Rangers hurler Kenny Rogers garners this week's Athletes Behaving Badly award. Maybe him and Frankie Cordero can go to some anger management classes together.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Know When To Hold 'Em, Know When To Slug 'Em
Rangers hurler Kenny Rogers garners this week's Athletes Behaving Badly award. Maybe him and Frankie Cordero can go to some anger management classes together.
Rangers hurler Kenny Rogers garners this week's Athletes Behaving Badly award. Maybe him and Frankie Cordero can go to some anger management classes together.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
That Little Shit!
With the Sox off last night and nothing going on in the Ilk household, I decided to whip up some of my moderately-famous low-fat banana bread...in spite of the fact that it's like 95 degrees out. I slaved in the kitchen for an hour, swearing at my not-ripe-enough bananas and bitching about how the batter just didn't seem to look right in the breadpan.
In the end the bread came out delicious, and I made sure to have a few slices gobbed in butter as my after-work snack when I got home today. I sealed the bag back up and put it toward the edge of the counter.
K and I ran a couple walking errands right after she got home today and were gone for about 10 minutes. Carson the wonderbeagle had just gone for his afternoon walk/ass-sniffing and we'd be figured he'd be fine if he stayed out of his crate for a little bit.
Wrong-o.
The little bastard somehow managed to get his greasy grimy little paws on the counter (which is a pretty impressive feat considering his fairly small size and fat gut) and pull the bag down. He then proceeded to rip the bag open and gobble every last bit of the bread up. We got home, and he was sprawled out in front of the TV with the doggie equivalent of a shit-eating grin on his face.
I'm not looking forward to the inevitable whining and whimpering that I'm sure I'll hear at about 11:30 tonight when he's really really really gotta go out.
With the Sox off last night and nothing going on in the Ilk household, I decided to whip up some of my moderately-famous low-fat banana bread...in spite of the fact that it's like 95 degrees out. I slaved in the kitchen for an hour, swearing at my not-ripe-enough bananas and bitching about how the batter just didn't seem to look right in the breadpan.
In the end the bread came out delicious, and I made sure to have a few slices gobbed in butter as my after-work snack when I got home today. I sealed the bag back up and put it toward the edge of the counter.
K and I ran a couple walking errands right after she got home today and were gone for about 10 minutes. Carson the wonderbeagle had just gone for his afternoon walk/ass-sniffing and we'd be figured he'd be fine if he stayed out of his crate for a little bit.
Wrong-o.
The little bastard somehow managed to get his greasy grimy little paws on the counter (which is a pretty impressive feat considering his fairly small size and fat gut) and pull the bag down. He then proceeded to rip the bag open and gobble every last bit of the bread up. We got home, and he was sprawled out in front of the TV with the doggie equivalent of a shit-eating grin on his face.
I'm not looking forward to the inevitable whining and whimpering that I'm sure I'll hear at about 11:30 tonight when he's really really really gotta go out.
Words Of Wisdom
...from Pat Ferrini on White Sox Interactive:
If you're from Chicago, you might be a White Sox fan if...
...you spell "clue" K-L-U.
...you hate Hunter Wendlestedt
...you turn off your cell phone before a baseball game.
...you've worked a day in your life.
...you think Jon Rooney should be in the Hall-of-Fame.
...losers aren't lovable.
...Nellie Fox is the greatest second baseman of all-time.
...a home run hit barely past Torii Hunter causes you to break a sweat.
...your team has the best record in baseball.
...you think Wrigleyville should just be annexed by Iowa and Wisconsin.
...you hate sportswriters.
...you love Dan McNeil.
...you prefer a park that doesn't smell like urinal and pose a lifethreatening risk everytime you buy a ticket.
...you miss McCuddy's.
...you need only one pre-game bar and it happens to be in the bullpen.
...you prefer tailgating.
...you hate the Twins, Tigers, Indians, Yankees, Red Sox, Dodgers, Reds, Giants, Blue Jays, A's, and Cubs.
...you are skeptical about everything.
...Ozzieball/Smartball/Smallball is exactly what you've been screaming at the Sox to do for the last decade.
...you refuse to buy the Tribune out of principle.
...Steve Bartman is a personal hero.
...you still hope the Sox will bring back Robin Ventura.
...you know who Brooks Boyer is.
...you've signed a petition to have Mariotti banished from Chicago permanently.
...you love Nancy Faust.
