Saturday, March 31, 2007

Regressing To Childhood

The Law Day Picnic was a good time. I had some burgers, chilled out, got a bad sunburn. all in all, a full day. And a special thank you to Sherp who, once again, went above and beyond the call of duty to put this thing together. She's the SBA MVP.

The old children's games were a nice touch. Apparently, I am still pretty good at Hungry Hungry Hippos. And while I won't claim any skills in Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots, I still had enough to beat Jordan. Field games? Also a blast. Though I am convinced Jolie spent the last few years before law school on the Pro Four Square Tour. She is absurdly good at that game.

Now I'm going to look into going pro in picnic badminton. Or maybe I should just retire with an undefeated record.

Thursday, March 29, 2007

Ranking The Unrankable

The US News and World Report law school rankings, as has been discussed ad nauseum, have been released. My take?

Frankly, I don't think it's possible for me to give less of a crap.

The rankings of schools like this is wholly arbitrary and a fairly ridiculous exercise. It's even more ridiculous that we care so much. I love a good list. If VH-1 is ranking the Best 100 Rockstar Haircuts, I'm watching and probably yelling at the TV with some passionate opinion (the dude from Flock of Seagulls only is #7? And where is Fishbone?) But that's because we know it's a ridiculous, meaningless exercise. Random House ranked the best books of the 20th Century and it didn't suddenly change my evaluation of Cormac McCarthy (who was not ranked on the critic's list).

And once you get past Yale and Harvard, what is the real difference between the rankings? What separates #24 Iowa from #60 Villanova? And let's be honest, if I wanted to practice law in Philly*, the idea I would go to the "better" school in this case would be absurd. Also, comparing a state school in the Midwest to a Catholic college in a northeast city is comparing apples to oranges.

Guess what? They are both good schools. Go to the one you like. You'll get a good education at either place. But this slavish devotion to the rankings of some magazine is a bad idea. Hell, we all understand that the BCS can't rank football teams or that the RPI doesn't get it right on basketball teams, you think some formula can accurately rank every law school in the country with any degree of accuracy? How is this any different? Only with more BS factors.

*Note from Management - There is not a chance in hell I'm moving to Philly. I like the cheesesteak, but not enough to live there.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

It's the O's, Hon!

We’re nearing in on April, which means Opening Day is right around the corner, otherwise known as the Day the Orioles Are Mathematically Eliminated. March is about the only time of year its good to be an O’s fan, because we can still have hope that the Yankees and Red Sox aren’t going to stomp out our ever-living guts. Maybe their teams will be in a bus accident. It could happen. So here is how a slightly delusional Oriole fan convinces himself that his team is not headed for its 10th straight losing season.

By the way, even the Royals have had a winning season in the past 10 years. God, we suck. The Royals have been more successful over the past ten years.

The Orioles have amassed about a hundred corner outfielders, they can’t all suck. See, positive attitude! Most teams put their best hitters in right field, 1st base, and left field. Mainly because defense at those positions doesn’t matter a whole lot. So, the Orioles have mastered the “can’t play defense” part of the equation while ignoring the “hitting” part. Markakis has a hammer lock on right field, and might actually be young and good, something pretty rare in the Yard. So, at the other two spots, the O’s need to find some combination of Jay Payton, Jeff Fiorentino, Aubrey Huff, Jay Gibbons, Kevin Millar, Val Majewski, Freddie Bynum, and Adam Stern. Payton will start the year on the DL. I don’t know what’s more disturbing: the fact our starting left fielder is already hurt or that Jay Payton was our starting left fielder. Clap louder! Think happy thoughts!

