One Magic Loogie

This weekend, major news off the Associated Press sports wire.
Synchronicity.
The world suddenly makes sense. Two of my favorite things have finally joined forces permanently: "Seinfeld" and the Atlanta Braves.

If you'll indulge me...

From Seinfeld "The Boyfriend (Part 1)"
JERRY: Unfortunately, the immutable laws of physics contradict the whole premise of your account. Allow me to reconstruct this, if I may, for Miss Benes as I've heard this story a number of times.
Newman, Kramer, if you'll indulge me. According to your story Keith passes you and starts walking up the ramp then you say you were struck on the right temple.
The spit then proceeds to ricochet off the temple striking Newman between the third and forth rib.
The spit then cam off the rib turned and hit Newman in the right wrist causing him to drop his baseball cap.
The spit then splashed off the wrist, pauses... in mid air mind you... makes a left turn and lands on Newman's left thigh. That is one magic luggie (sic)!

From ESPN.com:
ATLANTA -- The Atlanta Braves named Roger McDowell their pitching coach on Saturday, replacing Leo Mazzone.
McDowell, who pitched for 12 years in the major leagues, was pitching coach of the Los Angeles Dodgers' Triple-A affiliate at Las Vegas the past two seasons.
McDowell pitched in 723 games -- mostly as a reliever -- during a career that included stints with the Mets and Dodgers, along with the Philadelphia Phillies, Texas Rangers and Baltimore Orioles. He had a 70-70 record with 159 saves and a 3.30 ERA.
In 1986, McDowell was a member of New York's World Series-winning team. He went 14-9 with 22 saves in 75 games.
McDowell was pitching coach for the Class-A South Georgia Waves [now Columbus Catfish] in 2002 and '03.

From Seinfeld "The Boyfriend (Part 2)"
NEWMAN: June 14th, 1987. Mets-Phillies. You made a big error. Cost the Mets the game. Then you're coming up the parking lot ramp.
KEITH: You said, "Nice game, pretty boy."
KRAMER: Ah, you remember.
NEWMAN: And then you spit on us.
KEITH: Hey, I didn't spit at you.
NEWMAN: Oh, yeah, right.
KRAMER: No no no, well, then who was it?
KEITH: Well lookit, the way I remember it, I was walking up the ramp. I was upset about the game. That's when you called me pretty boy. It ticked me off. I started to turn around to say something and as I turned around I saw Roger McDowell behind the bushes over by that gravely road. … Anyway he was talking to someone and they were talking to you. I tried to scream out but it was too late. It was already on its way.
JERRY: I told you!
NEWMAN: Wow, it was McDowell.
JERRY: But why? Why McDowell?
KRAMER: Well, maybe because we were sitting in the right field stands cursing at him in the bullpen all game.
NEWMAN: He must have caught a glimpse of us when I poured that beer on his head.
It was McDowell!

To Summarize:
The "second spitter" is now the pitching coach of the Atlanta Braves. And he was pitching coach here in C-Town two years ago and I didn't even know! Just think of the stories I could have done...

Swoopes Scores One for the Other Team

"Male athletes of my caliber probably feel like they have a lot more to lose than gain [by coming out]. I don't agree with that. To me, the most important thing is happiness."

-Sheryl Swoopes, in "ESPN: The Magazine"

It's about damn time someone did it. Not surprisingly, a woman was the first superstar athlete to come out. There isn't the same stigma attached to lesbians as there is attached to gay men. It'll be a cold day in hell before an NBA MVP (and not a three-time WNBA MVP) comes out of the closet. Maybe Sheryl Swoopes just has bigger cajones.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

So, How Do I Cash In?

My blog is worth $8,468.10.
How much is your blog worth?

I don't know how the value is appraised. I also don't know why I'm bitter that Cory's blog is worth more than mine.

A Very Scary Thought

I'm all for freedom of speech. But some things scare me. Like the fact that these 13-year-old girls and their Nazi singing act actually exists. Even scarier, because they're home-schooled, they'll never meet people with different beliefs than their mother's.

Back when I was still studying rhetoric and coaching speech, I would hunt for unusual stories like this. We'd break down the rhetoric and explain what made it effective (or not effective).

