Saturday, April 30, 2011


That last post was ATROCIOUS writing. Hey, sometimes even I have off days. Lots of them. In a row. My apologies. I'd take it down but that's cheating so instead I'll just acknowledge it. It was about the royal wedding, its not like any of you care anyway. I just hate to leave that as the last impression.

In completely unrelated news: last night. Sigh. Last night. No details because I am incredibly superstitious and if I talk about it, I jinx it and the whole thing goes sideways. Yeah. I'm insane. I acknowledge this.

That tiny detail that I won't be talking about aside: so much fun. Hangover to prove it. In N Out burger receipt to combat the hangover to prove it.

Went to Pete's Tavern to watch the Capitols game, where I sat by myself until Cheryl showed up. 45 minutes as a female alone in a bar is always a bit daunting. But I survived. Helped that it's not like the place was packed. Caps lost, which sucked, but catching up with Cheryl was fun. The Caps loss also meant I got a text from Chuck that was just a string of expletives and that was sort of flipping adorable. I was at Pete's because there was an all conference mixer going on at the same place so after watching the game and mocking the mixer from a distance for awhile, I saw LSU people I know show up and made my way over. I didn't really mix, so much as make snarky comments about the others with LSU people. So: ya know, same as always. I did talk to an obnoxiously drunk South Carolina alum, try my best and fail to flirt with a ridiculously young and adorable Florida alum. It could have been more successful but I didn't feel all that comfortable just talking to random SEC people (I don't do the networking thing well). Plus Cheryl, and now Lex, were on the other side of the bar so I kept chatting with them too.

After the SEC thing winded down and I was with just Lex and Cheryl, we caught up. I did later go over and talk to a girl in a Caps jersey for a bit about the loss, she was very cool. Except she was with these guys that I had pegged as being Vandy alums. I was right, they were. (Florida alum had told me that apparently Vandy alums won't hang out with the regular SEC folks, which I had about figured. They do stuff with the private southern colleges (Tulane, Emory, Furman, etc) so don't mingle with us state school folks. These guys proved my fear of jerky Vandy alums. Which is unfortunate because I once had a boss I really liked who was a Vandy guy.)

Lex departed and Cheryl and I had further conversations with guys sitting around us. One was sort of loud but insisted on buying us shots, which, how can you refuse? There were more conversations with boy strangers but nothing really engaging. Since I'd been at Pete's since 4 p.m., it was now 10:30 and mostly dead because there was no baseball game going on around it, we decided to leave.

Prudence would tell you to go home. Prudence sucks. We decided we'd hit up North Star a) because I can park easily around the corner and b) for the express purpose of stalking my bar exam crush who we know works there sometimes. (Issues, I haz 'em.) It was all in good natured fun though, I'm not really stalking anyone. We walk into North Star and it's packed. And the bartender? The same girl that had been helping bartending at Pete's. SF: smallest big city EVER.

Cheryl and I made our way to the back by the less crowded pool table and sat down but then these REALLY drunk guys decided to play pool in incredibly crowded bar and that just seemed like a bad idea/was annoying to watch drunk guys play pool badly, so I decided we should go mingle. I musta been in that fuzzy place where I seek out conversation with others. The great thing about Cheryl is that she is an excellent wing-person. She's usually game for whatever hair brained half scheme I have going on.

At this point we find a mostly empty spot near the bar, Cheryl grabs a seat, I stay standing, I make, to her, a comment about the guy in the sideways, off his head UConn hat next to her, which prompts me to apologize to the guy on the other side of her who I am sure overheard me being snarky.


That's where we leave it. For now. So as not to jinx. Because I'm insane.

I'm currently safely ensconced in the beach house, house sitting for the next week while Dad and Angela are in NYC. Tomorrow I hope to not feel so hungover and be able to enjoy this gorgeous, breeze free beach weather.