The O’s might actually have a decent rotation. I’m not asking for the world here, just the total absence of Sidney “You Fat Bastard” Ponson, Rodrigo “Not Another Hanging Curveball” Lopez, Bruce “I’m Not Going To Listen To Leo Mazzone Because I Know So Much About Pitching” Chen, and Russ “My ERA is 8.48. That’s right. Eight-point-four-eight.” Ortiz. I can’t even talk about Ponson without launching into a torrent of profanity. He took some potshots at O’s fans to the Minnesota media, saying we didn’t appreciate him. Gee, was it the three DUI’s or the time you punched out a cop or the two consecutive seasons with ERA’s above five or the stupid mullet or when your diet consisted of nothing but Twinkies and Yoo-Hoos? Take your pick. Sidney, our reasons for hating you are pretty damn good. But we’re bad fans because we booed your fat, overpaid, criminal, crappy pitching ass? You’re lucky a crazed fan didn’t beat you to death with a glazed ham. Good riddance.

On the plus side... Bedard is blossoming into a front-line starter, something the O's haven't had since Mussina hadn't sold his sold for a World Series ring (and didn't win one, causing me an endless amount of glee). If Cabrera could ever find the strike zone, his stuff is downright filthy. Loewen is one of the best pitching prospects in baseball, and I’m sick and tired of every other team calling up prospects who are immediately good while the O’s call up guys like Rocky Coppinger and John Parrish. Never heard of ‘em? My point exactly. Traschel is a decent innings eater and Jaret Wright salvaged his career once under Mazzone. Hey, it’s not the 1990s Braves, but its better than what we’ve had.

The middle defensive players are pretty damn good. Championship clubs usually are built with studs at the middle defense positions and filling in sluggers elsewhere. And the O’s are one of the best teams in baseball up the middle. Hernandez is a good catcher, Roberts is a terrific second baseman, Patterson is an above average centerfielder, and Tejada is a great shortstop. OK, the O’s have been bad at filling in the rest of the roster, but that’s a nice core up the middle. Patterson is the worst of the lot, and he’s coming off the best season of his career and is entering his Age 27 season when players tend to statistically peak. If he could learn that he doesn’t have to swing at those pitches a foot off the plate, he’d be an All-Star. Oh, and if he could hit left-handed pitching.

No one on the team out and out sucks. That’s progress. OK, Brandon Fahey has almost no business playing in the Majors, but he’s like the O’s tribute to David Eckstein. And he’s the utility infielder, so who cares? A lot of teams are sunk by not only playing, but starting absolutely worthless players (SEE the last nine Oriole seasons or the Astros this year). That’s not going to happen this year barring a lot of injuries.

Well, unless the bottom drops out on Melvin Mora, which will cause me considerable pain. Mora’s been about the only consistent bright spot for the Orioles over the past five years, but he’s getting long in the tooth and his production dropped off a cliff last season. The O’s responded by giving him a boatload of money and a longterm deal. Rationally, I know this is a stupid contract which is going to hang around the team’s neck like an albatross, but emotionally... Mora’s been a team guy. He’s played everywhere. He’s quietly gone about his job and played well. He is by far my favorite Oriole, and I’m not alone in thinking this. Please, Melvin. Don’t start to stink just yet.

The bullpen can’t suck as much as it did last year. The Orioles pen was rated by any measure as the worst bullpen in the league. So the brain trust fired pretty much every reliever not named Chris Ray and then threw an obscene amount of money at mediocre relievers like Danny Baez. Waste of resources? Surely. But when your relief is that bad, you overpay for mediocre relievers. But here's a disturbing thought, the Twins have perhaps the best bullpen in baseball and their entire relief corps will cost only slightly more than the services Danny Baez this season. Someone stab me with a pencil.

The Devil Rays still exist. The Rays are getting better, but they aren’t there yet. The O’s still have a lot of games against a terrible team to pad the ol’ won-loss record. Of course, Rays fans are saying the same thing about the O’s.

This analysis ignores the fact the Yankees and Red Sox are still in the division, but let’s work on baby steps. I’m trying to think positive. If everything breaks right, the O’s could be looking at 85 wins. That would be nice. I just want some hope.

My spirit gets crushed when the Birds take the field against Johan Santana and the Twins on Monday night in the Metrodome. That’ll go well. Keep a bottle of something handy, I’ll need it. Some teams break your heart, the O’s just break your liver.

Remember, this is me being positive. Wait 'til we start losing.

Moot Court Workout

I was told that I have very athletic questions in moot court.