Now I just read these stories and shake my head.

It's Not Easy... Being Cheesy

My second profession as an eBay profiteer hasn't exactly gone as planned. I think so far, I've made about $150. Not good.

Perhaps I should branch out-- go beyond the confines of childhood toys and expand into a more lucrative field, like phallic snack foods.

Criminal Minds

While the Mandy Patinkin vehicle"Criminal Minds" is a pretty good tv show, the actual phrase "Criminal Minds" may be an oxymoron. A brain, apparently, isn't a very strict requirement for criminal behavior. Just check out these idiots, who took pictures of themselves posing with the money they stole from a bank in Colorado.

Artsy Fartsy

As I once again ponder my poor choice in careers (the pay is low, but at least the hours are lousy!), I think:

What do I want to be when I grow up?

Your Career Type: Artistic

You are expressive, original, and independent.Your talents lie in your artistic abilities: creative writing, drama, crafts, music, or art. You would make an excellent: Actor - Art Teacher - Book Editor Clothes Designer - Comedian - Composer Dancer - DJ - Graphic DesignerIllustrator - Musician - Sculptor The worst career options for your are conventional careers, like bank teller or secretary.

What's" Your Ideal Career?

Big Brother is Watching

Got a color laser printer hooked up to that computer?

Then you'll want to read this article before printing your next resume/anti-government propaganda/letter to "Penthouse."

Here's the gist: Your printer has likely been programmed to print a tiny, nearly invisible secret code which can identify you to the government.

Techno-geeks, the full details are here. The list of printers is here.

'Tis the Season...

...to start shopping. Today, the Christmas shopping season officially began for your favorite Sportslady. I bought two presents at my favorite store, Sam's Club.

And no, I didn't buy anyone 48-ounce drum of pinto beans. But I could have.

Literacy is Cool

Unfortunately, I've been a bit slack in my reading this year. I stopped keeping track of my "52 books in 52 weeks" (on the left) several months ago, when I realized I'd probably only come closer to about 30 books this year.

Recently, Time magazine listed the top 100 books of the last 75 or so years. Some I've started. Some I've finished. Some, I've just seen the movie. But that sort of counts, right?

Top 100 Books that I've read:
Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret
The Catcher in the Rye
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
To Kill a Mockingbird

Top 100 Books that I've started, but never finished:
The Grapes of Wrath
Lolita
Lord of the Flies
Lord of the Rings (technically, three books, of which I have read two)

Top 100 Books that I've never read, but at least I've seen the movie:
A Clockwork Orange
Deliverance
The French Lieutenant's Woman
Gone with the Wind
The Grapes of Wrath
Lolita
Naked Lunch
One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest
Lord of the Rings

Hmmm. Not a very good track record. I blame the TiVo.
(Thanks to the Lady Crumpet for the link)

Vaya Con Dios, el Fotógrafo

Tonight was a big night on the social calendar-- A going-away party.

Our pal Marc was a photographer at the C-Town Ledger-Enquirer, but he's leaving our fair hamlet for the bright lights and big city of Wichita, Kansas. You can check out one of his award-winning photos here.

Anyway, a few weeks ago, Marc told me that he'd gotten a new job... and after a brief bout of jealousy and bitterness, I asked: "So, when are the drunken festivities?"

Tonight was the night. As it turns out, Elizabeth was having bachelorette festivites tonight, as well. Sorry I couldn't make it, Liz! I'll be at the wedding, I promise!

Anyway, as many of you are aware, Cory and I don't have many friends outside of work. It was so nice to go to a party and not talk about work. Ok, they were mostly newspaper people, so we talked shop a little. Probably too much. But still...

By the way, the best part about a party hosted by and for a photographer? The "photo booth" in the back yard. Another Ledger photographer constructed a booth out of pvc pipe and white sheets. It made for some good times!

Anyway, Good Luck, Marc! We'll miss you, man!

Trapped in the Apartment

As I was writing that last post, scanning the latest rejection letter, and uploading it to my blog, my neighbor fired up the stereo.

