Monday, July 18, 2005
  Are You Ready for Some Blogging? A Monday Night...Party!
Just finished a nice surf n' turf salad for dinner - some baby shrimp and filet mignon on a bad of fresh greens. TLBR does not, I repeat, does not get cheated when it comes to the vittles.

With my belly full and my mind more full up (huh?) , let's commence a post:

*** Nothing crazy to recap from this weekend. Friday was great, to the tune of 17-1. Saturday was eventful, but not crazy. It began with a speeding ticket from one of Jamestown's finest. Little fucker, he's probably a summer intern. And why pull over the good, hard-working people of Conanicut Isle, when there are scores of fucking Connecticut, New York and New Jersey tourists clogging our roads and drinking our beer? It turned into a 100 dollar haircut, as I was headed to Ken's Barber Shop for a quick buzz of les cheveux. After the speed trap and session with the clippers (not the Donald Sterling-owned, rather, the electric type), the Sox/MFY game was on the slate.

The lunch - southern pulled pork platter with crack sauce - bbq sauce and hot mustard mix. It's more addictive than crack, I tell ya. Second-best condiment, next to hot chilli sauce, which was a food staple during the three-week trip to Australia (check!). After watching Matt Clement mow the Bombers down in the 1st and 2nd, he couldn't find the effing plate, walked three, and served it up to the universally reprehensible Gary Sheffield and the equally universally reprehensible A-Rod. Glad he did it all with two outs.

After spotting those rat bastards six runs, Jeff and I headed to the local Showcase for a matinee of "Wedding Crashers." Of course, I had to drink the remaining half-pint of crack sauce on the way out. I tell ya, I'd put it on my corn flakes.

Wedding Crashers rules. It is Old School funny. Vince Vaughn gave his best performance since Swingers. Owen Wilson was great too. And it featured a cameo that was second-to-none, unless you're counting Lance Armstrong's bit in Dodgeball. There are three distinctive parts to the flick - the first half-hour is all the stuff you saw on the previews. The next hour is fall-off-your-seat hilarious and the final few minutes is a predicable twist, but not without laughs and certainly not disappointing.

Saturday night was a quiet one and Sunday was spent in between naps and sleep. When I wasn't sleeping, I was napping. When I wasn't napping, I was eating. When I wasn't eating, I was thinking about getting a bite and taking a snooze. To me, it was a productive Sunday.

*** Yes, the Red Sox were disappointing this weekend. If you're really going to bang your head against the wall about it - which a year ago, I may have - consider that the boys have lost six of their last eight and, if you drive through the Bronx, you'll still see the Red flag fly on the left on the facade of the Halfway House that Ruth Built.

That's fine with me.

If a few plays went a few different ways, it's a four-game sweep for the defending World Champs. There were a few bad decisions by the manager, but that's not why the Sox lost three of four. It's a reminder: these two were the last two standing in the American League last Fall. They both lost a few cogs and gained a few. They're still both the class of the A.L. Granted, the MFY have not played up to snuff, but neither have the Sox. And the Sox have done this - first-place in mid-July - without the use of last year's ace of the staff, Curt Schilling. And they're prolly going to have to do it without him this year.

A look at the next 10: 6, home and home, with the Devil Rays and 3 at Chicago. The goal is to go 7-3. 6-4 is bare minimum. Do that, and the Sox will very well see themselves 3-4 games up again.

*** I'm not going to miss Mark Bellhorn. Thanks for last year, here are some lovely parting gifts.

Derek Lowe is on the block, so I hear. I'd like to re-acquire him. Both parties need to admit their foiables and move on. He deserves his #32 back. And Jeremi Gonzalez, well, he also deserves a spot after throwing some good innings of late.

As for Halama, put him on the Acela back to Sunnyside, Queens.

*** Speaking of Queens, to paraphrase John Blutarski, "Was it over when the Germann bombed Jamaica?"

Heh heh's schadenfraude and I revel in it.

*** Tomorrow a.m. begins the new eight-week program to a better me. It also coincides with Fifth Annual Shawn M. Nassaney race. Take a few minutes to look at this website and if you're in the area come Sept. 25, come on down to run/walk/cheer/volunteer for this terrific event.

But I need to shape up for this hilly, helly 5k run. The goal is always just to finish without walking, which I've done in my three attempts (one year I was unable to run). Last year, I got blown away by two friends' significant others. My goal is to not let that happen this year.

So for the next two weeks, I'm undertaking phase one of three: Operation Stress Fracture.

As the phases go, I'll keep you all updated on my fitness levels.

*** Tiger rules, Lance rules. I don't care if they dominate, if their personality quirks are sometimes stifling, or if the Swoosh p.r. machine is working overtime.

They're the best in their professions. They put forth the most on the field of competition. And they win. To me, they can't win enough.

I want to see Tiger hit 19. I want to see Lance hit 7.

*** Have you heard the song "You're Beautiful" on the radio? Unless you're like me and tune into BBC One daily, you haven't. But the song is good - in a bubble-gum chick song kinda way, but hey, I have my guilty pleasures.

And it's written a former officer in the British Army. Read more about James Blunt's song here.
More tonight, potentially. Have a good one till then.
"A look at the next 10: 6, home and home, with the Devil Rays and 3 at Chicago. The goal is to go 7-3. 6-4 is bare minimum."

6+3=9...this needs to be addressed.

-Your Editor
Screw you and your fuzzy math.

~ Zottman curl
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A daily - or every-other-day - account of all there is in my head
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(I vow to attack this endeavor with an enthusiasm unknown to mankind.)

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