Another Trip Down Memory Lane

Holly's "Wayside Central" memories made me think of a funny story from my grad school days at CMU.
I didn't do my undergrad at Central, so I really didn't know anybody when I came to town. I spent most of my time hanging out with other the other grad students in my department. One night, after partaking in some alcoholic beverages, a small group of us were really hungry. We decided to go to "Tony's", a very tiny restaurant on Mission Street. Tony's is actually a chain around Michigan, though mostly in smaller towns. Their tag-line is "Home of the Giant Steak Sandwich," and when they say "Giant," they're really not exaggerating. My favorite thing at Tony's is the nachos. For about $5.00, a "small" order of nachos comes on a 12" pizza tray. It's piled about six inches high with anything and everything you can imagine... and they use real shredded cheese, not that toxic-orange glowing cheese sauce you get at the ballpark. Okay, I've gotten way off track with this story.

Anyway, about 5 or 6 of us headed over to Tony's. I don't really remember who was there. I'm pretty sure Matt was with us, other than him, I think it was a few other grad students whose names I've forgotten.

The Tony's in Mt. Pleasant is about the size of a single-wide trailer, with maybe 6 booths and a few tables, and they're open pretty late for all the drunk college kids. But when we got there, only one other person was in the whole place, a guy maybe about 50 years old or so. Remember, we were a little drunk, so we were a little loud and probably somewhat annoying to the only other diner. So we sit down at the table, order some pop (This is Michigan, so its not called "soda"), and like typical college kids, we start emptying out our pockets to see how much food we can afford. I think between 5 or 6 of us, we may have had about $12.00 total. Now, seven bucks can buy a lot of food at Tony's, but we'd all ordered drinks, and so we were a little concerned that some of us would have to starve. In the meantime, the guy at the other table got up, paid his bill, and left.

While we were still counting our pennies, the waiter walked over to us and said, "Did you know that guy who just left?" We all said no... and felt bad because we'd probably scared the poor guy out of the place.
Then the waiter says, "Oh, that's funny, 'cuz he just gave me five bucks and said it was to help cover your bill."

How cool is that? We never even got to say thanks. You gotta love small towns.

Movie Night

Cory and I generally hit the movie theater once a week. Our weird schedule allows for a late showing on either Thursday or Friday night. Cory gets off work at 9:30, so we can usually make it to a 9:45 show (Which is the latest they generally show around here).

We really wanted to see Adaptation, but it isn't playing here any more. Instead, we went to see Confessions of a Dangerous Mind. I really liked it, and so did Cory, though it's not for everyone. If you like Charlie Kauffman's work ("Adaptation," "Being John Malkovich"), you'll probably enjoy it. If you don't get into the slightly surreal, then it's probably not for you.

One particular scene of note: they actually show the most famous clip in game show history from the "Newlywed Game." I'm sure you know the clip of which I speak:

Bob Eubanks- "What's the strangest place and your husband have ever made whoopee?"
Contestant- "Ummm, ha, ha, ummm, strangest place?? I guess in the ass."

Sam Rockwell, by the way, was awesome. But I saw way too much of his naked ass. (Apparently, "ass" is the recurring theme for this post. who knew?)

Brow-beaten

I'm beginning to seriously think that a conspiracy is afoot between the cosmetologists of Columbus. If you recall just two weeks ago, I suffered a bad haircut. My bangs are still too short. Well, today, I decided it was time to get my eyebrows waxed. I only do this about once every year and a half, and then I just use the ol' tweezers for upkeep. Unfortunately, I can't find my good tweezers, and they were getting a little bushy, so I went for the waxing.

After the whole fiasco with my most recent haircut, I decided I wouldn't be going to Bethany to get my brows done. So I made an appointment at another place. Well, we all know, you never cheat on your stylist. Today, I found out why.

First of all, when I got there, he said, "so, we're just gonna clean them up a little, right?" To me, that means he's going to keep them in the same general shape, and just get rid of all those little extraneous hairs that have been sprouting. Apparently, we had a little lack of communication. He waxed them so that they're so thin and high on my face that I have a permanent look of surprise.

That's actually not the bad part. Later, I looked more closely in the mirror. My left eyebrow, I would guess, is about three inches long from end to end. My right eyebrow is a good 3/4 of an inch shorter. So I look surprised and lopsided. A nice combination. I actually had to go to Wal-Mart and buy an eyebrow pencil so that I could draw the rest of my right eyebrow back on. Pathetic.

School Daze

I've been thinking a lot about my time at Central Michigan lately (when I say it like that, it sounds like a prison... "I've been thinking about my time at Alcatraz lately"). I'm not sure exactly what's been making me think of good ol' Mount Pleasant... it certainly isn't homesickness or nostalgia.

I think part of it is that I've been talking with my friend Mike a lot lately, but even little things have really been triggering the old gray matter. Yesterday, I was eating microwave popcorn out of the bag, and all of a sudden, I remembered that my old roommate and I used to argue about who got to lick the inside of the bag when we were done. Disgusting, I know.

The funny thing is, I remember that as clear as day, and yet I can't remember her name. Her first name was April... Her last name??? Wheeler? Wagner? I think maybe it was Welder. To be honest, I didn't spend much time with her. I was usually either at my office in Moore Hall, or a boyfriend's house, or at the bar with other Grad Asses or with Mike ("The Bird" on Thursdays for $.75 shot-and-pop was a favorite).

What the "H---?"

