Red Sox Mania

Here's how bad it is.* I am sufficiently en-fanned to have (a) gotten B the MLB Extra Innings package on cable and didn't even link it to any sort of gift-giving event** and (b) I understand 89% of the jokes in this video.  

* Or good it is, for my husband. 

** It might get the retro-active birthday treatment if I don't think of anything else to get him. 

Tryna Calm Down

Friend sent this to me, don't know where its from. Very helpful, as I am stressing out big time about this election.

(Congrats Red Sox, now back to my regularly scheduled freak-out)

Haven't Got Time for The Pain

Like many Democrats, I have been panicking over the past few days about our election chances, and this panic had an eerie familiarity. I placed it today. It's the pre-2004 Red Sox panic. That's right, Democrats are the new Red Sox. Heading into the 2004 playoffs, the Red Sox hadn't won a World Series in 84 years. They'd come close many times, including 2003. They'd even made it to the World Series in 1986, but were beaten by the Mets. Bucky Frackin' Dent. In the 2004 pennant championship series, the Yankees were up 3 games to 0. No team had ever pulled from that far behind to go on to the World Series, and yet the Red Sox pulled it off, and went on to win the World Series. Their change of luck was confirmed last year when they won the 2007 World Series. Those lovable losers just ain't losers any more.

Democrats are the Red Sox of the 2004 playoffs. We come close to winning, but we never win. Bill Clinton was our 1986 World Series. We made it there and then. . . nothin'. No healthcare reform, the end of welfare. Sure, the economy was good, but there were a lot of complicated reasons for that, and none seems like a victory the Democrats could take credit for. Its like we haven't won a World Series since 1964, and that's a long-ass time ago. But this year, it can still be different. We haven't lost yet, so stop your bitchin', steal second base, and get this series back on track. We are going to win. John McCain Sucks!

And another thing: my grandfather passed away* and my sister and I are traveling to Albany NY this week. This will either put a crimp in my blogging or I will be dispatching regularly from my blackberry about my ventures. We shall see. I just downloaded Spore to my ipod, so the former is more likely. I can already tell that it is extremely addictive, even if the wheel makes it a little hard to play.

* I appreciate your condolences in advance. He was very old (91) and very ill. Both his life and his passing were a blessing to him, I think. Its looking increasingly likely that both Mr. Scob and I will live to be almost 200 years, based on the longetivity and health of our grandparents.

"Daytona 500 is this weekend"

Guess who said that. Nah, don't bother.

Another reason that politics are the topic duh jor is that we are in the sports wasteland between the Super Bowl and something called "pitchers and catchers". Its a lonely time for a certain kind of man. Fortunately, Sports Illustrated publishes it swimsuit issue during this very dry sports spell. While it does include photos of athletes' wives, I don't recommend that you buy it. You can stop by and steal it from our house. At least, one of you can.

In campaign news, one of McCain's senior advisors has all but endorsed Obama. Paul Krugman is off his meds, for no apparent reason. What kind of world do we live in where David Brooks is the Columnist for Hope and Krugman is the baseless, poo-flinging crank? And then, this is funny:



Update: This is really funny. I like the idea that someone out there is clamoring for lowfat milk. hee hee.

My First Wine Review

We had the "good" fortune to try to Longball Winery's Manny Being Merlot last night and I have this review: Manny's red socks. That's essentially what it tastes likes. The post-game footwear of a major league baseball player, albeit one who stargazes/navelgazes for much of each game.

Otherwise, our trip to Boston has been action-packed. We have driven all over God's own northeast (Western Mass, New Hampshire, the Noh-th Sho-ah, Maine this weekend) and visited all the summer camp field trip hot spots, with B and I playing the role of testy camp counselors (Science Museum, Childrens Museum, Aquarium, Faneuil Hall, Fenway). Not much to report, other than my kids' temperament is controlled less by genetics or environment, and more by proximity to a meal. Which is technically environment, I guess, but strongly genetic, given how cranky their parents get when they don't eat.

More soon, I am sure. I have managed to take some pictures on this outing, mirabile dictu.

The Defense Rests

When a friend of mine recently slagged the Aramark staff at the Coliseum (see Executive Orc House. I can't link because I'm "liveblogging" from the beer line), I was half-inspired to defend these off-proud union members 'o mine. But now that I have missed one whole inning and have moved 3 inches ONLY because other outraged consumers have quit the line, I will join the chorus (of one) naysayers in hating the Coliseum crap-slingers.

A Really Verbose Entry - Worse Than the Prior Post

Wow. It was quite a weekend. Lots to blog about. Actually, don’t get your hopes up. The stuff that happened is exciting at the level of, well, blogging about, but it will not leave a lasting impression, or have a kicker of a punchline or anything. But I’ll give it my best shot.

