Hey Marty!

Over the weekend I had an encounter, of sorts, that was very strange. I was mistaken, once again, for Dallas Stars goalie Marty Turco while buying some shirts. For those of you who don't know, this has happened before. In fact, this happened at the same store. Click here to read about it. Basically this story plays out much like the first one did and involves the same guy who mistook me before.

Before I get into the story let me say this, in no way do I think I look that much like Marty Turco. I mean we kind of have the same features, I guess, but I mean come on. I just don't see it. Aside from that, he is 31 years old while I am still a ripe 23. Needless to say, there should be a notable difference. To my surprise, a friend who is a big Stars fan confirmed the belief that I do, indeed, bear some striking similarities to Turco. Go figure.

(So, I'm not sure what I should be more proud of, Turco or being mistaken for Matt Morris in St. Louis? I think I like the idea of being a basebeall player more than being a goalie, but I'd take either. Regardless, both of them trump the ridiculous notion that I look somewhat like John Stamos. That's preposterous and embarrassing on so many levels. In fact if he hadn't married Rebecca Romijn, I might have dragged the guy who said it through the street by his tie. Let's just move on.)

Back to Saturday. I walk into the store where I was mistaken last time for Turco and I buy a couple of shirts. As I am walking out I see an employee wearing some snazzy white pants, that I know I couldn't ever pull off wearing, but I would like to think I could. I mean I don't know how exactly to describe my style, but I know white pants are not a part of it. Regardless, I see these pants and think to myself how slick it would be to own them, trying to find every excuse to buy them, but always coming to the conclusion that there would be no valid excuse amongst my buddies if I wore them even once. No excuse would suffice. Believe me, I've gone through every scenario. It's a dead end. Why can't my friends just be more understanding of this? I want those damn pants. Ok, I'm rambling...

So here I am battling myself for a good reason to buy the pants, when I see the face of the dude wearing them. He's beaming. Oh, crap. He thinks I was checking him out. How do I explain this? The best way to explain how awkward I was feeling is to equate it to that feeling you get when you're caught staring at someone, even though you were really just looking at the wall and your mind was a million miles away (Typically you're day dreaming of something to take your mind off class or work. For me, I'm always fighting valiantly along side the X-Men and have even led the team once or twice! Best day dream ever!). Without fail, the person you were inadvertently staring at looks over at you and, you sit there thinking to yourself, Dammit, now this ugly chick thinks I'm interested in her. This sucks. Well that's how I felt; only it was worse. It was dude in white pants. Suddenly, I recognized this guy's face just about the same time he says "Hey Marty!" To which I replied, "Hey, dude!" immediately catching on to what was unfolding around me. Don't bother asking. I don't know why I insist on playing along with these things, but I do. Kind of like how I always know my Stouffer's French bead pizza is gonna be too hot to eat when I take it out of the oven, and yet without fail I always bite right into it and burn my tongue on the sauce. There's just no reasonable explanation for either of these so lets just drop it.

Now the last time I saw this kid, I was in my work clothes; slacks, shirt, and tie, which was a bit more believable for a sports star than the shorts and t-shirt I was wearing this time. Either way, he stopped me and asked if I had remembered him, which I did. He was excited and brought up the fact that I told him last time I would sign an autograph for him. He was very humble about it, so I felt I had to make good on my promise. I mean what kind of imposter would I be if I didn't sign for this kid? Wouldn't that have crushed him? I didn’t want to risk it, so I did what had to be done. Now I don't know what Turco's mark was supposed to look like, but I winged a messy looking signature on a small yellow notepad, shook his hand and walked out with a big grin. Consequently, I spent the rest of the day with an undeserved sense of accomplishment. Good times.

After hearing this news, a few people have told me that sooner or later this bit will come back to get me. In fact, Jessica says that she wants to be there when it happens. After a bit of thought, I came to the same conclusion. I hope this does, indeed, come back to blow up in my face. Think of it. How great would it be to have three or four 16 year olds corner me in the changing rooms, while I frantically try to think of an excuse, but find nothing; only to panic and tear off through the jeans display and out the front door? I would never be able to top that. Ever. I mean isn't this something Kramer from Seinfeld would get into? I'm getting giddy about this.

Rangers Report: This weekend held a number of events for me, including getting to check out new Texas Ranger Carlos Lee from the Commissioner’s Box at Ameriquest Field. He looks good. Terrific hitter. Too bad, the Rangers lost 2 of 3 to Kansas City at home. Things like that make me want to leap head first into a pit of crabs.

Corey Lidle: DJ Gallo had this to say about NY getting Lidle: "By getting Lidle -- a 34-year-old journeyman starter who is 8-7 with a 4.74 ERA this season -- the Yankees have themselves a serviceable fifth starter, which is a huge luxury in today's game. Plus, if I'm not mistaken, by adding Lidle to Randy Johnson, Jaret Wright, Shawn Chacon and Sidney Ponson, that now gives the Yankees five -- count 'em, five! -- serviceable No. 5 starters. That's really a luxury in today's game. Sure, sure -- some of their rivals can boast a dominant top of the rotation, but I'll put the Yankees' phalanx of No. 5 starters against anyone else's fifth starter -- because even if you beat one of them, they've got four more they can throw at you. It's a barrage of mediocrity few opponents can handle." Greatness.