...Carlton has nothing to do with "Fresh Prince." Fisk should be remembered as a WHITE Sock.
...you remember Falstaff.
..."Disco sucks" chants still bring chills down your spine.
...even a 10 game lead in the division makes you nervous. In fact, it makes you more so.
..."Hitmen" has nothing to do with the mob.
...you can recite the entire lyrics from "Go Go White Sox."
...you appreciate the work of "The Sodfather."
...you know who the band Steam is.
...you can remember a time when professional baseball players wore shorts and collars.
...you don't give a crap about Ron Santo.
...you miss Dave Wills. (NNNNEEEXXXTTTT BOOM!)
..."Winning Ugly" is not an insult.
...you don't bother with the All-Star game (i.e. the Red Sox & Yankees v. National League game).
...you love Ozzie's antics and hate when the media tries to play up every little quirk as the end of the Sox season.
...you think Shoeless Joe has gotten a raw deal. Hey, no one ever found him guilty!
...you still love Harold Baines.
...you know and love Beltin' Bill Melton.
...the devil wears blue.
...from Pat Ferrini on White Sox Interactive:
If you're from Chicago, you might be a White Sox fan if...
...you spell "clue" K-L-U.
...you hate Hunter Wendlestedt
...you turn off your cell phone before a baseball game.
...you've worked a day in your life.
...you think Jon Rooney should be in the Hall-of-Fame.
...losers aren't lovable.
...Nellie Fox is the greatest second baseman of all-time.
...a home run hit barely past Torii Hunter causes you to break a sweat.
...your team has the best record in baseball.
...you think Wrigleyville should just be annexed by Iowa and Wisconsin.
...you hate sportswriters.
...you love Dan McNeil.
...you prefer a park that doesn't smell like urinal and pose a lifethreatening risk everytime you buy a ticket.
...you miss McCuddy's.
...you need only one pre-game bar and it happens to be in the bullpen.
...you prefer tailgating.
...you hate the Twins, Tigers, Indians, Yankees, Red Sox, Dodgers, Reds, Giants, Blue Jays, A's, and Cubs.
...you are skeptical about everything.
...Ozzieball/Smartball/Smallball is exactly what you've been screaming at the Sox to do for the last decade.
...you refuse to buy the Tribune out of principle.
...Steve Bartman is a personal hero.
...you still hope the Sox will bring back Robin Ventura.
...you know who Brooks Boyer is.
...you've signed a petition to have Mariotti banished from Chicago permanently.
...you love Nancy Faust.
...Carlton has nothing to do with "Fresh Prince." Fisk should be remembered as a WHITE Sock.
...you remember Falstaff.
..."Disco sucks" chants still bring chills down your spine.
...even a 10 game lead in the division makes you nervous. In fact, it makes you more so.
..."Hitmen" has nothing to do with the mob.
...you can recite the entire lyrics from "Go Go White Sox."
...you appreciate the work of "The Sodfather."
...you know who the band Steam is.
...you can remember a time when professional baseball players wore shorts and collars.
...you don't give a crap about Ron Santo.
...you miss Dave Wills. (NNNNEEEXXXTTTT BOOM!)
..."Winning Ugly" is not an insult.
...you don't bother with the All-Star game (i.e. the Red Sox & Yankees v. National League game).
...you love Ozzie's antics and hate when the media tries to play up every little quirk as the end of the Sox season.
...you think Shoeless Joe has gotten a raw deal. Hey, no one ever found him guilty!
...you still love Harold Baines.
...you know and love Beltin' Bill Melton.
...the devil wears blue.
Monday, June 27, 2005
White Sox Weekly Rewind: Week 12
Record For Week: 4-2. Record For Season: 50-24, First Place, AL Central.
The Good: Swept the Royals. Not that big an accomplishment, but a sweep's a sweep. Bullpen did an excellent job bailing out McCarthy last Tuesday. We gave up 8 runs, but managed to score 11, proving that this team don't lie down for nobody. The long balls were just flying out of US Cellular, especially Tuesday and Friday. Garland was great on Sunday, but Prior was even greater.
The Bad: Lost 2 out of 3 to the Cubs. Now i'm forced to endure a few weeks of "you guys suck" from all the blue sheep I work with/live near...without them realizing that we just beat them 2 out of 3 in their house four short weeks ago. Oh yeah, and our record's still a lot better. Contreras fell victim to the big inning on Saturday and then settled down, much like Garcia did the week before. No ninth inning miracles this week though. It's becoming pretty clear that we can't count on Brandon McCarthy as a 5th starter just yet.