Friday, April 29, 2011

Royal Wedding

Alright, I changed my mind. After many a discussions about the problems with a monarchy, the expense of spending money on a giant state wedding, the problems with blowing a wedding this out of proportion, I have changed my position. The Royal Wedding? Kinda awesome.

I say all this as the kind of girl who doesn't generally plan weddings in her head, who never wanted a prince to come rescue me because I'll rescue my own damn self, thanks. But even I'm susceptible to the Disney princess thing. I grew up in that generation. Before I was a sports fanatic and all around badass (shut up), I spent many a days playing with Barbies and dressing in frilly dresses as a princess almost every Halloween. I've watched My Fair Lady too many times and my adoration of horse racing made my desire to go to the Ascot Ball high.

I love London. It's so...British! I adore high tea. No, seriously, if I could do it every day if I were fancy. I wanted to make these scones (and will eventually). My mother and I have a mild obsession with things that sparkle and if you've ever seen the crown jewels in the tower of London, those things are sparkly.

When we were in London, we visited Buckingham Palace, which had the main dining room set up for a state dinner, pictures of the Queen hosting dignitaries where we counted 3 different tiaras. (We like tiaras.) I also visited the stables because, ya know, along with baubles I like horses. Which had the carriage that they left from the Abbey on display. It's impressive.

Now: could you imagine if we tried to pull this off in the states? There would be protests. People would be angry. And there may have been a faction of that in the UK but we certainly didn't hear about it. The whole country celebrated this event in amazing fashion. There's a state religion so broadcasting a church event is totally okay. Boy do the Brits do pomp and circumstance well. The red tunics on the military with the swords and all the ribbons. I want one of those uniforms! (Yes, I realize I'm female. Whatevs.) Westminster Abbey is fantastic, Buckingham Palace is fantastic. It's all just...fantastic!

I'm no sartorial expert I thought her dress was gooorrrggeeeoouuss. And Prince Harry? Mischievous red head? So up my alley. The family seemed like they were having fun and it was all very happy and joyous. While I don't think this is the greatest love story ever, it's still a very wonderful ceremony.

Finally, the Queen of England reminds me so much of my own grandmother it's ridiculous. Demure women with tight white coifs. They were contemporaries. My grandmother passed away at age 87 in 2009, the queen turned 85 this year. They were both shaped by WWII, what brought my grandmother to SF as she joined the coast guard, what brought the queen to the fore of England where she was trained as a mechanic. Granted, my grandmother was not the queen of England (though did have British lineage, her mother was a Liverpudlian), but just their demeanor seems SO similar. My grandmother totally would have worn that yellow outfit that the queen wore today. And my grandfather would have been a bit like Prince Philip, I have no doubt. There's a shot of him saying something to Harry on the balcony and them laughing. Yep. That totally would have been my grandfather. So I think this reminds me a lot of my grandparents.

So yeah. Cynical me? Eh, marriage, whatever. Monarchy, bleh. The little girl in me? OMG JEWELS AND DRESSES AND FANCY PEOPLE AND HATS!

I'm just gonna enjoy this for what it is.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011


I'm still sick. I'm sort of convinced I'm dying. I'd say that is meant in a joking way but I'm not getting any better so I figure the end result is either I get over this STAT or I just die. The lack of concern amongst my family is...amusing. And sure, there's slight hyperbole there but really I'm tired of hacking up my lungs, feeling unable to do anything, not going to the gym. Tomorrow. I better freaking feel better by tomorrow. I've sucked down enough cough syrup, vitamin C, DayQuil, and vitamins that this shouldn't be unrealistic. ENOUGH!

Sunday, April 24, 2011


Oh hey! Remember last week or whenever when I was all, "Look how cranky I am!"? Yeah. That. Again.

