Holiday Greetings!

I almost forgot... it's a "holiday" here in the Peach State. No, you don't get the day off... but you do get the day off from sales tax. The Sportslady just might have to go shopping for some new clothes tomorrow.

Keeping the "Faith"

On the one hand, I find this to be kind of inspiring. On the other hand, as my friend Mike said, it's a bit creepy looking.

That Little Itch Could Be Telling You Something

Think people made fun of you when you were 13 years old? Imagine if you were this kid. I'm thinking "Fly Boy" is the nicest name anyone's called him

Confirmed

It's official. I'm a wuss.

Cory left for a long weekend in Missouri this morning. He'll be away until late Monday night. At work today, Robert (a co-worker who works in the same department as Cory) asked me "So, do you miss Cory?"

Of course, I said "Yeah."

"Already?" Cory had only been gone for about seven hours at that point. "You're such a wuss!" He laughed.

Need more evidence? F/X aired the final episode of M*A*S*H tonight. Even though I've seen it before (One of the 105 million people who watched it in 1983), I was crying like a stupid little baby by the end of it. Wuss.

And the Winner Is...

Well, that didn't take long. I just checked my stats again and, lo and behold, I now have 1,002 visits. The 1,000th visit to my website was made by one of my co-workers (Though which one, I may never know). Whoever it was looked at my blog at 10:11 pm tonight.

Gosh. I feel like I should have some kind of party. Maybe I'll crack open a Smirnoff Ice to celebrate.

The Numbers Game

Just checked my web stats, and a few interesting things have popped out at me:

1) People really want to know where Eminem lives. Several people have found my blog using search strings like "Eminem Address Rochester-Hills."
2) There's a phenomenal amount of interest in the Bodydome. Many, many, many people stumble across this blog after catching late night infomercials. Much like the Eminem fans, I'm sure they're very disappointed in what they find here.
3) I've only been counting visitors since May 2nd, but I'm about to reach my 1,000th visitor. I've recently had an increased amount of traffic from another Columbus Blog (which happens to be written by a co-worker of mine), so I should probably give him his "props." If I figure out who #1000 is, I'll let you know. If you leave a comment, it's easier for me to figure out who you are (hint, hint, hint). Maybe visitor #1000 will win something cool. Probably not, though.

This Is Sportscenter

As I write this, ESPN is airing a special called "This is Sportscenter." They're doing a two-hour behind-the-scenes look at their nightly one-hour show... and while the actual Sportscenter show airs on ESPN 2, they're showing the control room, the anchors, the reporters, the producers, the production assistants, the interns, etc. as they prepare the show. They just had breaking news, and had to squeeze it into the show completely ad-libbed. It's complete and utter chaos, and I'm loving every minute of it. It's my life, only on a much, much, much larger scale. For anyone not involved in television, I'm sure it looks like complete insanity.

I think everyone who works in television should be forced to watch this (Of course, Cory taped it). It's truly an example of how a well-oiled television machine should work.

The best comparison I can make: The scene in "Broadcast News" when all hell breaks loose during the evening news. Only it's like that for the entire hour. (And if you've never seen "Broadcast News," shame on you.)

Blogging Lite

Very little blogging tonight. I have to be out and about at 8am to drive to Andalusia, Alabama for a baseball tournament. Should be interesting, since I looked up the Community College that's hosting the tournament and all they have is a PO box for an address. Guess I'll be stopping and asking a local for directions (thank God I'm a woman and I have that power).

Giving 'Em "The Bird"

ESPN Classic is showing an old Tigers game right now... you better believe it's Mark "The Bird" Fidrych on the mound. Mark (or "Mahk," as he's called in his native Massachusetts) was one of Sports Illustrated's "Where are they now?" athletes a couple years ago. Yep, he's right up there with Ickey Woods and William "The Fridge" Perry.

By the way, ESPN Classic is running "Sports Century: Mark Fidrych" at noon on Tuesday. If you've never seen him before, take the time to catch a few minutes of this. The dude was a character, man.

The Beginning of the End

Ohhhhhh. The unofficial end of my summer is here. Tonight, ABC started it's Monday night sports programming for the fall: The Battle at the Bridges. Phil, Sergio, Ernie and Tiger played a nice, lesiurely game of golf while news anchors, producers, reporters, directors, camera operators and the like all had to stay an hour late so they could put on the news after the boys were done on the links.

But it's just the beginning. For the next umpteen Mondays, I'll be working late. First because of tonight's golf, then because of the NFL Hall of Fame Game. After that, it's more exhibition football until the NFL season starts on September 4th.

That's when it gets really fun. Monday Night Football games don't even start until 9 p.m. I'm lucky if I get out of work before 2 a.m. on Mondays. Good times.

Tonight's Fortune Cookie

"The only way to catch tiger cubs is to go into the tiger's den."

WTF??? I know I've neglected to post my Fortune Cookie Messages for the last month or two, but that has to be the lamest fortune I've ever gotten. Hmmm. Maybe it's not my fortune at all. Maybe my fortune is on the other side:

"Customized Cookies? Check out www.wontonfood.com"

Customized, huh? Maybe next time I apply for a job, I'll just have my resume printed in a fortune cookie.

Not as Cool As I Thought I Was

Remember last week, when I was bragging about my "mad skills" at NCAA 2004 for the Playstation? Well, I've received a pair of shocking blows to my video-game self-esteem. The last two nights, Cory and I have revisited an old favorite: Hot Shots Golf. I should add that he's kicked my ass up and down the virtual links.

Ok... actually, I won last night, but only because Cory collapsed like Jean Van de Velde on the final few holes.

My mission: To coerce Cory into playing every night until I establish Hot Shots World Domination. Muaaahhh-hah-hah!!!

Why Don't They Just Learn The Words?

Last week, as I was re-potting some plants out front, I pondered taking down our hummingbird feeder. It's been up since early March, and I haven't seen a single hummer yet this year. The little red plastic flowers are faded from the sun, and I haven't changed their sugar-water in a while, so it's probably all nasty and fermented. I left the feeder up, primarily because I was too lazy to take it down.

