A View From Left Field
Running the Bases of Life…..Buddies, Broads, Booze and Balls. Not to mention everything else in between.****Wrong!!!!
I am a stickler for details, so I would just like to point out that the picture used for the heading of this blog is inaccurate. This page is named “A View From Left Field”. Clearly, to all those in the know-this picture was not taken from left field. It is more like right field…or first base….or from a helicopter hovering around the first base line. So, it would seem that the name “A View From the General Vicinity of and Around Right Field” would be more fitting. Somehow though, that title is nowhere as effective for some reason. So it stays as it is. Deal with it.
****Sex & Violence (but mostly Violence)
There is a claim that adult males subconsciously think of sex every 3 minutes of the day and also have a violent thought every 5 minutes. O.K, enough of the B.S…..I am completely making up those numbers, but they sound pretty good-honestly, couldn’t recall the exact stats, but for the sake of conversation, they will have to do. You know, the old horseshoes and hand grenade theory. My made up numbers are just close enough to be effective.
As an adult male, I must say that the first part (about sex) is mostly true. My life essentially revolves around the want to reproduce. Or at least the whole practicing to reproduce part( just a quick thought in regards to evolution-sex with protection is sort of like a scrimmage. Try to wrap your head around that one). The kids can wait for now, but I would like to get as much “experience” under my belt so if the time ever arrived where I felt capable of taking care of a small, infant life, I would be prepared to follow the needed steps leading to conception. How is that for a pick-up line? “Hey, baby. Can you help me with my practice of making a girl pregnant?”(Shawn Kemp and Darrin McFadden may have beat me to the punch on that line) So, in the spirit of learning, every time a girl walks by in a tight, low cut top, I feel that it is my obligation (for science, dagummit) to stop and stare….and share a quick anecdote with my buddies as to what exactly I would do if given the chance to see what was underneath the skimpy blouse. Breasts are like a pack of baseball cards to a guy….we don’t know exactly what we’ll find in there, but odds are the results will be good. Whoa-I sounded like a perverted Forest Gump there….”Hi! My name is Forest. Forest Gump. Boobs are like baseball cards, you just never know what you’re gonna get.” Today’s entry is going down hill fast. And it’s only getting steeper.
It is the second part that is worrisome. If the five minute theory is accurate, there are some very pissed off people out there. Don’t get me wrong, ’cause all too often I myself threaten death upon a coworker for their infinite idiocy. But every five minutes? I don’t agree with that number. Unless…..
Unless….you forecast in a couple of conversations between my older brother and I……or an exchance that my best friend and I exchanged recently. Now that I think about it, maybe that number isn’t too far off, because my brother invented a game called “Name Your Murder Weapon”….this probably sounds horrendous, but is a very enjoyable, competitive game that can be played anywhere. The rules are simple=imagine that you are being attacked in the environment that you are currently in. What would you grab to defend yourself? Would it effectively ward off your assailant? I know that I don’t think of violence often, but when a match of “Name Your Murder Weapon” starts up, I can’t help but be sidetracked for at least a good half of an hour….automatically, the game branches off into the questions revolving around the details. How many times would you have to hit the attacker with a vacuum cleaner? Would the vacuum hold up for multiple strikes? It’s all in the variables. This is why the game takes some time to play. Note=this is a great game to pass the time, especially at the airport. It is probably not in your best interest though, for the airport security staff to hear your conversations revolving around bashing random people in the head with everyday objects.
And the buck doesn’t stop here. Just a few weeks ago, I was playing pool with a friend and getting my arse kicked. After watching my balls (the billiard balls, gutter-brains!) miss pocket after pocket, frustration was rearing it’s ugly head. As a “thank you” to my buddy for the whooping, I acted as if I was going to bash him over the head with my pool cue. And then the thought arised-if I was to hit him, which end of the stick would do the better job? So I asked him. It turns out that it is not only my brother and I that are highly opinionated when it comes to ways in which to maim another human being.