I've recently been informed by one of my dear readers (Cory, to be specific) that I misspelled "sarcastic" on an earlier post. Guilty as charged. I've been spelling it "sarchastic" for as long as I can remember. Where did the "h" come from? Who knows.

Actually, I've always prided myself in my good spelling. I won the 7th grade spelling bee at my junior high school, and in 1982 got to participate in the Detroit News Spelling Bee.

An interesting side note: As a consolation prize for not winning the Detroit News Spelling Bee, I received a leather-bound dictionary with my name embossed on the cover. Ironically, my name is misspelled on it.

Anyway, I plan to avoid the use of the word "sarcastic" (with or without an "h") in the future. I'll replace it with "facetious," which I find easier to spell.

Olfactory Offenses

Let me start off by saying I love hockey players. I love their toothless grins, their not-shaving during the playoffs superstitions, and their goofy Canadian (or Czech or Russian or Minnesotan) accents.

One of the things I've learned on the job is that hockey players are also the coolest of the pro athletes. They're generally nice, down-to-earth, genuine, funny guys. Second on the list is football offensive lineman, they're usually so happy that they're being interviewed that they make it worth your while. (Last on the list is basketball players. They're moody.)

But as much as I love hockey players, there's one thing I'll never get over. Though they're the nicest to deal with, they're also the smelliest athletes (Arena football players run a close second). The stench just from the hallway outside the Cottonmouths' locker room is so strong that it stays with you for hours. Seriously.

Foxy Lady

I covered a press conference today (oooh, breaking news), and spent some time with the other local media-types. It's really the only time I get to spend with people other than my own co-workers. Anyway, I was chatting with the weekend sports anchor at our competition, and he told me that I was looking "fine." (actually, he said it "fiiiiiinne"). He clarified by saying that usually he sees me in sweats and jeans, but since I was dressed up today, that my inner fine-ness was shining through. Basically, it was a backhanded compliment: I clean up real good.

It got me to thinking... I'm a slob. I wasn't always a slob. Back when I first started teaching full-time, I wore suits and dresses all the time. But then I taught a few 8am classes, and I got a little less formal. Then I took on a second job, and I went from suits and heels to khakis and loafers. Then I started working in sports, and I went from khakis and loafers to jeans and sneakers.

See, I spend most of my life running up and down sidelines, baselines, bleachers, and stairs, carrying about 50 pounds of video equipment with me the whole time. Wearing dresses just doesn't work when it's 40 degrees, raining, and I'm trying to run the 40 faster than the home team's running back. I think I've worn a skirt to work once since coming to this station. The only time I look nice is when I'm anchoring, and that's only from the waist up.

Today, I wore dress pants and a nice wraparound sweater, because I only had to deal with a nice indoors press conference. I have to admit, I looked kind of nice. Maybe not "fiiiine," but it's a start. Tomorrow, though, it's back to the jeans and sweatshirt. Let's take this in baby steps.

I'm Super, Thanks for Asking (that's sarchasm, BTW)

Frickin' Super Bowl. That's all I have to say.

No, wait, I have more to say. I'm generally a fan of championship games... and going to Super Bowl XXXIV when the Rams played the Titans was one of the biggest thrills of my career. But I hate it when ABC airs the game and feels the need to make it into a damn BonJovi concert for 45 minutes of post-game... and then also air an episode of Alias (one of my favorite shows... but it sure wasn't tonight). The end result? Our newscast didn't even start until midnight. The one night I got to come in a little late (3pm instead of my usual noon or 1pm), and I end up having to work an extra hour later. Bastards.

Oh, and I bitch about BonJovi... but he's still hot. And most guys who were hot when I was 13 are just nasty now. Case in point: David Lee Roth.

No Privacy in this World

Sorry, kids, but I had to disable the "make my comment private" option on the comments page. I'd been having trouble with my comments server, and I haven't been able to access any "private" comments... which makes them a little too private. If you're just bustin' at the seams to tell me something that's truly private, you can always email me. Otherwise, take heart in the fact that most of the people reading this blog don't know you (or each other), so your opinions are probably safe with them. And if they don't like what you have to say, they can stick it, right?

Easter Egg Hunt

When I got home from work, I was still royally pissed off about the asshole (see below). Cory tried to distract me by going on a little DVD "Easter Egg" hunt. If you don't know what "Easter Eggs" are, click here. We found some outtakes on his Star Wars DVDs, and a couple of deleted scenes in Terminator 2. The problem is, I'm not a big DVD fan. I love watching movies, and I like documentaries, but it's just a lot of work to find a little 2-minute clip, you know? It's like buying the video or the DVD itself. I don't really enjoy watching the same movie over and over and over again, so I don't see the need to buy a movie. I own maybe 10 videos, and most of them were gifts. There are a few I've never even watched.

Do I Go To Your Work and Criticize You?

For the second week in a row, I returned to my office after one of the Saturday newscasts to be greeted by a ringing phone. Usually when this happens, it's either my boss Dave, or Cory. Our phones have caller ID, so I immediately know if it's one of them... but not this time. Instead, it's the same tool that called me a week ago and had me shaking with anger during his call.

He's one of those people who immediately has a chip on his shoulder. I used to have to deal with the same types when I worked the return counter at Foland's, back in the day (Sue, Nikki, Teri, you know the hell I speak of). He's the type that's never heard the expression "you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar." The second I pick up the phone, he immediately starts berating me because I wasn't at a high school wrestling tournament today. If the asshole would just call us before the tournament, and ask for some coverage, we probably would have been there. But for the second straight week, he chooses to be reactive instead of proactive, then call and bitch me out because we weren't there. This time, I wasn't going to take it, and told him (very politely) that he needed to get a life.