I'm sick. Sick sick. Nasty cold flu thing that has been hanging around for a week. And I'm tired of it. I went to Walgreens yesterday and bought like EVERYTHING and just decided I was taking it all until this thing was gone. On top of that my mother remains less than sympathetic, the world doesn't stop turning with stuff to do, and I'd very much like my gym going back, thanks. So, current bothers. Click only if you want to hear what a grown ass adult sounds like when they whine:

Friday, April 22, 2011


I don't generally have an addictive personality. (My mother might disagree but she's a teetotaler and my mother, so grain of salt.)

How I went from 5 months ago having only the most tangental understanding of hockey, being able to name maybe 5 of the best players ever, to spending most of my (unemployed) afternoons watching the playoffs? Yeah. I don't really understand it either.

I can tell you the genesis of it. It started with Chuck and his love of the Caps which led directly to making it a point of watching 24/7 Caps/Pens. It happened when I was studying for the bar and was looking for any excuse to not study, to get sucked down the wormhole of something more exciting than torts/wills and trusts/business law. It has a little something to do with a slightly highly delusional attachment to a certain Caps player. But I'm not sure that actually explains it.

Funny enough, while I had this window open, Andy and I discussed this very topic where he said, "You have an addictive personality?" And while I'm fairly certain that's not the case, it was concluded that I have a binge-y personality, something that we are unaware of being in the DSM-IV (yes, these are the conversations I engage in). The things I do love, I love HARD. (Which, while we're going down the rabbit hole of self-analyzation might be why I don't allow myself to do the so in love thing? If I ever truly let go on that front it'd be biiiggg? Does that make sense or follow a line of logic? Or I'm just naturally frigid and standoffish. Maybe.)

Because this hockey thing? I can't get enough. I don't just want to watch it, I want to get inside it (stop it, you know what I mean). I want to know how it works. Why it works. The rules, the players, the history. Why plays go a certain way, why you decide on certain personnel. If a goal gets scored because of a defensive breakdown or because of great offense. My brain is seeking this stuff out, eager to soak it up. I can't remember being this way about anything since...LSU football as a freshman? But honestly? I can't remember the last time I threw myself so thoroughly into anything ever. I am usually a fairly laid back, watch things unfold, observer type. I make mental notes, I write about it on the internet later. To so wholesale want to know everything about something is pretty unlike me.

For example: I have 8 tabs open right now. Six of them are me looking up various hockey information. I follow blogs, I glean information on my own where I can. I have someone who I have asked an infinite number of hockey related questions to and they have patiently answered all of them. And I'm not just talking "What's a five hole?" I'm talking, "Are the 'Yotes really relocating? What does that mean to the NHL? The fans in Phoenix? The players?" I ask about the health of the NHLPA and what impact it has. If given the opportunity I would ask more about hockey contracts, recruiting, etc. (3 sports law classes between undergrad and law school and because I was in the deep South or far West, not a peep about hockey.)

And I feel a little zealous. The annoying convert who then wants to foist their ideals on you. LOVE WHAT I LOVE, DAMMIT!

I had my cousin, whose new boyfriend is a Sharks fan, watch episode 1 of 24/7 when I visited her last weekend. "OMG! They're all so cute! Like ALL of them! Why didn't anyone ever tell me all the hockey players were so cute?!" I do not advocate for this type of fandom, I think you should love the sport, but it can serve as a good jumping off point, to get people (women) initially interested, which isn't all bad.

I then made my mom watch a the bit today where Mike Green drives along on his orange vespa, as she's a gear head who loves Vespas and I thought she would find it adorable. I just wanted to show her that. She continued watching. She counted the stitches on Hendricks' eye before I even said anything (my mom is not at all adverse to the grosser side of life). She listened to Ovi say ridiculous Ovi things. I think she was entertained. And as she's the biggest one of the "I don't understand why you suddenly love this!" camp, I'll take that as a moral victory. Earlier this week, when the Caps played that 2OT game and I was sick with a sore throat, I kept screaming at the TV prompting her to say, "You screaming at the TV isn't gonna help your voice." However, she then went out to dinner with my brother and while she waited for him to arrive, she ended up watching the game and I sent six text messages explaining who she was supposed to be rooting for. That point is when the Caps turned the corner. Yay Mom! (I know how the preceding paragraph sounds and will remind you that despite that, I am not actually 15. (Realizing I am TWICE that is...guhhh. There's been a lot of "HEY! You're OLD!" this week, which sucks, but that's an entirely separate issue.))