Ahead: At Detroit, 6/28-6/20. At Oakland, 7/1-7/3.
Thoughts: Lots of bad blood brewing between Ken Macha's club and the Pale Hose after the crazy games out in the Mausoleum in April. Detroit was supposed to be a contender this year, but they still pretty much suck.
Record For Week: 4-2. Record For Season: 50-24, First Place, AL Central.
The Good: Swept the Royals. Not that big an accomplishment, but a sweep's a sweep. Bullpen did an excellent job bailing out McCarthy last Tuesday. We gave up 8 runs, but managed to score 11, proving that this team don't lie down for nobody. The long balls were just flying out of US Cellular, especially Tuesday and Friday. Garland was great on Sunday, but Prior was even greater.
The Bad: Lost 2 out of 3 to the Cubs. Now i'm forced to endure a few weeks of "you guys suck" from all the blue sheep I work with/live near...without them realizing that we just beat them 2 out of 3 in their house four short weeks ago. Oh yeah, and our record's still a lot better. Contreras fell victim to the big inning on Saturday and then settled down, much like Garcia did the week before. No ninth inning miracles this week though. It's becoming pretty clear that we can't count on Brandon McCarthy as a 5th starter just yet.
Ahead: At Detroit, 6/28-6/20. At Oakland, 7/1-7/3.
Thoughts: Lots of bad blood brewing between Ken Macha's club and the Pale Hose after the crazy games out in the Mausoleum in April. Detroit was supposed to be a contender this year, but they still pretty much suck.
Saturday, June 25, 2005
Degrees Of Nakedity
CTA tattler with an interesting post today about some of the fun, naughty stuff you can see if you look up from your paper long enough on the ol'commute.
CTA tattler with an interesting post today about some of the fun, naughty stuff you can see if you look up from your paper long enough on the ol'commute.
Friday, June 24, 2005
Ho Hum.
Hot Friday in Chicago. I mean really stinking hot. The paper this morning said today might be the hottest day here in 6 years with temps creeping toward 100. Seems like it hasn't rained in months, but I guess it's only 8 days. The pepper plants are thriving though.
City's gonna grind to a big hot sticky gridlocked standstill this weekend. Cubs/Sox all 3 days (I'll be there for 2 of them), Taste Of Chicago kicking off (might go there), Gay Pride Parade (won't go there). Mess in the making.
The Kell knocked me out of poker last night. It's an honor to lose to your idol, even if it costs you money. (I know you're reading this, Tom)
Hot Friday in Chicago. I mean really stinking hot. The paper this morning said today might be the hottest day here in 6 years with temps creeping toward 100. Seems like it hasn't rained in months, but I guess it's only 8 days. The pepper plants are thriving though.
City's gonna grind to a big hot sticky gridlocked standstill this weekend. Cubs/Sox all 3 days (I'll be there for 2 of them), Taste Of Chicago kicking off (might go there), Gay Pride Parade (won't go there). Mess in the making.
The Kell knocked me out of poker last night. It's an honor to lose to your idol, even if it costs you money. (I know you're reading this, Tom)
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Turkey For Me, Turkey For You
Behold the glory of the Hartwig Gobbler, a now-defunct supper club located up in Cheeseland which was devoted to all things turkey.
At least you had a motel room waiting for you once the triptophan kicked in.
Mercy.
Behold the glory of the Hartwig Gobbler, a now-defunct supper club located up in Cheeseland which was devoted to all things turkey.
At least you had a motel room waiting for you once the triptophan kicked in.
Mercy.
The Un-concert
Here's Jim Derogatis' review of Monday's Oasis show. Britpop by numbers, baby!
Back with more later.
Here's Jim Derogatis' review of Monday's Oasis show. Britpop by numbers, baby!
Back with more later.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Champagne Supersnoozer
My musical taste is generally pretty pedestrian, and can be lumped into three categories:
1) "Classic" Arena Rock. You know, stuff everyone else likes: Springsteen, The Stones, U2.
2) Geezer Alternative. Bands that have been around for a while and I've pretty much grown up with: Pearl Jam, Weezer, Radiohead, Coldplay.
3) Flavors Of The Month. Stuff that my much cooler friends tell me about that I'll listen to for a few months and then forget about: The Darkness, The Futureheads, Kaiser Chiefs.
