fearlesstemp: (saunders on phone)
I don't know if it's because I grow so attached to the Mets announcers over the regular season (I still really miss Fran Healy), but I can't stand the Fox announcers, Joe Buck and Tim McCarver in particular. It is a sentiment shared by my family, and getting ready to watch the ALCS, my brother and I had the following convo:

LittleJimmyAllGrownUp: Joe Buck should be FIRED.

FearlessTemp: Joe Buck should be fired out of a CANNON.

LJAGU: Joe Buck should be fired out of a cannon AIMED AT TIM MCCARVER.

FT: You win.

I am rooting for Oakland in the ALCS, half because I loved the book Moneyball, half because Detroit has too many pitchers I don't want the Mets to meet.
fearlesstemp: (Default)
My great fear about the test tomorrow is that I will get an essay question about Mesopotamian gender roles, or contrasting dynastic changes in China and Japan, but since I cannot control the GD essay question, and actually brought my tattered copy of the N.Y.S. Global History and Geography Regents Review Book out to dinner with me last night (read it at odd moments in the middle of T.G.I.Friday's), I have decided to LET THE STRESS GO. Before I do that, however! A few things.

FIRST, I feel compelled to mention that Wentworth Miller has given another interview in which he demonstrates his and my mfeo-ness. You will recall that in the Valentine's Day issue of People, he mentioned Hello by Lionel Richie as a favorite love song. LIONEL RICHIE. And then today I was reading his interview in TV Guide (during one of the several, lengthy study breaks I took today - I'm not a machine, people! I need some chill time! Probably not nearly as much chill time as I took, but still!), and found this exchange:

TV Guide: How do you pass the time when they're applying Michael's full-body tattoo?

Jess's Future Husband: I listen to my iPod. I watch old movies on a little TV/DVD set, like "His Girl Friday" or the original "The Hills Have Eyes."

Okay, I've never seen The Hills Have Eyes because I can't handle scary movies, but! HIS GIRL FRIDAY, people! It's like he's working his way through my icons and mentioning one in every interview. If he talks up Strictly Ballroom next, or Fred 'n Ginger, or Frank Capra, I'll really start to suspect.

[NOTE: I am fully aware that Wentworth Miller is not actually attempting to contact me via his interviews, and is not, in fact, my future husband. That honor is reserved for George Clooney.]

SECOND, I hope all of you have seen these spoiler pictures of an upcoming Prison Break episode. They involve Michael and Sara. I will say no more. Look how restrained I am being.

THIRD, do you think that Michael and Sucre are, like, the Cellblock Couple of Fox River? I mean, sure, Michael is constantly turning up all mysteriously injured and everything, but other than that, they have such a nice, warm, affectionate friendship, and, for all the rest of the inmates know, prison romance. He and Sucre hang out together all the time, chat with each other intensely, hang a sheet almost every night - I just keep picturing the other prisoners turning to their cellies, pointing at Michael and Sucre, all, "Why can't we be like that? Sucre never makes Michael wear short-shorts."

FOURTH, I should state for the record that I watched General Hospital in its entirety more than once this week. I seriously can't remember the last time this happened. I am genuinely enjoying several storylines! As much as I don't like the Emily/Sonny romance in and of itself (it seems kind of forced and weird to me), I do love the stuff that's happening as a result of it. And I may be alone in this, but I like the Sam/Alexis storyline a lot. Wednesday's episode was legitimately excellent in that department and the rest of the week was pretty good, too. And, of course, Patrick/Robin 4eva!

FIFTH, I don't know if you've heard, but the Mets are doing awesome this year. Go Mets!
fearlesstemp: (superjoe)
As you may recall from the awkward Sunday night conversation, my grandfather has been having some trouble lately getting out of bed in the mornings (or, as he put it, "getting erect in the mornings"). Because of this, he asked if one of us could stop by in the mornings to help him get up.

"At 7:30, preferably," he said.

"Well, I leave for work at 8:00," my mother said. "Would a little after 8:00 be all right, Jim?"