I think I have eclipsed the bestie's knowledge. While he plays the game and loves the game, he's happy with whatever knowledge he already has and it was hysterical to think that I was explaining to him the relationship between Arnott and Semin. I was even explaining Semin's nickname of Sasha Minor. And mind you, this was HIS team, his love, before I showed up and annoyingly crashed the party. The learning curve has been steep on this one and I've enjoyed the climb.

So yeah. This is a really poor explanation of why I fell in love with yet another sport.

In the meantime, since I still can't really explain it, I'll just keep watching.


Sunday, April 17, 2011

As an aside...

I had a very long, very fun, and also very very bizarre weekend. I'm too exhausted, yes, even on this Sunday afternoon to get into it right this second but thought I would share this little story to keep you (and myself) entertained as I watch the Canucks/Blackhawks game:

When we were younger, my brother, for reasons I have no insight into, had a Chicago Blackhawks hat. It had a black bill and the Indian head logo on an otherwise white baseball hat. He LOVED this baseball hat. (Aside to the aside: my brother's first tattoo, of many many tattoos, again for reasons I don't know, was an Indian head. Very pretty, very well done, but, uh, other than rumors that run through most families with a Southern background that we may have some native american blood, it didn't really make a lot of sense. What? Why that? I'm wondering if deep down in his psyche and his love of that Blackhawks hat is why. Hmmm...)

Because he loved that baseball hat and it was white, it was disgusting. And no amount of begging would get him to wash that hat. I don't know how long he had that hat but it seemed like years and he wore it all the time. I should mention that we live in San Francisco, had never been to Chicago at this point in our lives, and only tangentially knew what the hell hockey even was. And yet: constant wearing of the 'Hawks hat. (I just asked my mom about the hat at dinner. She laughed and said, "He wore it ALL. THE. TIME! It was disgusting!")

At one point we went rafting on the American River while he wore this hat, he got dunked many a times, hat and all. And it remained disgusting.

My dad and his...she'll later be my ex stepmother but we'll just call her Susan...had their usual on-off tumultuous relationship all through this period. And it seemed like whenever they were off, she would go buy some animal to fill the void left by her lack of a relationship. So at one point during their off period, she went and got a lhasa apso. When they eventually, inevitably, got back together, the dog ends up at our house most of the time. When they eventually actually break up again, dad keeps the dog. This is a pattern and will eventually mean the introduction of our bulldogs much later. But for now: lhasa apso. We are a family of large dog owners. We had pitbulls and huskies and golden retrievers all through my childhood. So this ankle biter was a new thing.

I found him kind of adorable but I love a vast majority of dogs. He was napoleonic. Tiny but fiery. When you know that they were bred as Tibetan guard dogs, it sort of makes sense.

My brother and this dog HATED each other. My brother is not as good with animals as I am (much better than I am with children though). All of our animals seemingly don't like him. Our American bulldog used to bark endlessly at him. Our dog now took a nip at his knee the other day when herding him out of the house. But him and Bear (that was the lhasa's name)? It was warfare. My brother would walk around swearing at the dog, kick him out of his room. The dog would nip at his ankles. One time dog got on his bed when he wasn't home and peed on his down comforter. As an observer, their mutual dislike was fairly freaking comical.

And then.

The dog ate his Blackhawks hat.

It. Ate. His. Hat.

He didn't destroy it, but he gnawed off enough of the bill that it wasn't really fashionable to wear it anymore.