Matt Stairs: I remember when Matt Stairs played for Oakland he scared the crap out of me. He would swing the bat like a mad man. He had a wild uppercut swing that would send balls soaring into the Oakland Hills. Just incredible shots. Only that was ten years ago and Mark McGwire still played in California. Now, the Rangers have traded for him rather than make a move for a much needed arm. I have a rule about things like this; if an older major league player ever wanted to hang out with me on a day-to-day basis and I could see myself saying "no, that's alright" to him, then I don't think we should be trading for him under any circumstance. Just a thought.

Kip Wells, New Texas Ranger: Was Chuck Norris not available? Pack it up, Rangers. I think we're done here.

Clue Haywood

There are certain moments in life that makes it worth living. Some of these can be finding a new love, sharing a good laugh with a friend, or realizing that a fictional baseball player from the 1980's somehow got transported into 2006 into the very same role he played. Let me explain. I was watching the Yankees play the Rangers and Yankee catcher Sal Fasano came up to bat. Suddenly I had a realization; I had seen this guy before. I combed my thoughts and finally knew who he was. Clue Haywood.

Tell me that Fasano is not Clue Haywood, the bad-guy New York Yankee from the movie Major League. Tell me. I dare you. You can't convince me. I mean the guy is an instant throw back to the 80's with his 'stache, and he plays on NY just like Haywood did in the movie. Coincidence? No way. This guy is a dead-ringer. I'm speechless. Is there anyway we can start calling him "Clue" on a national level? Do I have to call ESPN? We need to get some wheels on this thing and get it rolling. Look out Cleveland Indians, Clue Haywood is back!

Screw it, ALL IN!

Finally something to write about! I did not forget about you. I have received a few e-mails about my lack of blogging this week, but things got hairy there for a while and I haven't been able to get on here. This week has been tough for me. I have been struggling to find topics that I can write about. Not that I haven't had some eventful happenings; I have, but they are nothing that I can, or should, write about. No point going into that. Adding to this, work has been killer, so I have had zero time to write about anything. Well, as this Friday was rolling along, finding a topic for today was looking bleak. I was scrounging up quick hits to throw together for a Friday column that would almost assuredly be half-assed and forced, then the news came...Carlos Lee.

Let's get right down to it, the Rangers just went "all in" at the poker table. It seems that the Rangers are trading Francisco Cordero, Kevin Mench, and Laynce Nix to the Brew Crew for Carlos Lee and a minor league OF and another player (click here.) Now as of two days ago, I was against any move the Rangers might make. My rational was very simple. This is a mediocre team at best. They are not good and they are not bad, and are not going to be able to realistically compete in the playoffs. Simple as that. Now, my tune has changed. Carlos Lee should bring the bat that this team needs, and it hopefully allows for Texieria to get his swing going too. That would be the equivalent of adding two power hitters to the first Rangers team in my memory that couldn't hit a cookie tray if smacked them in the face. Their offense is that bad.

Typically, this team can't pitch, but this year they can't hit. Go figure. I've sat here for far almost 10 minutes looking for an appropriate metaphor for this and can't find a single one. It's that strange. The part about this deal that I like is that Texas gets a bona-fide power hitter and a great outfield prospect for three spare parts. I mean I hate to see Mench go, but the guy is streakier than Tom Cruise's movie career. Cordero's confidence is shot. And the only thing you lose by giving away Laynce Nix is his boy band name and the possibility of running into Lance Bass and Joey Fatone in the clubhouse. Good trade.

Its been a long time since the Rangers were buyers on the market, and its making me all tingly in my sports pants. With this "All in" mentality you know an arm is on the way. Daniels knows that this team needs one more pitcher to get this thing done. A number two or three starter would allow Kameron Loe to move to the set up position and provide more solidarity from the top to the bottom. Before I get too far along, I should say that this could end up being a 2-month rental on Lee, and we might not land an arm, but the prospects make it a good deal, and the effort shown by the front office gives us fans hope. The team hasn't been in the playoffs since 1999, and they have only had one good run at them since then, 2004. This is what this team needs. They need to believe that they can win. Hope could make these fans and the team find what it needs to win. I'll tell you what, its a great day in Rangerland and I am starting to believe in thins thing too. I am excited. Is Steve Perry singing in the background of anyone else's thoughts right now? Or is it just me?

(Side note: Me and my roommate were gonna go see Journey when they come to town tomorrow, but we found that Steve Perry left the band in 1997. For being such Journey dorks we can't seem to figure out how we missed this little tidbit of information. Regardless, this brought and end to our plans. I refuse to see a Steven Perry-less Journey. No street lights. No people. No nothing. Just disgraceful. Along those lines, Lynyrd Skynyrd is coming soon too, but I won't see them despite being a top 5 band for me. Why can't my favorite bands keep their lead singers? I guess that's more directed at Journey. Lynyrd Skynyrd gets a free pass on that. Let's move on...)