Whereas I believe that an impact from the thick end of a pool stick would be the best route to injury, my friend posed an idea- by holding the thick end of the cue (offering a better grip), it would be able to be swung at a greater velocity, thus creating a “caning” effect. Plus, once the skinnier end hit this imaginary individual, there would be a much higher chance for the wooden stick to fracture, raising the chances for an open cut to the victim- and everyone knows that an open wound is always more painful than a bruise or a welt! I couldn’t believe it. My best friend, with little motivation, had reeled of a twelve minute dissertation revolving around injuring a person with a pool stick! Maybe that 5 minute theory is accurate. Don’t believe it? Just ask a male friend of yours.
****Nostradumbass and the Doggy Death Blues
The title above sounds like one heck of a cool band name…..”Next on stage, from Rhode Island, we bring you Nostradumbass and the Doggy Death Blues Band, who will play their hit off of their latest album, Wildfire Stallion Bullet Train!”… Enough with the appetizers, here is the main course….
Nostradamus here, isn’t THAT special. Other than writing in quatrain form, his prophecies are no better than yours truly here have been lately. And, please do not ask me to define the word quatrain. Just because I can see the future does not mean that I am a human dictionary. My guess as to what the definition would be involves very fast locomotives….So, no more questions will be fielded at this moment. Thank you. Sure, maybe I didn’t predict that the stock market would crash or that the Twin Tower’s would fall, but I DID foresee the injury that is currently plaguing Joe Borowski (see a few entry’s below) of the Cleveland Indians. It is probably difficult for you to see right now, but I am currently patting myself on the back for that one. A blind squirrel finds a nut every now and again. Yeah, it’s always better to be lucky than good.
What I didn’t foresee in the cards of life was that my childhood pet of roughly thirteen years, Twinkie, would pass away today. I know, I know…Twinkie doesn’t sound like a cool name for a boy’s dog. But, what else should you call a four pound, soft as a pillow, orange ball of fuzz. End of discussion. Thirteen years – That equates into something, like, 114 dog years. Or, let’s try the ol’ desktop calculator….she was approximately 91 doggie years old. That is an awfully long life considering that Lil’ Twinkers had a penchant for non-stop jumping, barking and general annoyance. As excitable as she could be, it’s surprising that her tiny little heart didn’t simply explode from all of the movement throughout the years. She would fidget more than an obsessive compulsive germ-a-phobe attending a flu convention.
So, to any readers out there who are considering purchasing a Pomeranian, they apparently expire around a bakers’ dozen or so years. Aside from my joking (I hide my pain through humor…this is why I joke about the size of my “unit”. I am dying from the inside out), Twinkie was honestly the best pet that I have ever owned. A great mother to all of her puppies (final count of nine in total), she will be missed. Since moving out of my parent’s house a few years back, it will be odd to enter the front door again and not hear the sound of incessent yapping until the diva that was Twinkie received her desired level of attention. As for delivering a long eulogy, I will pass. Despite Twinkie being a very public person, she strived to maintain her privacy. She wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Miss Twinkie Bunker – 10/3/95 to 4/16/08
Today’s entry will also serve as a pseudo pet cemetary for another one of my good kanine pals. I haven’t had good luck with pets in the last year. So here is to you, Buddy. Didn’t get to know you as well as I would have liked, but you were a cool dude. If only your liver was as gnarly as you.
Lil’ Buddy Smalls aka The Notorius B.U.D…..Buddie was a good bowler and a good puppy. He was one of us.He was a dog who loved the outdoors….and bowling. And as a surfer, he explored the beaches of California from La Hoya to Leo Creole….and Pismo. Goodnight, sweet Prince.
Buddy Mac – 4/29/07 to 6/17/07…Sometimes you eat the bar,and sometimes,ah you know…strikes and gutters,ups and down-I don’y know about you, but I take comfort in that.Well that about does ‘er,wraps ‘er all up…Catch ya later on down the trail.
****Happy Birthday, Mr. President
Let me be the first to say Happy Birthday to myself! Yep, this time it’s legit…’cause I’ve cried wolf on this one many times before. It used to be a running gag for me to go into a bar and claim that it was my B-Day…each, and every night. This was an amazingly efficient and effective process in striking up conversations with the ladies as well as scoring free drinks….until they asked to see my driver’s license. Or the bar tenders at the neighborhood pub caught on to my deviant ways. Apparently, you can’t lose your credibility if you never possessed it in the first place. Sort of like a reformed virgin…once it’s gone…it’s gone.
