Are You All Okay With This Yet?

Jennifer Aniston is a loser.

I've been saying this for years and when it all went south for her and Brad three years ago, I was the only one defending Brad (shocking, eh?). Everybody else was saying what an awful person he was, how Rachel, er, Jen, was so cute, how she handled herself with such class, how Brad was a jerk, how Angelina was a homewrecker, how Brad was a cheater, how Jen was so cute, how Angelina was a nut job, how Brad was a scumbag for being with Angelina while still with Jen, how Jen was so cute, how Angelina used to carry a vile of blood around her neck.

But now that the dust has cleared, we are finally seeing the truth. And the truth is that Brad made the right decision. Did it all go down "the right way?" No. But in love and life, things rarely go down the right way.

Why am I commenting on some nugget of celebrity gossip that is three years old? Because recently, Jen has been seen with John Mayer (which needs to be a whole other post. This guy definitely has a ten inch schlong because I do not understand how someone who wrote the lyrics "One pair of candy lips and your bubblegum tongue" gets the women he gets) and apparently, she said that John Mayer is way better in bed than Brad Pitt.

Classy Jen.

Now, this statement may not be true, but it's been out there for six days now without retraction from Jen. And so I ask you (and by "you" I mean all of you with two Xs in your chromosome pairing) Jen supporters... You still with her?

I've touched on the Brad/Jen/Angie subject before and we all know where I come down. And in matters like this, no one really ended up "right" and no one really ended up "wrong," but when this happened three years ago, I seemed to be the lone Brad defender. Rather than talk about mortgages and babies, all I ever wanted to talk about was the really important stuff... Like Brad and Jen's breakup.

And when I did talk about that I was SLAMMED with comments like...

"Brad is such a scumbag for leaving Jen..."
"Angelina is gross and weird..."
"Why would Brad ever leave Jen for Angelina..?"
"Brad just acts like Angelina and he has no personality of his own..."

And now, here we are, three years later and Jen is making this ridiculous comment regarding her sex life. And in the meanwhile, Brad has conducted himself with such dignity and class. And further, he has somehow- despite being half of the worlds most famous couple- maintained a LOW PROFILE!

I know that many of you will disgaree with me and that is okay, but considering they ARE the world's most famous couple, you don't see them much. Sure, we know they are having kids at rates usually found in rats and cockroaches and we also know they have done some stuff in New Orleans and Africa. And they have also found time to star in and gain critical acclaim for a few movie roles. But what else do we know? What controversy have they stirred? When have they acted like idiots?

They are rarely on shows like TMZ and Entertainment Tonight, they are not jumping on couches confessing their love, they are not showing up on Oprah talking about how they don't use deodorant, they are not talking about how difficult/beautiful/spiritual giving birth is, and they are certainly not comparing their current sex life to their past sex lives with partners Gwyneth Paltrow and Billy Bob Thornton.

On the other hand, Jen Aniston has dated a string of Himbos, no names, and no talents. She has starred in movies where she plays Rachel Green, and she has played the poor, little, cute dumped girl. And then she said her current tool bag of a boyfriend is better in bed than Brad Pitt.

Classless.

And where is the outrage? Where are you now Rachel Green defenders? Is she still the poor, cute, dumped girl she was three years ago? Or is she now a talentless hack who can't get over her ex-husband?

Look, I am by no means condoning what Brad did and how he and Angelina got together. I still feel for Jen every time I watch Mr. and Mrs. Smith (which is shockingly frequently) as I think of her watching it for the first time and saying, "my marriage is over." And I don't care what sort of public persona she puts up, but it has to kill her every time she sees Brad and Angie together. Imagine her seeing the above pic (and by the way, my boy still has it, despite talk that he is looking "weathered"). She has to ask herself, "what are they talking about? Is it loving? Dirty? An inside joke?" And I don't blame Jen for this. I bumped into a girl I dated twice and I hated that she was with another dude. She was supposed to like ME, not HIM! And I can only imagine that it's a thousand times worse for Jen. In fact, sometimes, when I hear a loud thump, I think it actually might be Jen hitting the pavement after she plunged off a building.

But what if Angelina and Brad ACTUALLY like each other? What if they stay together until death and make a family of 47 Pitt-Jolies? Then was it okay for Brad to pitch worthless Jen? Or should he have stayed in a miserable relationship, as so many other miserable couples do throughout America? Should he have given up something real just to stay with Jen? If they stayed together, yet were miserable, would all you Anistonites be happy?

I get it. Jen got hurt and so many of us could feel for cute little Rachel Green with her cute little hair cut because we too have also been hurt by a horrible partner like Brad. But it's three years later and Brad has still never said a bad word about Jen. He doesn't throw Angelina in Jen's face and he certainly doesn't talk about how good Angie is in bed.

I'm not sure why this whole thing still bothers me, but it does. I think it's more about people and their inability to change their minds than it is about Brad, Jen, and Angelina. I often get criticized for "changing" and for some weird reason, that's always an insult. I sure hope that I've changed. I sure hope that the 99 isn't my favorite restaurant- as it once was. I sure hope that Everybody Wang Chung Tonight isn't my favorite song- as it once was. And I sure hope that I don't find hair with lots of Aqua Net in it sexy- as I once did.

Three years ago, Brad dumped Jennifer Aniston for Angelina Jolie. It looked bad and it was easy to hate on Brad. But things change. Brad has done everything he can to make up for his "atrocities" and Jen has... Well, Jen has talked about her sex life with a guy whose 15 minutes of fame is at 14:51 right now.

And three years later, Brad looks like the class act, while cute Rachel Green look like a scorned ex-wife who can't get over her ex.

Game, set, match.

Brad wins.

And it's time you all saw that. It's okay to change your mind. Especially when you were wrong.

Second Place Is First Loser

Losing sucks. You try your best to be a good loser and be gracious in defeat and sometimes, that makes it even worse because the winner is always falsely nice in these situations. Essentially, they are sayin, "I'm so sorry you lost. But not as sorry as I would have been had I lost."

And I know losing. Believe me.

I've lost to Soda Popinski repeatedly, countless Texas Hold'em Hands, six straight times to Denny Doble in NHL '93, an argument about what three players made up Run TMC, 96-20 in an intramural hoop game, the Brady/Bledsoe argument, the eighth grade best dressed superlative, 4996 out of 5000 ping pong matches with my brother, my fingernail when I hammered it, the ability to hit a wiffle ball, Flint's awesome shotgun, Trivia Pursuit when I was up by five pie pieces, my shirt betting against the 2001 Patriots, my dinner the night I played "catch up" with Thornton and Turner at the Bruins game, that playoff game to my brother in Griffey Jr. Baseball for the N64, $85 dollars in change playing blackjack at 10 Hitching Post, my cell phone reception while asking a girl out, my bathing suit in a wave, lots of hair.

I've lost a $50 Banana Republic Gift Certificate, my black Puma pants, my Han Solo Ringer Tee, my Use Your Illusion I CD, my copy of Baby Proof, my copy of Gattaca on DVD, my UMass hoodie, an awesome Empire Strikes Back poster, sunglasses, my grad school diploma, that Whopper Cossari boought me on the way to white water rafting, every arm wrestling match, a huge bass, a margarita off the side of a boat, the cable bill every month, my lucky Hula Popper lure, a slice of Antonios on he street, pictures from high school, my ticket stub to the world premiere of Kill Bill, wiffle balls in gutters, my favorite baseball glove, my ability to form a coherent sentence, my ATM card on consecutive weekends, twelve straight hands of blackjack at Foxwoods, my sweet black bracelet, directions to my VCR, my Boba Fett pen, my ability to pre-game with twelve beers, a favorite pair of boxers, a sneaker in the mud of Mr. Meanie's yard, my big yellow Tonka Dump Truck, Stratego pieces, the spinner to Life, a twelve page paper in grad school, my brothers Bose head phone cover, my chapter reviews for Great Expectations in Mr. Roussell's English class, and countless golf balls across the courses of Massachusetts.