I'll add that the dog never destroyed anybody else's anything. Never went into my room and took anything, generally left me alone. So trust me, he targeted my brother's hat.

D threw the hat away after that. And to my knowledge has never owned anything else with a Blackhawks logo since then.

It still cracks me up to think about the end of that freaking hat.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Thursday, April 14, 2011


With the current Kobe Bryant kerfuffle over him calling a ref a "Fu*king Fa**ot" and of Landon Donovan referring to Kings fans at the Queens, I thought I would revisit the issue of insults. This isn't going to be the heavy society implications post. Andy did that already over hur.

But, as an aside: I actually called my dad to the mat the other day when he referred to my bother in his bitchy state as "needing a tampon". My dad is usually very aware but I was like, "Nuh uh. Don't equate his whiny tendencies with being a woman because trust me, we're tougher than he will ever be." My dad demurred. I admitted I understood the sentiment but didn't like the execution.

And hey, I'm not perfect, I referred to men the other day on this here blog as pussies. And I didn't mean furry kittens. I meant it in a pejorative way, questioning manhood. But, I have to say by virtue of growing up in generally touchy feely San Francisco, I run a high sensitivity to these kinds of things. Gay hasn't been an insult in my world for a very very long time and I definitely bristle when I hear that or the one Kobe used. Mostly the gays are awesome. How could that be insulting? You're telling him he has excellent taste in interior decorating and an impeccable sartorial sense? (Fun with stereotypes!) That's not an insult! My also from California college roommate and I had an impact on the use of the N word as an insult amongst our group of friends. I'd never heard it out loud with hatred in my entire life 'til I moved to Louisiana. It's verboten here. (Don't get me wrong, you've ever heard someone drive in California, we have plenty of our own ethnic insults, just never ever that.) It was well know that that word was unacceptable if we were around. I hope they stopped using it when we also weren't around but who knows...

I think the work around is that we need to come up with some better insults. There's gotta be something better than questioning a man's manhood by referring to him as a woman. Because really? Women are AWESOME. He'd be LUCKY to be a woman. There should be creative, cutting, biting insults. I want to hear all your best recommendations. A couple of mine:

Heaven and Setbacks

I went to the Giants game last night with Dad and Angela. I didn't go to Momo's, as per custom. I went to Pete's Tavern so I could watch a bit of the Caps game. 15 freaking TVs in Pete's and the Caps game was only on one. Pretty sure I was the only one watching. And we went into the game early so I didn't see the 3rd period. But that's cool. Thanks to Twitter it's not hard to keep up on the action and go "GOOD SASHA SCORE OT GOAL!" (Alex Semin does ridiculously boneheaded stuff and is often Bad Sasha. Then he scores gorgeous OT goals and is Good Sasha. Cuz I'm an expert now, y'all.)

The game was awesome. Hhheeaveen, even. It was exciting and back and forth and fantastic pitching and we had good seats on the promenade level. There didn't seem to be a lot of Dodgers fans there and the fact that no one was jerky, at all, and we had a really good time makes me excited to go to more games, and gets rid of some of the hesitant feelings I had.

The only minor problem was the four people a couple rows in front of us who don't know to only get up during breaks in the action and to sit down immediately once you get to your seat. We can't see over you! But they ended up being fine because after Lilly did his third pitch out with Huff on first, I yelled, "COME ON! Stop it with the pitch out! Huff's NOT gonna steal!" Guy in Huff jersey, part of the group of four, turned around and said, "I know, right?! He's my brother and *I* know he's not gonna steal." I don't know if it was really his brother but that was pretty funny. Truth is, after the next pitch it was a full count with two outs and the hit and run was on, so there was steal potential. Huff still wasn't gonna get far enough off the bag to get the cheap out though. Oh, and for all of Huff's flailing in right field this year, which has been painful to watch, he had a gorgeous catch in foul territory in the early innings. It was a really really fantastic game. Complete with warning to both benches after Lilly plunked Posey a second time. Related: I'm disappointed Buster doesn't go up to a Busta Rhymes song. I feel he should. (I've also decided for no particular reason that Busta is my favorite rapper. As if rap and the opinion of a 30 year old white girl (please don't make me use woman) matters.) So: game = awesome. Wait: amended on Posey. As I was typing, Andy sent me this. I think that should be Posey's walk out music.