Today, I got rewarded. Cory called me at work to tell me he saw a hummingbird. When I got home from work, there were four, all Ruby-Throated Hummingbirds, waiting for me at the feeder and in the trees around our apartment. Only problem is, I still haven't changed the hum-juice. So they're probably all drunk off the fermented crappy swill in the feeder. If I see them hiccuping or weaving around, I guess I'll know. What exactly is the drinking age for hummingbirds, anyway?

Darkness Falls

For the last two or three months, I've been waking up between 7:00 and 8:00 in the morning every day. For many of you, that wouldn't be a big deal, but remember, I don't get home from work until well after midnight. 7 a.m. to me is like 4 a.m. to a normal person.

The culprit in my early wakeup calls? The sun. When we first moved into this apartment, it was autumn, and there wasn't any sun getting into our bedroom at all. It was ideal. But then the earth tilted, spring came, and now the bedroom is flooded with daylight every morning.

I finally got fed up with it and bought a sleep mask yesterday. Did it work? Too well. I overslept by two hours.

Pick A Winner

Fair season is in full swing, and you'll probably only have a few more opportunities this year to see Lobster Boy, or ride the Super Himalaya, or win some kind of crappy white trash stuffed animal from a mullet-haired freak at the carnival games.

Well, I can't help you with the freak show or the puke rides, but I have uncovered a few secrets to the carnie games. Good Luck, and be sure to send me a picture of the sweet airbrushed mirror you win.

Still Searching...

For those Weapons Of Mass Destruction.

Abe Vigoda Update:

...in case you were concerned.

Tough Guys

I forgot to mention that the Cottonmouths announced their new head coach on Thursday: Brian Curran. If the name sounds familiar, it should. He played 10 years in the NHL, most of them with the Boston Bruins and the Toronto Maple Leafs.

The important stats? 355 NHL games, 6 goals, 1400 penalty minutes. One might say he was a bit of a tough guy. Should work well with Cottonmouths legend Jerome Bechard, who ranks third in Minor League hockey history in penalty minutes.

Oh, and did I mention that the team's General Manager, Phil Roberto, is perhaps best known for jumping into a crowd to beat up a fan back when he played for the Blues?

Could be a very interesting season for the Snakes. Even more interesting for their opponents.

Jamocha Me Crazy

Thursday night, on the way back from Buckhead, I stopped at Arby's for dinner (extravagant, I know). As I was sitting in the drive-thru, I spotted a giant sign for Jamocha Shakes. I haven't had one since my junior year of high school, when one of my best friends got a job at Arby's... and it just so happened that a guy I had a massive crush on worked there, too.

Anyway, I used to drive my Chevette (1979 2-door, powder blue, $650.00) up to Arby's all the time to hang out with my friend Lara. I'd always order a Jamocha shake and I'd spy on Eric.

Last night's jamocha shake wasn't nearly as good as I remembered it. It was a little bitter at first, but it improved with time. Or maybe it was just the high-school crush that made them taste better in my memory.

I should note that, being somewhat lactose-intolerant, I paid dearly for my trip down memory lane.

Movin' On Up

I found out today that one of my co-workers has gotten a job in Atlanta. Not too shabby. I am, of course, insanely jealous.

Actually, there's a job that I'm interested in up north. I haven't been job-hunting at all, so it's the first and only job I've applied for since I came here. (Ok, that's not true. About five months ago, I applied for a free-lance gig up in Atlanta, but it was more of a pipe dream than a serious job application, so It doesn't count). I'll keep you posted if there are any interesting developments.

Questions? Comments?

I finally took an hour out of my life and switched my blog commenting service. If you're looking for a comment you left more than a week ago, tough luck... it's gone forever.

The good news is that now you don't have to limit your questions, comments, and snide remarks in length. My new service can accept long-winded, rambling comments of Steven King novel length.

So feel free to comment away. I know you're out there. I can hear you breathing.

Friday Five

We're a whole five minutes into Friday, so I figure I'd get a jump start on this week's Five.

1. If your life were a movie, what would the title be?
Crap. It took me two days to come up with the title for this blog (and the best I could do was "Postcards From Columbus").
2. What songs would be on the soundtrack? I'm thinking it would have to be lots of stuff from the '70s and '80s, since I really stopped listening to top-40 radio in 1988.
3. Would it be a live-action film or animated? Why? I'm not a superhero like the Powerpuff Girls or Stripperella, so I guess it would be live-action.
4. Casting: who would play you, members of your family, friends, etc? My friend Mike has told me on more than one occasion that I look like Laura Dern, though I think I look more like Steffi Graf. I've also been told I bear a resemblance to a young Judith Light (Who's the boss, indeed). Carol Burnett would have to play Jan (my mom), because they're both funny redheads. I'm not sure who would play my dad, Steve. Bob Newhart, maybe. They both have a very dry sense of humor. (I should note here that both Burnett and Newhart are too old to play Jan & Steve) As for Cory... that's a tough one. He'd probably love it if Will Ferrell played him, though Brett Favre proved his acting mettle in "There's Something About Mary".
5. Describe the movie preview/trailer. Lots of exploding stuff and loud music. ha! Actually, I'd probably go for a narrative style trailer.
"Hi, (shot of me on the news set) People call me the Sportslady. (shot of me interviewing somebody really cool)I know it sounds like a cool job, (shot of me walking into a locker room) but once you've caught a whiff inside a hockey team's locker room, all the glamour is gone (shot of me running out of locker room and gagging). But then one day, everything changed..."
Only problem is, nothing has changed. I guess that's where the fictional part would have to come in.

Ok, your turn. Hopefully you can do better than I did.

Yikes

After reading this, I'm not sure that even theTampa Bay Buccaneers own fans will want them to win another Superbowl after reading this.

Whooo-Hooo! I'm Number One!

Ok, I wasn't planning on doing this, but I've decided that I'm going to gloat just a little bit. One of our co-worker has the brand-spanking new NCAA 2004 game for his Playstation2, and he loaned it to Cory for a couple of days.

I should mention here that I'm not good at sports-related video games. I could kick anyone's ass at Tetris or Ms. Pac-Man, but today's games are waaaaaayy too complicated for me.