This is the kicker: He actually said to me that the only reason why we cover basketball more often than wrestling is because basketball is a "black sport," and that our station only does stories on black people. When I asked him what the hell he meant by that, he said "look in the mirror." What the hell does that mean???
(A little addendum... we covered two hockey games tonight. Now, I don't consider any sport a "black sport," but I don't think anyone would consider hockey to be one of them.)

Look in the mirror??????

Four hours later, I'm still livid. Aaaaaarrrrggggghhh!

Always the Bridesmaid...

What's the curse about being a bridesmaid? Is it three times the bridesmaid, never the bride? I'm not sure. I hope it isn't, because I'm going to be a 3x bridesmaid this fall. My friend Nicole (aka "Yo Nicki" and "Crackhouse Nicki"... don't ask) is getting married in September.

Today, she emailed me a picture of the dress she's planning on having us wear. From what I can see, it's pretty nice (though it's only a back view). I think its going to be in a grape or aubergine color, though to be honest, I'm not quite sure. The fabric (chiffon) looks kind of thin, so I just hope my gut doesn't stick out too much in it.

My Calling

Every year around this time, I wonder if I missed my calling. See, when my employer hands out my W-2 form, I can't resist immediately figuring out exactly what my taxes are, and if I'll be getting any money back. Do you think I was supposed to be a CPA instead of whatever the hell it is I do now?

Sure, being a CPA sounds boring, but think about it this way: Good Money, 9-5 hours, only one stressful time of the year. Right now, I work 60+ hour weeks for peanuts and I stress out every time a new sports season starts. Maybe being a CPA would actually be my dream job.

And then I think to myself... "Oh yeah, I got a D in high school algebra," and my little fantasy ends there. I hear tell that math skills are kind of important. Que sera, sera.

Living in a Powder Keg
(and giving off sparks...)

I had the day off today, and went on a little shopping trip. Nowhere exciting, just Target, Goody's, Payless Shoe Source. I found a pair of shoes I liked at Payless, and I was carrying them up to the cash register when the opening notes of "Total Eclipse Of The Heart" (The Bonnie Tyler version) started playing on the store's sound system. I hadn't heard the song in soooo long that I had to walk around the store for five minutes just listening to it. I just couldn't bring myself to buy the shoes and leave until the song was over.

I guess I'm just a slave to the music (and the songs of Jim Steinman).

From Hell

I'm absolutley addicted to personality quizzes. Its started when I was about twelve, and started reading YM, 'Teen, and it just grew and grew to the famed Cosmo quizzes. Now that I've become the savvy techno-phile that I am today, my addiction has grown to include online personality quizzes, like the ones on emode. How else would I know that if I were a dog, I'd be a pug, and that my inner rock star is Bjork?

Today, I discovered the personality quiz from hell... the Serial Killer Quiz.

My result?

Congratulations, if you were a serial killer you would be...
Jack the Ripper

Jack the Ripper, by far the most notorious killer of all time. What would drive a man to kill 5 prostitutes, surgically mutilate the bodies, then stop, to never be heard from again?
Most of the murders were pretty much the same, the victim had her throat cut and her abdomen exposed, the intestines were placed over her right shoulder and sometimes a kidney or even the heart had been removed.
Jack the RIpper's murders are still unsolved.

Honestly, I don't know how I feel about this. I suppose it could be worse. I could be Jeffrey Dahmer.

If Cory were a serial killer, he would apparently be John Wayne Gacy. He was pretty disappointed after taking the quiz, though. He wanted to be the Zodiac Killer.
Who Are You?

Burn This

So, I've had the new computer since Christmas, and I think I've decided on my next project: Finding old new-wave songs I loved in junior high school, and burning them onto a cd. Ok, it's confession time. I have a lot of new wave and disco compilation CD's, so I'm not looking for the same tired old 80's songs that are on every damn CD out there. No "Come On, Eileen," no "Whip It," no "Rock the Casbah" or "Our House." Those were all great songs, but you can find them everywhere. I'm thinking more of songs like:
Let Me Go- Heaven 17
Sex (I'm A...)- Berlin
Institutionalized- Suicidal Tendencies
People Who Died- The John Carroll Band
These are just a couple that come to mind. Unfortunatley, too much Asparatame in my diet has killed my memory, and I'm having trouble thinking of songs. Children of the '80s, do you have any suggestions?

Sabotage

The only downer about our entire trip to Atlanta was the horrible, debilitating, splitting headache I developed as we were leaving Columbus. At first, it was just annoying, and I drank a Diet Pepsi, thinking that it was just a lack of caffeine causing the headache. It wasn't. By the time the game was over, six hours later, I thought I was going to pass out. Its just finally starting to go away now, at 1:15 am.

I'm starting to wonder if there's something in my Psyche that won't allow me to enjoy a day off. When Cory and I went to the "Redneck Riviera" (Panama City) in December, I got food poisoning the day we left, and was miserable the whole first day. Then, in early December, I had some time off, and got a horrible cold that lasted about a week and a half.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Thrashers Win! Thrashers Win! (This week's obligatory sports posting)

Sorry, but when the worst team in the NHL wins a game over one of the best, its a pretty big occasion.

We just got back from Atlanta and the Blues/Thrashers game (Cory's Christmas gift). Unfortunatley, I didn't let the Blues in on the gift, and they managed to screw it all up by losing big-time. You know you're in trouble when Atlanta scores on their first two shots on goal. Just 9:00 into the game, the Blues changed goalies to Brent Johnson, and when *he* gave up two goals in just about four minutes, they switched goaltenders again!