I sort of gave up on being "good" yesterday, eating healthy blah blah blah. I did do OnDemand yoga in the morning though, so that's something. I am not flipping bendy. But I'm working on it. My hamstrings have always been incredibly tight, even when I had a trainer stretching them once a week. Since I no longer have a trainer they are way worse so it was good to begin loosening those up again. I woke up to a bag full of donuts from my mother and just figured, "Ahhh, screw it. Free day!" Her and I are playing a psychological warfare game. It's kinda awesome. I make her rice krispy treats and cookies, which she half yells at me for because I don't actually eat any of them and she does. So then she bought me donuts. Mother daughter relationships are special, y'all. So I ate two donuts. Then nothing else. 'Til right before the game when I ate a buffalo chicken salad because I knew a hot dog and garlic fries weren't gonna cut it, though I did eat that too. And I drank beer at the game, first time in three weeks consuming any discernible amount of alcohol. I was buzzed and fuzzy but not stupid drunk. And I then when I got home I felt soooo ill. Beer and garlic fries and a polish are not my thing anymore, apparently. So I feel like I ate a weeks worth of calories in one sitting yesterday. But I won't let this be a permanent setback. Back on the horse today.

About the alcohol: I used the fuzzy warm feelings as an excuse to check my stupid online dating account. That was dumb. I just wanted to delete messages, but they led to conversations and inappropriate bullshit comments from guys. There's a big long diatribe I could go into about my current mental state/issues with boys/myself blah blah blah but not currently in the mood to vomit that all over the internet so to sum up: I'm really happy being single. And I don't mean that in a "She doth protest too much" way where all your married/couple friends roll their eyes and go "Yeah right!" because who could POSSIBLY be happy alone. I really mean it. I'm finally holding out for someone I actually enjoy spending time with. I know, right? And until some guy can sit in a bar and watch a sporting event with me while engaging in witty banter, I'm cool on my own. Currently, not to sound all crazy dog person, but using the 35# dog as a pillow is a favorite past time. Like I am now.

Alright, I got a day packed of gym going, room cleaning, and football writing. Whee!

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Fandom (Part 2)

I wrote about fandom before. And while all that remains true, that was an obviously tongue in cheek take on it, with some jabs at alternate fan bases.

Right now, Imma put on my serious face.

When Chuck and I went to the Sharks/Caps game, we were cheering for the Caps, opposing fans in the Sharks' barn (fancy hockey lingo!). At one point, when Chuck cheered loudly, the lady in front of us turned around and asked in all sincerity to Chuck, "Do you ever get in fights?" This was at first hysterical. You'd have to know Chuck. He'd go out of his way to avoid conflict before ever engaging.

But instead of just laughing, Chuck fired back with one of those off the cuff remarks that make Chuck brilliant: "Um. No. They get paid a lot of money to go out there and play. I'm not going to fight in the stands on their behalf." It was brilliant in its simplicity. Basically: Yes, I like the team, a lot. No, I'm not going to engage in violence for something that is settled violently on the ice, by guys paid 10x what I make to do so. My stake in the game is enjoyment.

He articulated my own sentiment pretty well. I'll jaw with a fellow fan, all through the offseason even, and then during a game. It will likely be incredibly good natured. "Nice pitcher! Lasorda asleep somewhere?" But when the game ends, I'm going to turn around and, regardless of the outcome to MY team, going to tell them "Good game!" Because it likely was. I got what I paid for, an evening of entertainment and fun. Now I'm going to walk away and look forward to doing it again. (And if I'm in the heaven that is Baton Rouge, continue drinking whiskey.)