Trivia Champions!
Every Wednesday me and some of the boys go to Plucker's Wing Factory and throw back some brews while we compete in their team trivia game. Every week we lose. That is, until this week. Sporting the team name "Andrea Yates School of Life Guarding" we went into the final round tied with team "Lance Bass is not Bye, Bye, Bye, he's Gay, Gay, Gay." The last round was the "nerd" round. Armed with me and my buddy Pat's history backgrounds, we missed a total of one point. Victory. Streamers. Confetti. The celebration was madness. Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating, but we felt like champs, and we celebrated with a round of beers. And that's when the trouble started.

You know those VH1 Behind the Music shows where a band acheives its musical goal, and then inexplicably errupts all over itself at the height of its success? Well that's what happened to us. One minute we are riding high as the owner is handing our table the $75 gift card we had just won, next thing you know we ask for our tab which some how turns out to be $100. Crap. You mean we owe money? Now people are scrambling about tying to figure who ate food, who just had beer, and who had both. Then the issue of some people saying we needed to add additional tip to the 17% gratuity already added to our bill, while others say it's nonsense. Madness. Somehow we all end up yelling at each other for about ten minutes before we all just decided to split the twenty five dollars owed between all of us. Bringing everyone's total to a whopping $2.50 per person!

I swear for an argument over two dollars and fifty cents, we were one gun-toting friend away from having to reenact Blue's funeral scene from Old School. I guess some people just aren't meant for fame. On the bright side, if the Behind the Music analogy holds true we will be back in winning trivia form in a few weeks for one last hurrah before we disappear forever. Unfortunately, these things usually don't happen until someone in the group dies of AIDS. Bad news, Luke, you've been nominated. We will always remember you, buddy. Yates Lifeguarding forever!

Lance Bass is Gay: Anyone else as non-shocked as I am? The funniest part about this whole thing is that he said that he didn't tell anyone about his sexuality because he didn't want to hurt the image of the N'Sync. Lance, are you trying to tell me that you stayed in the closet because you didn't want your five-member boy band to look gay? Interesting strategy. Might have been wasting your time, tho.

Gems from RT: I just had this litte quote dropped in my lap from Ryan:

Major Blorts sighting...Carpenter-style black jean shorts...Ughhh!

Couldn't say it any better. Have a good weekend.

1980's Hair Lady

I realized today that at every legitimate job I have held there has been at least one lady who has a bad case of 1980's hair. You know the type. It’s all moussed up with big frilly bangs. Just awful. This needs to stop, I’m not kidding. If your reading this and you now wonder if you have 80's hair, worry not. I wouldn't associate myself with you if you had 80's hair. Call me what you will, but that's the choice I make. Although, if you do have to ask yourself this question; maybe you should start thinking about a change. Just a suggestion.

It's bad enough when your hairstyle, man or woman, can be "dated." But it’s worse when it can be dated by two decades. I have searched my thoughts and there really is no excuse for this. I mean, they obviously have watched TV or have seen a movie since 1989. Right? They must have. Shouldn't a hairdresser or barber have said something by now? Why would they allow this? Can we enact a law to give hairdressers unilateral power to prevent these atrocities and other hair travesties? I just don't see any logical explanation for this. At what point did this person mousse the crap out of their permed-looking hair and say, "That's it! I've found the perfect hairstyle! Well, I guess I don't have to worry about that anymore," before they checked "Find a new doo" off their list of things to do? I mean was "Pay the bill" on there too? If it was they might be in trouble because most to-do lists are not static entities, they are evolving. Just like the water bill and feeding yourself, finding a new hairstyle needs to be done every so often. I mean, you don’t see guys with flattops anymore. And where do you get mousse anyways? I thought we eighty-sixed it long ago along with Milly Vanilly, New Coke, and other relics of the eighties. I just don’t understand.

(Sidenote: The 80's can be cool. Proof? Check out Retro Junk for the coolest 70's, 80's and 90's TV shows, commercials and movies. They have the intros to all the shows. Just fantastic. Trsut me on this, you won't be dissapointed).

What is worse is that the 1980's hair lady here at work wears 1980's clothes as well. No joke. Furthermore, Alex noted that sometimes her clothes are more than two decades behind. Yikes! The most mind blowing thing is that she is one of the decor designers for our company. How is it that someone who I wouldn't trust to dress my family's dog is in the position to design and decorate hotel rooms across the country?

I don't know, but when it comes right down to it, I don't want someone designing stuff for me, in any aspect of life, who may still be influenced by George Michael and Wham!. Period.

No way Jose!

RT and me spent the entire day yesterday exchanging messages about random happenings in sports. The following column is the result. Enjoy.

For those of you who didn't know, or just chose to not know, Jose Canseco pitched in the Golden Baseball League All-Star Game representing the Long Beach Armada. You can read about it here. He was featuring his brand new knuckleball, but was only able to retire one batter before giving up four runs. I'm still not sure how a player makes it to an all-star game as position player, but then is allowed to pitch in front of far more deserving players because of his name. Wouldn't that kinda be like if you and your girlfriend were at a bar and suddenly she left with an ex-boyfriend from high school; her only justification being that they had so much history together? There you are hung out to dry after all your good efforts, while he's taking her home solely based on the fact that they dated five years ago. If I were a pitcher that got snubbed in this game I would have slung more shit in the clubhouse than a monkey at the zoo. If there is a time to be selfish its when your budding career gets derailed by Jose Canseco wanting to pitch. Inexcusable.