One of my favorite bands of the mid-90s fits into the middle category: Oasis. As a drug-addled, drunken early twenty-something, their drug-addled drunken ripoffs of Beatles tunes and decadent songs about being a rock and roll star and living forever had a certain appeal to them. I loved the fact that Liam Gallagher was one of the most petulant mofos alive with his barfights, his storming offstage and his claims that he was John Lennon reincarnated.
So Oasis came to town last night and played the UIC Pavilion. And Killer Bee and I were there. Well, we were in the last row, which put us closer to Rush-Presbyterian than the stage...but we were still able to hear Liam's muttering and mumbling and see him as he walked back to the drum riser to take another swig from his vodka bottle.
The set was uneven, and leaned way too much on their newer material. The crowd (including myself) was definitely there to see "Wonderwall," "Don't Look Back In Anger," and "Live Forever." We got all of that--pretty late in the set. By then, the masses were mostly bored. Even me.
My musical taste is generally pretty pedestrian, and can be lumped into three categories:
1) "Classic" Arena Rock. You know, stuff everyone else likes: Springsteen, The Stones, U2.
2) Geezer Alternative. Bands that have been around for a while and I've pretty much grown up with: Pearl Jam, Weezer, Radiohead, Coldplay.
3) Flavors Of The Month. Stuff that my much cooler friends tell me about that I'll listen to for a few months and then forget about: The Darkness, The Futureheads, Kaiser Chiefs.
One of my favorite bands of the mid-90s fits into the middle category: Oasis. As a drug-addled, drunken early twenty-something, their drug-addled drunken ripoffs of Beatles tunes and decadent songs about being a rock and roll star and living forever had a certain appeal to them. I loved the fact that Liam Gallagher was one of the most petulant mofos alive with his barfights, his storming offstage and his claims that he was John Lennon reincarnated.
So Oasis came to town last night and played the UIC Pavilion. And Killer Bee and I were there. Well, we were in the last row, which put us closer to Rush-Presbyterian than the stage...but we were still able to hear Liam's muttering and mumbling and see him as he walked back to the drum riser to take another swig from his vodka bottle.
The set was uneven, and leaned way too much on their newer material. The crowd (including myself) was definitely there to see "Wonderwall," "Don't Look Back In Anger," and "Live Forever." We got all of that--pretty late in the set. By then, the masses were mostly bored. Even me.
Monday, June 20, 2005
White Sox Weekly Rewind: Week Eleven
Record For Week: 4-2. Record For Season: 46-22. First Place, AL Central.
The Good: After 2 straight thumpings at the hands of the D'backs, the Sox find themselves with their backs against the wall last Wednesday and respond by having their first double-digit innning of the year. Sweeping the Dodgers exorcises the demons of 1959. (God, I sound like a freakin Cub fan) Podsednik comes out swinging Friday night and keys the win. AJ shows the real reason we picked him up with the ultra-clutch walk-off jack Saturday. The 1959 unis, complete with striped socks and baggy bloused trousers look awesome in person. Buehrle dominant on Friday. Freddy overcomes shitting the bed in the early going Saturday to keep the game close. Politte kicks ass out of the bullpen. Willie Harris gets a rare start at second on Sunday and makes the most of it both offensively and defensively.
The Bad: The Cubans have just been rotten at worst and mediorce at best their past couple times out, and now the fragile thoroughbred that is El Duque is heading to the DL again, forcing the Great White Hope that is Brandon McCarthy to take the hill at home for the first time. Garland was shaky on Wednesday night.
Ahead: Vs. Kansas City, 6/20-6-22. Vs. Chicago National League Ballclub, 6/24-6/26.
Thoughts: KC is hot, but still sorely overmatched especially without Mike Sweeney in the lineup. Cubs-Sox games at the Cell are always a drunken misadventure for yours truly...here's hoping that with the hot start the number of blue sheep in attendance is minimal.
Record For Week: 4-2. Record For Season: 46-22. First Place, AL Central.
The Good: After 2 straight thumpings at the hands of the D'backs, the Sox find themselves with their backs against the wall last Wednesday and respond by having their first double-digit innning of the year. Sweeping the Dodgers exorcises the demons of 1959. (God, I sound like a freakin Cub fan) Podsednik comes out swinging Friday night and keys the win. AJ shows the real reason we picked him up with the ultra-clutch walk-off jack Saturday. The 1959 unis, complete with striped socks and baggy bloused trousers look awesome in person. Buehrle dominant on Friday. Freddy overcomes shitting the bed in the early going Saturday to keep the game close. Politte kicks ass out of the bullpen. Willie Harris gets a rare start at second on Sunday and makes the most of it both offensively and defensively.