As for birthdays, the big 2-6 is mediocre at best. At least at eighteen, purchasing cigarettes and porn becomes legal, if not socially accepted. At twenty one, access into the wonderful world of drinking is permitted. By the time that twenty six rolls around, the kid that you once were has evolved into the creepy guy next door that is willing to buy beer for any adolescent (code for attractive 21 and under) female that gives you the time of day (maybe I’m speaking for just myself on this one). So, things are looking up!
But, you know what? The wierd part is that I don’t feel a day older than, say, thirteen. And, if you were able to speak to any of my ex-girlfriends, they would probably agree that mentally, I AM thirteen. Physically, I don’t look a day older than maybe twenty (if I shave. Otherwise, maybe I do look 26). Wow! I may have just made headway as to why I’m single….all I need to do is shave more often, be a little more mature and tell the truth every now and then and…..nope…..this is NOT going to happen! Why, you ask?
Because, I just had an older (very old) member of my family ask me about what I planned to be when I grew up (which is odd because I’m 26 and in a field that I truly enjoy). But, odder….not a word, my editor tells me…is the manner in which I answered. I presented a simple list of careers that I truly have an interest in. It goes somethin’ like this….I’ve still got some growin’ up to do. Check it out….
1) Rockstar…..easily explained-sex, drugs and rock n’ roll
2) Professional Baseball Player-not exactly a grown-up answer either.
3) Race Car Driver – I have tried to enter this field before, but my ’88 Camry didn’t make the grade
4) Porn Stud – this entry could easily move up or down three slots depending on the circumstances…I have hated every job that I have ever had and fear that it would make me dislike humping. Maybe I’m over thinking things here. Plus, with a nickname like “The Seven Minute Man”, my film career would probably be short lived. I must say though, since I’m 5′ 6″ and weigh a whopping 135 lbs., my strength to weener ratio is amazingly high. Just sayin’…
5) Carnie -minus the jokes about the profession, I think it would be fun and an easy way to see the country on the cheap. Free tickets to the Tilt-o-whirl are an added benefit.
6) Gypsy – much like Carney minus the death traps called “Amusement Rides”…see above
7) Animal Expert – I love animals. Zoologist is too much work, so I would like to become a real life Brian Fellows. “That is one big dog….your dog is freakin’ me out! Tell your dog to stop staring at me!”
8) Alcohol Taste Tester – I am currently practicing this craft as we speak….hey, it’s my birthday, dammit!
9) Teacher – those who can’t do, teach…a match made in heaven
10) Pirate – Johnny Depp gets the ladies. He may be on to something. Sailing the seven seas sounds cool as hell…and who messes with a Pirate? I will cut you, bitch! (My pirate is Chicano)
So yeah….my life is probably 1/2 over (at least for the best years). Here is to another year! See you f*ckers next year!
P.S.- I tried to incorporate the title of this entry into the main part of the post, but failed….I had intended to tie in the fact that, today, on the news, they mentioned that Marilyn Monroe was the star of an adult film many, many years ago. Just thinking aloud, but it’s a shame that the Internet wasn’t around back then. For one, I could have seen her naked. Two, who’s wang was involved…Kennedy’s or Joltin’ Joe’s…or none of the above? And, third, it would have given skanks like Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian a blueprint to follow….like lemmings off of a cliff….
****Talkin’ Tribe….and I’m Worried
…Just some random musings after watching the Cleveland Indians blow another lead. This time, it was against the Red Sox (4/15/08), and it was a game that should have been won by the Tribe. Sure, it’s early in the season, but there are a couple of things that make me question if this the kind of team that can do well in (or even make it to) the post-season. So, here’d it be….in the spirit of Terry Pluto (you got to respect the Pluto-have met him a couple of times and he is the nicest guy imaginable), I will only offer short blurbs about the concerns….
- Joe Borowski doesn’t even look as good (a stretch of the word) as he did last year. His velocity is obviously down and his control has been lacking. Makes me wonder if he is healthy. By no means am I a Major League pitching coach, but he appears to be short-arming the ball…this could explain the lack of pop on his fastball and the flatness of his slider, which is his go-to pitch.