Anywhooo, the Blues lost 8-4, but we still had a pretty good time. I don't think you can go to a game with 12 goals and not have fun. Cory also got himself a pretty sweet souvenier. At the Philips Arena store, they have tons of overpriced jerseys, bobbleheads, etc... and they also have game-used hockey sticks for $20. Cory bought a game-used Lubos Bartecko stick (Bartecko used to play for St. Louis, now he's a Thrasher). So, all in all, it was a pretty successful evening for us. Not so much for the Blues.

Warning: Juvenile Potty Humor Follows! Proceed With Caution!

Aidan Quinn is on TV right now, talking about filming the movie "Legends of the Fall" with Sir Anthony Hopkins and Brad Pitt, and apparently ol' Aidan and Brad spent most of their free time holding farting contests. Dreamy, huh? So, that led to Cory and I having a discussion on euphemisms for flatulence. So, for my first informal poll, tell me,

Which of the following is your favorite slang term for passing gas?
A) "Dropping Ass"
B) "Blowing Ass"
C) "Poodling"
D) "Breaking Wind"
E) "Barking Spider"
F) "Stepping on a Duck"
G) "Tooting"
H) "Baking Air Muffins"

My personal favorite is the last one, as in "ooopsie, I just baked an air muffin." Its cute, and when you say it, people forget about how disgusting you really are.

I know I may be crossing the lines of good taste and friendship here. Please, Dont be shy... we all break wind on (rare) occasions, so 'fess up, and tell me what you call it.

Ahhhhhhhhh....

It's been a week since my last day off, but Tuesday is mine, all mine!
Actually, I'm sharing my day off with Cory, which is a pretty rare event. See, he works a semi-normal person's schedule (1pm to 10 pm Mon-Fri), and I work a freak schedule (Usually 1pm to 1am, Sat-Wed, though it varies greatly), so we never, ever, ever get days off together unless we plan them months in advance!

The special occasion? Cory's favorite hockey team, the St. Louis Blues, are in Atlanta playing the Thrashers on Tuesday night. (Don't fault him for poor taste in hockey teams. He's from Missouri, so he doesn't know better.) Anyway, I got him tickets for Christmas, so it's time for a jaunt to the big city! It'll be fun... I haven't been to an NHL game since I saw my Red Wings eliminate St. Louis from the playoffs back in 1998. I actually saw it in St. Louis, since I was living in Missouri at the time, so that made it twice as cool. Anyway, I'm pretty excited about Tuesday's game. I like the Thrashers in a "theyre-so-pathetic I-feel-sorry-for-them" Chicago Cubs kind of way, and I followed the Blues quite a bit in Missouri.

I only wish I could go see the Thrashers play Detroit next month. The problem is, the game's on a Saturday, and I'm not allowed to take weekends off during sweeps weeks. Damn the NHL schedulers!

The Poor Man's Oscars

I didn't get a chance to watch any of the Golden Globe Awards tonight (or as one of our producers calls it, the "Golden Globs"). However, when I got home from work, I watched some of the post-award festivities on E!

Some observations:
-Why did Uma Thurman look so over-processed, tanned, and glossy? Isn't part of her appeal that she's a natural beauty and not over-processed, tanned, and glossy?
-Is Curb Your Enthusiasm the best show on TV that nobody watches? I love the show, but I don't know anyone else that watches it. Even worse, the cable company stopped offering HBO for free, so I never get to see it any more.
-How does Kim Cattrall win awards? Her character is so poorly written, it hurts just to watch her.
-How is it that Jennifer Aniston can win for "Friends" but not even get nominated for "The Good Girl?" (Actually, I know the answer to this one. Childbirth is award-show gold.)
and Finally:
-Do we really need a "Musical or Comedy" category? I mean, if it means giving awards to people like Renee Zelweiger and Richard Gere, I'm not so sure it's necessary.

And winning the award for most pointless hyperlinks in a single weblog entry......

Will someone please explain the whole "men in uniform" phenomenon to me, because I just don't get it. I know women who go weak in the knees when they see a damn shopping-center rent-a-cop, for God's sake!

To me, you dress a guy up like a cop or a sailor, and I just think of the Village People.

Gettin' a Little Ripe in the "Peach State"

Here's a disgusting thought: I've lived in Georgia for 15 months now, and I haven't yet taken anything to the dry cleaners'. Yuck.

In my defense, I only wear my "big girl clothes" three days a week on average (More during football season), and I only wear my blazers for about an hour a day. (Half an hour for the 6pm show, half an hour for the 11:00 newscast). So, when you think about it, I can wear something 9 or 10 times before I've worn it for a full work-day.

Still, a couple of my jackets are getting a little ripe. At least I don't have the heinous ring-around-the-collar that some (unnamed) co-workers of mine have. Oh, you can't see it on camera. Its one of the secrets of the TV world. Nobody's clothes are ever clean.

Pardon Our Progress

I'm trying to make the page a little "prettier." It may look really ganked up for a day or two while I try to figure out how to re-write the code. Please, bear with me. If you have any suggestions for the layout of this page, please let me know... but I'm not gonna change the color, so don't even ask!

Someone Call the Law!