But for some reason, the Playstation gods have been with me. Cory and I played three games, and I beat him all three times (The highlight: Playing a "mascot game" between "Buzz" of Georgia Tech and "Herky the Hawk" of the University of Iowa.

Ok enough gloating. I guess because I'm too uncoordinated and out-of-shape to play a real sport, I have to brag about the small victories in life.

I'll Say "Hi" To Elton For You

I'll be taking a trip to lovely Buckhead on Thursday. Buckhead is the trendy "let's go clubbing" part of Atlanta. It's where Ray Lewis didn't murder a guy at a bar (or at least, that's what my lawyers advise me to say). It's where Ruth's Chris Steak House is, and where the ESPN Zone Restaurant is, and where Elton John owns a penthouse.

I won't be there to imbibe, or to shake my booty, or even to visit good ol' Reginald Dwight. I'll be there for the State Little League tournament. Doesn't that sound like fun?

Actually, it's pretty cool. Four years ago, the Little League National Champs came from across the river in Phenix City, Alabama (They lost to Japan in the World Series). Last year, C-Town had the Georgia state champions and Phenix City had the Alabama state champs. They faced each other in the regionals in Florida, and it was a bigger deal than the Atlanta Braves winning their zillionth straight division title. One of the local radio stations even broadcasted the game live.

In other local sports news, the Cottonmouths will name their new head coach tomorrow. I've spent hours scouring all of the hockey rumor sites on the internet, and I still don't have an inkling who it will be. Guess I'll just have to wait like everybody else.

The Pixie

I've installed a weather pixie on my blog (you'll have to scroll down a bit to see her). I tried to pick one that looked kind of like me, though my options were pretty slim. There was a blonde with shorter hair, but she looked more like a weather slut than a pixie, so I decided to nix her.

The weather readings are actually taken at the Columbus Metropolitan Airport, which is conveniently located about 100 yards from my apartment. So you're getting pretty damn accurate weather reports from my pixie.

Just another service I like to provide.

Operation Desert Whatever Update

Taken from an Associated Press article on the demise of the Hussein Brothers:

"While millions of Iraqis suffered dire poverty, Uday lived a life of fast cars, expensive liquor and easy women...
...Nearby was a domed house believed to be the residence of Uday's concubines, a bastion of bad taste with statuettes of couples in foreplay, couches with fluffy pillows and a swimming pool with a bar."

Bastion of bad taste? Ok, the statuettes, sure. I'll give you that. The swimming pool with the bar? Yeah, kind of cool, but it's a little too Hefner-esque, a little too Vegas-y.

But "couches with fluffy pillows?" Aren't couches supposed to have fluffy pillows? Since when is "fluffy" a bad thing?

Perhaps they meant "couches with furry pillows." Now that's bad taste. Very Bobby Trendy.

Free At Last! (Sort of)

Ahhhh, the feeling of freedom. I paid off a credit card. Now I just have one big balance and a student loan to worry about. I feel like a new woman (ok, maybe not really, but it did feel pretty nice to drop that last payment in the big blue mailbox).

A Horse Is A Horse...

Unless he's also a lite beer. We've all had beer that tasted like horse-piss, so I guess the fact that Funny Cide has his own brand of beer really shouldn't be that surprising.

Sorry, Kids

I just noticed that I've had an awful lot of sports-related content on the ol' blog lately. Since most of you aren't big sports fans, I apologize. I promise I'll do a better job of providing more inane non-sports related ramblings and links like this one in the future (it takes a minute to load... but it's worth the wait. Make sure to try out all seven of Dubya's moves).

By The Way...

Is Lance Armstrong truly the most amazing human being on the planet? Or is it just my imagination?

Hooray!!!!

One more year of "Little Stevie Y" in the Motor City.

Here's a little thought. Remember your first "good" job? Not necessarily your first "career" job... or even your first "professional" job... but the one you got when you were right out of high school? For Steve Yzerman, that job was as center of the Detroit Red Wings. He started in hockeytown when he was just 17 years old. The man is 38 this year. That means he's spent more than half of his life playing for the Wings. Simply amazing.

It's Madness, I Tell You!

How much do the folks around here love high school football? Enough so that one of the local teams actually holds a midnight practice on the first day they're allowed to take the field. That's where I was when the 11:00 p.m. newscast was over... driving to Pacelli High School for football practice.

I might add, Pacelli's not some enormous school with a thousand kids in the graduating class. It's a small Catholic high school with an enrollment of just about 200 kids. Probably close to a third of the student body was at tonight's practice, with a few dozen parents sitting in the bleachers.

It's a neat tradition, and it really says something about the love that folks around here have for football. High school games around here draw more fans than some college games I've been to.

Just the same, though, I wish I'd been able to go home after the newscast like everyone else. Whine, whine, whine, I know. But if you can't complain about your job, what's left to live for?

Science and Technology Update

Is there a Nobel Prize for Cosmetic Chemistry? If so, the inventor(s) of Revlon Colorstay Overtime Lipcolor should totally win it. I was pretty hesitant to try it out, since it costs something like $7.99 a tube, but honestly, I put it on at noon and it hasn't rubbed off at all eight and a half hours later.

Now, if I could only find a color that doesn't make me look like a corpse.

Golf in the 21st Century

Remember when we were kids, and the year 2000 seemed like a lifetime away? It was the FUTURE, when we'd all be wearing silver jumpsuits and driving flying cars, right? Well, fashion and technology might not be what we expected, but we've got some pretty cool stuff in the year 2003.

But apparently 21st-century technology continues to elude the sport of golf.

Today, two golfers (Mark Roe and the the always fashionable Jesper Parnevik) were disqualified from the British Open for using the wrong scorecards. Yep, scorecards. We've all played putt-putt, right? The scorecards are those crummy little pieces of paper that you fill out with a tiny pencil and jam in your pocket. They get sweaty, they get dirty, and yet, they're apparently the most important measurement of a golfer's performance on the PGA Tour.