The Bad: The Cubans have just been rotten at worst and mediorce at best their past couple times out, and now the fragile thoroughbred that is El Duque is heading to the DL again, forcing the Great White Hope that is Brandon McCarthy to take the hill at home for the first time. Garland was shaky on Wednesday night.
Ahead: Vs. Kansas City, 6/20-6-22. Vs. Chicago National League Ballclub, 6/24-6/26.
Thoughts: KC is hot, but still sorely overmatched especially without Mike Sweeney in the lineup. Cubs-Sox games at the Cell are always a drunken misadventure for yours truly...here's hoping that with the hot start the number of blue sheep in attendance is minimal.
Friday, June 17, 2005
The '27 Yankees We Most Certainly Are Not
Ugly night on the softball field last night. For the first time in all my years (well, all 4 of them) of organized softball, the slaughter rule was invoked as we lost 18-3.
I indulged in my usual pre-game ritual of eating a bucket of fried chicken, listening to "Thunderstruck" over and over, killing a rooster and smearing the entrails on my glove (wonder what Brendan Donnelly would think of that), rubbing eye black all the way down to about mid-cheek, pulling my socks up to my knees (looks great with shorts!) and then dropping a couple hits of acid a la Dock Ellis.
I was 1 for 3 at the plate...2 run double, feeble groundout, long flyout. Had some good plays at first base when I came into the field in the third to replace the 400-lb lug who was playing there to start the game and recorded one out in about 8 chances.
Ugly night on the softball field last night. For the first time in all my years (well, all 4 of them) of organized softball, the slaughter rule was invoked as we lost 18-3.
I indulged in my usual pre-game ritual of eating a bucket of fried chicken, listening to "Thunderstruck" over and over, killing a rooster and smearing the entrails on my glove (wonder what Brendan Donnelly would think of that), rubbing eye black all the way down to about mid-cheek, pulling my socks up to my knees (looks great with shorts!) and then dropping a couple hits of acid a la Dock Ellis.
I was 1 for 3 at the plate...2 run double, feeble groundout, long flyout. Had some good plays at first base when I came into the field in the third to replace the 400-lb lug who was playing there to start the game and recorded one out in about 8 chances.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Movie Night
"Batman Returns" opened last night.
With that in mind, K and I knew that the hype surrounding "Revenge Of The Sith" was officially over, and no one would want to go see it anymore. So I painfully plunked down $21.00 for the two of us to catch the digital showing at the AMC RiverEastStreetervilleGoogolplex.
I was blown away.
The cinematography is unbelievable. In half a second, the shots zoom from a closeup of a vulture droid trying to peck R2D2's little red and blue glass eye thingie out to a wide shot of a space battle.
The lightsaber battles are fast and furious, although I got a little sick of seeing closeups of Yoda with that little smirk on his face as he draws his weapon back.
Much as in "Attack Of The Clones," things are in constant motion. There's always things buzzing out the windows in the background. It's visually stimulating and neat.
The digital projection makes explosions look almost fake. The fire color looks too spotty in extreme closeups.
The last 45 minutes are the best 45 minutes out of any of the 6 movies. Just awesome.
"Batman Returns" opened last night.
With that in mind, K and I knew that the hype surrounding "Revenge Of The Sith" was officially over, and no one would want to go see it anymore. So I painfully plunked down $21.00 for the two of us to catch the digital showing at the AMC RiverEastStreetervilleGoogolplex.
I was blown away.
The cinematography is unbelievable. In half a second, the shots zoom from a closeup of a vulture droid trying to peck R2D2's little red and blue glass eye thingie out to a wide shot of a space battle.
The lightsaber battles are fast and furious, although I got a little sick of seeing closeups of Yoda with that little smirk on his face as he draws his weapon back.
Much as in "Attack Of The Clones," things are in constant motion. There's always things buzzing out the windows in the background. It's visually stimulating and neat.
The digital projection makes explosions look almost fake. The fire color looks too spotty in extreme closeups.