Tim Hudson of the Oakland A's was in town tonight. He's from Phenix City, Alabama (about 5 miles from here), and the Phenix City Girls' Club invited him to be the guest of a "Celebrity Roast" fundraiser. I have to say, he's a class act. He comes back to Phenix City, does this fundraiser, hangs out, talks to everybody, autographs hats and balls and everything else, and doesn't seem the least bit annoyed or pretentious at any point in the night.

Ok, that really isn't the point to my story, more of a brief introduction.

The roast was at Phenix City Central high school. Central's one of the biggest schools in Alabama. I've been there a few times, usually for basketball games, and the first thing I always notice is the metal detectors at the front entrance.

I graduated from high school 16 years ago, and I guess it must have been the end of the age of innocence. I knew kids who did drugs (mostly weed), and I knew a couple of guys who brought knives to school (one of them used to "tattoo" his arm behind me in psych class). Oh, and I got kicked out of our school's "All Night Party" for getting embarrasingly and illegally drunk. But other than that, most of the "bad" kids were just your everyday burnouts. Metal Detectors just seem so foreign to me.

I haven't been back to my high school since about 1989. Do you think it has metal detectors now? One of my friends teaches in that school district, maybe she could enlighten me.

The Only Club I Belong To

I guess I'm not a "joiner" by nature, but there's one club I've always been able to get behind: Sam's Club. But let me tell you, ol' Sam Walton's been leaving me high and dry lately, and I'm getting a little pissed about it. First, they stopped carrying my favorite cheese tortellini, and replaced it with a much more expensive imposter. That was last month. Then, they stopped carrying the five-pound bags of animal crackers that I've been living off of. The last straw, however, came this weekend. No cases of Molson Canadian! What the hell are they trying to do to me? It was like the one little slice of home that I had with me (other than my Detroit Red Wings shrine in my spare bedroom).

What am I going to do now? Drink American Beer??? I think not!

Ignorance is Bliss

Its amazing that someone that works in television can be so ignorant about what's going on in the world, but I've discovered that TV reporters are some of the most uninformed people out there. I think it's because we're so busy working on our own specialized stories that we never get a chance to watch the lead stories on the news. For example, when we're airing the lead stories, I'm usually editing my highlight tapes and calling coaches and harassing them for scores. Then, during weather, I'm usually getting dressed and putting on my face. Then after the show, I always end up asking our weather guy, "So, what's it gonna be like tomorrow?"

When I do get some free time at work, I usually peruse the AP Wire reports and check things out. Imagine my concern at 1pm Wednesday, when I see this:

AP-Plague Samples Gone (Tops)

(Lubbock, Texas-AP) -- A search is under way in Texas for some missing samples of bubonic plague.

Texas Tech University says some vials of the deadly disease were reported missing to campus police yesterday.
A T-V station (K-C-B-D) reports at least 30 vials are unaccounted for -- and that officials don't know if they were stolen, or just misplaced. And a newspaper (Lubbock Avalanche-Journal) reports on its Web site that the vials had been missing for several days -- but weren't reported until yesterday.
Texas Tech says there's no reason to believe the samples were intentionally taken from the lab. The school's chancellor says the strain of plague involved in the samples is common in Texas.
The F-B-I has sent agents to Lubbock to help in the search.

Ok, so I'm thinking to myself, didn't the plague kill something like 200 million people? Yeah, so two hours later, the AP sends this over the wire:


AP-Plague Samples Gone (Tops)

(Lubbock, Texas-AP) -- Those bubonic plague samples are no longer missing in Texas.
The F-B-I says the samples that were reported missing at Texas Tech University have been accounted for.
And the bureau says there is no danger to public safety whatsoever.
The agent in charge isn't spilling many details -- including where the vials were found and where they may have been. But he says a criminal investigation is under way.
The vials were reported missing yesterday. The school's medical center dean says it's unclear just how long they were missing.

What, so just nevermind??? Somebody swipes 30 freakin' vials of the bubonic plague, and then they just magically turn up two hours later? Then I start thinking to myself, if it only took two hours to find the "stolen" plague samples, then they obviously weren't very well hidden. Some Texas Tech Grad. Assistant probably took them back to his apartment/fraternity house/dorm room to impress a girl! So sad.

Wait a minute... Doesn't Bobby Knight work at Texas Tech now? The plot thickens...

A Word to the Wise:

For those of you leaving comments, I'm not 100% sure that when you mark your posting as "Private" that it's actually private. Fortunately, nobody's been leaking any national security secrets on this blog, so I don't think we're in any danger. Please keep leaving your comments, I love knowing that people are actually reading this drivel.

The Sportslady's Love Advice

Ladies, forget what your Momma told you. The way to a man's heart isn't through his stomach. It's apparently through his collection of bobblehead figurines.

Tonight I bought Cory a bobblehead doll of Cottonmouths captain Jerome "Boom-Boom" Bechard. He was so happy, he left the good parking space at our apartment empty so I could park there when I got home from work.

If that isn't love, what is?

America's Rockin' Roller Coast

Don't know if any of you have been to Cedar Point recently (some of you may never have been there at all). I'm a roller coaster freak, so I try to get there for a day every summer.

When I was a little kid, a trip to Cedar Point was the coolest thing ever. They built the "Gemini" when I was about eight, and at the time it was the tallest roller coaster in the world. Then when I was in college, the "Magnum XL-200" totally redefined scary. At the time, it was the tallest roller coaster in the world. A few years ago, the "Millennium Force" topped 300 feet tall, goes about 90 miles an hour, and it's a pretty sweet ride. Are you sensing the pattern here? At the time, it was the tallest roller coaster in the world.

