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Showing posts from 2005

Third annual ‘Big Time Sports’ awards

Welcome to the Third Annual “Big Time Sports” end-of-year awards! I’m glad you could make it. As always, these awards are completely random, and were voted on by a one-man committee of sports experts. Also, these awards, like the baseball trade deadline, are intangible; so if you’re a winner, please don’t contact me in hopes of picking something up for your trophy case. We don’t have that kind of budget here. So without further ado, on with the show! Strangest Moment of the Year Award Terrell Owens doing half-naked sit-ups in his driveway. What was that all about? Owens hosted an impromptu press conference at his house in August, which ended with him doing shirtless crunches on his asphalt driveway for no apparent reason. I wonder if Terrell Owens’ neighbors are going to miss him. I can just picture T.O. walking out of his house in the morning to get the newspaper, wearing only boxers and a camouflage bathrobe, and waving to his neighbors as they peaked through the blinds. He needs a r

Tree huntin’ on asphalt

This was the second year that my wife and I went out to buy a Christmas tree. We are 0-for-2. It’s not so much the actual tree that has been a disappointment – although once we brought this season’s tree inside, we realized it was too big to allow anyone access to the stairs, and thus my wife and I have been entering and exiting our house by sliding up and down a fireman’s pole we were forced to have installed through the deck outside – it’s the PROCESS of buying the tree that’s the problem. Last year we went to a nearby establishment to purchase our tree. The place however, sold more than just trees – it was a one-stop shop for everything involving the holidays. If you had never celebrated a holiday in your entire life, you could go to this place and come home properly armed to decorate a whole city. If, of course, you had $10,000 to burn on lawn gnomes wearing Santa hats, or a 54-foot long, life-sized train set engineered by Snoopy. We did not. We were only there for a tree. The tree

Reggie Bush: The Trojans’ horse

He’s arguably the most exciting player that college football has witnessed since Rudy, and with slightly more talent. His USC team is on a one million game winning streak (an NCAA record) and well on their way to a third straight National Title. He has NFL scouts drooling all over themselves. He can leap tall buildings in a single bound. HE is Trojans’ running back Reggie Bush, and he’s agreed to sit down with me for an exclusive interview involving love, life, and if there’s time, football. For legal reasons, let it be known that this interview never happened. Me: Hi Reggie! Thanks for stopping by. Did you have any trouble getting here? Sometimes Mapquest can be a pain in the you-know-what. Reggie: Getting where? You’re at MY house. Me: Ha ha! Yeah…you must mean that metaphorically. Ummm, it says here that you were named after two great American heroes – Reggie Jackson and George Bush, Sr. Is that true? Reggie: What? No, that’s not true at all. I don’t know where you heard that. For o

National Lampoon’s Florida Vacation

Before liftoff, one of the lovely flight attendants informed us over the loudspeaker that we were going to “Florida, the hurricane capital of the world!” She giggled after she said this, as if it were meant to be a joke. Pure hilarity. Maybe that would have been mildly humorous LAST year, before one of the deadliest hurricanes in world history hit New Orleans, and before another bad one hit the very state we were flying into just two weeks beforehand. And maybe she could have mentioned the word “hurricane,” if she felt so inclined, AFTER we had landed, and had escaped the wrath of any potential gale-force winds and flying trailer homes. Actually, she did get on the loudspeaker again after we landed, saying, “We made it to Fort Lauderdale!” Laughter followed this statement as well, as if she was trying to say, “Can you BELIEVE we made it?!” And so began our Florida experience. We landed in Fort Lauderdale, and had to make the trip to Jupiter, where my cousin Amy was getting married to h

The BCS motto: If it’s broken, don’t fix it

About a year ago, as the college football bowl games were getting underway, Nike ran a great ad in Sports Illustrated. It was simply a grid, matching up two games between the four undefeated teams in college football that year, followed by a National Championship Game for the two winners. It was like the Final Four grid in a college basketball pool. Underneath it read, “Just do it.” It was a tremendous advertisement, not because the concept of a college football four-team playoff was Nike’s idea – we had all heard it before - but because seeing it in print made everyone realize the practicality of such an inherently simple, and feasible playoff system. Just do it. Well, nobody did it. In fact, nobody has done anything to remedy the issues plaguing the current BCS format of college football, a system by which several computers collaborate with various FBI agents to determine whether or not Iowa State has the right to play in the Sealy Posturpedic Mattress Bowl. It’s utterly ridiculous.

Meet the Survivors!