Never mind that there are tournament officials at every hole. Never mind that golf fans all over the world can view real-time scoring of any PGA event on the internet. Never mind that players always golf in groups of two, three, or four and therefore have their competitors double-checking and triple-checking their scores. Never mind the fact that there are placard-holders updating the golfers scores after every hole, and that the PGA uses a freakin' Global Positioning System so that your Palm Pilot can display a shot-by-shot chart of every single player's performance on every single hole. Never mind all that. Apparently, if you sign the wrong piece of paper, it's over for you. There's absolutely no other way to verify your score. Archaic? You betcha. But it is the 132nd British Open Championship after all.

The Mighty *ucks Strike Again

Ok, so they lost Paul Kariya and his zillion-dollar contract. Who do they find to replace the highest-paid player in hockey? The greediest player in hockey, of course.

The Big Show

Dan Patrick was just a guest on the Late Late Show with Craig Kilborn. I adore Dan Patrick, and I used to love Craiggers. In fact (insert embarrassed giggle here), I had a very interesting dream about Kilborn one night... but we'll leave it at that. Craig was good on ESPN, and great on the Daily Show, but it just hasn't been the same since he went to CBS. Now, it seems like his entire schtick is all about him being cutesy, and it annoys me.

As for D.P., he's my idol. Put him on TV (he's hosting the 6pm ET "Sportscenter" lately), put him on the radio (though I never get to listen to "The Dan Patrick Show" now that our ESPN Radio station has reformatted to Latin music), I just love him. It was nice to see him back with one of his old ESPN cronies, though I'd prefer a Dan Patrick/Keith Olbermann reunion. Maybe they could get together and collaborate on another book, though I doubt they could out-do "The Big Show."

Zoe Says "Feed Me!"

I'm not sure how I feel about this invention. If I don't buy it, am I a bad mommy?

Friday Five

Ooooooh.... This week's Friday Five is more like a "Friday Interrogation."

1. When was the last time you cheated? I'm not sure how to answer this. I guess it depends on how you define "cheat" (A very Clintonesque answer, I know). I've never "cheated" on a boyfriend. Academically, I used to let people copy my papers. Sometimes it was the only way I could get my classmates to talk to me.
2. When was the last time you stole? Hmmmm. I steal pens from my co-workers all the time, but I feel justified in that because I've probably spent $30 in pens in the last year, and every damn one of them has disappeared at work.
3. When was the last time you lied? I try not to lie, primarily because I'm not very good at it. I'd have to say probably a week or so ago. I wwas late for something, and said it was because of the traffic. It wasn't. I was just late because I'm always late for things.
4. When was the last time you broke or vandalized another's property? I've never done this intentionally. I recently lost a library book. Does that count?
5. When was the last time you hurt a loved one? Seems like I say something mean every time I open my mouth.

This week's Friday Five was not an easy one. You all get the week off if you don't want to play along.

You Ain't From Around Here, Are You?

Having lived in several different parts of the country (Massachusetts, Michigan, Missouri, Georgia), my language is filled with a mish-mash of unusual terms and pronunciations. For example, when I moved to Missouri, I was surrounded by a heated debate: Soda or Pop? Sure, it sounds trivial, but folks around that part of the country get very passionate about it.

Or how 'bout this one: Is the word that describes your mom's sister pronounced "Aunt" or "Ant?"

Well, the fine folks at Harvard University have churned out a stellar piece of linguistic research. They asked the tough questions (122 of them in total), and didn't just publish the answers... they published maps to go along with the answers. I won't go into all the gory details, but give you a few highlights:

1. How do you pronounce aunt? (For the record, I say 'ah')
54. Is the word "anymore" acceptable? As in: "He used to nap on the couch, but he sprawls out in that new lounge chair anymore" (This one always drove me nuts in Missouri. There are three other "anymore" questions on the survey.)
75. What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket? (I grew up calling it a "carriage," until people teased me about it. Since then, I've called it a cart. Everyone in the South calls it a "buggy.")
105. What is your generic term for a sweetened carbonated beverage? (I've always said "pop" until very recently. I finally got sick of getting funny looks from all the Southerners)

These and other questions (Is it a sub, a hoagie or a grinder(#64)? Is it a shake or a frappe (#63)? Is it a garage sale, a rummage sale, or a yard sale (#58)? And what, exactly, do you call a drive-through party store?) answered.

A Load of Bulwer

If you haven't caught the results from this year's Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, you really must.

"What," you ask, is the "Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest?"

Best described on their site: "...A whimsical literary competition that challenges entrants to compose the opening sentence to the worst of all possible novels."

This year's Grand Champion is from Alabama. I know what you're thinking, so I'll answer it now: Yes, people from Alabama can read. Ha ha.

My personal favorite is the winner from the "All Creatures Great and Small" category:
His knowing brown eyes held her gaze for a seeming eternity, his powerful arms clasped her slim body in an irresistible embrace, and from his broad, hairy chest a primal smell of "male" tantalized her nostrils; "Looks like another long night in the ape house" thought veterinarian Abigail Brown as she gingerly reached for the constipated gorilla's suppository.

Eeek. There's a novel I'm not sure I'd want to read.

For the entire list of winning entries, click here.

Marshall's Mansion

Ok, time for a brief story from my recent visit to Michigan.
Recently, Eminem bought a mansion in my hometown of Rochester Hills. Apparently, ol' Marshall Mathers got sick of living in Sterling Heights (considered one of the "White Trash" suburbs), and instead wanted to live in Oakland County (which he mocked in 8-Mile... not that I wasted my money on that one).

So, my last morning in town, Jan and I went for a little drive to check out his 29 room (!) abode. Pretty much everyone in Rochester knows where it is, but I'll keep the address private to keep the goons from coming after me. What goons, you ask? Well, the overweight guard in the late-70s fashion guarding the front gate with a radio in hand is the one that comes to mind... though I doubt he'd be surfing the internet for anything but porn.

You can check out a photo of the exterior here. The funny thing is, there had been an estate sale there about a year ago, and Jan almost went, but decided against it at the last minute. Now she's kind of disappointed that she didn't scope out the house while she had a chance.