"Oh, fine, fine," he said. "That would be lovely. [Sentence blacked out because it involved my grandfather thanking my mother for offering to get him erect in the mornings.] I'm so indebted to you."

Flash forward to Monday morning, about 7:45. My mother and I are in the kitchen, getting ready for work (my mom) and whining about an achy back (me), when the phone rings. It is, of course, my grandfather, complaining about how no one was there to get him up, he had terrible troubles, etc etc.

"But grandpa, remember, you said my mother could come by at 8:00?" I said, even though I knew he wouldn't remember.

"Well, it has to be 7:00," he said. "7:15 at the latest."

"All right," I said.

Flash forward to this morning. My mother drags herself out of bed and down to my grandfather's house at 7:00, walks into the house and is greeted by my grandfather bellowing out, "WHO'S THAT? WHAT'S GOING ON?"

"Jim, it's Peg," my mother said. "It's 7:00 in the morning, you asked me to come help you up, remember?"

And then there was a long pause. "WHY THE HELL WOULD I WANT TO GET UP AT 7:00?"

To which my mother could only say, "I, well. I don't really know, but you said that 8:00 was too --"

"8:00! Yes, 8:00 is much better. MUCH better. That's when someone should come by."

At this point, of course, my grandfather had gotten himself up fine and was moving on around the house at his breakneck speed of approximately 3 feet a minute.

Ah, fun fun fun. My mother told me the story in detail this evening after we'd both gotten home from work. She finished the story, stopped laughing, and then stared off into the distance for a minute before saying, "I need a beer."

She totally did. So did I, except I hate beer. So instead I just had a bowl of Life cereal. It was pretty good.

~~

In happier news, the Mets are on FIYAH! Opening day was today, against the Evil Braves, Tom Glavine on the mound. Tom Glavine, like most Mets acquisitions, was this truly amazing player for years and years, but then he joined the Mets. As you may know, immediately after joining the Mets, any given baseball player, regardless of his past record of health and consistency, will:

(a) suffer an injury;
(b) fall into an inexplicable slump; or
(c) both.

I provide you with Mo Vaughn, Roberto Alomar, Roger Cedeno, and countless others as examples. Exception that proves the rule: Cliff Floyd, who came to the team with a chronic injury last year and still rocked the casbah. We love Cliff.

But tonight! Tonight they WON! And they won BIG! And guys they'd acquired did AMAZINGLY and Mike Piazza hit a home run and looked hot, which is all I really need. Mike Piazza is totally one of the guys who, if he showed up at my door, I would run off with him, no questions asked. The list includes: Colin Firth. JC Chasez. Joshua Jackson. There are others, of course.

Why Mike Piazza, you ask? Many reasons. He is the best hitting catcher in history! And he's so cute. And, a few years ago, a sportscaster ran into him in the history section of a local bookstore, where Mike was carrying out a pile of books because he's a history buff. He can read! And when all of the other baseball players said Field of Dreams, he named Bull Durham as his favorite movie, and one time, when the team was in Montreal, the team made the rookies get up and sing karaoke, and at the end, he got up himself and sang some Guns and Roses song. I would know the name of the song if I were a cooler person, but I am not. I am actually the kind of person who has spent the past two minutes going, "Is it 'Guns 'n Roses'? Or 'Guns and Roses'? And where do those question marks go in relation to the quotation marks?"

I just. I love him. Am very sad my Mets icon is not a Mike Piazza icon. Not that there's anything wrong with Joe McEwing! I do love Joe.

~~

And that is all.
fearlesstemp: (Default)
First of all: Three day weekends rock. Usually at this time, I would either be (a) racing up the stairs in the parking garage trying to get out before the rush [always race, even though I always fail and end up sitting motionless in a line of cars for fifteen minutes], or (b) sitting bitterly at my desk trying to finish the last task (or two, or three) of the day so I can leave. But not today! Today I am sitting here at home, in my sweet ensemble of oversized Mickey Mouse nightshirt (red), pajama pants (light blue with big white stars), glasses (no contacts), and zit cream (strategically placed on my face). Awesome!