All this has become an issue again because of what happened to Giants fan Bryan Stow when he went to opening day at Dodger Stadium. You can read about it, and are likely familiar with it, all over the internet. To sum up: He got beaten on his way out of the park and likely suffered serious brain damage because he was wearing Giants gear in L.A.

Because of that, what it means to be a fan, and what this tense rivalry means has been at the forefront of a lot of discussions. A week after the incident, the Dodgers are up here in San Francisco playing the Giants. The Giants dedicated last nights game to Bryan and before the game, both teams came out on to the field, together. Then Jeremy Affeldt said a few words about what the rivalry means, saying that as soon as the game ends, the rivalry ends, they walk off the field and are friends again. Watch it here. It's pretty damn moving.

He also did a radio interview earlier in the day where he pointed out what Chuck said: he gets paid a lot of money to go out there and battle everyday, this is how he feeds his family. He added that every win is important to them. While they appreciate the Dodgers/Giants rivalry, they want to win every last game. And no fan, anywhere, ever should be injured because of a rooting interest.

I've definitely seen Dodgers fans act like idiots in SF. I'm not saying it's exclusively them and that there aren't jerky Giants fans too (I had run ins with a few of our own jerky fans last year and it's why I hesitate to go to the ballpark this year). Last season I witnessed a 16 year old girl, acting older than that, use words against a guy that no lady should ever say for no real reason. I watched Dodgers and Giants fans jaw at each other outside Momo's after a game, posturing for a fight, guys on the main patio at Momo's egging it on while I told them to go back to the suburbs and yelled at the fans on the street to knock it the eff off. IT'S A GAME! That you aren't playing! How can your hatred run that deep? You have to let it go. You look at the scoreboard, win or lose, and know you get to do it again soon. Calm down, everybody!

I realize that anyone reading this, anyone I would ever associate with, is gonna don all the team colors they want but be more interested in the particularities of the athletics on the field than in whooping an opposing fan. That's how it should universally be. It boggles the mind that it can't be more civil. So, just, be on your best behavior, do it right, so that others may follow by example.

On a lighter note, early season thoughts...on facial hair:

  1. I'm sorta digging Barry Zito's mustache. It makes him hotter. If not a better pitcher.
  2. Sergio Romo's current facial hair configuration reminds me of the time Ted Mosby was cutting his post Robin break-up beard and kept coming out of the bathroom in different states of shaving. When he got to the look Romo is currently rocking, Lilly called him "Old timey Professor Ted". Old timey professor Romo?
  3. Brian Wilson's face mane has gotten out of control. I'd like to see it gone. But I'm pondering the sheer economics of it. He has upped his marketability about a thousand percent with it, which means endorsement deals, and that translates to cold hard cash. So how much, out of curiosity, is that beard worth? And is it written in endorsement deal contracts that he can't, or under only very specific circumstances, shave it? It's gotta be a hassle at this point. Not just upkeep, which I imagine is a pain, but instant recognizability. He can't walk around the Marina undetected.

Sunday, April 10, 2011


I am uber cranky today. So just a whole bunch of me screeching after the jump. And no, do not look for rational logic in the below that I normally possess.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

After School Special

Guuuhh. Last night was...

I'm stone cold sober. That should about explain it. Except it doesn't and I have to explain even that. And some other things. For myself. And for the world at large because they seem to just NOT be getting it.

I felt like I was in an After School Special about avoiding peer pressure. Except I was with a group of adults.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

It's Friday! Friday!

To prove that I am hip, I am titling this after the Rebecca Black song. I am, of course, not at all hip. Though I was an early adopter of the "She's not awful" attitude, I would like to say.

This is made even less hip by the fact that it's now actually Saturday, but, ya know, Friday night. Whatever.