(Sidenote: I guess this ends my dream of becoming a major league ball player. I had speculated that if I had devoted a year of my life perfecting the knuckleball I would most certainly be able to forge a career as a major league pitcher that could easily last 20 years and bring no less than three Cy Young awards to my cozy mantle. There goes that dream along with being able to be the only major league pitcher to throw a heater that clocks in at 69 mph. Also, my change-up would have been ungodly.)

Despite his lack of success Canseco won the HR derby and was quoted with this little gem referring to his teammates:

"I'm going to take these guys out and get them drunk. I'm going to buy about 400 gallons of beer."

I'm sure Jose then groped the nearest reporter before going berserk and beating her senseless. Train wreck, that man.

While sending endless texts back and forth to RT over this subject matter, Ryan asked, "Can I get the over-under on the Golden Baseball League's lifespan?" Honestly, when your poster boy is Jose, I can't say they'll last much past the second season. In fact, I would go so far as to say not a single day over 2 and a half seasons. Not one single day. Trust me on this one. I mean, does the league know that it has a little less than zero percent chance of making it? Without the help of Canseco and other circus acts, we would have never heard of the GBL. I have a better idea. The league should just sell itself on the purpose of having washed up former all-stars just going at it like its 1993. Wouldn't this make for great television? Who wouldn't want to see a team with a reunited Canseco and Ricky Henderson? Imagine them playing against a team led by Julio Franco and Rookie of the Year Rafael Palmeiro. I'm getting giddy just thinking of the possibilities. We need to make this happen. It would be the best show on television. Somebody get Randy Johnson on the phone, I think we have our new, "young" star.

As me and Ryan laughed about all of this and pondered the longevity of the GBL, we decided that undoubtedly the greatest league flameout of all time had to be the XFL. I don't care who you are, If you were a football and/or a wrestling fan around the year 2000, you watched at least one XFL game. Don't be embarrassed, we all did it. Much like running away from home, or letting your older sister paint your toenails when you were five, we all made mistakes when we were young. All is forgiven. I hope I'm not alone on this one. Regardless, think about this league. Despite their obvious lack of talent, they had marketing everywhere to make up for it. People were going to watch. All they simply had to do was play a descent game of football, but that proved to be too much. I guess the whole ordeal proved that a league with such mediocre stars as Tommy Maddox and a guy simply called "He Hate Me" can't carry itself against the NFL? Go figure.

(Speaking of He Hate Me, did you ever see the "He Hate Me Thanksgiving Special" on ESPN a few years back? I did not, but Ryan told me about it. Apparently, it involved a frozen turkey, bowling, and some ghetto grocery store. I think I would have sold the naming rights of my first born child to have Tivo'd this).

Drew vs. ESPN: Yeah, he's back with another story. I'm starting to think he just makes stuff up and sends it to me to continue feeding his very low-level celebrity status that he acquired through this site. Don't be delusional Drew, I gave you life and I can take it away. Regardless, many of you may remember Drew meeting ESPN's Trey Wingo at the pool where he works as a lifeguard. Well he sent me a message yesterday with the following text:

"Guess who just walked into my pool? Not Trey Wingo but Kenny Mayne! I didn't bring the football that Trey signed. Damn."

Eight minutes later I get this:

"I would talk to him but he doesn't seem as friendly as Trey was."

Am I crazy to think that Drew gets a bit overly excitable about B and C listers from ESPN, like Mayne and Wingo? Does anyone else envision little Drew standing around a corner from Mayne looking really anxious and nervous as if he were about to ask out the girl of his dreams, knowing he has no chance. Am I the only who sees this? Just toss one back and say something to him, Drew. On second thought, everytime Drew is drunk, he calls me, Beau, and Casey to say he "loves us and misses us so much." And somehow I don't see this one being any different. I can imagine Kenny's defeated-looking face as Drew walks up and drop the obligiotry, "Umm, so can we be friends?"

Musings

For the life of me, I can't write today. I have spent the better part of the day trying to find something to fill my time and there is nothing that seems to captivate my interests. No great stories from the week, no major sports issues, no nothing. I have stared at this screen for about an hour while the cursor blinks while throwing out one idea after another. You see, when I have nothing that immediately comes to mind, I start by finding a topic that may require a little research and then begin writing soon as I have enough info to do something with it. Today's idea was American Idol winner Taylor Hicks and his mind-numbing Ford commercial. I started to get going before I realized that this topic would most likely make me start stapling my fingers to the desk. It was this that made me think to just start writing with no general direction or aim and see where it takes us. If its good, I'll post it if its not, I'll just delete it like 1/3 of everything else I write. So, now the Dr. Pepper is kicking in and the keyboard is kicking and away we go....

Barry Bonds: Ok, so I lied about having no sports issues, I have a few quick hits starting with Bonds. When hit with the news that he might be indicted, his legal team fired back that they have no reason to believe that he is in any legal trouble, but yet are "prepared" for anything. Is he nuts? Is this what his team is telling him, or is he just trying to act like nothing is going on? I mean his personal trainer just got sent to jail for obstruction of justice by refusing to testify. How can you not be a little worried if you're Bonds? I think I would have chewed my nails to the bone and tried to create a national media distraction that might help save my ass. I mean I'm shocked that Bonds has not come up with an imaginary story about how he was molested as a little boy by Willie Mays. This would not be out of the question were our positions reveresed. Either this is the best case of keeping it cool that I have ever seen or Bonds is more delusional than Tom Cruise in Vanilla Sky.