- Because it is only a couple of weeks into the season, in no way am I calling for Borowski’s head on platter, but if this continues, the Indian’s HAVE to move Rafael Betancourt from being the setup man and into the closing role. JoBo (this is what I call Borowski) just doesn’t have that intimidation factor that most closers posses. There is a big difference from his fastball of 85m.p.h and Betancourt’s heat (around 95m.p.h. when he’s on)
- Paul Byrd is old…and probably withdrawing from steroids. He has been sub-par so far and it may be time to cut bait. If the struggles last through May 1st, I would much rather see the likes of Jeremy Sowers or Aaron Laffey take the ball every 5th day. Again, I need to remind myself that it is early.
- The team in general has been playing very lethargically….no component of the team has been executing on a regular bases. Hopefully, there is not the air of entitlement in the clubhouse, because this team doesn’t have the raw talent to simply coast back to the A.L.C.S. this season. It will be an uphill climb for them to repeat the achievements from last year.
- Speaking of achievements, C.C. Sabathia doesn’t look like a Cy Young winner right now. You have to wonder if the contract year is getting to him mentally. My guess would be that yes, it is. Ever since The Fat Unit (again, another one of my nicknames for a player) has been in the big leagues, he has had a tendency to over-throw when in pressure situations (i.e.-every Playoff game he has been a part of). What is more stressful than knowing that your production (or lack of) could affect your yearly salary by MILLIONS of dollars? In my dreams, I would like to see C.C. struggle mightily for the first half of the year, settle for a reasonable contract and clear his mind and then lead an Indians team that is still in the hunt to the playoffs. Was that a run-on sentence? Guess it doesn’t matter, ’cause people like John Madden(check out the Kankles on that guy!) continuously mangle the English language… without apology. “Boom! Check out the kid in the sombrero!” My bad, I think I just combined a Madden reference with a Harey Carey imitation….
- The platoon of David Dellucci / Jason Michaels does not equate into one solid, quality Outfielder. It’s amazing-even my XBOX 360 knows this. When starting a virtual season earlier in the week, my XBOX recommended that I trade Dellucci because he was grossly overpaid and has not been healty for over two straight years. Plus, his Batting Average has not matched his weight in quite some time. Juan Pierre is lookin’ mighty fine right now….and that is SAD! At least he would get some steals and move a couple of runners to the next base every now and then. Hell, I’m even pining for Shin Soo-Choo. Or Ben Francisco. Do both of those last two names remind you of side dishes containing rice?
- Cliff Lee finally looks like Cliff Lee again. Which is fantastic. Looking back, it is crazy to think that he was once the main cog that the Indians received in the Bartolo Colon trade. Grady Sizemore and Brandon Phillips have become All-Stars (the two other players that the Tribe acquired) and Cliff Lee has been fighting for a roster spot for the last season and a half.
- I won’t dwell on this for too long, but I’m still not over the Indians giving up on Brandon Phillips way too quickly. Who in their sane mind would rather have Ramon Vasquez (not even with the team…and maybe not even in the league right now(?)) instead of Phillips? Damn you, Eric Wedge! Rumor has it that G.M. Mark Shapiro wanted to keep the talented, young 2nd Basemen, but Ol’ Wedgie begged to differ…..Bone-Head! Since when does an employee make an executive’s decision?
- Despite Eric Wedge getting rave reviews for last season, I still am not a fan. I don’t think that he can take this team to a World Series championship.
- Trade Andy Marte NOW!!!! There is a saying that goes something like this = “Talent is Lazy, and Laziness leads to Inconsistency”. Maybe he does have untapped power potential. So did Russell Branyan. My patience is running thin with Marte. His defense has always been a concern. The Indians, who have a lot of ground ball pitchers, do not need a liability at the “hot corner”. Marte is more valuable to the Tribe as trade-bait than he is as an everyday player.
- The new “Progressive Field” thing gives me the willies. It will always be Jacobs Field to me. Has anyone thought of making a campaign where enough money could be raised to rename the park once more? Let’s say that each game draws 20,000 fans-a very conservative number if the team is winning. There are 81 home games per season, not counting the playoffs. The total amount of people at the park throughout the year (by these numbers) equals a total attendance of 1,620,000. If every fan donated $5.00 for every game they attended (bringing the total yearly sum to $8.1 million), we could easily buy back the naming rights to the stadium.
That’s it for this session of whining….stay tuned for more useless banter throughout the season.