I've lost it while watching Billy Elliot, You Can Count On Me, Stand By Me, The Breakfast Club, Saving Private Ryan, Good Will Hunting, My Girl, Return of the Jedi, Love Actually, The Princess Bride, Before Sunrise, Gattaca, The Sixth Sense, High Fidelity, Sideways, and Before Sunset.

I've lost it while listening to Angeles, Wonderwall, Chasing Cars, The Trapeze Swinger, Pink Moon, Crystal Village, Some Way Some How, A Million Reasons, Sittin On the Dock of The Bay, Into The Mystic, No Mermaid, Chocolate, Tunnel of Love, Torch Singer, Say Goodbye, The Sound of Settling, Let Down, Trouble, Did You ever Look So Nice, Taxi Ride, Tell Me, and Fix You.

I've lost nine straight years in my fantasy baseball league, everything I've eaten on the annual camping trip, the seventh grade science fair, countless arguments, the coin flip to decide who was starting the Pee Wee All Star Game, the RBI title on the last day of the very next season, my temper, my ability to listen, my composure, loads of brain cells, touch with friends, the respect of friends, the trust of friends, memories of childhood, memories of high school, memories of college, memories of my twenties, memories of my thirties, memories of what I had for breakfast yesterday.

I've lost my father, my dog, my childhood home.

I've lost my way, my confidence, my positive attitude, my belief in love, my self esteem, my compassion, and my will to continue.

And I've lost an election.

And suddenly, that doesn't seem so bad.

Mess With This Toy And I'll Run You Over

Before we get to today's post, just want to throw out a belated Happy Mother's Day to my loyal readers (actually, are any mothers who read this?) and a big congratulations to my little bro Mike, who'll be picking up his law degree this Sunday. On to the post...

In case you live under a rock or maybe just don't watch TV, read the newspaper, use the internet, listen to the radio, or interact with human beings, you probably know about that really good looking lady who ran down the Red Sox fan in her car.

As I have long stated, the whole Red Sox/Yankees thing is beyond my scope of comprehension. It used to be limited solely to drunken, moustache toting Bostonians of the seventies, it died out in the eighties when the Sox were dominating and the Yankees were running out line ups with guys named Wayne Tolleson and Dan Pasqua (why aren't they in Monument Park?), and then it became everyone's thing in the nineties and to the present. It's even become something for white trash to enjoy. So now, not only can white trash lay claim to six teeth, Jeff Foxworthy, and Canadien Tuxedos, they can also call the Red Sox/Yankees rivalry their own. In fact, they enjoy it so much and participate in it with such great fervor, that they can mow down someone who disagrees with their opinions of sports teams.

And so this got me to thinking. Why would I run over someone? And what would they have to do for me to run them over? I've had some experience running stuff over, like curbs, nails, and screws (I swear I need a new tire every month), but I've never run over a person. I almost ran over a squirrel as it dashed in front of my car and someone managed to come out on the other side unscathed. But are there people in my life that I may have run over someone had I had access to an automobile at that exact moment? I think there are...

Jeff- We were friends growing up, but one year, the day after Christmas, he pissed me off. Why? Because he ran out and bought the exact same pair of Reebok high tops that I myself got for Christmas. I got the Reeboks just as they were coming out and establishing themselves on the market. They were a nice alternative to Air Jordans and they were certainly classier than those low rent ZZZips. And they were going to look money with my blue paisley sweatshirt and quasi middle school mullet. Most importantly though, I was going to be the only one to have them. So, after calling Mark, Gregg, and Jeff and finding out "what they got" for Christmas, we met up and took shots on Gregg's new net. Jeff, who didn't get my sneakers, took one look at them and apparently, went out and purchased them the next day. I remember Mark telling me the next morning as we were shooting hoops and I absolutely wanted to mow down Jeff. Somehow, I squelched my desire to do this. It also helped that I didn't know how to drive and didn't have access to a car.

Adrian Lynne- In 1987, Adrian Lynne made a film called Fatal Attraction. I opened to rave reviews, was nominated for an academy award and is rumored to be the reason that extramarital affairs dropped by 30% that same year. I actually like the film and when it's on now, I definitely watch it. Mostly I watch it in an attempt to determine if Anne Archer and Michael Douglas' kid is a boy or a girl. But, back twenty years ago, I wanted to run over Adrian Lynne. Badly. He was directly responsible for the most uncomfortable moment of my life. I remember my father bringing home the movie on VHS and so we decided to sit down and watch it. My mother heard it was a good film, so she sat down and watched it too. She rarely watched movies and it was a shock when she sat down. It was an even bigger shock when - out of the blue- Glenn Close went down on Michael Douglas in the elevator. Then, Douglas starts banging Close on the kitchen sink and it all came unglued for me. Before Fatal Attraction, I used to have an uncanny knack for recognizing when the sex scene was coming and I would get up and get a drink. But Fatal Attraction caught me way off guard. And in turn, caused me the most uncomfortable moment I've ever had with my parents. Thanks Adrian Lynne for making me watch sex scenes with my parents.

Rick, Nick, and Dan- When I was on the minor Cubs, I dominated. I was Pedro of 1998. I swear that I threw harder than Danny Almonte from 45 feet. Then, we met the Yankees under the lights at Simonds Park. The Yankees had a "young" guy as their head coach and everybody thought they were awesome. All my "friends" told me the Yankees were going to beat us as we were both tied with undefeated records. I was confident that wasn't going to happen and so was my coach, Mr. Krol who saved me earlier in the week so I could pitch against the Yankees. I cruised through the first two innings and then I ran into some trouble. The Yanks hit back to back doubles and then a single. Before I knew it, I had let up a run and it was first and third. Nick Saia (will get to him in a second) dropped a pop up to load the bases. Our coach argued that it should have been the infield fly rule, but the ump said that was only used at the Babe Ruth level. I remember thinking I should have just bowled Nick over and caught it myself, but I didn't. On the very next play, Dan Kornetzky let a grounder go through his legs and another run scored. I then got a strikeout and an out at home on a grounder back to the pitcher. My boy Alan Crowell was catching and he made a great catch and even tried to turn a 1-2-3 double play. Then Rick Gillette came up. Rick was kind of a skid and he was in the grade above me. I didn't know much about him other than that. I don't remember him being very good at baseball (this was an assumption that would hurt a few pitches later) and so I remember thinking I was going to get of the inning easily. Needless to say, I didn't. In fact, I served up a grand slam. Not an inside the park one, but an over the fence one. You know, the type that happened in Little League about as often as a Tsunami. As Rick rounded the bases, I remember everyone cheering, cars were honking from the parking lot, Paul Martin's father with his ridiculous Texas accent was going nuts from the stands, and loser, young, cool Coach Burnham met Rick Gillette at home plate and gave him a big bear hug. Meanwhile, I had to choke back tears, I asked out of the game circa Clemens in '86 and my baseball career was never the same. I remember Coach Krol being really supportive and wanting me to stay in the game, but I said I "hurt" my arm (who hurts their arm in little league?!?) and got removed. Sometimes, when the demons come, I still remember shitty Nick Saia and Dan Kornetzky misplaying those gimmies. I should have pulled a Wade Boggs and gone up to the official scorer and make sure my ERA wasn't hurt, but I wasn't savy enough for that. If only I were the selfish prick I am now, then maybe I would have been less hurt. I could have blamed it all on Nick and Dan and been no worse for the wear. Boy was being young, nice, and modest stupid. So, Rick, Nick, and Dan, these Goodyears are for you.