Rangers: Ohooooo, maybe I was a bit fortuitous when I praised their offense after the All-Star break. I think they have 4 runs total in the last three or four games. Not good times. Now the trade winds are blowing, and suddenly the Rangers seem to be sellers more than buyers. "Oh no! We suck again!" is a line I wouldn't be opposed to using right now. Its things like this that are gonna drive me to drinking at work. I'm sure of it.

Taylor Hicks Ford Commercial: Cancer to almost every sense in the human body. I can't write anything more about this. I hate it that much.

Chappelle's Show, The Lost Episodes: Well one thing is certain; It must take Dave a few weeks on the job to get his juices flowing. I mean aside from the Tupac sketch, this season has been relatively mediocre. I'm sure the final episode will have some kick to it, but most of the material is dated and just ok at best. I know its hard to live up to last season, and I know that we forget some of the mundane sketches from the previous two seasons, but its difficult not to be a little bit disappointed. On the bright side, at least we don't have Charlie Murphy and Donnell Rawlings up on stage acting like over-the-top yukmonkies as they desperately hold on to the splintered ship that is their former jobs. Oh, wait.

Beats from the Street: There are a few albums that I have been listening to non-stop and I wanted to throw them up here. I won't say much about them because I figure I will come off sounding silly as I am no music critic, but "Under The Iron Sea" by Keane, and "Eyes Open" by Snow Patrol are fantastic. Both of these albums, in my opinion, are killer from start to finish. If your interested in a little indie rock from the British Isles check these out. Trust me. The difference between them is that Keane is more of a piano ballad group like Coldplay, while Snow Patrol is more true to the chill indie rock label (How's that for sounding like I know what I'm talking about). If you don't like that genre or you just don't like my taste in music I suggest you go ahead and skip these. This means you, Pat.

The Countdown: We are a little under the three-fourths mark to when Drew comes back to Dallas. Unquestionably, we are all a little excited about this because we all jump in rank when he rolls into town. Meanwhile Avon, Connecticut loses one of its patron saints of destruction and general disarray. I think both sides will welcome the change.

RT's Hooptie: The Cutlass no longer starts via the ignition. Now, when there is a crowd of us heading somewhere, RT has to hotwire his own car to get it going. No joke. I'm not making this up. You wouldn't believe it unless you saw it. Of course, this allows for the endlessly funny situation where RT is hotwiring the car and we all start yelling from the balcony for him to "get away from our car, you bastard! Somebody stop him!" as passers-by start frantically looking at each other back and forth, not knowing what exactly to do. All the while, RT's trademark smile looks a bit more like Mark Cuban during the NBA finals. Fun, but straight ghetto, Ryan.

Pirates: No, no. I don't mean the Johnny Depp movie. I mean spending a Saturday evening dressed as pirates for a friend's film project. And when I say dressed, I mean it. We had costumes galore, and we looked good. We shot the diner scene in When Harry Met Sally where Meg Ryan fakes an orgasm during a meal, only everyone was a pirate. The best part was that yours truly got to be the guy behind her (or in this case him) making the strange faces. Add to this the fact that we ended the shooting by filming a pirate music video to "Jitter Bug" by George Michael, featuring Chad doing the worm, and you have the formula for a guaranteed hit. It was great. And no, there is nothing remotely dorky about this.

Cowlishaw

Me and my buddy Pat were at the movies this weekend and we unexpectedly ran into a low-level celebrity. As we were waiting for Pat's girlfriend to get out from the bathroom, a familiar looking man with kind of spiked hair and a goatee walks past me and looks me dead in the eye. I give him one of those "Wait a second, I know you from somewhere" looks, as he gives me one of those "oh, shit I've been spotted" looks and hustles to the restrooms. As this man walks into the bathroom, I turn to Pat and say, "Dude, that was Tim Frickin Cowlishaw, the sports writer from the Dallas Morning News and Around the Horn." Unimpressed, Pat says, "Why don't you ask him when he's gonna win on Around the Horn. Isn't the guy like 0-53 lifetime?" I had to agree with him. Cowlishaw's inability to win on the competitive sports talk show is almost legendary, but thats another issue for another time. We regained our focus and readied ourselves for what we had to do next. So me and Pat wait for him to leave the bathroom so that I can get a confirmation that my suspicions are correct, and low and behold, they were. He walked past us and went into Pirates of the Caribbean. As we left Pat said, "I think we should have said something to him." To which I could only reply, "I think we should have jumped him in the bathroom." I have no idea why I thought this, but I still maintain that it would have been a good idea.

Fifty!

This column is a just another milestone in my Internet Mogul career. The words you are reading right now represent this fiftieth column/post I have written. Well, I guess I can't say that because there are a number of things I wrote, but after fighting with myself over their relevance and/or humor I decided not to post them. So, more correctly, this is the fiftieth column I have posted. That's not bad considering I really have only been doing this for two and a half months (April didn't count). Despite the frequency that these babies are churned out, people still complain to me when there isn't anything new on here. And it’s in the essence of these people's complaints that I give you today's column.