Yesterday I took the kiddos to the zoo, which would not be notable in itself, but there was a guy being led around the children’s area on a leash by a much older, slovenly and obnoxious woman. He was in his thirties, black jeans, black T-shirt, leather collar, black leash. She was in her sixties, very heavy, wearing maybe cullottes, white hair, fanny pack. They were with another couple, both heavy and in their sixties. He was wearing a leather vest, leather cap and had a very dark thick van dyke beard and a shaved head. His lovely mistress was wearing shorts, a big red T-shirt, and had two braids, like she was Heidi. I tried to ignore them – and hope Li didn’t ask – but dog mistress kept yelling out loud comments to The Bear dude. “I feel like Peabody and Sherman!” God, poor Peabody and Sherman.

This little show irritated me at the time, but I got progressively more annoyed by it as the day wore on. For a variety of reasons (none of them my own sexual predilection), I have had cause to think about the leather subculture, and as a general matter, I just find it annoying and slightly pathetic. Why do people need to go through all the rigamorale to get off? That's sort of a bummer for you, if you need costumes and equipment to get into it.

Anyway, for this pair, it's clearly part of the thrill to go out in public and be seen behaving this way. But the part that makes it awful is that the intended audience for this little parade were zoo visitors (or -- horrors! -- the animals?), which at the Oakland Zoo at 10:30 on a Saturday morning, is people under the age of 5 and their parents. Making it a sort of reverse kiddie porn or something. I mentioned this to a friend last night and she thought maybe they were just in the kids' area because they'd seen the rest of the zoo, and also the Oakland Zoo is small, but it isn't like outside the kids' area, there were any more adults. I guess the thrill for this couple is to go to the place where they would be least expected, and to be seen there. And that's hot? I am just lost on this one. And grossed out.

And so then last night was Paladar Temescal, which seemed really fun at the time but today's wicked hangover sort of colors its memory.* We sat with a group of people who were pretty random, including a dead ringer for Teri Garr and who was so loud that I was dumbstruck and became a reserved consumer of her wit. Which was hit or miss, by the way. She laughed very loudly at her own jokes, and at one point made offensive remarks to another woman at our table which were so ballsy, I thought I would die. She said that she and her friends would invent fake stories for each of us, and then proceeded to say that the only Asian woman at the table was a mail order bride. By the end of the night, Teri had become . . . almost the father of the bride at the end of the reception, pouring more wine, laughing loudly but also possibly on the verge of tears, just saying shit that everyone later pretends wasn't said. She was awesome. One of her friends looked like Cheryl Crow. Cheryl, to her credit, was suitably mortified by Teri's awesomeness.

Today was a lackluster Mother's Day, but I am not blaming that on Mr. Scobs and the kids. They cleared out and the only thing I could think to do was drive to The Gap to see if I could find some new workout pants. So lame. It was the hangover. I probably had all of three glasses of wine, and I am such a wuss, I've been holding my head all day. Who cares, right? I only mention today to tell you that a very sad watershed event occurred at dinner tonight. Li, who is in the habit of asking, "When you were little, did you like ___?" all the time, asked, "When you were little, did you like the Yankees?" I said, no. He then asked, "Do you like the Yankees now?" which brought B back into the dining room to say, "We are Red Sox fans and we think the Yankees stink." To which, L said, "I like the Yankees."

You know that cartoon sound where the car skids off the road, and there's the squeal of breaks and the smash of chrome? That sound happened in our dining room tonight. It sent B around the bend. He's so mad. Li then asked me who someone in the sports section was (Derek Jeter) and he walked around asking about Derek Jeter all night. He's clearly figured out a way to piss off his dad without there being any repercussions. B has decided to ignore it in hopes that this will pass, but possibly his greatest fear, just short of our kids getting addicted to drugs, is that they will be Yankees' fans.

*The Paladar was actually fun, and delicious, but raving about it would bury the lead, which was Teri Garr.

Lazy Summary

For some reason, I have no original or interesting thoughts to impart this week. But a few things:

First of all, today's the last work day to register for the St. Scobie's Mock Brackets March Madness Extravaganza! Meet your fellow Scobites! Make wildly baseless predictions about a sport which you either don't like or don't care enough about to dislike! Or beat those of us who are making baseless predictions! Brackets can be done starting on Sunday, so I will harp on about this again, but go do it now, so you can be sick of it by next week.

From a source (Chronicle, I think) that I don't feel like finding a link to, about a favorite topic of mine:

One law enforcement source told us, "The San Francisco guys were saying, 'Don't mess with us, we're 415' -- and the Yalies were saying, 'Yeah, well, we're 212.'
"All of them trying to act like they were from the hood,'' the source said. "Heck, the only hood any of these guys had ever seen was the hood of a Mercedes-Benz."

Heh heh. B asks: "Is there a lamer area code than 415?" Probably 650 or 778, but you know what he means.

Curt Schilling started a blog.

But for some really good reading this week, check out Rangelife.