And though I'm not a big fan of Eminem (or even a fan at all), it was kind of heartwarming to see a monstrous one of these thingies next to the house. I guess even if your music sucks, you can still be kind of a cool dad. I suppose being a millionaire helps.

Hothouse Flower

My mommy always told me that I was special.

You are an Orchid


What Type Of Flower Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

If you haven't figured it out, I adore on-line quizzes. Problem is, most of the people who submit quizzes at Quizilla have absolutely no grasp of the English language. Check out the above graphic: "...your wild, sexy..." Didn't these people watch Schoolhouse Rock, for God's Sake?

Lick This

So, for the last several days, I've had this icky lump on the back of my tongue. If I stick out my tounge and open really wide, I can just barely see it. I did a google search for "Lump on tongue," and I've learned that it can be one of two things:

1) Cancer, or
2) Cockroach eggs getting ready to hatch.

This is why we all need the internet.

Hooray!!!

Bravo (see earlier post) is showing The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. Cory doesn't seem very intersted in seeing it. He's seriously missing out.

Stuffing the Ballot Box

Tonight on ESPN Radio, one of the announcers was talking about the alleged ballot-box stuffing prior to the All-Star Game. Apparently, a number of players are very upset because internet voters can vote up to 25 times.

If you're not familiar with the whole all-star voting situation, let me summarize. Back in "the day," you could only cast an all-star ballot at the game. There'd be a ballot box at every Major League Ballpark, and folks attending the game could fill pick one up and make their picks. Nobody polices the ballot box. You can fill out as many ballots as you want, at as many games as you want. So if you're a season ticket holder, that means you can fill out bundles of ballots at every game you attend.

Even though it had it's flaws, it seemed like a pretty fair system. Of course, radio broadcasts, and ultimately cable television, have meant a much broader rural audience for baseball. Some people don't live close enough to the ballpark to go cast an all-star ballot. For example, when I lived in Kirksville, it was a 3-hour drive to Kauffman Stadium, and 3 1/2 to Busch Stadium. It's not like I could just drop everything and go to a ballgame. And don't even get me started on the cost of attending a major league game. It costs about $150 to take a family of four out for a night at the ballpark. But I digress.

The internet has made it possible for baseball fans outside of major cities (and who aren't millionaires) to vote for the All-Stars. Pretty cool, right?

Not according to several major league players, who claim that ballot-box stuffing has kept players out of the game. For example, if you only count the ballots cast at ballparks, Braves outfielder Gary Sheffield was ninth among National League outfielders. But once you count internet votes, he finished in third place, and therefore earned a starting position in the outfield tonight.

I voted on the internet. I voted for Gary Sheffield. But I guess my votes shouldn't count because I'm not a season-ticket holder and I don't live in Atlanta. Just another example of big-money baseball ostracizing it's fans. So much for "America's Pastime."

The Network for the Man's Man

Is it my imagination, or is Bravo turning into the gay network? (not that there's anything wrong with that) Cory and I have been watching "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" all night. It's a really good show!

For those of you that haven't caught it, here's the basic concept: A clueless straight guy (Bad clothes, bad hair, messy apartment) gets five gay fairy godmothers to whip him into shape in one day. Cory's totally fascinated by the show, so I won't steal the limelight from him. If you want to read more, check out his blog. I'm sure he'll write plenty about it.

So anyway, while we're watching "Queer Eye," we see a preview for another new Bravo program... "Boy Meets Boy." It's like "The Bachelor" for gay men... but here's the catch: some of the guys he's dating are straight!

Oh, and if you're still not convinced, Bravo also aired Bravo Profiles: Cher and Cher: The Farewell Tour tonight. Of course, I'm loving every minute of it. Remember, I'm the girl that's had not one, but two gay roommates (and perhaps even a gay boyfriend or two... who knows?)

The New Math

Those of you that know me, know that math isn't exactly my strong suit. It's not that I can't do math... it's that I just don't care enough about it to put forth the effort. But you wouldn't believe the amount of "applied" math I do at work.

If I ever have kids (more on that concept in another post, some other day), and they whine to me, "When have you ever needed to do algebra since you got out of school?" believe you me, I have the answer.

Like, for example, during the 1998 home run race. Every day, I had to calculate Sammy Sosa and Mark McGwire's projected home run totals for the season, and also figure out how many dingers they'd need to hit per game to break Roger Maris' record.

Or tonight. I have to do what I call "Golf Math." There's a big golf tournament at the Country Club of Columbus this week, and I obviously can't get every golfer in the tournament on every hole of the course. In order to do that, we'd need 20 photographers each with their own camera. So, instead, I get to do "golf math."

Ok, so the girls' leaders tee off at 9:10 a.m. They're teeing off in groups 10 minutes apart. That means at approximately 10:20, they'll reach hole #7. Why is that hole important? Well, golf courses are very large, and I have very heavy equipment to carry. Quite simply, hole #7 is the hole closest to the parking lot. Then I can skip over to hole #9 (a very short walk) wait about 10 minutes, and get them again on the ninth green.

Golf math is a lot harder on the first day of the tournament. The problem then is that you don't know who the good golfers are going to be, so you have to get video of everybody that has even a shot at winning the damn thing. It's also a lot harder when there's a lot of people in the tournament, or it's a really big golf course. The Buick Challenge used to be a logistical nightmare for me. The first day I covered it (my first week at the station), I carried the equipment so far that my shoulder actually was bleeding at the end of the day. By the end of the tournament, I was just planting myself at the 18th green and calling it good.

Park This, Buddy

For about the jillionth time this month, some random person has parked in our parking space in front of our apartment. This ticks me off a little bit, since
as it is, we only have one parking space. That means I get home at 1:30 am and have to park in "visitor" parking.

But it really, really, really ticks Cory off. He's been bitching about it for at least 15 minutes now.

Oh well, at least we don't argue like these people do. Some people just shouldn't be allowed to be in a relationship.

A Confession

Hello. People call me the Sportslady. It's July. It's 95 degrees outside on an average day. And yet, I have to wear a freakin' sweater everywhere I go because nobody in Georgia understands the concept of a thermostat. Apparently, it's vital to have the air conditioning on high at all times, regardless of indoor or outdoor temperature.