Whomever Told Ginger I Was Calling Her That Night- Back in the spring of 1991, I was determined to go to the prom with Ginger, the hottest girl in our grade. Now, what made me- a low tier, unathletic, not tough, minger in the high school social strata- think that Ginger was going to go with me, I don't know. But I did. Of course, to go with her, I had to ask her, which no one believed I was going to do. Well I was going to do it. And to prove that I actually did it, I was going to have a "Calling Ginger Party" in the basement of my house. So, I had Brian, Marc, Dave, Mike, Dan, Al, Gregg, and Kev over (a lame party I know, but I was/am a lame kid) and we played some cards and then at 9pm (the original time was 8, but I delayed), I looked up Ginger in the local phone directory, and dialed her seven digits on our downstair rotary phone. Somebody other than she answered the phone and I said (just as my mother taught me), "Hello, may I speak with Ginger please." The person on the other line said yes and they put the phone down and I waited. And waited... And waited. The total wait was likely ten minutes. I kept telling my friends "Shes, coming, she's coming!" But she wasn't. And she never did. She just left me waiting on the phone. I wasn't sure which of my friends said, "Gerard. She's not going to pick up, so I think you should hang up." But I eventually hung up. I remember being disappointed and needless to say, I didn't go to the prom (with Ginger or otherwise) and I was scarred for a good amount of time. Word spread quickly over the next few days that I asked her and I garnered a a fair amount of respect just for ATTEMPTING to ask her. Years later (seriously, it was years. I found out from her friend who I worked with while in college) that Ginger had been tipped off that I was calling her and had a friend pick up the phone and they planned on doing that all along. Turns out that Ginger was meaner than The Plastics!!! Really, I should have been mad at her, but I wasn't. I was mad at the leak. To this day, I still think it might have been Dave who claimed to be my friend, but really never was. He was one of those guys who had so little about himself figured out that he liked to put his misery on other people. Anyways, had I known who it was, my sweet Cutlass would have mowed them down, no doubt.

Grady Little- Timlin in the eighth, Williamson in the ninth Grady. Not Pedro for his 120th pitch. Thankfully, 2004 happened and so it would have sucked to be sitting in jail right now doing life and getting ass raped Derek Vinyard style for running over a guy who now has absolutely no bearing on my life.

Mike- Yes, this would be my brother Mike. At one time or another, we've all probably wanted to run over a sibling. But this one time in particular, I definitely wanted to mow Mike down (of course, I'm now very happy I didn't, as Mike is directly responsible for introducing me to 70% of the bands I like. Further, he's a pretty good kid. I guess.). Mike used to use my G.I. Joe action figures a lot. It was never a huge problem for me, until the thumbs of figures started to break. The frustration of this sounds preposterous, but most of the fun of G.I. Joe figures was arming them with the cool guns and without thumbs, they couldn't hold guns. So basically, they were rendered useless because how was a thumbless G.I. Joe guy supposed to enter into battle sans M203 or MP-5? I mean, were they supposed to just run around and give orders? Not to mention, how were they going to answer the phone in my fictional world? What if Lady Jane called Flint for a quickie (on the kitchen sink maybe?)? He wouldn't be able to pick up the phone because he was without thumbs (maybe this is why Ginger didn't pick up)? Anyways, Mike used to break thumbs on my G.I. Joe guys. I'm not sure why he was so amazingly skilled at breaking thumbs, but breaking thumbs he did. It wasn't bad when he broke Cutter's thumb or even Gung Ho's because they were lame, but the shit HIT THE FAN when Mike broke Storm Shadow's thumbs. I remember coming home and finding a thumbless Storm Shadow and confronting him on it and of course, he gave me the teary eyed shrug as if he was unsure who broke them. But we both know who did, and because I was an angst filled kid, I went into an absolute rage. I probably slapped him or gave him an Indian Sunburn (that was hardly a racist phrase, huh?) or maybe even spit on him, but whatever I did, I'm sure I freaked. Over the years, I've repaid Mike for that by wearing his shirts and stretching them out, getting a pull on his sweater, breaking his Bose headphones, and never cleaning the blender (man, I think he should have broken MANY more thumbs for all the stuff of his I've wrecked), but at the time, I was pretty upset. And for those of you out there who used to make Storm Shadow and Snake Eyes battle it out with swords (at 34, that now sounds really, REALLY funny), you'll understand me wanting to run over my cute, lovable little brother for breaking Storm Shadow's thumbs.

The Guy Who Invented Alcohol- Very often, I want to hug it out with this guy, but looking back on my life, I probably should run him over because I would have saved myself a ton of money, fat, and bad decisions. Not to mention the fact that I would probably get far more done were it not for alcohol. I'd also probably get far more done if I didn't spend so much time entertaining myself with this stupid blog. Actually, you know what? Now that I've had time to proof read this latest post, I probably should have just run MYSELF over. It would have saved me a lot of irritation. It probably would have saved YOU a lot of aggravation as well, huh?

Even With The Side Wind, The Comeback Is Strong...

Shockingly, I have had a couple (and by "couple" I mean exactly two) people ask me, "where's your next post?" Needless to say, I was psyched.

So because I've gone on blog vacation (and because I was actually BUSY at work if you can believe it) many an issue has backed up in my brain and so I'm going to go with the Ryan/Shaughnessy emptying out the blog desk drawer of the mind...

You might notice the groovy picture to the right. That's me and my roomate and still great friend Brian. The picture was taken by Jay sixteen years ago. His parents found a bunch of Jay's old photogs as they were converting his old bedroom into a play den for the grandchildren. And this is the result. 37 emails and a deluge of memories later, I was so happy Jay spent the ridiculous amount of money he spent to get these pics turned into digital photographs. It turned a lame Tuesday into a phenomenal Tuesday. And if any of you have the ability to do this for your friends, please do it. It was phenomenal in a way that only great memories can be...

Two weeks ago, I saw Tapes 'N Tapes at the Paradise. I don't mean to be the guy who pretends he only sees obscure bands in small venues and so that is not what this is about. But there is nothing better than the few seconds of silence following a band first coming onstage and them ripping into the chords of their opener. Don't care who you are, where you are, or what you are seeing. The anticipation and feeling of complete happiness at that moment is tough to match...

Speaking of music (and Tapes 'N Tapes), with the weather nice last week, it's tough to not want to drive around with all your windows down and crank tunes. That is why I never get mad at people blasting reggatone outside of my apartment because I understand exactly the feeling of wanting to do that. And so my three favorite songs to crank in my car with the windows down RIGHT NOW (this is always subject to change) are Silversun Pickups "Melatonin", Jimmy Eat World "The Middle", and "Le Ruse" by Tapes 'N Tapes. Please, please, please download Le Ruse. This song needs to be a monster hit and if it doesn't show up on an Apple or car commercial this summer, I'll eat my hat...