The last 45 minutes are the best 45 minutes out of any of the 6 movies. Just awesome.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Beating The Dead (Blue) Horse
The guy who has the misfortune of having to sit across from me at work is the head of sales/relationship managment for our group, Frank. Frank's a very intelligent and witty guy who reads The Economist, is addicted to eBay and bikes a lot. So he's kinda like me--only a hell of a lot quieter. And older.
Frank's a little eccentric, and keeps tabs on random things. Today I found out that the Cub fan who sits next to him has tried to antagonize me for 17 business days IN A ROW by bringing up the attendance disparity between Chicago's two ballclubs.
So 17 days in a row I've responded with a lame comment about yapping on your cell phone with your sweater tied over your shoulders. Yawn.
The guy who has the misfortune of having to sit across from me at work is the head of sales/relationship managment for our group, Frank. Frank's a very intelligent and witty guy who reads The Economist, is addicted to eBay and bikes a lot. So he's kinda like me--only a hell of a lot quieter. And older.
Frank's a little eccentric, and keeps tabs on random things. Today I found out that the Cub fan who sits next to him has tried to antagonize me for 17 business days IN A ROW by bringing up the attendance disparity between Chicago's two ballclubs.
So 17 days in a row I've responded with a lame comment about yapping on your cell phone with your sweater tied over your shoulders. Yawn.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
From The "Paranoia Will Destroy Ya" Files
Airline passenger decides to listen to cassette tape on clunky old Walkman while relieving himself in the airliner bathroom.
Airline passenger leaves clunky old Walkman in airliner bathroom.
Paranoid airline passenger finds clunky old Walkman in airliner bathroom and freaks out.
Panic ensues. Everyone gets to Seattle 3 hours late.
Airline passenger decides to listen to cassette tape on clunky old Walkman while relieving himself in the airliner bathroom.
Airline passenger leaves clunky old Walkman in airliner bathroom.
Paranoid airline passenger finds clunky old Walkman in airliner bathroom and freaks out.
Panic ensues. Everyone gets to Seattle 3 hours late.
Monday, June 13, 2005
White Sox Weekly Rewind: Week Ten
Record For Week: 5-1. Record for Season: 42-20, First Place, AL Central.
The Good: There's nothing like 3 games in Coors Field against one of the worst teams in baseball to get a team jumpstarted. The Sox really only took advantage of the ultra-thin air on Wednesday with their 22-hit outburst, but kept the Rockies from jumping all over the ball which is a feat in itself. 2 out of 3 in San Diego is impressive against the top dog in the NL West. Looks like the supposed "West Coast Jinx" only applies to AL West teams. Rowand comes through in the clutch with a 3-run shot in extra time Sunday to give the Sox the win. Oh yeah, and our pitchers can hit! Believe it or not, the Pale Hose have the best road record in baseball.
The Bad: Why the hell does Konerko try to score from first in a tight game, knowing full well that whether he's out or not, the ump's gonna call him out? Dustin Hermanson gets his blown save cherry popped. Frank gets the chance to play hero yesterday and whiffs. Mark Buehrle is now the victim of 4 straight no-decisions, which must be awful irritating for a guy whose ERA has DROPPED in those past 4 starts.
Ahead: Vs. Arizona, 6/13-6/15. Vs. Los Angeles, 6/17-6/19.
Thoughts: The Snakes come to the South Side for the first time ever with their glory days of Schilling and Johnson nothing more than a distant memory. The Daaaadgers come to the South Side for the first time since the 1959 World Series, a painful memory for all old-timers out there. The weather's hot, the kiddies are out of school...let's see some big crowds packing the blue seats this week as we start the 12 game homestand.
Record For Week: 5-1. Record for Season: 42-20, First Place, AL Central.
The Good: There's nothing like 3 games in Coors Field against one of the worst teams in baseball to get a team jumpstarted. The Sox really only took advantage of the ultra-thin air on Wednesday with their 22-hit outburst, but kept the Rockies from jumping all over the ball which is a feat in itself. 2 out of 3 in San Diego is impressive against the top dog in the NL West. Looks like the supposed "West Coast Jinx" only applies to AL West teams. Rowand comes through in the clutch with a 3-run shot in extra time Sunday to give the Sox the win. Oh yeah, and our pitchers can hit! Believe it or not, the Pale Hose have the best road record in baseball.