Work is the worst, because there's generally a five-to-ten degree temperature differential between the sports office and the newsroom. It's so cold in the sports office at times that I wear a fleece sweatsuit at work, and I keep a blanket in the office. But it isn't just work, everyone overcompensates with the A/C down here. I shouldn't be shivering in July.

Rubber Duckie, You're the One

If you live on the east coast, keep your eyes peeled. You might just see this wash in.

One Leg To Stand On

I know I'm a little strange. I know most of my friends are, too (no offense). But I'm sure we can agree on one thing: We like our limbs. It's nice to have them, right? Right???

Friday Five

1. Do you remember your first best friend? Who was it? Oddly enough, we shared the same first name (or at least it was spelled the same way), but pronounced the Germanic way, not the way my name is pronounced (The first syllable of my name rhymes with "Beer"). She had a little sister named Kimmy, who was a good friend, too, but she was a little younger than us.
2. Are you still in touch with this person? Nope. They moved to Florida when I was in second grade, or so. We wrote back and forth for a while, but fell out of touch.
3. Do you have a current close friend? Cory is my best friend. Other than him, I have a lot of good friends, but they all live several hundred miles away and I'm crappy about keeping in touch with them. That's actually why I started this blog, to try and keep in better touch with all of them.
4. How did you become friends with this person? Though I'd met him several years earlier, Cory and I worked together at KTVO. We hung out together in a really close group of co-workers who went out every night after work.
5. Is there a friend from your past that you wish you were still in contact with? Why? Casey Witucki. We used to work together at Foland's, and she went to high school with my friends Teri and "Crackhouse" Nicki. She just kind of fell off the face of the earth, and I miss her. She's damn funny.

Come on, kids, play along!

Vacation Story #1

All right, so I promised vacation stories. I'll try to keep them brief... we don't need a novel like my airport saga yesterday.

This trip back to Michigan, I made it a priority to see some old friends. There are several people I wish I could see, but some of them have moved outside of the Detroit area, and some were out of town (My Art History pal Sue was in France, sampling their fine cheeses, breads, and kisses, I hope).

Over the weekend, I got to see Beth, a friend of mine from my years on the OU Forensics team. She was my "dramatic duo" partner for two years, before I realized that my acting skills were pathetic. Beth is married to another former teammate of ours, Rob, who wasn't able to come along (she left him home with the kids). The last time I saw Beth was well over three years ago, when she had just found out she was pregnant with their first child.


I was afraid it would be kind of weird seeing her, since we haven't really kept in touch since we graduated from Oakland, but it's amazing what some Mongolian Barbecue and Cheesecake can do for the bonding experience. Kind of sad that I didn't get to see Rob, or meet the kids, but I know getting to have lunch without having to keep an eye on the little ones is a treat for her. Anyway, she looked younger than the last time I'd seen her, which doesn't seem very fair.

A Cut Above

Hooray!!!! I finally got my hair chopped off! So far, it looks really nice (We'll see tomorrow, when I have to style it solo). I feel like I should give a shout out to my stylist, even though none of you are in Columbus... and most of you aren't even in Georgia. But, if you're ever in the Peach State's "Fountain City," and you need a kick-ass haircut, Matt at the Basia salon is the man!

Do you think I could get a discount for dropping his name?

Welcome Home

I hate that first week back from "vacation." It takes forever to get back into the swing of my normal life. I'm sleepy at 11pm (not a good thing for someone who anchors the sports at 11:28), and I'm waking up at 9am.

Single? Male?

Have I found the girl for you!

Proud to Be a Norwegian

Yuck, yuck, yuck.

All Apologies to Johnny Carson...

It was so hot out today...
How hot was it?
It was so hot out today that my thermometer burst. Seriously. Broken glass on the front doorstep.

Going Straight To Hell

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Second Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Moderate
Level 2 (Lustful)	High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	High
Level 7 (Violent)	High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Low

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

Perfect Score

I knew that "A" in geometry would come in handy sometime! Turns out, I'm pretty smart for a 33-year old eighth grader.

Flying the Friendly Skies

Warning: Novel-length post follows.

I've determined that my trip to Michigan was doomed from the start. You may remember my saga from one week ago. The return trip was equally exciting.

The first premise you need to remember in this story is that the the people who fly out of the Flint Bishop Airport have never been on an airplane, or in an airport before. Knowing this will make the rest of the saga easier to understand.

Flint is a small airport. Just a handful of airlines, and about nine gates. Should be an easy trip, right? That's what I thought.

I get to the Delta counter about 50 minutes before my flight. Now 50 minutes is seriously pushing it at an airport like Atlanta Hartsfield, Chicago O'Hare or Detroit Metro. After all, at one of those hubs, it could take 30 minutes just to walk the mile to your gate. It's about 100 yards from ticket counter to gate at Flint, so I'm feeling pretty good with just five people in line in front of me.

15 minutes later, there are still four people in front of me, and the old guy behind me is bitching up a storm. Apparently, he's never been on a delayed flight, and he's freaking out.

10 minutes later, there are still three people in front of me. And random, non-line people are jumping in front of everyone to "just ask one question" at the counter. Their "one question" takes 10 minutes.

I finally get to the front of the line (15 minutes before my flight is scheduled to depart) and the annoying, bitching guy behind me asks if he can take cuts. "Sure," I say "Everyone else has, why not you, too."

Finally get to the front of the line. Ticket agent can't find my reservation. Then she can't find anything that says I've paid for my ticket (even though this is the return flight on a round-trip). Then she finally figures it out, ships me off to the baggage inspectors, and I'm off on my merry way.

Get to the security counter (5 minutes before my flight, but through the window, I see a plane at my gate, so I'm ok), and nobody there has ever been through airport security. Honest to God, this was the conversation:
SECURITY: Do you have any change in your pockets?
TRAVELER: Oh, I didn't know I needed to take that out.
SECURITY: Put it in the basket. Anything else in your pocket.
TRAVELER: Just my keys.
SECURITY: You need to take those out of your pockets, too.
TRAVELER: Really? I didn't know that!
SPORTSLADY: AAAAuuuuuuggggghhhhh!