Back to Shaughnessey. He wrote a column Tuesday (maybe Wednesday) about Bob Lobel that was absolutely amazing. I've often "heard" (you know, because I'm so connected to the industry) that media and print guys never got along and while I've always thought Lobel was a tool, the article by Shaughnessy is pure class. So you can dump on some of his pieces all you want and you can hate him because his opinions are strong and clearly stated, but Shaughnessy writes some articles that are so moving the hair on your arms stands up...

Speaking of the hair standing up on your arms (and ignoring my no movie promise), the film The Orphanage was great. The more I've thought about it, the more I love it. Without giving too much away, it ends up being a film that is a lot more moving that it at first seems it should be. And just so you don't yell at me, it is in subtitles. Get over it...

There really isn't better television than The Bachelor. I love when people feel that they are "above" this show because it is such awesome TV. Not to mention the fact that I am CONVINCED that sociology professors will eventually make it required viewing as the insight into the female relationships are incredible. But the worst part is that Matt is going to pick lame-o Shayne "I'm the daughter of Lorenzo" Lamas and her doughy body. I can't believe he gave Noelle the gate. Noelle, I liked those hips in the Sevens. British Matt may have cut you loose, but if you need some emotional support, I'm here for you. But you gotta wear that same outfit...

My favorite author Emily Giffin (I believe she's an acceptable author to like according to that NY Times piece) has a new book coming out on May 13th. Because she is so damn talented, I'm sure it well be painfully cheesey, super relevant to my age, challenging in a way that chick-lit shouldn't be, really funny, cliche, extremely well written, and difficult to put down. I can't wait...

What's weirder: Watching the Red Sox at a bar and witnessing people go crazy over a guy getting a two out single in the eighth inning of a tie game in April or me and my brother laughing hysterically at the disappointment of said fans when Jed Lowrie gets gunned at the plate..?

I have to be honest. I'm kind of sad I never heard back from my mystery commenter/maker of the Gerard vodoo doll. I was hoping they'd get back to me, if only to keep drama in my life. Maybe this will work: Hey mystery commenter... I'd beat you in Scrabble because I'm way smarter than you and I can do more push ups than you because I'm way fitter than you...

For everyone elses sake, the sarcasm was clear there, right..?

Hopefully, you've all heard about Dr. Pepper's promotion to give everyone in America a free Dr. Pepper when the new Guns N Roses album, Chinese Democracy drops. I don't like Dr. Pepper, but I hear that your taste buds change every seven years, which is perfect because that's when Chinese Democracy will hit stores and maybe I'll like Dr. Pepper in 2015...

I've actually been watching the NHL playoffs (PUT IN KESSELL!!!) and I know absolutely nothing about the game or the league, but I think that working to market Ovechkin and Crosby would be a really good idea. Even I made a point to watch them. Plus, watching the NHL is now cool because to be a hockey fan is to be a contrarian...

On a negative hockey note, I was proud to be a member of Masshole Nation when I heard the stories of Bruins fans pissing on Canadien fans. Between that and Bar Hopping Bostonians rooting for a random white Russian girl as she overtakes the black girl, it might be time to be like white people and threaten to move to Canada...

Anybody see Julia Roberts on Oprah? I didn't, but then I watched it on youtube. Two words to describe the woman who played Vivian Ward: Worth. Less...

Why oh why do I still listen to sports talk radio? It is my version of crack. I know I should quit. I know it's bad for me. I know that the Four Horsemen will eventually drive me insane. But like a crack addicts' high (I'm assuming), those six awesome minutes I get each week of Tony Maz bitch slapping The Big O and making a passive/aggressive comment about Glenn asking Belichik a hard hitting question keep me coming back...

Speaking of football, you likely know that I can't understand the football draft, but people love it and find it entertaining and that's fine. So I ask, why doesn't baseball do the same thing? Make it an all day affair, put it on ESPN (I mean, they are showing the Florida Spring Game, which I'm still not clear on what that "game" consists of), bring in Gammons, Steve Phillips, Fernando Vina, Jayson Stark, and have them break the whole thing down. Yeah, we know nothing about these players, but outside of fifteen guys in the NFL draft, we know nothing about THOSE guys either. We say we do because we read magazines and stuff, but at the end of the day, Tom Brady was drafted 199th, so really, what do we KNOW?!? I mean, I'll help out with MLB draft. I got some canned Kiperesque phrases all set right now: "Nick Young has ALL the makings of a future big league ace. He's got a high 90s fastball, a plus slider, and a dominating circle change. He reminds me of a young Frank Viola sans the porn moustache. The only concerning thing is his violent delivery, which has rotator cuff surgery written all over it." Think about this. I could make "violent delivery" become the MLB version of the NBAs "long wingspan." I'm gonna make this happen, sort of like The National Geographic Channel is trying to make Nat Geo happen...

And lastly, on Marathon Monday while my friends and I were... Um... Watching the marathon (and listening to everyone cheer on the white girl), my sister and I talked about how not impressed we are by people who "finish" the marathon. My brother in law Matt then asked, "well, what are you two impressed by?" A fair question. Here's a few of my responses: Someone who finishes the Sunday Globe Crossword; a person who plays an instrument; the guy who created Stuff White People Like; someone who was valedictorian of their class and never mentions it until I've known them for five years; a person who DOESN'T talk about how smart their children are; someone who asks me how my day is; a person who plays Abel on the jukebox at Magouns; a person who gets a Seinfeld, Pulp Fiction, or Swingers quote; Chuck Klosterman; a person who knows multiple languages; whoever invented flavored vodka; someone who knows Geography; Mariano Rivera; awesome snow boarders; Randy Shugart and Gary Gordon; people who laugh at The Far Side; pilots; people who read The Atlantic Monthly and don't talk about reading The Atlantic Monthly; the inventor of chocolate chip pancakes; people who think Cranium is overrated and boring; someone who is really good at funneling beers; Ken Jennings; Bostonians who like Joe Torre; Nick Hornby; and people who understand and appreciate my irrational hatred of coconut...

Ladies, Could We Try Something Else Please?

Note: Portions of this post were culled from drunken rants/discussions/loud agreements from my equally idiotic siblings.

I'm really excited about Marathon Monday.

As a white person, I thoroughly enjoy the marathon.

Not because I am running in it and can take a picture of myself crossing the finish line with my number clearly visible, but because I like to drink on that day.

But what I am not looking forward to is seeing a lot of North Face jackets.

There are some fashion trends I'll never understand. Those high waisted, pleated jeans that supermodels are wearing are not good. And I'm not a huge fan of Fedoras (although if I start wearing one soon, please ignore that last sentence). And over the years, I have been guilty of many a fashion crime (I went to college still pegging my pants. Thanks for that Burlington, Mass). In fact, by this time next year, I'll probably have to purge half my wardrobe as GQ will tell me that it is out.

But I really don't get The North Face jacket thing.

If you visit The North Face website, a picture of a guy who looks like a character out of a Jack London novel can be seen hiking along what appears to be a river on Hoth. If you take an extended trip around the North Face website, you will read tales of people hiking in the Himalayas, guys running 80 mile races, and teams climbing the Karst Towers (these look kinda challenging)
in Yangshou, China. Nowhere do I see photos of sorority girls and recent Tufts grads (this is getting like Shaugnessey/Schilling) walking up in down Newbury Street as they combine their North Face with a pair of Uggs and some Sevens.