It’s “Survivor: Guatemala,” a.k.a. the most boring season ever! The tribes have merged, and it’s time to meet who is left from the this extremely unlikable cast. So without further ado… Cindy Hello, I am Cindy. Smiling hurts my face. I am disappointed in everyone, and also everything. The good news is that, either I am losing weight, or my boobs are getting much bigger. Either way, I hope Probst is noticing. He looks so hot in his safari hat. Jamie What’s up. I’m Jamie. Were you on my original tribe? Cause if not, I don’t want to talk to you. I treat my original tribe like a family, and everyone else is an outsider. And outsiders must die. Around the camp, I like to spruce things up by sitting on a rock with a sourpuss look on my face. One time I farted, and it was hilarious, but the cameras missed it. I hate Bobby Jon. One time we almost came to blows during a challenge because I rolled a giant rock to a designated spot faster than he could. He’s pretty much my mortal enemy. Back home

The day the music died

Allow me to make a few observations from last night’s “Apprentice.” - At the beginning of the episode, Trump’s secretary calls the house to inform the contestants where to meet up that day, but she prefaces this information by saying, “Mr. Trump is very busy, but he’s still going to meet you this morning.” Apparently, Mr. Trump is extremely busy with matters that do not involve the successful television series starring him. Ya’ know, the one that he helped create, and the one that made him famous again. He doesn’t have time for “The Apprentice,” not when there are deals to be made. I mean, why did the secretary even say this? Are the contestants supposed to feel guilty about the fact that Donald Trump is going to appear in front of them, even though they stopped the regular routine of their everyday lives to be on Donald Trump’s show? No kidding Donald Trump is busy, you idiot. He still has a show to do. - I thoroughly enjoyed it when Trump is leaving his office, and he turns to his se

Tiki Barber: Under appreciated and overexposed

His team has been somewhat of a pleasant surprise in the early going of the NFL season, their most recent loss to the Cowboys notwithstanding. Of course, he himself is a huge reason why, as his stellar play has made things much easier for second-year quarterback Eli Manning. In fact, he already has four touchdowns in five games. “He” is Tiki Barber, and “he” has agreed to sit down with yours truly for an exclusive interview. And for his generosity in doing this, there is only one condition: I must admit that this is not a real interview, and that it is completely made up in my own demented head. So there. I admit it. After all, that’s why Tiki and I get along so well – we know how to compromise. Me: Tiki, three years ago it seemed as though your career would mirror that of Rodney Hampton, but now people are claiming that you just may be the best Giants’ running back since O.J. Simpson. How does that feel? Tiki: I think you mean O.J. Anderson. And he wasn’t even that good. I think I’ve

Championship dreams now six feet under

I wanted to sit down and write something important about the 2005 New York Yankees. About how, as a fan, it was darn near impossible to fall in love with this team. About how they teased us into thinking they were tough and resilient, but in the end, they were just underachievers. About how they managed to sleepwalk through various parts of the season, and then somehow expected to “turn it on” when it mattered, although ultimately they couldn’t. About how I refused to believe in the death of a dynasty after Game Seven in 2001, but now I’m convinced. But whatever. Who cares, right? The problems surrounding this team aren’t under the surface somewhere – they’re staring us all in the face. So I refuse to be one of the eight million people with a keyboard who is going to wax poetic about what, exactly, is wrong with a team whose payroll exceeds the next highest team by $100 million. Instead, I’m going to hand out individual epitaphs for every relevant 2005 Yankee. Because in the end, they

Marketing 101

The three people who read this blog may have noticed the “junk mail-type” comments that keep popping up. I have no idea why this is happening, or how to stop it, although I am not so sure that I even WANT it to stop after seeing the one I got yesterday. It’s after the previous post, and it goes like this: "Your blog is great If you have unwanted hair, I'm sure you'd be interested in Laser Hair Removal Prices Stop shaving & visit Laser Hair Removal Prices" It is nice to see that the junk mail companies that are doing this crap have decided to get sneaky and add a “your blog is great” statement before trying to sell you something. “Hey, I am really enjoying your blog. Speaking of blogs, would you be interested in extra-absorbent tampons?” But unfortunately, these companies are not doing as much research as they should, or else they wouldn’t have failed to notice that I have an ENTIRE POST dedicated to my body hair (September ’04 archives – “Where the deer and the bu

When fantasy sports become reality

I can’t even imagine life without fantasy sports these days. In fact, I would place “fantasy sports” right below “eating” and slightly above “going to work” in my hierarchy of “things that are important to lead a productive life.” Obviously, I have great perspective. Seriously though, three weeks ago, the NFL season began, and I cannot adequately describe how exciting it was. Six years ago, before I started consistently participating in fantasy leagues, I also found the opening of the NFL season to be delightful, simply because I could watch professional football games, root for the Giants, and spend some quality time with my family or friends. I was so naïve. Because now that I think about it, what was the fun in watching Jerry Rice if all of those great stats went only to…Jerry Rice? How selfish of him! Three Sundays ago, on the opening day of the NFL season, I spent the early morning juggling three fantasy teams – my baseball team was in the playoffs, and I was preparing my respect