Finally get through security, get to my gate (ten feet from security checkpoint), and find out that the plane at my gate is the 5:00 flight. My flight is the 6:00 flight. Both are delayed for unexplained reasons.

My flight gets moved to a different gate, we all move. we all wait. and wait. The plane was supposed to leave at 6:00. At 6:15, there isn't even a gate agent. Crap.

At 6:30, an announcement: The 6pm flight is delayed (no kidding). They'll update us on its status at 7:15! Some quick math tells me that there's a good chance I won't make my connecting flight in Cincinnati. After waiting for several minutes for a gate agent to arrive, I explain my problem. (In the meantime, a great deal of camaraderie develops between the frustrated travelers. We decide that if we all miss our connections and have to spend the night in Cincinnati, we'll meet at the hotel bar and get rip-roaring drunk on Delta's tab.)

Yahoo! The gate agent tells me that if it looks like I'll miss my connection, they'll put me on the AirTran direct flight from Flint to Atlanta!

I realize I won't have any time to eat later in the night, so I go to the airport lounge for a beer and a sandwich. Take two bites of sandwich, one swig of beer, and hear a page for me: "please report to the Delta Ticket Counter". That's right... the ticket counter where I stood in line for over half an hour. I put it off as long as possible (plus, I don't want to leave my beer and sandwich unattended). They page me several more times. I finally get some of my airport buddies to watch my beer, and head over to the ticket counter. This time it moves amazingly fast (and my dad was still at the airport, because he suspected something like this would happen, so I had company in the line). We say goodbye at security again.

This time, security moves equally slowly, and lucky me, I get red-flagged (even though I'd just been through all the same people just one hour earlier).

My beer was warm when I got back to the bar.

Fortunately, the flight was uneventful. There was one more mini-crisis... my baggage didn't show up on the carousel at Atlanta. The conveyor belt stopped, and a couple other people were left there standing and staring at the rotating luggage. Apparently, our luggage ended up on a different carousel than the other 150 people on our flight. Really, lost luggage would have been just the icing on the cake.

The kicker is that after all the delays, the waiting, the running around, I actually arrived in Atlanta 10 minutes earlier than my original flight plan. Go figure.

Quote of the Day:

“Considering the doll is only 12-inches tall it’s amazing how big his willy is."

The Last Straw

$64.00 for parking???? Jeeeeeeezzzzzuuuussss!!!!

(The first thousand straws to follow in a post tomorrow.)

Sleepy Girl

Too tired after daddy-daughter excursion to Cedar Point to blog tonight. Sorry I've been neglecting the ol' bloggage, but what the hell, I'm on vacation. At some point, I promise to blog about seeing old friends (not that they're old... just the friendships), the day at Cedar Point, and any other crap that comes to mind. I fly back to Columbus tomorrow evening, so perhaps late Wednesday night or Thursday sometime, there'll be a plethora of stuff to read.

In the meantime, say a little prayer that this doesn't happen to me on my return trip. I've already had my share of luggage mishaps for the week.

Sign-O-The-Times

A funny sign I saw in a store window today in Royal Oak:

"STROM THURMOND IS FINALLY DEAD SALE"

Belated Friday Five

1. What were your favorite childhood stories? Hmmm... I remember I loved "Charlotte's Web," and of course, anything by Judy Blume. More than anything, I remember reading "Peanuts" comic strips. We had books and books of them, and it seems like I was always looking for a new one.
2. What books from your childhood would you like to share with [your] children? All of them. Kids don't read nearly enough today.
3. Have you re-read any of those childhood stories and been surprised by anything? I haven't really re-read any.
4. How old were you when you first learned to read? I was really young- maybe three? They bumped me up after four days of kindergarten because I already was reading at a third-grade level.
5. Do you remember the first 'grown-up' book you read? How old were you? I remember my cousins telling Jan and Steve not to let me read some Judy Blume book, because the kids had sex in it. Maybe "Forever?"
I'm sure the first 'grown up' book I ever read was probably something my mom had read and found funny. I remember being pretty young when I read the "Fletch" mysteries.

A Night With The Ponies

Last night, Jan and I headed out to the Hazel Park Raceway, a harness-racing park about half an hour from here. Neither of us had been out to Hazel Park since I was about eight years old, so I don't even remember going there the first time. It was a lot of fun. Of course, phenomenal people-watching, as you might imagine.

Harness racing is kind of an oddity, for those of you that have never seen it. There isn't really a starting gate... but instead, a pace-car carries a sort-of retractable grid on it's roof. The horses race behind the car until it's time for the race to start, then the car speeds off and retracts the grid. That's the official start of the race, even though some of the horses are already behind the others by that point.

The last time I went to a race track was Mt. Pleasant Meadows (near Central Michigan University). My friend Mike and I went out there a few times when we were both at CMU. Never won a lot of money but never lost a lot either. I bet far too conservatively to ever make or lose much.

Last night, I lost $9.20, but I consider that an acceptable loss. After all, I got three hours of entertainment. Pretty horsies, great people-watching. The guy behind us was hilarious. He was drunk, surly, loud, obnoxious, and about two hours into the night, pulled out a fattie and proceeded to toke up. He was also wearing a University of Michigan T-Shirt, though I doubt he'd made it past trade school. He regaled his friends with stories of the times he'd been barred from Hazel Park.

The best line of the night (I missed it, I was in the bathroom):
The guy had a teenage kid hanging around him much of the night. At one point, he said to the kid,
"You know, you look more like me than your dad. But don't tell your momma that, It'll just piss her off."
The kid replied:
"Nuh-uh! I seen a picture of my dad once."

Home, Sweet Home

Though I miss C-Town (actually, maybe I just miss Cory and Zoe), it's awfully nice to be back in a city where hockey makes front page news. Try to ignore the dreadful misuse of the word "Irony" in the second sentence. We'll try not to hold it against him.

I don't really have the time or the energy to dwell on the free-agent developments, so I'll summarize quickly:

Defense is good. Having three future hall-of-famers on the blue line is pretty nice.