I'm not quite sure what this means. I think it means that while your puny, weak-ass questions are lying on the couch eating cheese doodles; MY questions are out doing one-armed pushups, hitting the game-winning basket, and scoring with a cheerleader.

And my questions were practically softballs compared to my partner, who apparently consulted with the devil before coming up with her questions. Her questions weren't just evil, they were eeeeeeeeeevil. I must learn from her.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007


Well, after starring in a fairly embarrassing sex scandal, the LSU Lady Tigers got down to the business of kicking the crap out of the rest of the college basketball world. Last night, LSU earned their fourth straight trip to the Final Four by administering a 73-50 beat down to UConn. Sylvia Fowles led the way with 23 points, 15 rebounds, and 6 blocks. Then after the game, she rescued a child from a burning building, built a perpetual motion machine, and cured cancer.

Some Sylvia Fowles fatcs, stolen liberally from

- The chief export of Sylvia Fowles is Pain.
- When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night, he checks his closet for Sylvia Fowles.
- Outer space exists because it's afraid to be on the same planet with Sylvia Fowles.
- Sylvia Fowles counted to infinity - twice.
- When Sylvia Fowles does a pushup, she isn’t lifting herself up, she’s pushing the Earth down.
- Sylvia Fowles’ hand is the only hand that can beat a Royal Flush.
- Sylvia Fowles can lead a horse to water AND make it drink.
- Sylvia Fowles can slam a revolving door.
- Remember the Soviet Union? They decided to quit after Sylvia Fowles was born.
- Even Chuck Norris is afraid of Sylvia Fowles.

Monday, March 26, 2007

Does This Witness Stand Make Me Look Fat?

I got a life sentence. My brilliant legal team got me a life sentence for a murder I didn't commit. In fact, even the prosecutors admitted I didn't pull the trigger. They did say I brainwashed my wife to do the deed, which is sort of flattering. I mean, one of the questions was "Are you a dominating person?" You know it, baby.

Osler already beat me to the post mortem, but I don't think he could have made a little bit more fun of me for having to play a personal training. I'm going to paraphrase here, as he advised my lawyers:

"So your client is supposedly this personal health guru and such a stud that he's got several women fighting over him, even killing for him. And then you're gonna let Baker hobble up there? Isn't that sort of self-impeaching?"

Gee, thanks. It was a step away from "What? You're letting this fat ass on the stand?"

Usually, its my friends (or Graham) who would make that joke, but its good to know the professor's willing to step into the breach, too. At least Osler had the decency to sort of take it back by calling me "a pretty good athlete." Yeah, don't hurt yourself throwing out those compliments. I used to be really good, but those knee surgeries... dammit. I need to go to a gym.

Though thanks to the v.r. for coming to my defense. My ping pong skills are legendary, but only because I use a two-handed backhand in an absurd amount of overkill which suits my personality.

Sunday, March 25, 2007

Remember the Alamodome

Emily and I drove to San Antonio for the Elite Eight game yesterday. Actually, a correction to that statement: I drove Emily to San Antonio. Her duties were limited to not getting us too lost and finding a good place to east (both goals accomplished -- so good job!). The real surprise is not that we were that late for the game, but that we only missed the first couple of minutes. Considering Emily can't usually make it on time for class, making it on time for a basketball game about 200 miles away is a rather ambitious undertaking. Though I did bribe her with Starbucks.

Thanks to Texas A&M for losing so we could get the tickets from her brother, a disappointed Aggie who didn't want to watch the final game.

Memo to everyone whoever went to Ohio State: you can spell "Ohio". We're very proud of you. Please stop.

The game was pretty good until the final five minutes, when alleged "freshman" Greg Oden scored about a bazillion points in a few minutes. Then the Buckeyes failed to miss a free throw. And everyone in red started spelling "Ohio" again.

We took the chance to see the Alamo and wander around San Antonio for a bit, a city best described as quaint. And the definite highlight of the evening was during dinner at the Riverwalk, a mariachi band busted out their own rendition of "Devil Went Down to Georgia." If you've never heard the Mexican interpretation of this country classic, you have not heard Shakespeare the way it was meant to be performed. It really defied all explanation. Words do not do it justice. But it was awesome.