Before I throw it at you, let me say that work has been killer this week so creativity is running at premium these days, but I really like posting something for the weekend. I don't know why. Consequently, I couldn't think of any particular topic to write about, so I give you a column that is based pretty closely on an e-mail I sent today. In fact, its more or less, word-for-word. It's a story I wanted to put on here, but decided would be better served in an e-mail. Now this is happening...

"So today, I get on the elevator to go down to the lobby to buy a tasty egg, ham, and cheese breakfast burrito. I hop on the elevator only to find a rather tall lady riding it down to the first floor. She was black. I told you this because it makes it scarier later in the story. I get on the elevator and out of habit I hit "7" rather than "1" which she has already pressed (I spend a lot of time between seven and eleven so its just natural to hit seven). Well for some reason or another I get all paranoid about the fact that this lady and I are about to sit on this elevator as it stops on the seventh floor. For reasons unbeknownst to me, I decide that it is in my best interest to use a trick I know to solve this problem.

The trick is to press the elevator buttons really, really fast over and over again. Now, I know this doesn't sound like much, but let me tell you, it will reset the buttons and all would be well in the world. i.e. The elevator will not stop at seven and I can press "1" and we would be on our merry way (Like I said, I have no idea what possessed me to do this). So I say something garbled and panicked like "oh...no...wait...I..whoops...let me just...fix..." I think I was trying to convey the message that she need not worry, cuz I would fix this; as if she were worried about this to begin with. She starts to realize what’s going on and says kinda jokingly, but kinda not, "you're gonna make me stop on 7?" I come undone. I don't know what to do.

So now I am unreasonably panicked out of my mind for no reason and I frantically start pressing the buttons like I am woodpecker on meth. I think I was mumbling something like, "ok...this...will, wait...its gonna work...let me just..." About this time she says in a very authoritative voice, "stop that, or I am going to hit you." Needless to say, I stopped and waited there very meekly. We stood there as the doors opened on seven, saying nothing and feeling very awkward about what had just transpired in this six by six square of space. The rest of the ride down to the lobby wasn't any better. In fact, if uncomfortableness was a sound, I would now know what it sounded like.

I don't know if she was joking or not, but I realized that that moment was probably the most socially awkward and unjustifiable moment of temporary mental illness that I have ever encountered. "

The Rangers Whole Freakin' Organization: Good grief, the boys won 15-1 in Baltimore! That was pretty amazing considering Mark Texiera hit three home runs and drove in 7 RBI's. I hope Big Tex's power is back, if so he could be that bat they were looking for. Down at AA Frisco, the first baseman hit three jacks of his own. It’s a nice start to a long second half that will be tough to compete in. With all four teams trying to get a room in the coveted "First Place Apartment" the Rangers will need to play at a high tempo. No time to get lazy now. If they want to win this thing they are gonna half to play like a midget at a urinal, and keep on their toes.

Skipping Salsa: No real reason for this other than a funny text. We didn't go Salsa dancing last night because Liz was out of town and Jess and I were tired. My buddy, RT, on the other hand, was determined to go with some of the Cheerleading Camp Staff Members. Long story short, I got this message when I woke up:

"Dude...Those NCA girls were completely laundry basket last night..Waaaaaasted. I missed your smooth moves..."

Nothing like a message with a very questionable connotation to start your day.

A Day Without Sports

After a one day hiatus, I would like to give a fully, hearty "Welcome Back!" to Sports. Yes, we all had to drudge through an entire one day with no recognizable sports in sight. I've always seen the day after the all-star game as being very resemblent to breaking up with a steady girl friend. You take them for granted until they're not there. One minute they are with you on the couch comforting you from your hard day at work, suddenly they are gone and you're left looking around your apartment for some semblance of your old life. Next thing you know you have a two and a half-week-old beard and you're eating Funions off the floor, wondering where it all went wrong. I guess that’s kinda how I felt yesterday at the gym when I had to watch VH1 rather than the baseball, just disorienting in every aspect.

Now with baseball on my sports horizon, I feel sports giddy. Its almost like when you see that said girlfriend from before, only she has lost 20 pounds, changed her hair, and just did an overhaul of her entire body leaving your jaw on the floor. Well unlike that ex, baseball will always welcome you back. Kinda like the scene in Groundhog Day where Bill Murray runs into his old pal, Ned Rhyerson who seems a bit too excited to see him. Let's just be happy that the whole mess is over. Its good to have you back sports, you look terrific.

Mike Young, MVP: Now it seems that I wrote something about him before the game, but oh yeah I did! I'm not gonna say I called it (especially after my atrocious Derby pick) but take that, world! Mike Young looked all growns up on the big stage there as he delivered a two out, two strike, two run triple to win the game for the AL. I am telling you that this guy is absolutely legit. I know it sounds strange to have to say that about a former batting champ, but no one knows who he is. I mean they accidentally put mark DeRosa's picture up when he came up for his first at bat. No respect. This is guy is so clutch that I actually feel safer when he is hitting with two strikes than with anything else. My man-crush is revealed.

Rangers: They head into the second half trying to hold on to first place. I'm not making too many predictions anymore, but if they don't find an arm and a bat for this team they are gonna get lost in this division. Or as RT would say, "They're gonna be running around like a 'tard with a sparkler."