I have finally torn myself away from the TV after three hours of Trading Spaces. Sadly, I had seen all or part of all three episodes and still could not look away. It's like crack, people! Crack!

I had very vivid dreams last night. One of them involved me being held hostage with nine other people (one or more of them may have been New York Mets) in my childhood home. Against all odds, I somehow behaved completely out of character, snuck away from the gun-toting crazy people, crawled out of a second-story window, scaled the roof, jumped down to the ground, and ran to the police to give them intel so they could better resolve the situation. By the time I got to the police, though, it was all resolved. The effort was all there, though.

Speaking of the New York Mets, I'd like to discuss a Phillies pitcher who is OBVIOUSLY a Lance fan. Have people heard about this? Last week the Phillies were in New York playing the mets and one of the starting pitchers was down in the subway when this woman came over and asked him for directions. He gave them to her and then they got separated in the crowd but he was so taken by her that he's putting the word out for her to contact him! It's like On the Line 2: This Time, It Involves a Professional Athlete!

And I just found myself going into a long, involved story about my hair care regime, which is, I believe, my cue to end this entry. Peace out, all. Hope you're all having a nice day.
fearlesstemp: (Default)
no real content at all. really. )
fearlesstemp: (superjoe)
When Tom Glavine got traded to the Mets, my reaction was indicative of how clear-headed and sportsmanlike my Met Fanhood is: Upon finding out I was not excited about how he'd help the team, but instead freaked out because he would be stealing my favorite player's number. How dare Tom Glavine, one of the best pitchers in the league, take the number (47) of your favorite utility player and mine, Joe McEwing?! Such gall!

And then today I turned on the TV to watch a spring training game and what number is Joe wearing now? Guess. Just guess. No, not 23. ELEVEN! Which is my favorite number! He is so obviously sending me a signal that we are, in fact, mfeo. I will of course be packing my things to head for Port St. Lucie and the Mets' Spring Training Camp tomorrow.

Ah, I lie. I will instead be heading to That Law Firm tomorrow morning to start another fun-filled week of dictation, filing, and managing calls. My life is a whirlwind of excitement.

Tonight my mother and I watched Persuasion, the third film in our week-long Jane Austen Festival. Said Festival was started off when I rented Bridget Jones's Diary and she inquired who, exactly, that dashing Mark Darcy was and I said that he was Colin Firth and that he'd actually been in the A&E version of Pride and Prejudice. Well, to be honest, what I said was, "Oh my God, that is Colin Firth and is he not the DREAMIEST?!?! To fully appreciate him you simply HAVE to see the six-hour A & E Pride and Prejudice production, which I have somewhere here and you must watch. Really, you must, to fully appreciate Colin. No, really, YOU MUST!"

I couldn't find my tape and so I drove to the local Blockbuster in my pajamas, unkempt unwashed hair, and old college sweatshirt to rent it. And we did, and the mom unit did come to fully appreciate Colin and so we've been watching her flicks on and off for the past week.

Realizing some people may not have read Persuasion or seen the movie and would like to remain unspoiled, I'll put this bit behind a cut tag )

Oh God, how did it get this late? I had Goals for this evening! Emails I was going to write! And now I have to go to bed! Stupid office, expecting me there at 8:30. I long to continue Jane Austen SqueeFest 2003! Sadly for me but lucky for you, I must go.

up

Jun. 22nd, 2001 11:05 am
fearlesstemp: (Default)
Got up a few hours ago under the impression I'd have to haul my father out to the Chevy dealership, but then didn't have to. Was too awake to go back to sleep and am up for the day. I should take advantage of this time by:

(1) Unpacking,

(2) Looking for a job,

and/or

(3) Doing laundry.