Ok, I get the whole bigger, better, faster thing. We all feel the need to fulfill our manifest destiny. This, however, is totally insane. Is it possible to actually be scared to death? Because I think this new ride could do the trick. What kind of sick mother thinks this stuff up?

Of course, I'll have to go ride it this summer.

17,629 Restaurants Can't Be Wrong

Does anyone else out there think that Jared S. Fogle is the most overexposed human being on television? Ok, the guy lost over 200 pounds, and that's great. But Puh-leeeze! Last week, I was watching the NFL on CBS, and they had the "Subway Postgame Report." Guess who was on the set with Dan Marino, Jim Nantz and the CBS sports guys? You guessed it, our pal Jared was there, pimping his sandwiches to the cast and crew. Honest to God, they all sat there talking football with a rolled-up 6" sub sitting in front of each of them. Unbelieveable.

So tonight, I caught a Subway commercial with Jared and his little blonde wife, and got to wondering. Did he meet the wife before or after the diet? I'd like to think that they've been together since he was shopping in the husky department, but I get the impression that they're newlyweds.

Can you imagine the conversation when she tells her friends that she's dating Jared from the Subway commercials?
"Well girls, we've been keeping our relationship a secret because he's kind of a celebrity."

Is this something you brag about?

24-7

My friend Anne from high school emailed me a couple days ago, and said I keep really weird hours. I guess I always knew I did, but looking at this weblog now, I see what she means! It seems like I generally post at about 1:30 in the morning.

Let me explain my F'ed up hours. On a normal day, I go to work at about 1:30 or 2:00 in the afternoon, and I either report or anchor for the 6pm and 11pm news. Since our last newscast doesn't end until 11:35, I'm usually there until midnight or 1am. There are days when it's much worse. My station is an ABC affiliate, so Mondays during NFL season are horrible. Monday Night Football doesn't even end until 12:30 a.m. at the earliest, so if it's an overtime game, I could be going on the air at 1:30 in the morning!

When I get home at 1am, I can't get to sleep right away, of course. That would be like most of you going to bed at 6:00 at night! So I'm up 'till 2am, or 3am, and on occasion, 4am. Then I don't wake up until 10am or 11am, and the whole ugly cycle starts all over again.

The moral to the story? TV is a crappy profession. Be glad you're not in it!

Bad Hair Life, Part Deux

Got my hair cut yesterday. Actually, I got them all cut (har har har).
When I first moved to Columbus, I faced a major trauma. At my old station in Kirksville, they didn't pay squat, but I got free haircuts, hair products, etc. I could get my damn hair cut every four weeks if I wanted to (and often did!).

Having to pay for my own haircuts sucks, so I don't go to a really nice salon. The place I go is ok, and pretty cheap. You know, somewhere between Dillard's and Supercuts. I like my "stylist" because she'll do whatever I ask. I mean, honestly, if I asked her to shave a stripe down the back of my head, she'd probably do it. So, I decide I need about 3 inches cut off my hair. I had been trying to grow it longer, so I can compete with the current trend of sports "hoochies" (Lisa Guerrero of Fox Sports comes to mind), but it was just starting to look really messy.

But I digress. My hair, messy that it was, looked a thousand times better before this heinous haircut. It probably wouldn't be so bad, but my bangs are just too damn short. With enough hairspray and mousse, you can disguise just about any bad haircut... but not if your bangs are too short. So until it grows out, I like I belong on the friggin' short bus.

The Obligatory Sports-Related Posting

Found this on the Reuters newswire today:

LONDON (Reuters) - A spectator who urinated on a linesman at a sevens tournament in Kent southeast England last year has been banned from any rugby activity for five years by the Rugby Football Union (RFU).
An RFU disciplinary panel found Vince Dunne, of Croydon, guilty of "conduct which is prejudicial to the interests of the game" after the incident involving a 16-year-old linesman in May last year.
Dunne's Surrey club, Shirley Wanderers RFC, has already terminated his membership.

How, exactly, does a rugby player sneak up on someone and urinate on them? I mean, if he's a linesman, shouldn't he be paying attention to what all the players are doing?
Maybe the linesman could get a job in the USA, calling NFL playoff games. He couldn't do any worse, right?

Movie Night in the Big City

The best part of living in Columbus is the plethora of movie theaters in town. There's about six (including the one at Fort Benning), and they're building a 15-screen multiplex, too. The weird thing is that every theater is owned by the same company, Carmike Cinemas. Now, I'm not a huge fan of Carmike, but I have to say I love the "Carmike Seven," our dollar theater. Ok, actually, it's $2.00, but that's still pretty good. Cory and I have a whole new classification system for movies.

First, there's the "Must See" movies, the one's you're willing to pay a day's salary to go to (LOTR: The Two Towers, for example).
Then, of course, there's the movies you couldn't pay me a day's salary to see. "Jackass" comes to mind.
But now there's the "Yeah, I'll see it when I only have to pay two dollars" movie. Tonight, that movie was "Sweet Home Alabama." (Cory's choice, I might add.)

See, I live just 5 short miles from the Alabama border, so this movie was a pretty big deal around here. In fact, our station did news stories on the movie (does it accurately portray southerners?).

Now that I've seen the movie, here are my observations:

1. Yes, in Alabama, when you play the song "Sweet Home Alabama," people really do freak out. "Neeeeee-haw" is the usual response.
2. The movie "Sweet Home Alabama" had more white people in it than the actual state of Alabama has. (Seriously. There were only three black people in the movie: one was a stereotypical gay urbanite from NYC, one was the security guard at the bank, the third was an extra.)
3. Big hair is not as common in real Alabama as it is in movie Alabama.
4. Reese Witherspoon is too cute for her own good. She needs to be slapped.