Barry Bonds: There are reports that Bonds will be indicted on charges of purjury and tax evasion. For the record, I dislike Bonds as much as the next guy, but isn't this a bit much? I mean jail time? Sure the guy lied, cheated, and tainted the sport I love, but lets be honest now they are messing with his life. Over what? A game? I think we all need to step back and realize how heavy this thing could be when its all over. Taking a tragic hero and exposing the dark side of his legend, then doing everything we can to throw away his legacy with no regards for his family. I mean his friends are turning on him now. This might force Bonds off the deep end. This has all the makings of the birth of a new super villain.

WNBA All-Star Game: I care nothing for this event, and I am mad that ESPN was littered with it's highlights last night. I am all for women's sports, but the WNBA needs to be taken off the air. It's a ratings nightmare. As a Croatian buddy of mine once said, "Call me what you will, but no one wants to watch a bunch of ugly women running up and down the court bricking lay-ups." Agrred. The Friends spin-off, Joey seemed like a good idea too, but its time we move on past both of these.

Poncho

So a bunch of us were at Taste of Dallas this weekend, where people can go and sample food from restaurants from all over the city while listening to bands play and wasting their money on arts and crafts. While there, we encountered a funny little person, whom I dubbed as "Poncho." This whimsical little man would stand in front of a tent where a bamboo instrument band was blowing and playing on their flutes and sitars celebrating their native culture, whatever it may have been. Well this curious little fellow toted an odd looking keyboard that he held in his hands, but never played; all while he danced about. Now, when I say, "danced," I mean he shook his hips back and forth in a festive, yet not too festive manner. I mean he's no Shakira, but the little bugger was giving it his all. He would add his own personal dash of spice to this dance by throwing in an unpredictable hop that is comparable to a child playing hop-scotch on a playground, only with a useless keyboard his hands. Needless to say, when you add the keyboard, the dancing, and the ridiculously over-sized Panama hat all together you can see why stereotypes exist. The only thing missing from making him an actual cartoon character that found his way into the real world was the fact that he was missing a deliciously tacky mustache.

P.S. Wow was I off on my Derby pick. I couldn't have really told you who Ryan Howard was before last night. I'm just gonna keep my mouth shut from now on. I think this is better for all of us.

Talk Derby To Me*

*I stole this title from an article about the Kentucky Derby. This was eating at me. I feel better now.

The Home Run Derby is on tonight as the proverbial warm-up act to tomorrow's MLB All-Star Game. Now even though the derby has become much like the NBA Dunk contest, in that no one who is any good at cracking home runs participates anymore, I still think that the derby is one of those situations where the warm-up band out shines the headliner--much like the way the All American Rejects completely upstaged Fall Out Boy in their spring tour. (Very disappointing. This is why I don't trust main stream music anymore. That, and because it mostly sucks). Regardless, the All-Star Game always ends up being a wash with the American League winning and the players providing enough lollygagging to make Skip from Bull Durham light his jock-strap on fire.

More than anything, though, I like the HR Derby because invariably someone always pulls off some triumphant run while a big name guy embarrasses himself with only one or two home runs. To me it is always fun to see a guy like Piazza, Bonds, or A-Rod have a terrible outing while someone like Tejada rips the ball apart. All the meanwhile, the other guy is trying to act like he doesn't care, and has that "It's only a pointless derby, what do I care that I'm being completely upstaged by a guy who hit 28 HR's last year" look on his face. Only you can tell they are really seething deep inside. It's amazing how trivial these guys are; yet not one of them will admit it. It's almost like watching an episode of the Real World, only with more black men.

So who's gonna win tonight? Well I wouldn't put much stock in my predictions these days, but I'm gonna go with Lance Berkman of the Astros. I think he's a terrific player and he almost won this thing when it was in Houston. And with guys like Bonds not participating the door is wide open for Berkman to take the whole meaningless event by storm. So there it is. Berkman. Mark it down.

Before I get too far from baseball talk, being as there is a greater than zero chance that I may not get around to baseball for another week or so, I wanted to mention that Lance Berkman of the Astros and Micheal Young of the Rangers are two of the games best players and yet, many people have no clue who they are--especially Mike Young. I mean the guy was the AL batting champion last year and yet his baseball card was printed wth the wrong guy on it (they put Rod Barajas on there by mistake). Would that ever happen if he played in New York or Boston? Even in a million years? What if there was a Colin Ferrell movie coming out and the movie ads billed his character as being played by Mel Gibson? There would be an uprising at theaters across the nations that could end Hollywood as we know it. Never the less, if Young or Berkman played in New York or any of the East Coast towns, their jerseys would be flying off the shelves and the baseball world would be disgustingly over-saturated with talk of them. Just thought we should all be aware of this. And, yes. I know I am the only one who cares.

Rangers: The hometown heroes somehow took two of three from Toronto and two of three from Minnesota with Liriano and Santana on the playbill. A strong finish to the first half of the season, especially as it looked as if they were about to let the wheels fall off this thing. I'm not sure they have the team to win the division, but with the difference between them in first and Anaheim in last being only 2 1/2 games anything is possible.

Random Work Quick Hit: I just received an e mail at work about our second quarter earnings and promptly deleted it without even considering taking a look at it. It is now clear that my apathy will ultimately be my undoing.