Go Tribe!
And Happy Tax Day! After writing out a sizeable check to the I.R.S., I just wish the government would find a different way to f*ck me. Through the gas tank AND now the wallet! They could at least buy me dinner before they rape my finances. Bet I get audited if Uncle Sam reads this…..I should probably shut up now.
****My Friend Leroy…Leroy Jenkems
Caution: This is no joke…this “shit” is hitting the streets of America while we sleep……..This story grows like a weed through the American media. I think part of the reason is the sensationalism associated with the story. It is common knowledge that kids are always trying to find creative new ways to get high. But, this is a new one…and an all time low. At first, I could not believe what my brain was trying to process, which is this – children in America are essentially doing “shit whippets”! These shit whippets are referred to as Jenkem. Or ButtHash. Or The Brown Dragon. And, finally, my favorite….Leroy Jenkems. By inhaling the “ass gas”, it is said that the Jenkem high can last from anywhere between two hours to a full day. Symptoms of huffing this sewer gas typically include initially passing out followed with a magical/hallucinogenic state upon the regaining of consciousness. Street children from Zambia (where the drug is rumored to have originated from) have claimed that it (Jenkem) can serve as a portal, “allowing them to speak with the dead”. And, as an added bonus, it will “make them fearless” and “keep them warm at night”. Personally, I would have to be pretty damned cold to ingest my own fecal matter. But, that’s just me….To each, their own, I suppose.
From the reading that I have found, such as http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2007/1105072jenkem1.html or http://www.salon.com/mwt/feature/2007/11/09/jenkem/ , the finished product of Jenkem is apparently very easy to make. All one needs is a jar and….yep, that’s about it. Simply, both poop and pee into said jar and cap off with a balloon after the bowel movement has concluded. Let the jar shit…I mean sit (Freudian slip-honestly happened by accident. Easily could have fixed my mistake, but found it fitting for this story) while the fecal matter and urine ferment. As soon as the balloon, which was serving as the cap, has expanded to it’s full form (which typically takes about 7-10 days), the waiting game is over. Take the full balloon and merely huff the gas that has formed inside.
But, do you want to know the best part?!?…This epidemic has been put into motion as the result of a prank! A prank that the media and the Internet accepted as truth (and accelerated!!!) without fact checking. Thus, resulting in an even better prank. You’ll find, by doing your own research, that possibly one…ONE….ONLY 1 kid and his fake bottle of poo have caused a crapidemic in the U.S. Here is the ACTUAL FACT….note, that the word fact is not plural(as in FACTS)
True : Street children (not only in Africa, but worldwide) have been huffing different chemicals (including gasses from the sewer for a long time.
That is IT! By putting a piece of bread dough coated in Nutella spread along with other items that resembled toilet water into a jar, an unidentified minor (armed with the almighty power of an Internet connection) set off an amazing chain of events. Starting with a web page devoted to getting high off of Jenkam, this kid managed to convince the authorities, national media, and youth of America that getting high off of shit was the new rage.
So in the spirit of Christianity, I am going to accept this young fellow’s faults and our media’s lack of discipline and offer a helping hand….a hand that will personally try to assist in the continued spreading of Jenkem usage. I’m not doing this because I am a fan of drug use. My thought is this – if you’re dumb enough to be willing to get high off of crap, it would make me happy to see your dreams come true. Simply put, I am considering myself as a facilitator….much like Jack Kevorkian (maybe not my best analogy). Let me retry that one again…..I’m just trying to do my part in eliminating dumb people. Because I am “hip” (the latest term, or slang as they say) with the kids, I have found a neat-o (another phrase the kiddies are using) rap or hip-hop video that will explain about all Jenkems….simply click on the link below (supplied by the American Nihilist Underground Society) to view this new piece of propaganda.
****Help Your Dog’s Self Esteem w/ Neuticles
Have you had to nueter one of your pets lately? Has Fido been down in the dumps since losing his “manhood” ? Well, he may be in luck, because I have stumbled upon a real ( I think) product that can, as they put it, “allow your pet to retain his natural look, self esteem and aids in the trauma associated with neutering”. Called Neuticles ( check out the website www.neuticles.com ), this fabulous new invention is a revolutionary testicular implant procedure for pets. Offered in a wide array of sizes, the company has even moved on to create fake testicles for cats, horses and bulls. No bullsh*t. I’m not horsing around…sorry about the lame puns, but it just felt so right.