Instead, I seem to be continuing on my quest to go on wearing the clean clothes I have left, living on the money I was given for my birthday, and getting crap out of boxes piecemeal as I need them, until I end up wearing my shorts of last resort and a turquoise Hanes Her Way sleeveless shirt ($3 at Walmart) with all of four dollars in my pocket. At that point, and only at that point, will I actually do any of the things mentioned above.

Am struck by Wild Excitement that is my life. It is currently organized around Mets games and China Beach reruns. Also, in my quest to become the penultimate geek, I have become addicted to the SciFi channel. I'm forever amused by the fact that they air all of their original programming on Friday and Saturday nights (nights most networks program around) as if they know their audience will be home then. In addition, they show Quantum Leap daily. Does it get any better?

Was a good sister and went to my brother's basesball game Wednesday. My Dad's an assistant person for the team, my uncle is the coach, and two of my cousins also play. So about 50% of the stands was made up of my family members. We had:

-My Mom and grandmother who just sat there quietly and would occasionally mutter under their breath (usually "Oh! Jimmy/John/Mike! Hit it!")

-My uncle, who just sat and watched silently

-Me, who would jump up and shout "Woo! Go Jim/John/Mike!" at an embarrassingly high volume for whomever was on the receiving end of the cheer

-My grandfather, who would shout out instructions while the person on the field was in the process of doing something. ("You're not following through!"

and

-My aunt, who had no qualms about yelling at the ump (who was approximately five feet away) whenever she was the slightest bit displeased with him.

It was a good game. My brother ended up pitching (very stressful to watch!) and did well. It was a close game, but in the end his team won. Largely because the other pitcher kept nailing our guys with pitches which, in the major leagues, causes anger and retaliation by the other team. We were just glad to get men on base.

Okay, could this entry get more boring? I'm going to end this before we find out. Later.
fearlesstemp: (Default)
The Mets won today, which automatically kicks this day into the good column (though it would have been there regardless). Really, though, the game-winning is becoming such a rare occurence that it probably could bump a non-spectacular day up to great.

Seriously. What's up with the suckage? I mean, they're a good team. They won the pennant last year! Mike Piazza! Edgardo Alfonzo! Benny! What's going on? They should be good! What's holding them back? Is it because I haven't been watching the games? (perhaps they can sense it) But guys, I don't have cable, I don't get FSNY. I'm with you in spirit.

Anyway.

Today was a Good Day. Spent it home with the fam, had a lovely fun-filled time. I washed my car (which is a Very Good Thing), and in the process got embroiled in an extremely tense water fight with my brother in front of our neighbors who were landscaping across the street. (I swear, all these people do is fiddle with their lawns. Not even flowers, just lawns. I'm convinced it's just to make us look bad.) Anyway, it was a long, hard battle, but I emerged triumphant. Must have been a sight -- me, 20 years old, chasing 17-year-old Jimmy around with a hose hollering "Coward! Stand and fight! Stop running in the house and hiding, baby!"

I then went to the grocery store with maternal unit, who (because she's an altogether lovely person) bought me supplies for my dorm room. Came home, hollered at Pat Robertson and then Pat Buchanan on CNN's Wolf Blitzer show, ate some dinner, and watched TV. A good day.

Speaking of TV: I watched the X-Files and totally, totally loved the ending. Because I'm a sap like that. I won't hide it! I am. Though the whole three wise men/guided by a star/miracle child thing was laid on a little thick (I wouldn't have been surprised if she said "Jesus" when he asked what she was going to name him), I did like the show. And the ending was just, well, sweet! I fell for it. Sigh.

So, if the show's going on, Mulder's not going to be there, right? I was all scared the episode would end with him running off to find Scully's kidnapped baby (a fear that probably made the ending that did occur appear all the more wonderful). So now will it be Reyes and Doggett running The X-Files? Because I wouldn't be completely opposed to it, I like both of them.

Some people ponder great life issues, I think about the fate of The X-Files. Such is my limited brain function.

Anyway, I'm off to bed, because I'm going to go exercise tomorrow. (I am! I am!)

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