Now I understand that utilitarian clothing becomes trendy every once in awhile. I certainly didn't need all those pockets (usually used for ammunition and grenades) that were on my cargo pants in 1997 and I do not have a beret to fill the epaulets that currently adorn half my wardrobe.

But 85% of the dudes I know would die before they wore a button down with an epaulet and so my real question is how has outerwear that was designed to be worn by sherpas become THE go to clothing item for sorority girls, suburban women on their night out, and young urban moms pushing Jack and Lexi around in their Bugaboo Baby Stroller?

With most fashion trends, the said trendy item only OCCASSIONALLY shows up. Take for example the skinny tie. You can hate it all you want, but it is not EVERYWHERE you turn. Stroll through your workplace RIGHT now and you will be surprised if you see two skinny ties and those guys will probably stop wearing them because they are sick of people asking them if they are auditioning for the lead singer of a Killers cover band.

On the other hand, I can be at a bar (most likely), Target, Annas, a Red Sox game, Bloomingdales, my worthless workplace, the gas station, Whole Foods (I think they are required attire here), or the movies and I'll see 18,467 women wearing some sort of fleece pullover with The North Face emblem on it.

And that's my main issue with The North Face. The sheer volume of them. Once, I saw some girl wearing a jacket that could only be described as a cocoon and of course, she went with this larvae look because the little rainbow like quarter arc North Face symbol showed up on it. Little did she know that she looked like an oversized Tootsie Roll. Now granted, the look was ridiculous, but at the very least, she was ATTEMPTING to be different. The ubiquity of these jackets is stunning on two counts: 1) Trends rarely last this long and 2) It's shocking because women all hate each other so much and so it is a surprise that they ALL want to fashionably express themselves in precisely the same way. What ever happened to being a little different and standing out? I mean c'mon ladies! Mix it up! Please! Short of a Patriots Starter Jacket, try another form of outerwear! How about a UMass hoodie? One that is extra boxy and ill fitting though?

Anyways, the weather (theoretically) is getting warmer and so we should have a few months off from The North Face Phenomenon (unless North Face thinks to invent The North Face Tank Top). But, if it is rainy and/or below seventy on Monday, I guarantee you I will see enough North Face jackets to keep every Inuit in the world toasty warm for ten generations. I also guarantee that I will see myriad Uggs, plenty of denim skirts (too cold to do without the fleece shell, yet strangely, not cold enough to don pants) a fair share of Varitek jerseys, and plenty of pink hats. But we'll save that rant for mid September when the Sox are mired in third and the Pink Hats have all dried up.

Oh, and I bet I see a tribal or two. That is if I can still see of course.

I Can Tell That We Aren't Gonna Be Friends

Over the past couple of months, I've had to spend substantial amounts of time around a person I find to be the most loathsome person on Earth (in the interest of retaining my position as Worst Teacher in America, I have to leave his/her name out). Not only is this person a wretched human, but we have virtually nothing in common. For starters, this person has a Billy Joel ringtone on his phone.

But, it is important to point out that not even I am so shallow as to judge someone solely on their ringtone. In addition to the ridiculous ringtone, s/he has many other worthless personality traits. There are so many, that it is impossible to list them all, so I won't. Just know that I have more in common with my friends toddler aged children and 85 year old women.

Thinking about this cat, I began musing about all the other worthless dudes I come into contact with such as the really annoying dude I was talking to at the gym the other day (he corrected my lifting technique), David Cook from Idol, and the soon to be uber annoying Dustin Pedroia.

And then that got me to do MORE thinking (I bet you can smell the wood burning). What does it take for me to absolutely not be friends with someone? What are, essentailly, the deal breakers? The deal breaker phenomenon is often detailed, but it's usually on the dating scene (check out the awesome NY Times article I linked to the right).

But what will it take to be a "friend" deal breaker? Realistically, it's probably not what you originally think. You might think your friends need to have many of the same interests as you and this is true to a degree. But sometimes, you just have different interests. For example, I can't dislike one of my friends because they don't dress like me. I read GQ, they don't. It's not like I'm creating any new trends here, I'm just reading what they aren't. And that's fine. There are countless other examples, but if you really think about it, your best friends are probably not clones of you. In fact, the people that I have met who others say are exactly like me, I usually end up hating (this is a fascinating piece of my personality and one that I would pay a psychologist/sociologist unlimited amounts of money to try to explain to me).

Of course, I certainly would have a hard time being friends with a bible thumping, Christian rock listening, NASCAR fan, but in reality, I have many differences from my friends. Half my friends are staunch conservatives who I have to ask to stop using the word fag. They participate in fantasy football, drink Coors Light, and wear pleated pants, but still I'm friends with them. Why? Well, mostly because when you break it down, my good friends hold many of the same core beliefs I do (highly immoral, cynical, beer drinking, sarcastic pricks). Also, the fact that we do differ is fun and as we all know, I need to be called on my moronic behavior from time to time and so it is good having these ass clowns in my life.

So what would it REALLY take for me to realize that I absolutely cannot be friends with someone? What highly offensive, highly immoral behavior can they participate in to make me hate them forever? Lots of things. But here are a few of the dudes I would never be friends with.

Dude With Boy Peeing on Ford/Chevy Decals: I'm not even sure what the name of these stickers are, but if you have one on your truck, there is absolutely no way we can be friends. Who puts this on their truck? What guy says, "You know what would complete my truck and truly show people just who I am? Why, a sticker with a picture of a young boy urinating on my chief competitors truck." Can you honestly imagine ever putting this on your truck? The only thing that would make this person more dislikable is if they had a sticker next to it that read "Keep Working Hard. Millions On Welfare Depend On You." And lastly, could I really be friends with someone who drives a Ford pickup anyways?

Dude Who Reads Self Help Books: Yes, I know I touched on this in a previous post, but it's so wretched I need to revisit it. Here's some self help from me: Don't read self help books.

Dude Who Likes Pearl Jam Just A Bit Too Much: Let me explain. I love Pearl Jam. Always have. I have an ambiguously gay picture of me and my high school friends doing the Ten pose together in 1992. And who doesn't love Eddie Vedder (I should probably start liking him a bit more since Brad has decided to start dressing exactly like him as evidenced by his outfit on Idol Gives Back Wednesday night)? But, some people are just SOOOOOOOOOOOO into Pearl Jam and they refuse to acknowledge that over the past 17 years, other bands have released music. Plus, loving Pearl Jam gives you credibility in many circles. If you love Pearl Jam, then you are a hit with a truly manly man as all truly manly men love Pearl Jam. And any current music afficianado or indie wannabe owes many thanks to the greatness of Pearl Jam. But Vedderphiles, I ask you to just do this: BRANCH OUT! There's tons of great music out there and it's okay to try it sometime. In fact, there are even some bands who put on a live show AS GOOD as the vaunted Pearl Jam live show (this band The National that I may or may not have mentioned before comes to mind). So while I love Pearl Jam and I love those that love Pearl Jam, I cannot be around the person who thinks that the only album released in 2000 was Binaural.

Dude Who Wears Tank Tops Out: As I stated at the beginning, fashion rules aren't really fair. But to me, this really isn't even a rule. It's a fact. I think the eleventh commandment says, "Thou Shall Not Wear A Tank Top Out."

Dude With Arm Band Tattoos (I think they are called tribals): I understand tatoos. I love them. I kinda want a Millenium Falcon. But the wrap around arm tattoo? You can't be serious. Put on an Armani Exchange t-shirt, get a blow out and throw some LA Looks gel in it, go tanning, and THEN get the tribal tattoo and maybe, MAYBE I'll be friends with you.