Now, I can't be 100% positive, because I don't know the song that well... but I'm pretty damn sure that s/he was listening to the Gawd-Awful "Trapped in the Closet" By R.Kelly. The worst part? S/he listened to it more than once.

I should probably mention that I'm talking about the vibrator neighbors.

What other atrocities will these people unleash upon me?

The Seal of Approval Walrus of Rejection

Ah, sweet rejection. I must be the luckiest girl in the world, because it happened again today. Not a postcard this time, so my secret is safe from the employees of the US Postal Service.

In fact, this one was even addressed to yours truly. Nope, no "Dear Applicant" letter this time.

Only one problem:

I didn't apply "for the position of Account Executive."

On the contrary, I didn't even apply for a position within the sales department.

Instead, I applied for a position in the news department, as a sports reporter. A job for which I am qualified.

And while I'm sure WIS would have found plenty of reasons not to hire me as a sports reporter(a lack of talent being just one of them), I'd at least like to know that I was rejected for the correct job!

I'm considering sending them a bitchy email, but I know it wouldn't do me any good. All it would do is make me feel better.

What the Hell does "SHMOLORFUL" mean?

The Wild Rose Random Brutal Love Dreamer (RBLDf) shmolorful, but unpicked. You are The Wild Rose. Prone to bouts of cynicism, sarcasm, and thorns, you excite a certain kind of man. Hoping to gather you up, he flirts and winks and asks you out, ultimately professing his love. Then you make him bleed. Why? Because you're the rare, independent, self-sufficient kind of woman who does want love, but not from a weakling. You don't seem to take yourself too seriously, and that's refreshing. You aren't uptight; you don't over-plan. Romance-wise, sex isn't a top priority--a true relationship would be preferable. For your age, you haven't had a lot of bonafide love experience, though, and this kind of gets to core of the issue. You're very selective. The problem is them, not you, right? You have lofty standards that few measure up to. You're out there all right, but not to be picked up by just anyone. "You're never truly single as long as you have yourself." ALWAYS AVOID: The Bachelor CONSIDER: The Vapor Trail. Link: The 32-Type Dating Test by OkCupid. Thanks to our ol' pal KAOS for the link.

Cynical? Sarcastic? Moi?

Hooray for Hockey!

As I mentioned in an earlier comments section, Cory and I don't get OLN. As a result, there will be very little NHL in my near future. We can watch the Thrashers when they're televised on Turner South, but the NHL's new television contract with NBC means that ESPN is no longer carrying my favorite sport. Instead, the "Outdoor Life Network" will be airing NHL games this season.

Of course, when I realized this, I checked to see the first time NBC will be airing a network-televised game.

January 14, 2006.

Seriously.

As you can imagine, I started hyperventilating when I realized that I might have to wait three months before I can watch my Red Wings. Three Months!

Tonight, Cory and I went to Buffalo Wild Wings for a cool beverage after the baseball game. Well, actually, we went because Cory had a birthday coupon for a free dessert and their chocolate fudge cake is divine. Lo and behold, written on the board in the lobby:

10:30 pm- Detroit Red Wings at Los Angeles Kings

Yahoo!!!!

We only watched about an hour of the game, but I was so excited to see hockey-- and to see my team! Kirk Maltby scored a shorthanded goal right before we left. The Wings went on to win 5-2, and I'm a happy girl. Relatively speaking.

I Heart Happy Bunny

You are the "you suck, and that's sad" happy bunny.

your You're truthful, but can be a bit brutal.

which happy bunny are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Interestingly enough, I had to change the HTML code for the item above. The person who created the poll didn't know the difference between "your" and "you're."

Apparently, they also suck. And that is sad.

Reject!

I get a lot of rejection letters in the mail. Happy thought, huh? I probably apply for three jobs per week, and I'd guess that about 10% of those prospective employers have the good manners to send rejection letters.

The first time I started serious job-hunting, when I was still in Missouri, I used to mount my rejection notices in cheap dollar-store frames. I'd then hang them on the wall next to my "Best Sportscast" award plaque from the Iowa Broadcast News Association.

