boy! She just magically reappears and he's all 'you tricked me. i don't trust you anymore.' Nevermind the fact that he and the limo driver buried her on the front lawn a day earlier and I'd be scared shitless if I saw her walking towards me after that!! How this is supposed to further the evil plot is beyond me. Personally, I think the writer and director just said 'screw it' and just did Mad Libs to get to the end of the movie. I've seen actual porn with a more cohesive storyline that this movie, which was engaging solely by virtue of its shock value.

Anyway, our heroine then enlists the help of the boy's tennis instructor (a young Ed Begley Jr.) to foil the limo driver's plot. Begley pretends to be a detective trying to investigate a homicide and informs Hesseman that the lady was "homicided." Somehow, it magically turns into a Dukes of Hazzard-esque car chase to the airport where Hesseman is planning to make off with $10,000. Low and behold, there's the dad, returning from his trip, and everyone just HAPPENS to be there to greet him. Instead of everyone tryng to explain the horrible situation that has taken place, everyone is all 'well, everything's back to normal now, lets go home!' (Yeah. Right!) So, NOW the lady love and the boy do it one last time before she leaves, presumably to go find another under-age boy to screw. She does say that they couldn't possibly hide their relationship with the dad being around. Yay logic - about 85 minutes too late. Our young stud is last seen returning to school after his summer adventure where he promptly and proudly hits on his teacher. Freeze Frame - The End!

And that is the story of Private Lessons. And here I thought Rambling Rose set the bar for statutory rape captured on film. Man, was I off the mark!

Backspacer: The Review

2009-10-02T21:02:00.003-04:00

Pearl Jam has officially reached a special category in the world of music. It's that upper echelon plateau occupied by such people as Sir Paul and The Boss where you listen to the new album, ask yourself 'Is this a good record?' and your first knee-jerk response is "Who cares? It's freakin' so-and-so!" That being said, the second answer to that question is a simple yes. This is a step up from their last self-titled offering. Ironically, on their previous full-length, they gave us a few gems and the rest fell into that aforementioned "Is it good? Who cares? It's US!" category.

This time around, they gave a damn for the entirety of the 11 fast-paced cuts. Artists in that glorified upper tier generally don't make landmark history-making albums anymore. They are the equivalent of a baseball player who has reached The 3,000 Hit Club and is now padding their career numbers. You've heard about baseballers who could fall out of bed and get a base hit. Eddie Vedder and co. are just that, adding to their legacy by way of their consistency, longevity, and their love of "the game." They may not rock the world quite like they used to, but it's emotionally uplifting when they smash that proverbial RBI double into the gap. You realize that it's not the act so much as it is the person or persons performing the act. That in itself rocks your world all over again. Take pleasure in the fact that you are literally listening to a future Hall of Fame artist doing what they do best, much the same as you would if you were watching Ken Griffey Jr. play ball.

Standouts include Gonna See My Friend, The Fixer (naturally), Johnny Guitar, Supersonic (not the Oasis song), and Speed of Sound (not the Coldplay song). The rest fade nicely into your subconscious. When it's all said and done, it's done too soon.

Summer Frost

2009-09-20T09:48:00.006-04:00

Last night's "Lottery Show" was great, as is every Decemberists show. I'm starting to feel like Murtaugh though. The crowd is getting younger and younger all the time. I love Colin and Co. though, especially when they do the entire song "The Tain" in their encore.

Today is a sad day. It's time to put away the shorts and break out the winter clothes!! I think this a new record. It's technically not even autumn yet. Last night, I came back to my car and found frost on the hood. I remember once upon a time hearing that fall allergies cease when the first frost occurs. Well... not so much. Perhaps it needs to be fall frost instead of summer frost.

There is something positive though. Today, I get to cross something else off of my list of 76 Things To Do Before I Turn 76. I'm taking Tracey out for her birthday dinner, and we're going to The Good Steer. With apologies to all vegans out there, I'm very much a meat-eater. This is one place I've always wanted to go, if for no other reason, just out of curiosity.

Way to go (UW) Huskies. Let's hope we have 2 big upsets in one weekend, compliments of the J-E-T-S JETS JETS JETS!!

First...

2009-09-19T15:31:00.001-04:00

I have officially started my blog. The Mets just beat the Nationals. Hurrah for not being the worst team in the league.

I'm going to see The Decemberists at Terminal 5 tonight. If I didn't burn the roof of my mouth on a hot egg sandwich this morning, I'd say this day was just about perfect so far....