Alice Doesn't Live Here Any More

I've been living in Columbus for about 15 months now, and I'm still getting about one wrong number call a week. It's one of the main reasons why I screen all my calls. The wrong numbers are often (though not always) for the same person, so I've come to two conclusions.

1. The phone company made a very quick turnaround when doling out my phone number.
2. The person who had my phone number last had some really stupid friends.

Actually, it could be a combination of both, now that I think of it. At any rate, my most recent wrong number was possibly the best so far. I wish I could download the real audio on the website, because you really have to hear her to get the true depth of her stupidity, but I'm sure this transcript will give you a pretty fair idea:

(long pause) Um, that was....... oh....... uh, I didn't like the way you just said your uh...... your voicemail thang....... it was awful........ oh, this is um....... Natasha....... um........ call me....... I just wanted to see if you still want me to come pick you up........ because...... um....... (extra long pause here)..... I had..... I was gonna get ready to come over there and, uh, was..... I didn't know if you was home...... bitch..... if you get back, call me..... at 6..... ouch!...... call me at 665-1416...... skank...... bye, bye and happy New Year....... (extra long pause) *click*

Now let me reiteratem, I don't know this "Natasha" person. I'm not sure if she had Turret's Syndrome... or if she had a brain for that matter.
It's probably worth mentioning the "voicemail thang" she thought was so awful was my outgoing message:
"Hi, you've reached 569-XXXX, no-one can come to the phone right now, so leave a message after the beep and we'll get back to you as soon as possible."

She's right. Just awful.
By the way, feel free to call Natasha at the above number and leave a retarded message on her machine.

Holiday Shopping

Ok, I know you're racking your brains, trying to find me a Valentine's Day gift. Well, your search is over! I've found the perfect gift at the 2003 Detroit Auto Show.
Now, everyone doesn't need to me one. $280,000 is a little extravagent, after all. Instead, you could each chip in about 20 grand. Just think how cute I'd look tooling around town in my yellow Lamborghini.

Workin' for the Weekend

I work a crazy person's schedule, so this is my weekend. Two glorious days off in a row, right? My exciting "weekend" plans: Laundry, grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, maybe a haircut. Exciting life, huh? Writing this blog entry could very well be the highlight of my day. How sad is that?

Fashion Faux Pas

The infamous Mr. Blackwell has released his list of Worst-Dressed Celebrities for 2002. Can you believe it, Anna Nicole Smith was at the top of the list. Who woulda thunk?

Her horrible fashion sense is one of the primary reasons why I'm completely addicted to her trainwreck of a TV show. Oh, I'm not proud of it, but it's like a bad car accident. You don't want to look, but once you do look, you can't turn away from the carnage. It's a guilty pleasure.

In fact, "Guilty Pleasures" is the name of my newest set of links on the left. I'll be adding to it regularly.

You Are Getting Sleepy...

Or rather, I've been sleepy all day. I'm a night person as is, but last night I put in some extra hours in front of the boob tube. See, Comedy Central was airing a whole bundle of Kids in the Hall episodes during the wee hours last night, and I couldn't resist the temptation.

Kids in the Hall used to be an afternoon tradition of mine. It started back when I was in Grad School at Central Michigan, and I'd watch Days of Our Lives at 1pm, then switch over to Kids at 2:00. I kept the tradition alive all the way until about 6 months ago, when Comedy Central made the dire programming error to get rid of the afternoon "Kids" broadcast to air their 45th rerun of "Saturday Night Live" of the day. I'm still cursing Comedy Central for that one.

So, anyway, I was up way late watching Bruce, Kevin, Scott, Mark and Dave, and I was verrrrry sleeeepy all day. Of course, the second I got home from work at Midnight, I was suddenly wide awake. Go Figure.

Oh, special note to "Days" fans (Sandy, are you out there?): Why is it that Greta is on the banner on that webpage? She hasn't been on the show in MONTHS!?!

Isn't It Ironic?

I, like most people, wrongly consider myself a brilliant writer. But who knew what a great songwriter I could be? A recent trip to the Alanis Morrisette Lyric Generator answered that question for me.

It's kind of like Mad Libs. Just fill in the blanks, and you've got yourself an angst-filled Top 40 hit!

"I Think"

I Think arachnids are really a huge problem
I Think creepy-crawlers are too much on my mind
I Think cobwebs have got a lot to do with why the world sucks
But what can you do?

(chorus)
Like a green rain, beating down on me
Like a Dr. Seuss line, which won't let go of my brain
Like Psycho-Boy's ass, it is in my head
Blame it on spiders
Blame it on spiders
Blame it on spiders

I Think fangs are gonna drive us all crazy
And itchy welts make me feel like a child
I Think tarantulas will eventually be the downfall of civilization
But what can you do? I said what can you do?

(repeat chorus)

Like a green rain, beating down on me
Like Psycho-Boy's smile, cruel and cold
Like Dr. Seuss's ass, it is in my head
Blame it on spiders
Blame it on spiders
Blame it on spiders


Whaddya think? Am I ready for my record contract?

Bad Hair Life

So I'm thinking about getting a wig.