Now comes the part of this here post where the reader probably starts to wonder why I am 1) informed about nueticles? and 2) writing about it? To begin with the first question, if you ever have a chance to pick up Dave Matthew’s Lost Acoustic Session with Tim Reynolds, there is a Neuticles reference somewhere in there between the different songs where he mentions that he wants to put big ol’ bison balls on his chihuahua. Maybe the first recorded shout out for Neuticles….hey, any publicity is good publicity. At least that’s what they say….whoever THEY are. As for the second part, I am a pet owner myself. Recently, a friend asked me the question -“Does your dog have mudflaps?” To which I responded – “What are mudflaps?”. It turns out that “mudflaps” is a code word for dog scrotum. News to me….and pretty funny. But, yeah, my dog has his “boys” still intact and I had been thinking about when would be the correct time to get him fixed (shouldn’t it be broken?). All of a sudden I recalled the whole Nueticles thing. And, thank you again for the invention of the Internet search engine, because I have never laughed as hard as I did when finding www.neuticles.com.
Not only are they in the risky business of making false testes…they make a special creme (featuring, if you look deep enough, the now patented ScarRetard….I personally have nothing against the mentally disabled, but will never buy anything advertising the word “retard”….sorry guys, the sales pitch is lost on me) that you can rub into your pets junk so that the scars are not as prominent post-surgery (this sounds like a legal loop hole for pet lovin’….” I swear officer, my dog has a medical condition” sounds much better than “I thought I’d give Lucky there a deep tissue testicle massage). And the fun doesn’t end there. The website offers customer reviews and testimonials! How’d you like to be THAT guy -almost an equivalent to being a spokesperson for a genital wart presciption. There is even a quick anecdote about how Nueticles came to fruition (and a plug for the inventor’s new book). Plus, depending on the pet owner’s preference, the good people at www.neuticles.com are offering different models with varying degrees of squishiness, so that your dog’s nuts will feel as good as new…or maybe, even better! Unbelievable. First it was boots for your dog….then sweaters and coats…..now, Nard replicas (and they’re not cheap-ranging from $94 to $409 plus veterinarian costs)…..this proves that pet owners will buy anything.
****Words to Live By (when drunk)
Regardless of how hard you try and how bad you want it or need it to happen, a Y.M.C.A membership card will NEVER open a hotel room door. Don’t panic if presented with this scenario. Suprisingly enough, most hotel hallways are wide enough to stretch out pretty well and get nice and comfortable for a solid drunken slumber/stupor. I can’t speak for all of the major franchises out there, but I highly recommend Holiday Inn. Not only do they take Triple-A, but the carpeting lining the public walkways is very plush and accommodating.
****Confused I Am
Alright then, where were we? Guess it doesn’t really matter anyhow since it seems that my attention span is about as short as a….a uh……okay, I’m not able to think of a witty analogy right at this moment. So to fill this useless space up, I will now tell a joke. I suppose it is somewhat related because of the subject matter and the fact that I am now working at my old job again….
Here it is!!!! Don’t get too excited by the way.
Joke: How many kids with A.D.D. does it take to change a light bulb?
Punchline: Do you wanna go ride bikes?
For some unknown reason I laugh way too hard and too long at that one. It’s almost creepy. You know, it’s really not that funny but I’m still giggling even now. Weird.
Oh yeah….the Ritalin is finally kickin‘ in. Here is why I started this posting in the first point. There is one crucial item that I would like to address since my last entry. After reading through my last post, it became grossly apparent that I have failed to live up to all of my English teacher’s expectations and have completely bastardized my native language. Run on sentences, bad grammar, terrible punctuation. Hell, I’m not even completely sure that I can form a good paragraph. When do you wanna cut them off? I’ve had break-ups with girls that were easier processes than finalizing this paragraph here. If only I could have understood those goddamn sentence diagrams in seventh grade (they still haunt my dreams to this day). After writing the phrase “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy” on the chalk board, it appeared to me that the purpose of the mission when diagramming a sentence was to essentially draw a rudimentary mapping system. See below….
A View From Left Field 