I Eat 'Em Raw Like Sushi

You know, I'm not one to whine about TV coverage, especially in regard to the East Coast Bias exhibited by nearly all major outlets and especially by ESPN. Nor was I surprised to see the Yanks-BoSox highlights lead Sportscenter last night.

But I was pissed off that Rich Harden's run at a Perfect Game (retired the first 22 hitters) was slotted so late in the show. Arguments have been made that had he managed to pitch the 18th Perfect Game in baseball history, it would have surely led. Well, duh. That's the point. That the Hottest Team in Baseball can only storm its way into the opening segment by having it's young phenom pitch a perfect game. ESPN has been fondling Yankee balls for a few weeks now as the Bombers went on a hot streak to pull themselves back into the race. How fucking gritty of them and their $200 million payroll. Meanwhile, the A's have stomped all over the league for the better part of 6 weeks and are lucky to make the onscren scroll. These are the same A's who were trashed at every turn by the same fucktards two months ago.

Whatever, the last time ESPN told me something informative was...never. Seriously, I've taken dumps that could out-wit John Kruk.

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Hi, welcome to Friday. Lots of unrelated jibberish today. First some pimpage:

Anybody who's ever read DoubleAs knows that he's got mad NL skills, so it's not like he had to prove it by cashing in a WSOP Event, though he went ahead and did it anyway. Score. Go see his write-up and express your admiration and envy.

Daddy went on hiatus. Daddy came back swatting 550 ft. bombs. "longdickin" indeed.

Al found this "blog" as a present to BG and some of others of us joined in the fun. Of course, no fun is allowed in this Super Serious Endeavor, so my jokes about C the W being a euphemism for wanking have been deleted forever. It's still a fun game, though, and I expanded it to creating new euphemisms using the template "C the W."

Cradle the Wang
Commandeer the Wookie

and the like. I am also welcoming all submissions.

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Damn, I wanted Ivey to win. With all the unknowns at the Final Table, I bet ESPN is poring over thousands of hours of videotape, trying to find images of some of these guys from the early rounds. Hey! Is that Aaron Kanter's ear right there? No, there!

It's that or the Mike Matusow Show.

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Most recent albums uploaded to my iPod:

Beck -- Guero
The Shins -- Oh Inverted World
Helmet -- Meantime
Sonic Youth -- Daydream Nation
Dark Angel -- Darkness Descends

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Wanna see somethin' funny? Maybe later. I'll pull it out when this portion of the post gets tedious. Current over/under is four paragraphs.

As the ranking metrosexual of the "group," nobody would be surprised that I spend an inordinate amount of time on my hair. No, I don't fuss over it in front of the mirror. In fact, I haven't combed/brushed my hair for several years. But I do spend a lot of time thinking about it.

It's a love/hate relationship. I'm happy to have hair at my age, as many of my peers are struggling in that arena. It's only a little gray, like the good, distinguished gray that gets hot chicks seeking daddy figures all squishy. It's thick and full and wavy and...well...it's downright impressive. It's also lumpy and unmanageable and a pain the the bleeping ass.

Especially when I'm trying to grow it long, as it tends to grow out as well as down, forcing me to shellack it close to my head with your finest gelatinous mens' products. I've got enough Dippity Do in there to fit right in with the Azzurri. All I need to complete the ensemble is a prissy hairband and a stoic pout.

At previous times in my life, my flowing mane has been described as "disco hair" and likened to that of a certain one-hit wonder who was both Rico and Suave. The other night, I asked the dear and patient wife if it looked "ridiculous." She said "no," but wasn't entirely convincing.

At this point, you may be wondering what on Earth would cause me to talk about this? First, as promised

Hair

Please, don't stop laughing. That was Dec. 1992. I cut it the next day. Surprisingly, I didn't get laid a lot with that look.

ANYWAY, now that you're in a better mood, the reason I bring this up is I happened to catch a climpse of my hair in the mirror last night and goddamn if it didn't look exactly like it did in high school, the only difference being it's gelled now instead of blow-dried and hair-sprayed. And it ocurred to me that it would be right hilarious if I showed up at my 20-year reunion in 3 months looking the exact same in the folicle department. Okay, so it would only be hilarious to me and my friends. But that's enough.

I don't drink or smoke ain't into dope
Won't try no coke, ask me how I do it, I cope
My only addiction has to do with the female species
I eat 'em raw like sushi

Rico. Suave.