Dude Who Actively Participates In The Sweet Caroline Sing-a-Long At Fenway: I had to sit through a lot of Ivan Calderon/Tom Brunansky/Kevin Romine/Randy Kutcher/Bob Zupcic outfields before getting to enjoy a dynasty. And what happens? A bunch of chuckahs jump on the bandwagon. I'll tell ya, I didn't see a lot of tribal tattoos at the games then. Now, everyone is a Red Sox fan. This is fine (I say it's fine, but in actuality, I think it was cooler when Luis Rivera and his excessive spitting manned the middle infield) and dandy. I understand why people jump on the bandwagon. But for the love of ham, don't be a dude and participate in the Sweet Caroline sing a long! That's for the Pink Hats, the guys who mispronounce Wily Mo Pena, and the dudes who say, "The Sox are losing 3 to 6." Plus, the only good thing about Neil Diamond is that Will Ferrel skit.

Dude Who Likes The WAAF Morning Show: I have more in common with Margaret Thatcher than I do with the guy who thinks that the wisdom Greg Hill deseminates is wisdom.

Dude Who Doesn't Like Sideways: I struggled with the movie measuring stick. I thought about substituting Pulp Fiction for Sideways, but then, if you didn't like Pulp, not only can you not be my friend, but you also have to be shot. Then I thought about discussing Caddyshack, but I've been down that road. So I settled on Sideways because if you are anywhere near the ages 30-115, you should identify with the characters. And if you don't, then you A) Know nothing about yourself or B) Are an idiot.

Dude Who Thinks Pink Floyd is "Influential": Quick, name a contemporary band that was influenced by Pink Floyd. And no, The Alan Parsons Project is not contemporary.

Dude Who Really Likes Wes Anderson: How this is not a stuff white people like entry, I don't know. But liking this guy means that you think you know something about good movies (which, if you saw Life Aquatic, you don't) and it also means that you think you are "hip." Wes Anderson has to be on the list of stuff guys who used to get shoved in lockers and now try to like psuedo-intellectual, pretentious things because they are still so upset they got shoved in lockers and want to take that feeling of inferiority and channel it into film. Man I hate Wes Anderson. And make a new movie by the way.

Dude Who Talks About Running: Shut up! If you could, you'd take the running pill too. You don't do it for the "high." This probably needs to be an entirely separate blog, but stop talking about running buddy. I get it. You run. Lots of people do. You probably suck at it and hate it like everybody else, but you still talk about it as it is an especially good thing to put in your match.com interest section as it says to the world, "no, I am not an unfit guy." The only difference between dudes who talk about running and dudes who talk about fantasy football is that... Wait, there are no differences.

Dude Who DOESN'T Like Hang Me Up To Dry: I get way people don't like songs I like and I hope they get why I hate Rush. But Hang Me Up To Dry is a song that you have to like. If you don't, I have to question what your music taste is at all. Do you like John Tesh? Reggatone? What? Spoken word? Because if you don't like this song, you don't like music and if you don't like music, we aren't gonna be friends.

Dude Who Uses The Word "Overseas": This is the most pretentious word since closure. When someone says "overseas," I immediately stop hearing what they are saying because I am to busy trying to figure out why this dude is under the impression that I think he is important.

Dude Who Thinks Billy Crystal Is Funny: As Brett from WEEI said the other day, has this guy been relevant in fifteen years? Honestly, has he? If you say this guy is funny, what you are saying to me is that you are uninterested in being introduced to anything new.

Dude Who Went To Tufts: I especially hate you if your name is Jim and you were on my panel interview two years ago.

Good to see I've let that one go, huh?

Excuse MHS, Can I Still Get My Job Back?

Well, this is disconcerting. I probably shouldn't have handed my principal a letter of resignation with all of those colorful "suggestions" about how to better do his job. Anyways, here is the email that I got early this morning:

Gerad (did I spell that right?),

I'm really sorry about the confusion, but the email that I sent to you is actually incorrect. For some reason, I got you mixed up with my other client, Tom Brady.

My assistant Doug Ross, said to me that I need to send out an email to "Tom Brady, that guy Gerard is wicked jealous of and pretends to hate."

And because I was in a meeting with Zach Braff, one of my more important clients, I only heard, "send an email to... Gerard."

So, I know this is really embarrassing, but I regret to inform you that it is not your book Penguin is picking up. In fact, it is Tom Brady's. They found his autobiography particularly riveting. They really liked how he went from a California kid to this New York urbanite in just ten years. Then they loved the part about him taking the job from some stiff named Fredsoe. They also really liked the explicit details of his relationship with Gisele. Further, they found him a better writer than you and he even knew what "apogee" meant. Penguin heard you had to look that up when you saw it in The Atlantic.

Also, I meant to say a 50 MILLION dollar advance, not 50 thousand. Really, I don't know how I confused the two of you because you are just so different. Tom is so good looking, so fit, so well dressed, so talented, so well spoken, so intelligent, so athletic, so good at Scrabble!, so good at NHLPA 95, he went to a way better college, his package is way bigger, and he's way better at his job than you. In fact, I can't think of a single way that the two of you are alike. The only real similarity is the way his body looked at the combine in 2000 and the way your body looks today. Now THERE is a similarity! If it just weren't for gorgeous, intelligent, witty Zach Braff sitting in front of me distracting the hell out of me, I may have been more diligent. Anyways, I digress...

Well, stick with it Jerad. I'm sure your book, Garden State Revisted will be a big success. My assistant's, assistant's, assitant- who is a Cape Cod Community College intern- has been reading it and he thinks it's really, REALLY great. He especially likes the part where you have a kid wearing a shirt that is the same pattern as his grandmother's wallpaper and so he blends in! Really witty stuff Gerry!

My time is precious, so I gotta run. Diablo Cody is coming in for a 10 o'clock. We are discussing her remake of Star Wars. I guess it's going to be a revisioning where she takes a look at the really funny parts of Luke and Leia's mom's pregnancy. Should be a hoot. Then I got Dane Cook at 11. He's shopping a book about all his really funny jokes, like the predator sound effect.

You know how busy I am, but nice chatting. Again, sorry about the misunderstanding. Hope you didn't post that email on your myspace or facebook or whatever it is you have. Not that anyone reads it...

Anyways, be well Gregg...

-Angie

Bloggers Note... It's a big part of the blogosphere (hook up jumper cables to my nipples now: I just used the word blogosphere) to write witty April 1 entries. Check out the one on stuff white people like. Happy I got some of you. I was going to write a piece about me being the test case for the male birth control pill, but I wanted to go with something that was a little more UNBELIEVABLE! And if you look closely, you'll notice the names Doug Ross and David Mills. IMDb these names and you'll see they are characters played by a couple of dudes I worship... I mean like. And if you took the time to google the picture that accompanied the post, well... Sorry if I really bothered anyone by the way. Now, you won't believe it when it really does happen. Which it won't...

Bye, Bye Melrose

I hate when people talk about themselves. You guys should know this by now as I rarely try to talk about myself. I have never mentioned that I was the BHS Class of 1992 Best Dressed Male. I also never mentioned that I won and Academic Award for Gym Student of the Year. And I have definitely never talked about my blog or the fact that I listened to Pearl Jam when their album title was actually Mookie Blaylock and not Ten.