Friday, March 23, 2007

Poseur Sorts Through The Mail

Part of my job at the court is to go thorugh prisoner mail, which is alternatively heartbreaking and hysterical. Really depending on how much coffee I've had that day. And because we're all horrible people, we like to share our favorites with each other in the office, with the current front-runner being this line from a letter on behalf of a prisoner, "how to repair his train wreck and get his choo choo back on the right track to Successville."

OK, we've been making fun of that metaphor for a few days now, but there's a certain amount of compassion and honesty there I really like. I want to mock it, but really, here's someone pleading for someone they love to get a second chance. Who am I to make fun of that? That's an act of love. There's a willingness there to put yourself out there, to make yourself look foolish to try and right what you perceive to be a wrong. There's a certain vulnerability to that I really respect. If the analogy is pretty silly, so what?

That's an actual person in jail and there's another person on the outside who still loves them so much that they would mail me a thirty-page plea on why he deserves a second chance. And there's nothing funny about that.

Just heartbreaking.

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Fever Breaks Like A Bone

Most people misuse the word ambivalent. It does not mean that one doesn't care about something, it means that one feels strongly both ways on something. I bring this up because I am ambivalent towards the feeling I get when my fever breaks.

I'm happy to no longer have a fever, and feel about 100% better than I did last night when I was seriously contemplating my funeral arrangements. But I absolutely hate that moment when I wake up shivering, drenched in sweat. And it's not like the pain in my joints has gone away (like it ever will).

I guess I'm as well as I can expect. But a warning to whoever I'm barristering for: I'm in a really lousy mood and feel like taking it out on you. Nothing personal.

Completely unrelated, but most people also misuse penultimate. It means second to last. It's one of my favorite words because I can say, with all honesty, I was at the penultimate game of Cal Ripken's Streak.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Pain In the Neck

This just in: getting hit in the throat with a softball kind of hurts. That's the last time I try and make a play at the plate. Actually, who am I kidding? I'd risk severe bodily injury in a game of tiddlywinks if I could.

One of these days, I'll make a compendium of the injuries I've suffered, but my personal favorite will always be blowing out my knee playing croquet. By the way, if you blow out your knee in a game of croquet, the doctors will make fun of you. Just so you know.

I'm taking bets on when I finally lose the ability to walk. There's not a whole lot of parts in my legs still in their original factory condition. I started young, with my first orthopedic foot surgery at age 7. Though I'm pretty happy that one of my knee ligaments actually comes from a dead guy. I'm like a real life Frankenstein.

Monday, March 19, 2007

Mike the Tiger Retires From What Seems A Lot Like Retirement

Mike the Tiger is retiring. Mike is LSU's live mascot, and he has a very difficult job of being rolled into the stadium and being asked to roar. Well, his trainer (who has the same name as my brother) has said that Mike's heart isn't in it anymore and he's not going to go to roar at games anymore.

Let me get this straight. He's a tiger, and he's retiring from his job... which consists of roaring. Isn't that what tigers do? Is Mike retiring from being a tiger? Actually, Mike is still going to go to games, he's just gonna chill out and enjoy his sideline seat.

Baker said there is no reason to start thinking of getting a new tiger. He said Mike has slowed down over the past 18 months, losing weight and muscle. But he still has a “good attitude.”

That's because Mike is a game day player. Mike's life up until this point has been to wake up, eat some food, take a nap, eat more food, play with a keg, nap some more, eat again, and then go to bed. And seven times a year, he goes to a football game. How do you retire from that? Isn't that close to retirment already? Does Mike really need muscle mass to lounge around and eat?

If LSU is taking applications, I'll take the job of being the next Mike.

Sunday, March 18, 2007

The Duke Returns to Vegas

The only problem with people from different phases of your life meeting each other is that it's almost impossible to keep track of the sheer amount of nicknames I have compiled over the years. It'll be strange to go back to school and actually be called by my first name again. Though it was cool that everybody meshed really well despite never having met before. Aside from Dan knocking over a table and spilling several pints of Stella Artois all over me.