Trey Wingo

So on the 4th, Life Guard Drew was surprised by an ESPN anchor showing up randomly and sent me this message:

Dude, Trey Wingo just walked into my pool. Just met him and got his signature.

Solid, Drew. A little gay, but solid.

Sophisticated

Happy Independence Day! I know that's a day late, but hey, take what you get. Before we get started I must say that I have a ton of things to share, most of them not related to sports. This is a problem I am coming across now that basketball is over. I mean there is only so much baseball one can talk. Well, to be honest I could talk baseball all day, but that would only bore most of you. So I will try to mix in sports here and there, but mostly I will just try to get something funny up.

Two more quick things. First, the girl I work with called in "sick" today. Jerk. Now I am stuck here with most everyone I know taking the day off, and me trying to catch everything up from the weekend. Second, typing is very hard right now. This is a result of the gash that runs from the top of my right index finger to the bottom, and I swear this baby is deep. In fact, I was gonna call in sick today, or just leave early and go to the hospital to get stitches, but it looks like thats out of the picture. So until I can do that, I will brave the nerve damage and type on. Tell me where you get that kind of dedication in any other blog?...Anyone?...No?... That's right! No where but here, baby!

If you ever heard the story of how Ronnie Lott elected to have his finger chopped off in the middle of a football game rather than sit out with a finger injury, then you know how I feel right now. I am one hundred percent sure that this will get me into the Iron Man Hall of Fame. This is my moment. Next stop, enshrinement.

Ok, moving on to the story...

So Saturday night featured a few of us going to a Karaoke Bar to show off what we've got. We were surprised to find the bar doing a talent contest beforehand in the form of a "Gong Show." One of the contestants had a "talent" of being able to take all the letters of a given word and put them in alphabetical order (i.e. dog would be d-g-o. Get it? Good). Now I know what you're thinking, and I don't consider this a talent either. I mean this falls somewhere between wiggling your ears and doing two cartwheels in a row. Maybe we can't all do it, but we could try, or we could try our best and just make up an excuse when it gets too hard--which is exactly what this guy did.

This guy is up on stage doing his thing and waiting for people to yell out words for him to alphabetize. Naturally, my brain starts stewing and searching for ways to trip him up. So I yell out "Sophisticated!" from the front table. He looks me dead in the eyes, pauses, then says "I don't know how to spell that." Then he moves on as if nothing happened and starts doing easy words again. I look at Chad, with my "did I just stump him, but he decided to take a 'pass' rather than be beaten?" look on my face. Prompting Chad and I to boo him.

I got one for you, buddy. Hit the gong!

Now some might think the story would end there, but many of you know my showmanship and my ruthlessness for showing people up when they deserve it, and this was one night I was not about to hold back.

So karaoke starts and me, RT, and Chad do our typical Afternoon Delight which is always a crowd favorite. I decide that I am gonna throw out the masterpiece that is the seven and a half minute long ballad known as Rapper's Delight. Now this is one of the hardest rap songs to do, mainly because its long, fast-paced, and there are no brakes in it; which consequently, lead you to become very winded if you're not careful. Now, I have my 9th grade year of high school to thank for this song. I didn't really know anyone yet in Oakland, so I had far too much spare time to sit in my room and listen to music. I also had a job where I held a sign outside every weekend for 6 hours, with only a Discman at my side. Needless to say, I may have been an awkward looking fifteen year old, but I was jammin out daily. I would spend countless hours listening to much of the same songs over and over, one of these being Rapper's Delight. As one can imagine, after of a few weeks of owning In Tha Beginning, There Was Rap, I had conquered the song that most only dream of. Ok, so let's get back to Saturday night...

As Paul will tell you, I can do Rapper's Delight almost flawlessly when I am shit-faced. Well, I was close to shit-faced that night, but maybe a notch or two down, which meant that I was giving 110% effort and stage presence. Combine that with the D.J. throwing in back-up vocals and we were untouchable. Playing the crowd, calling out friends at the table, and just rocking the mic. These are the fleeting moments of fame we all grasp for in our introverted lives. For 7 and a half minutes, I owned that place.

Am I exaggerating? I'd like to think not. Either way, when it was all said and done I walked out with fifty dollars the DJ gave me for tearing it up, and had all my drinks paid for by RT's dad for my "monster" performance--even going so far as to call me "a real man's man." Even some guy who rapped Jay-Z earlier in the night had to come up and shake my hand. The only unimpressed person there was Chad who looked bored out of his mind due to the fact that he has seen me so this same routine for the last year or so. Kind of like that guy who goes to like fifteen shows of his favorite band during a summer tour and audibly compares the performance to a better one that was earlier in the tour. Somehow you "are so missing out" by seeing the Dallas performance rather than the one in New York that he paid three hundred bucks for. I hate that guy. Regardless, no matter how much I really had that place in my hands, I one upped that jerk-o guy from before.

Beat that lame-o Alphabet Man!

The Amazing Beau

Either Beau is moonlighting as the Ultimate Warrior, or he found himself a job at Sea World Orlando. It's good to see that an undergrad in Psychology and a Masters in Liberal Arts got you a job that allows you to wear a green jump suite with frilly streamers and make-up. Couldn't be prouder of you!