But I felt like after the email I got this morning, I should definitely spend some time this fine spring morning talking about myself. I'll let this speak for itself. Here is the email I received:

Re: Big News

Hey Gerard,

I know it's been awhile. How have you been? How is school? You should be in the stretch run by now, no?

Let me cut to the chase. After several years shopping your manuscript, someone has decided to take it on. David Mills at Penguin Group- a published located here in New York- has made a tentative proposal.

The details have not been finalized, but as I mentioned last month, Penguin has been reviewing No Long term Plan heavily and they want to send it to press. They are pushing for a summer release as the feel it will make for great (and coveted!) "beach reading."

They are proposing a first run of 5,000 copies and they want to go hardcover. They originally wanted to go in the direction of a trade paperback, but I really wanted the hardcover and I know you did as well.

I do not want to get you overly excited about the final details, but I've already called you twice this morning and if you could get back to me immediately, that would be much appreciated. You will have to come out here to New York as we still need to dot some i's and cross some t's, but my early reaction is a very positive one. We have discussed money only slightly, but Penguin usually likes to go with an advance of between $50,000 and $75,000, especially given my success with Emily's books.

Doug Ross, my assistant, will be drawing up the paperwork today and he will fax it over to you. When you arrive here in New York, we can go over the contract or if you'd like, you can hire a lawyer of your own. But if you want to save yourself some money, we can use our contract attorneys here at Literary Inc. In addition, I've worked with David before, so he should use similar language and it is stuff that you will easily understand.

So I'm very excited Gerard. Your patience has paid off. It looks like you might have to find some time to get out here next week and like I said, I'll have a proposed contract for you faxed today.

Be well Gerard and congratulations. We'll talk soon...

-Angie

Looks like this teaching thing is over...

My Sport Can Beat Up Your Sport

As I said yesterday. Fantasy Football is for fools. Fantasy Baseball will always be way better. Here's why:

10. Fantasy Baseball Has Manny: Not only is this guy a great REAL player, but he's the great fantasy player as well. And if you draft him, you get to watch him EVERY night. Granted, he won't steal many bases, but if outfielders cutting off throws were a category, he'd win. Sure, the Patriots had some great fantasy player to root for like Moss and Brady, but you probably didn't have Brady on your team because.....

9. Stupid Guys Like Willie Parker, Frank Gore, and Stephen Jackson Get Drafted Before All Stars: This is without doubt the stupidest thing about fantasy football (and so it should probably be number one). Everyone admits that in real football, you need a quarterback and that you can't win without one. We also now that there are two guys who can actually play the position well in the whole world. But for some strange reason, fantasy football makes these guys- who play the leagues most important position- go in the middle rounds. Where did the best player in football get picked last year? The fourth round? Fifth? Sixth? Alex Rodriguez is the best player in baseball and Albert Pujols is the second best. Guess where they go in a baseball draft? One, two.

8. In Baseball, You Get What You Pay For: Short of some freak injury, if you take David Oriz in the first round you get... David Ortiz. The same cannot be said for stupid football where first rounders are routinely underproductive or in fact, hurt. Back when I participated a few years ago, you had to take either Marshall Faulk or Priest Holmes at about the six pick, yet everyone knew these two were going to get hurt. It's weird. Imagine Rocco Baldelli HAVING to be a six pick? Stupid. Just stupid.

7. Baseball Has Guys That Look Like Us: Did you see that picture of Beckett as he threw a pitch and his shirt lifted up in the Globe? It was awesome. The guy made Phil Mickelson look fit. And then there's the reigning Cy Young Award winner. If you were to play a pick up game of ANYTHING, C.C. would be the last picked. But in baseball? He receives one of the most prestigious year end awards.

6. Fantasy Baseball Has Pedro And His Quotes: Granted, football has the two of the funnier sports moments of the last five years in "straight cash homey" and a dude doing sit ups in his driveway, but nothing is better than Pedro. Three classics that support this:
"I dominated the era and I did it clean."
"Who is Karim Garcia? I have no respect for that guy."
"Wake up the damn Bambino and have him face me. Maybe I'll drill him in the ass."

5. Setting Your Lineups: If I have to listen to one more ass clown tell me how he, "sat so and so because he was going against a tough defense and then he exploded," then I'm going to toss my cookies. You know what? DON'T SIT THE DUDE!!! And in what sort of fantasy sport do you sit good dudes because of who they are playing? Imagine sitting Kobe because he's going against lock down defender Bruce Bowen. Or benching Ryan Howard because he's facing two tough lefties in a row. Stupid fantasy sport with stupid over analyzing.

4. Stars, Stars, Stars: Fantasy baseball has them, fantasy football doesn't (who is this random Packers running back predicted to go high in fantasy football drafts? You know who goes high in fantasy baseball drafts? Johan Santana. Heard of him?). Sure, there are guys in fantasy football who put up great numbers in an individual year, but on a consistent, year in and year out basis, there are very few real stars with the exception of Brady and Manning. And as in said in number nine... Well, read number nine again...

3. Devin Hester: On the few occassions I've watched Sportscenter during the NFL season, I see this dude who apperas to be the most exciting player in football. He returns kicks on a regular basis and apparently, opposing teams have developed a strategy to NOT ALLOW HIM TO TOUCH THE BALL UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE. Guess where he gets drafted? Oh that's right, he doesn't. Jose Reyes is the most exciting player in baseball. I think he gets drafted. 17th round usually, but he's definitely drafted.

2. Tony Romo: He is the third guy picked at quite possibly the most important position in all of sport. And he's Tony Romo.

1. Without Fantasy, The NFL Would Be Nothing: Give me a second here. I understand the the NFL has currently supplanted my binkie, baseball, as Americas most popular sport (which is actually fine, since I hate most of America). But here's why: Fantasy. Where other leagues shun this dork ass world of fantasy sports, football EMBRACES IT!!! There are Fantasy Advice segments of pre-game shows. There is a Fantasy Corner column in one of the world's biggest newspapers, The Boston Globe. Networks track fantasy stats with a ticker along the bottom of the screen. ESPN has a television show in which celebrities (quasi celebrities that is) participate in a fantasy football draft.

Football knows that it is such a lame sport so they have EMBRACED fantasy and its geeks in order to garner more fans. I mean honestly, are you really watching that Bengals vs. Broncos game on Monday night if you didn't have, "Johnson and Cutler going tonight?" I'll tell you the answer to that. You wouldn't. Wanna know how I know? Because when you don't have a fantasy team, you could not care less.

Think about it. YOU don't have a fantasy hockey team and you are certainly not watching a Penguins/Capitals game on Monday night. Sure you can say you don't like hockey and it's boring, but this is a game that has two stars in Ovechkin and Crosby and you STILL won't watch it. Yet if they were on your fantasy hockey team, you most certainly would. I guarantee it. Try not having a fantasy football team one year and notice how free your Sundays are. Yes, you will always watch your home team because you are a fan, but if the Pats are playing Monday night and you are fantasy football free, I guarantee you will not spend you Saturday watching Marshaun Lynch and Michael Pittman (does he still play?)

And the NFL knows this. So they embrace fantasy in the hopes of keeping viewership at all time highs. Poo-poo (I just wrote poo twice) my theory all you want, but if you really think about it, you might just admit that I have a point. Albeit a relatively miniscule one.

Well, back to Rotoworld for me sports fans. I gotta see some updates on the Mariners and A's fifth starters.