When I started job hunting again, about two years ago, I just threw out my rejections. But as I got more and more depressed about the fact that nobody wants me, I decided to embrace my self-pity, and start displaying my rejection letters again. They're simply thumbtacked to the wall above my computer, next to my IBNA award, my Ebay Yellow Star Achievement award, and my glow-in-the-dark statue of St. Clare of Assisi (patron saint of television).

Today, I received a new rejection letter-- and a new low in rejection letter etiquette. The mailman delivered a rejection postcard. Even worse, a form letter. Nothing says personized attention like "Dear Applicant."

Do I really need the mailman to know the details of my rejection? Well, if he knows about it, I guess there's no harm in posting it here.

That's fine. I really didn't want to work in Green Bay anyway. Though I love Brett Favre, even my favorite quarterback can't make up for 29 days of subzero temperatures every year.

When will people learn?

I'm so irritated right now that I could just spit.

A fellow C-Town resident (who I've never met) has a blog that I occasionally visit. Why don't I visit it more? Oddly enough, it's not because of his occasional political rantings. I can deal with those. We all need to vent sometimes (though he is a bit of an extremist).

The reason why I don't visit his blog is because his spelling errors and typos make it painful to read. Today, I couldn't take it any more and left a snide remark in his comments.

So here's my question: When did people stop taking spelling and grammar seriously? When did people decide that it's ok if they appear ignorant and uneducated?

Every email I get from a certain superior at work contains numerous errors. Last month, we were planning a special edition about the Atlanta Falcons. And yet, I kept getting emails about the "Falcon's" special. Guess what? I can't take you seriously when you do that. You're a professional in the journalism field, and you don't know the difference between plural and possessive? Apostrophes aren't that difficult to figure out. Most people managed to master them in the third grade.

And don't even get me started about the way the way that this person spells "oops." Seriously. "Oppps?" Come on.

I know that we all make the occasional typo, the occasional grammatical gaffe. It's only human. But seriously, folks, spell-check only takes you so far in life. If you don't know the difference between "you're" and "your" (not to mention "to," "two," and "too" or "they're," "there," and "their"), then LOOK IT UP!

And just in case you don't know how to do that, either, try these handy websites.

Dictionary.com
Merriam-Webster Online
English Plus "Grammar Slammer"
Online Writing Lab
All About Homonyms

They're Back!

After over a year of waiting, HOCKEY IS BACK! NHL hockey, that is. As much as I love the Cottonmouths (and as excited as I was when they won the championship last year), it just isn't the same.

If you're a sports fan, but you just haven't gotten into hockey, give it a try this season. The league has changed many of the rules to make the games more high scoring and entertaining. I'm interested to see how quickly the players will adapt.

Tonight, my beloved Red Wings play Cory's St. Louis Blues in the season opener. Unfortunately, ESPN doesn't have the NHL contract any more, so I won't get to watch my team much this year. I can't even watch the Thrashers tonight, because they're only broadcasting the game in the Atlanta metro area. Sigh. At least XM radio will carry all the NHL games this seaon.

Oh, yeah. And the Braves open the NL Playoffs today. I could go to the game today... but I don't feel quite up to driving all the way to Atlanta after spending most of yesterday in bed.

Ants in my Pants



Little bastards got me again. This time it was at the Country Club of Columbus, while shooting yet another golf tournament. Once again, it was on the 18th green. There was no mound, no dirt, no tell-tale signs. Just hundreds of the little bastards suddenly swarming all over my shoes and up my pantlegs.

From what I can tell, I got stung three times. That's it. Once again, it isn't one of those swarming fire-ant horror stories that ends in hundreds of pustules. Just three stings.

This time, it took about two hours for the symptoms to start to get bad. That's when I left work. I probably should have gone to the emergency room, but I knew all they'd do was hook me up to an IV of some other antihistamine. I would have felt better a lot faster... but I'm not sure it would be worth the $150. Instead I went home, dosed myself up on Benadryl, and in the next five hours only got out of bed to throw up and take more Benadryl.

My main concern was that I'd have to use my Epi-Pen. The thought of stabbing myself in the thigh with a needle big enough to go through jeans is a little scary. Fortunatlely, it never got quite that bad. I did, however, re-read the instructions on the package several times, just in case.

Today, I feel normal. Very, very, very itchy, but otherwise normal.