Going to Vegas to bet on basketball absolutely wrecks your sleep schedule. Going to be at 1 AM is turning in early, and I think everybody had at least one night where they were out until well past 4 AM. Which is normally fine in Vegas, because you just sleep in and wake up somewhat refreshed. but I was dragging my ass out of bed at 7:30 AM to get down to the sportsbook to place bets on the Southern Illinois-Holy Cross under. Or to bet against Texas Tech (thank you, Bobby Knight, for being a reliable tourney failure). And since I was riding a ridiculous hot streak at the sportsbook, there was no way I was gonna let a little sleep deprivation stop me. Of the first 32 games, I bet on 19 of them and missed only four times. Which encouraged me to waste all of my winnings on poker and blackjack.

However, I did pull off a Vegas first: I did not go to an ATM or get a cash advance on my credit card once. I think that is the first time in recorded history that has happened in Vegas.

Had an absolute blast. Now I have to go find something to drink which does not have gin in it.

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

It Hasn't Happened In Vegas Yet, So It's Not Staying In Vegas

Some random notes before my trip to Vegas to gamble my loan money on basketball games:

- I watched the play-in game tonight. And then I watched the NIT. I have a real problem with watching basketball right now. I even plan on laying some coin on the women's tourney. Because there is something inherently funny in betting on Baylor.

- Remember: the goal of blackjack is not to get 21, but to beat the dealer. And always split aces and double down on 11.

- As a Marylander, I already was prepared to hate Davidson, their first round opponent. However, their star player is named Stephen Curry and he pronounces his name "Steffen". This is exactly the kind of thing I don't need. The lady at the front counter of the haircut place already mispronounces my name as "Stephanie". I don't need guys getting cute with the pronunciation of my name. It's pronounced "Steven". I hate you, Stephen Curry.

- I'm going to spend the next four days with a Duke fan. If they win, he will be insufferable. I'm not looking forward to that.

- Last year, I learned an important rule in Vegas: if you have a chance to hang out with a guy dressed up as a chicken, you should do so. There is no possible downside to hanging out with a six-foot chicken.

- I will be staying at the Luxor. It is one of only three pyramids in the United States. The other two are sports arenas (The Pyramid in Memphis and the Walter Pyramid, home to the Long Beach State 49ers... don't ask how I know this, I just do).

- Did you know they don't give you free alcohol in the sportsbook at Mandalay Bay? Get on the ball, Vegas! What could possibly go wrong when you combine sports fans and alcohol?

Monday, March 12, 2007

Defining Sport

I just got asked what makes a sport a sport. I'm a firm believer that golf is not a sport, but most criteria I can come up for "is it a sport?" includes golf. Which only makes me hate golf even more. This is not to say certain activities are not valid enterprises, they just aren't sports. Dancing, for example, is athletic, exceptionally difficult, and not a sport. Hey, I like Mikhail Baryshnikov as much as the next guy, but I'd feel more comfortable describing him as an artist than as an athlete. I think so would he.

So, the criteria for being a sport:

1. Objective scoring criteria
Sorry, boxing. Unless you fight until knockout like in the old days. I'm willing to give a pass to diving and ski jumping, which has such rigid rules on judging that I think their subjective scoring systems are beyond reproach (though is it really necessary in ski jumping? The guy with best form is the guy who went the furthest). But I'm looking right at you, figure skating*. Sports that are judged are open to such rampant corruption that it takes away from the competitors. Figure skating is so corrupt, it makes boxing look on the level, and I didn't think that was possible.

This also excludes all of the x-sports, which I hate with a fiery passion. It was never supposed to be about competition. And this comes from someone who used to own the old Bones Brigade videos.

2. Citius, Altius, Fortius
The Olympic motto is our guide. Swifter, higher, stronger. Sport at its purest form is two kids standing around and one says to the other, "I will race you to that tree." Which I guess means I've just included the World's Strongest Man competitions which are, let's face it, pretty damn awesome.