Yes, I Do Know Who Led The Royals In RBI in 1997 (Dean Palmer)

There are many things that make me a geek. My Star Wars Shelf. The fact that I am the Chess Coach at MHS. My love for the daily crossword. I took Latin in college (lots of REALLY hot girls in that class).

But the single biggest bit of geekdom that I am involved in is Fantasy Baseball. And I love it.

Fantasy sports have evolved to the point where EVERYBODY has a fantasy football team. Even women. In fact, a woman my brother knows said to him recently, "I can't wait for fantasy football to start up again." Cross her off the list of people I want to date. Other things that I find uber geeky are also now culturally acceptable, like golf, liking David Archuletta, and watching musicals.

But for some reason, fantasy baseball is still considered by the masses to be SUPER geeky. Maybe it's because we use acronyms like VORP (which I bet less than 1/100th of the population uses). Or maybe it's because baseball players don't tackle each other. Or maybe it's because we ask questions like, "Now that Scott Rolen is out, does Marco Scutaro go for $3.00? Or should I take a flier on John MacDonald?"

But it's always kind of confused me why fantasy baseball gets hated like it does. Tell someone you participate in a fantasy baseball league and they give you my favorite I-don't-have-time-for-that line. It sounds something like this:

"Oh, I don't have time to for that. Baseball's everyday. I'm too busy tending to my rhododendrons."

To me, that sounds like you saying, "I'm not smart enough to do fantasy baseball, so I'm going to shit on it."

Well, I'm here to tell you that you can call me a geek all you want. Because I'm in a fantasy baseball league and I'm proud of it.

Like many things, fantasy sports have jumped the shark (has the phrase "jumped the shark" jumped the shark?). For the seven of you that don't know, fantasy sports are a multi million (billion?) dollar industry with websites and magazines galore. As I've mentioned many a time, you cannot go to a bar or a gym locker room in mid October and NOT hear: "Donovan McNabb's 9 for 21 passing performance just killed my week."

We all know my hatred for fantasy football (don't ever call fantasy baseball fantasy football again Marissa), but I am a staunch defender of the greatness of fantasy baseball.

You might ask why I defend fantasy baseball and shit on fantasy football as the two seem so similar, but here's why I do: Baseball is awesome.

And here's the other reason why: The Karkovice League is the greatest (and quite possibly one of the longest running) fantasy leagues of all time.

Our league is led by Eric, the greatest, calmest, most fair commissioner ever. His best friend/league co-founder/partner in crime Seth is his right hand man and they make the perfect league perfect. In 1989, while I was busy wearing flourescent colored Champion sweatshirts, with pegged acid washed jeans, and boat shoes with no socks, these guys were running a fantasy league. At that time, most people thought the phrase "fantasy league" referred to a high class prostitue ring (one Elliot Spitzer probably frequented). Now granted, Eric and Seth probably didn't get that many girls (although my math teacher friends tell me that you cannot get less than zero, which is the amount of girls I got at the very same age) as they sat at the cafetaria and debated whether or not Candy Maldonado could really repeat his 22 HR, 95 RBI year (I can't believe I just referenced that. Now wonder why no women like me). But you still have to give them credit for doing something that NO ONE else did at the time. Now of course, EVERYONE participates in fantasy sports and Seth and Eric look like genuises. In that way, they are a lot like me with this whole blogging thing. I pretty much INVENTED it.

Over the years, we've had various dudes run in and out of the league (Eric and Seth. Remember how much that kinda heavyset dude in like '97 paid for Matt LeCroy? And that was even before he was the I'm-kinda-okay-because-I-qualify-at-catcher Matt LeCroy), but of late, we've had a pretty nice core.

But more important than being nice (actually, I'm not sure I even like the guys in my league. Between trash talking Dave, Neo-Con Tim, always beats me Scott, first time Lucky Bastard Brad, way too nice to be friends with me Jim, wise ass Joyce, and my wanna be Theo Epstein brother Mike, I'm not really sure I like any of these guys, save for Seth and Eric. And even then, I'm only being nice to them so they will invite me back into their league), these guys KNOW THEIR STUFF!!!!!

In years past, I've been in fantasy leagues with dudes who have as much sport intelligence as Paris Hilton (I'll never forget getting a call from my boy Tim- who was chasing me in a hoops league- saying that he acquired Michael Jordan for Drazen Petrovic, who had just died in a car accident). And I've also been in leagues with three pitching categories (remember Ken Chutchian's league Tim? How was he, with his radio ready voice, not a night DJ on Magic 106.7?) and stat sheets that were done by hand and MAILED to my house! That just isn't the case in The Karkovice League.

For starters, the guys in this league know everything. There is no sneaking anyone past these guys. They know the Rangers fifth starter (Luis Mendoza) and who might get saves if Jenks goes down (Octavio Dotel). They know they exact amount to pay for Manny Ramirez and they know not to bid any more than fifty cents on Scott Rolen (was that misdirection men?). They know that if I bring up Curt Schilling, then I have to pee and they know that when they need me to spend money, they will bring up a cool, black guy with good hair (imagine what I'd pay for Jimmy Rollins?). And if they REALLY want to make me spend my money, then they bring up the name of a guy who has had a "great spring."

And we have also moved into a new age. Instead of getting stuff mailed, we receive updates every morning via this crazy think called the internets.

But as technologically advanced, competitive, fun, and financially rewarding(potentially- but not for me since about '99) as the league is, what really makes it great is that it allows me to feel like an elitist.

When dudes with tribal tattoos and fades are discussing cars and Larry Johnson at the Bally's in Woburn, I can just shake my head and say, "these guys just aren't smart or classy enough to be in my baseball league."

And I really wish this weren't true, BUT IT IS! I have other friends who talk about their baseball "drafts" and they wonder who they should take with the nine pick.

NINE PICK?!? In fantasy baseball?!?!? You guys are amateurs! Because REAL (super dweeby) baseball guys use the auction draft. The auction draft is for ELITISTS! And not only do we do an auction draft Mr. Tribal Tattoo Boy, but we do an A.L. ONLY auction draft! With two catchers! And a middle infielder position! And seeing as we have ten guys and there are only fourteen teams, that means SIX OF US ARE GOING TO HAVE BACK UP CATCHERS ON OUR ROSTER!!!!! How elitist/dweeby/awesome is that?!? So we CAN'T get by on just knowing the Russell Martins and Victor Martinez's of the world. We need to know Tampa's back up catcher for crissakes! And Baltimore's too (is it Rick Dempsey by the way?)!

And so having to know this information makes me feel like a baseball snob, which is exactly what I like to feel.

So while Dakota from Braintree will be calling the Big Show discussing simple things like Jason Varitek's lost bat speed, we REAL baseball fans will be discussing things like who the Mariners are going to give at bats to when Sexson has a .197 2 8 line after April. And sadly, I won't get to pick up whomever that guy is because Dave will have already picked him up as he's (somehow) currently reading Rotoworld even WHILE he reads this.

So shit on me all you want folks. I love fantasy baseball. But I love OUR fantasy baseball. Nothing else comes close.

Christmas morning is almost here. But instead of opening the Atari 2600 or an Optimus Prime, I'll be deciding what to bid on Joe Mauer (not a dime over 9.50 boys).

See you Saturday Eric, Seth, Mike, Tim, Brad, Scott, Jim, Brian, Dave, Mr. Saber, and Mr. Berger. I'm bringing my A game this year, so there will be no exorbitant Dan Haren bids.

Coming tomorrow: The Top Ten Reasons Why Fantasy Baseball Is Way Better Than Fantasy Football...