Here's what sucks, though:
The Avalanche reunited one of the NHL's speediest duos... Teemu Selanne and Paul Kariya. At first, I thought "Hey, that's not so bad.... Kariya was the highest-paid player in the NHL last year. If they want to spend all their money on the dynamic duo, and not have any left over to fill the void left by the retirement of goalie-extrordinare Patrick Roy, that's ok by me. But then I found out that Kariya took an $8.8 million dollar pay cut to go to Colorado. Crap. Plenty of money left over to buy a netminder.

Of course, Detroit's not exactly hurting. The money they saved because of Sergei Fedorov's greed will more than make up for his loss. Seriously, what kind of a nut-job turns down 5 years and $50 million? I think he knocked some brain cells loose in his most recent Ferrari accident.

Hooray Again

Of course, it being Independence Day, we went to see some fireworks tonight. Oakland County is hosting fireworks at the county parks all weekend... and tonight it was at Addison Oaks Park, about 10 miles away. Of course, we didn't pay to get in the park... we just planted some lawn chairs on the side of the road outside the park and watched from there. Cheap? You betcha. The trees blocked our view a little bit, but it wasn't too bad.

Happy 5th of July!

Ugh. I get so irritated with people who only call Independence Day "The 4th of July." I find it so phenomenally irritating, when on the news, they say "The 4th of July is just around the corner." No kidding... so is the tenth of July. Big Freaking Deal. The name of the Holiday is "Independence Day." Do I call Christmas "December 25th?" Does anyone refer to Halloween as "October 31st?"

"Hey kids, get your costumes ready, October 31st is just around the corner!"
"Oh no, I'm not done with all my December 25th shopping!"
"Hey, I got a Cadbury Creme Egg in my Sunday-following-the-full-moon-after-the-vernal-equinox basket!"

Yep, He's A Pecker

Needless to say, we got up at the crack of dawn on Thursday, drove 6+ hours to the U.P., waited around on a dirt road in a rainstorm for another two hours, and never saw the damn woodpecker. A few other birders drove up looking for it (there was a nest at one time), but apparently they'd vacated the premises sometime between Monday and Thursday. Asshole Woodpecker.

After driving... and waiting... we drove around some more and stayed the night in Mackinaw City. We didn't get to the hotel until 9pm (after leaving Rochester at 7am). I hadn't been to Michigan's most famous tourist trap in a dozen years (Actually, I guess Mackinaw Island is probably the biggest tourist trap... the City is the Gateway to Tourist-Trap Paradise). I really wish we'd been able to stay around a little longer, but we had to leave by 9am in order to get back to Rochester for a late lunch. The weather was perfect (I can't say the same for the drive back), and even though there were thousands of people there, it wasn't really all that crowded. They've really built up the downtown area since the last time I was there, and it was pretty nice. Someday maybe I'll go back again.

The Not-So-Savvy Traveler

Ok, I know I said no blogging tonight, but the circumstances have changed. I'll try to summarize briefly.
1) Arrived at Atlanta Hartsfield late for my flight.... which turned out to be O.K. because...
2) Flight was delayed half an hour. That I could deal with, but then
3) Flight was delayed an additional 45 minutes. That sucked, because
4) That meant I would miss my connecting flight from Cincinnati to Flint.
5) The next flight from Cincy to Flint would have me arriving at Flint around 9pm. That wouldn't work because Jan and I were planning to drive from the Flint airport to Mackinaw City (About 225 miles). But then
6) The Delta lady found a seat on a flight from Atlanta to Detroit which would get me into the motor city at 5:30 pm. But that meant...
7) I'd have to reach Jan and let her know not to go to Flint, but to go to DTW instead. She wasn't home, so I left two messages. Pretty impressive since...
8) I only had 25 minutes to get to the other terminal to catch my new flight.
9) Made it to my new flight in time, got to Detroit at 5:30 (Though I was still unsure if anyone would be there to get me).
10) Steve was waiting for me at the baggage carousel.
11) My baggage was not waiting for me. In fact, it was in Cincinnati, to eventually be forwarded to Flint. This is the first time I'd checked luggage in years... and I won't be doing it again.
Oh, and...
11) Jan decided to move our trip to the Upper Peninsula up by a day. So, after all that, I could have just taken the later flight, relaxed, not rushed around and most importantly, had clean underwear for tomorrow.
Lots more happened today, but I have to be up at about 5:30 in the morning, so I'll save it for another day.

Brief Hiatus

No blogging for the next day or so... I have a very busy day coming up. First, I have to leave Columbus by 9am, drive to Atlanta, fly to Cincinnati and then to Flint. From Flint, we're driving up to Mackinaw City, staying the night, then driving up to the U.P. (Upper Peninsula, for those of you not from the Great Lakes State).

While we're there, we'll be looking for a black-backed woodpecker (that's right... a five-hour drive to see a bird- you got a problem with that?). If we have some extra time, we'll visit Tahquamenon Falls. I've actually never been any further north than St. Ignace, Michigan, so I'm looking forward to the trip to uncharted territories.

What am I not looking forward to? Driving over the Mackinac Bridge. I don't like driving over bridges in general, but the larger the bridge... and the larger the vehicle I'm in... the more nervous I get. As you might imagine, the freakish length of the Mackinac Bridge makes it particularly disturbing for me.

Attention Hockey Fans:

Good news for the Wings? Hasek's back, and Darren McCarty has re-signed for four years. Cujo? Still figuring out that no-trade clause. Sergei? Probably gone. Things could get veeerrrry interesting next year.

Hoooo-ray for the Fireworks!!!

If you couldn't make it to the Freedom Festival (or your area's equivalent), here's a substitute for you.

Signs From Above

This can't be good.

Splitting Hairs

I think I mentioned the other day that my hair was waaaaaay too blonde. The other night, I colored it darker, to make me look less like a big yellow glowing orb on tv.

In person, it looks really dark to me. Cory has described it as "brown," though I don't think it's that dark. Oddly enough, on the air, it still looks light blonde (though not platinum any more). The lights on our set are that bright. Very strange.