But it excludes things like the Spelling Bee. While those kids are freakishly awesome at spelling words I'm not entirely sure exist, it's not a sport. It's measuring brain power not athleticism. Same thing for people who play video games, who, it should be noted, need to go outside and realize its a beautiful day (says the guy who is typing on a computer). This also excludes all games, which are loads of fun, but not sports.

3. Competition
This should go without saying. The outcome needs to be legitimately in doubt. Which means pro wrestling is not a sport because it is, I hate to be the one to break this to you, not real. We'll talk later about the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy.

4. While not required, if you can make the game a metaphor for war, all the better.
Football is the most obvious example. To quote George Carlin:

In football, the object is for the quarterback, otherwise known as the field general, to be on target with his aerial assault, riddling the defense by hitting his receivers with deadly accuracy in spite of the blitz, even if he has to use the shotgun. With short bullet passes and long bombs, he marches his troops into enemy territory, balancing this aerial assault with a sustained ground attack that punches holes in the forward wall of the enemy's defensive line.

Lacrosse used to be actual war, as opposing tribes would kill one another in the primitive version of the game. Not much has changed. Hockey is just one step away from aggravated assault.

I need a rule to exclude golf. I'm thinking off adding rules which will exclude bowling and shuffleboard. Which, if you stop to think about it (and I have), I have not excluded by this criteria. I'm torn on finding a way to exclude auto racing, which I don't much care for but will consider a real sport due to the very real possibility someone could die. Or at least catch fire. Feel free to help. I'm looking at you, Matt.

Oh, it's spring break and I've gone into overdrive writing about the NCAA tournament over at GeauxTuscaloosa. Go see me pretend to be a sportswriter.

*Note From Management: This is bound to get my ass kicked by Sherp, who was a figure skater. So let me place this caveat: I understand what you dis was really hard. I also understand that it required a high level of athleticism. I also understand that there isn't a snowball's chance in hell I could do a single sowcow, much less a triple toeloop or whatever they call their jumps. My only point is that the judges are so damn corrupt that it takes away from the competition because we never know when the fix is in. I'd rather we dispense with the competition and just have skaters go out there and do tricks.

Friday, March 09, 2007

Spring Break!

Strange day. It was the last day before spring break, so for a good portion of the day, the school was a ghost town. Only I was busy as hell: job interview in the morning, presenting a case in civ lib, go to work, witness for my old moot court partner, and then relax by taking in 300.

The best part of the day? changing into a pair of shorts for the first time this year. Wearing a tie pretty much every day has prevented me from putting on the official uniform of Poseur HQ: a t-shirt, shorts, and flip flops. It was nice to be back in the comfort zone, especially after wearing a suit all day.

Apropos of nothing, we did an arbitration exercise in Sports Law on Thursday. And some of you are probably aware of political leanings (to the left) and that of the Reverend's (to the right). Yet, from what we can determine, we think my arbitration award was the lowest and his was the highest. That means the leftist sided with management, and the conservative sided with the union. So, if the world ends this weekend, now you know why.

OK, off to practice for beer pong. I love spring break.

Thursday, March 08, 2007

Getting a Jump On Haiku Friday

An Ode To The Person Who Drinks The Last Of The Coffee And Does Not Make A New Pot:


I hope you will die
Buried with your sippy cup;
You commie bastard.

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Bear Mountain Picnic

I’m a little disappointed no one was mauled by a wild animal last night at the Zoo Party. Come on, what would be better when we compare how tough our schools are with fellow law students if we could whip out a death by bear?

“At Yale, we study 25 hours a day.”
“At Stanford, some guy had a nervous breakdown.”
“Oh yeah? At Baylor, we lost a 1Q because he was mauled by a bear. The next day the professors gave us extra work because he didn’t show up to class.”

Argument over.

Mixing law students, alcohol, and wild animals may not be the best idea ever. But there were free fajitas. Hopefully, we all made it out alive.

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

Pass the Cigars!