I know, it sounds a little crazy, but nobody ever said I was sane. Here's my problem. Sometimes, I have these crazy nights where I have to run out and shoot a football/baseball/basketball/etc. game, then get right back to the station, edit and write my highlights and anchor. Sometimes I don't get back to the station until 5:30, and I have to get all of that crap done by about 6:15. Of course, hair and makeup is last priority. So if it's in any way humid, windy, rainy, or sweaty outside, my hair looks like ass.

Then it occurred to me, I could get a wig that looks just like my hair (or at least enough like it to fool people). Then I could just slap on the wig without having to worry about my hair.

Or maybe I could get some kind of slutty big-hair wig to wear outside of work so people won't recognize me.

I need some input here. Any suggestions?

Not As Cool As I Thought I Was

Still glowing from my internet victory last night, I headed over to the ol' sportslady website today to check out my genius. Alas, the famed photo of the Sportlady and Cory at Christmas wouldn't load. Apparently, I'm not nearly as clever as I thought I was. Foiled again! In the meantime, if you have a burining urge to see the picture, you can use the link above to gaze at my beauty. Ha Ha.

My friend Mike, who's a computer whiz, has volunteered to give me a little assistance with my weblog ineptitude. I think I might be beyond help, though.

I promise, eventually, I'll talk about something other than just this stupid weblog. Right now, it's consuming my life.

Patting Myself on the Back

Yippiee! I just figured out how to put a photo on this website. I'm so impressed with myself.

The photo on the left is of Cory and me, in front of our $20 Wal-Mart Christmas tree. See, I wanted to give Cory's mom a picture of us for Christmas (I know, giving someone a picture of yourself is pretty self-absorbed. What can I say?) So, Cory and I plunked down in front of the tree, and took about 25 pictures using the timer on my camera. You know, we'd set the timer, hurry back to the tree, pose, smile, and then do it all over again. As awful as it sounds, it was actually kind of fun, and I don't think the picture is any worse than we'd have gotten if we went to the Sears Portrait Studio.

For what it's worth, Cory's mom said she loved the picture. This isn't the same one we sent her, but they all kind of look the same after a while.

More Progress!

The "Questions, Comments, Snide Remarks" link is working... sort of. If I try to link on it from AOL, then it works. But I prefer to use Internet Explorer. Oddly, it doesn't work if I use that browser program.

What's up with that?

If you're able to leave me a snide remark, feel free.

Wild Card Weekend

I guess I wouldn't be the "Sports Lady" without discussing some recent developments in the world of sports.

First of all, what's up with this? Maurice Clarett makes one freakin' tackle in the National Championship game, and all of a sudden he's Mark Gastineau? Ok, when the season started, I was pretty impressed with the kid. Then I realized how impressed the kid is with himself: "I'm too much of an athlete just to play on one side of the ball." Dear Lord. If I were OSU, I'd encourage him to enter the draft ASAP. The Horseshoe might not be big enough to hold his ego next season.

And what the hell is going on in the NFL? On Saturday, the Jets beat the everloving snot out of the Colts. I mean, I expected the Jets to win, but 41-nothing? Then, the Packers lose at Lambeau Field for the first time ever! No wonder Brett Favre is considering retirement.

Then today, two of the biggest comebacks in playoff history. The Steelers rally from a 17 point deficit to beat the Browns, then not to be outdone, the 49ers overcome a 24 point gap to oust the Giants. I guess they're just putting the "Wild" in "Wild-Card."

Progress! (sort of...)

We've made marginal progress on the "comments" feature. Right now, there's an enticing link at the bottom of each entry. I know, you're very tempted to click on it and leave a remark. But you can't!!! It doesn't work. I'm still trying to figure it out. Like I said earlier... I'm not too bright when it comes to computer stuff.

Questions? Comments? Snide Remarks?

Stay tuned. In the next couple of days, I'll have a link on this website so that you can comment on my daily ramblings. I've already got it in the works, I'm just having trouble getting the code written. I'm not the most technologically advanced person, after all. In fact, that's a big part of why I majored in Communication in college.

I'm going to do my best to post to this site every day, but there may be a day or two lag between postings. I've been having trouble publishing to this site from my home computer, so I've been writing my entries at home, then waiting until I get to work to post them. The problem is, I really don't want to do any of this from work, because I don't want the powers that be at WTVM to see this site.

So for now, keep your snide remarks to yourself. You can share them with me in a couple of days.

The Genesis of the "Sports Lady"

Those of you who lived in Kirksville probably already know me as the "Sports Lady." See, it seems I don't have a name. After 2 1/2 years on the air in Kirksville/Ottumwa, I couldn't go anywhere without folks recognizing me. Every trip to "the mall" (a.k.a Wal-Mart) brought random people coming up to me, all uttering the same query:

"Aren't you the Sports Lady?"

Of course I am.
Now, being the "Sports Lady" brings with it a great responsibility. Apparently, it's my fault if your favorite team loses. So Green Bay Packers fans, Miami Hurricane fans, Indianapolis Colts fans... it's not that your teams suck... it's just my fault.

Ok, so here's the poop:

Every year, as the cheap champagne pops, I make the same damn New Year's Resolutions.

1. To lose some lard off of my big butt.
2. To get a better job ('Cuz this place just ain't cutting it lately).
3. To keep in touch with my friends (since I keep moving across the damn country in search of a better job (see resolution #2).

Well, let's face it. I'll never wake up early enough to go for a jog before work, so resolution #1 is doomed from the start. As far as #2 goes, I can't break my contract without facing a pretty hefty financial penalty, so that one's pretty much in the crapper, too.

This weblog is my attempt at keeping resolution #3 alive. So come for a visit, take your shoes off and stay for a while.