Dunkin Donuts: The good, the ugly

There are two types of Dunkin’ Donuts establishments: those with employees who know what they are doing, and those with employees whose training consisted of “the milk goes in the refrigerator, and the money goes in the cash register – not vice versa.” There is no in between. There is no such thing as a “kind of good” Dunkin’ Donuts. You either get great service, or you’re walking out of there carrying a chocolate-frosted donut topped with cream cheese and a lukewarm cup of coffee with a lid that’s partially on. I consider myself lucky because the Dunkin’ Donuts I go to every morning before work (Route 35 in Middletown, NJ) is one of the great ones. You can judge any good Dunkin’ Donuts establishment by how fast the morning line moves, and this one is a quick assembly line of great service. All the workers there are friendly, they know the regulars, and most of the time you don’t even have to tell them what you want – it’s waiting for you by the time you reach the counter. I’ve also no

Shower cap

I had always figured that my attempts at maintaining decent personal hygiene were adequate, until a few days ago, when a humongous moth flew out of my hair while I was taking a shower. I’m not exactly sure how long this moth was living in my hair. I would say that it may have been years, except that it has only been recently that I have been attempting to grow my hair out longer, as I am accustomed to having a crew-cut style haircut, which many leading geologists believe is uninhabitable for the average moth. Although, I must admit that it never crossed my mind that having short hair allowed me to experience cool breezes AND simultaneously prevented me from inviting various wildlife to come and live in my scalp. Regardless, I have met several people in my life (i.e., women) who have MUCH longer hair than I do, yet have managed to avoid having humongous moths randomly fly out of said hair while they attempt to wash themselves. I’m not so sure I can adequately describe the shock I experi

Democracy – Hotmail style!

I received an email forward today which is a “Petition to Lower Gas and Diesel Prices in the United States.” Boy, is President Bush going to be surprised when he sees THIS at his desk! All this time, he’s been under the assumption that most Americans are content to pay four dollars for a gallon of gas, so this email petition is really going to knock his socks off. It’s democracy at its best, really. When we don’t agree with something, there is no need to take any feasible means of solving it, not when we can type our name at the bottom of an email, forward it to 10 more suckers, and sit back in our chair at work and wait for things to happen. “Click. Send. Await for inevitable decline of gas prices.” Your job is done here – you may now concern yourself with other important details of life, like who you are going to forward the “God loves you! But He will not hesitate to STRIKE YOU DOWN if you don’t pass this along to seven of your friends!” email to. Life is so much easier with email p

Willie Randolph: King of NY

His team is a half game out of the Wild Card chase, and is holding steady in what has proven to be the best division in baseball. After blatantly throwing in the towel on Art Howe during the second half of last season, Willie Randolph’s 2005 Mets are not going down without a fight. In fact, they went to Arizona last week and swept the Diamondbacks. All things considered, it’s been an up and down season for Willie, but he’s been kind enough to sit down with me to discuss the questions that are on everyone’s mind, like “Do you think Brad and Angelina are for real, or what?” Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to ask him that one. Nevertheless, what follows is my exclusive, candid, and soon-to-be Pulitzer Prize-winning interview with the Mets’ manager. Also, this is completely fake, but other than that, it’s totally true. Me: Hey Willie! First let me say – I’ve always been a big fan of yours. When I was in grade school, I had a folder that was actually a huge version of your 1988 Topps base

Pop Culture 101: MTV’s VMAs

Every year I get suckered into watching the VMAs, mainly because MTV has become a pop culture phenomenon and I feel that if I miss at least some of the annual awards show, I will regress culturally, and will begin saying things that are so five minutes ago, like “Who let the dogs out?” Nevertheless, every year, I am left utterly disappointed, and begin wondering who, exactly, is responsible for defining pop culture over at MTV these days, because, to be honest, it sucks. This year Diddy hosted, and the motto was “anything can happen.” Unfortunately, “anything” didn’t include a decent performance or joke. The intro to the show pretty much defined Diddy in general. All buildup, no climax. Watching it, I was like, “Oh shit – something crazy’s going down! Things are blowing up! Trapeze artists are hanging from the ceiling! I can’t wait to see where Diddy goes with this! Oh boy – here we go!...” Yeah...we never went. And another thing about Diddy - he pulls this same crap when it’s time for