My partner in crime over at GeauxTuscaloosa is now a dad. Baby Pittman was born yesterday, thereby insuring that he will not get a decent night's sleep for the next two years. I'll spare you all the details, but I'm pretty stoked, and I'm not even related*. So if you see me grinning like an idiot, it's not because I am an idiot. Well, at least it's not the reason I'm grinning.

I'm pretty excited for him. But I guess that means he's a no go for the Vegas trip, eh?

*Ed. Note - This means of the number of parents in my group of friends from college is up to three. This is one of those "I'm getting old" things I don't mind so much. I love babies. Particularly other people's babies, because I'm not responsible for their care and maintenance. I can just play with them (and their toys) for an hour or so and then give them back to mom and dad.

Monday, March 05, 2007

Charitable Donations

I don't usually use the space to trumpet SBA events, but seriously, buy some immunity for Wednesday. All of the money goes to charity, so its one of those things where everyone benefits. It's time to channel Trail from 1st quarter and remember his lecture on how we lead charmed lives and need to give back to the community. Who knew Trail was big on karma?

The point is, its not a big deal to shell out 10 or 15 bucks to help out the Children's advocacy Center*. Even those of us living off loans can afford that price tag. So pony up. It's not about the immunity, its about giving a little something back.

*Ed. Note- Unless you're in PC. Then the price tag is much higher and has nothing to do with helping the kids and has everything to do with not getting reamed in class. But we can pretend you did it for the kids.

Saturday, March 03, 2007

Guest Blogging

One of my buddies from LSU has started his own blog on LSU sports and assorted sports topics. He's a football guy and doesn't really know much about college basketball so he's invited me to guest blog over on his site during March Madness.

So, go check it out and see me pretend I know things about basketball. I'm watching Belmont-ETSU play in the Atlantic Sun title game right now, which means I have a real problem. Belmont has hit 12 three-pointers in the first half, which I bring up for no discernible reason. But I was excited and had to share.

Friday, March 02, 2007

Out of Vogue

Ed and I headed down to Houston last night for our interviews at TYLA. Figured it would be easier to stay downtown, wake up, and then hit the interviews instead of driving down to Houston in the morning from Waco. So we booked the cheapest hotel we could find that was close to the job fair, the Lancaster Hotel.

Apparently, it’s a luxury hotel. And, most of you know that the two of us are pretty meat and potatoes kind of guys. So when we pull up to a swanky hotel looking like we’ve just been on the road for three hours, you can sort of guess the general reaction of the hotel wait staff. It was an ADR negotiation just to get a second bed, which they certainly didn’t want to give two commoners like us. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so out of place in a joint. It’s one thing to go somewhere nice when you’re expecting it, but when you’re just rolling into the cheap hotel you’ve booked for convenience sake, you don’t expect to need a suit and tie. It’s the kind of place where the guy smoking a pipe doesn’t seem out of place.

Surprisingly good value though. This place is pretty darn cheap, its lovely, and it’s nestled right in the theatre district. Just next time I’ll bring a much nicer wardrobe. Maybe I can fake that I belong with a little bit of planning.

Thursday, March 01, 2007

The Dookies Lose, Baby!

I thoroughly enjoyed Maryland punking Duke for the second time this basketball season. I enjoyed calling up my buddy, who is a Duke alum, after the game even more. About the only thing I did not enjoy was that ESPN lost the video feed with about three minutes to go. This is irritating because I absolutely hate sports announcers and tend to watch games with no sound on. But the lack of video forced me turn up the sound.

And listen to Dick Vitale. Who, of course, was sucking up to Duke. And then went on a bizarre rant about how Brtiney Spears isn't going to live to the age of 40 at her current pace. And then back to sucking up to Duke. And then some other random stuff about Jim Boeheim, who coaches the Syracuse team who was noticeably not playing in the game. In fact, he talked about just about everything except for Maryland opening up an eight-point lead to win the game. Which normally would be fine, except I HAD NO VIDEO TO WATCH. I was forced to listen to this guy just ramble incoherently into a microphone for ten minutes.

Which gave me an insight to how readers of this page must feel. So I guess I can't make fun of Dick Vitale anymore. It was awesome, baby.