The Bad: Why the hell does Konerko try to score from first in a tight game, knowing full well that whether he's out or not, the ump's gonna call him out? Dustin Hermanson gets his blown save cherry popped. Frank gets the chance to play hero yesterday and whiffs. Mark Buehrle is now the victim of 4 straight no-decisions, which must be awful irritating for a guy whose ERA has DROPPED in those past 4 starts.
Ahead: Vs. Arizona, 6/13-6/15. Vs. Los Angeles, 6/17-6/19.
Thoughts: The Snakes come to the South Side for the first time ever with their glory days of Schilling and Johnson nothing more than a distant memory. The Daaaadgers come to the South Side for the first time since the 1959 World Series, a painful memory for all old-timers out there. The weather's hot, the kiddies are out of school...let's see some big crowds packing the blue seats this week as we start the 12 game homestand.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Dispatches From The Front
Actual Email from CubFanPaul:
> I have to say that Condoleeza Rice just doesn't do it for me.Now take Madeleine Albright and Janet Reno...THERE were a couple of hot government employees...total political eye candy. Satch just convulsed in agreement..either that or the methadone is wearing off.
Actual Email from CubFanPaul:
> I have to say that Condoleeza Rice just doesn't do it for me.Now take Madeleine Albright and Janet Reno...THERE were a couple of hot government employees...total political eye candy. Satch just convulsed in agreement..either that or the methadone is wearing off.
Ilk Vs. Mom/Red Sox vs. Cubs
Talked to my Mom last night. Our conversations are usually short and to the point.
Ilk: How's the weather out there?
IlkMom: Rainy. How's the weather in Chicago?
Ilk: Hot and miserable. What's new?
IlkMom: Nothing, I hiked 15 miles and then ate a tub of hummus. And you?
Ilk: I went to the Sox game, drank 6 beers and then came home.
IlkMom: That's nice.
But last night, Mom told me that she's flying to Rochester for my cousin's high school gradutaion party in late July. Why my uncle would have a graduation party in July when the kid graduates in June is beyond me. Every graduation party I went to was typically held the same day as graduation.
Mom's flying through Chicago on the way back from The Roch. She has a 2 hour and 44 minute layover at O'Hare, and wants me to come visit her in the late afternoon. I told her that wasn't going to be easy to pull off because:
1) I work until 4:30 or so
2) There's nothing to do at ORD when you can't go through security
3) What if her flight's late? I'm not going to ride the Blue Line up and back 50 minutes each way only to not see her. O'hare is a big fascinating place full of big airplanes that fly and interesting people, but I spend enough time there waiting for my own damned delayed flights. We'll see her a couple weeks later when we head out west.
But here's what really chaps my ass. Since moving to Washington a couple years ago, Mom has NOT ONCE come to Chicago to visit me. She's flown to Rochester 5 or 6 times (granted, a couple of those times was when her mother was dying) and gone to Utah for my sister's conversion to Mormonism, but not once has she come back to the city she lived in for 10 years to visit her oldest kid or her friends. Flights here are cheap and plentiful, and I've invited her repeatedly to visit. So she'll only visit on her (inconvenient) terms for an hour or so. Grrrrrr.
Meanwhile, the Red Sox swing into town this weekend for 3 games at The Urinal Up North. Last fall, a lot of Cubs "fans" jumped onto the Red Sox bandwagon since they can relate to Carmines fans due to the prolonged period of suckage both teams have experienced. Every Lincoln Park Trixie and Chad was sporting a faded and pre-brimmed "B" hat. My guess is most of these folks are so oblivious, they don't even realize that it's time to switch back to their Cubs hats.
Talked to my Mom last night. Our conversations are usually short and to the point.
Ilk: How's the weather out there?
IlkMom: Rainy. How's the weather in Chicago?
Ilk: Hot and miserable. What's new?
IlkMom: Nothing, I hiked 15 miles and then ate a tub of hummus. And you?
Ilk: I went to the Sox game, drank 6 beers and then came home.
IlkMom: That's nice.
But last night, Mom told me that she's flying to Rochester for my cousin's high school gradutaion party in late July. Why my uncle would have a graduation party in July when the kid graduates in June is beyond me. Every graduation party I went to was typically held the same day as graduation.
Mom's flying through Chicago on the way back from The Roch. She has a 2 hour and 44 minute layover at O'Hare, and wants me to come visit her in the late afternoon. I told her that wasn't going to be easy to pull off because:
1) I work until 4:30 or so
2) There's nothing to do at ORD when you can't go through security
3) What if her flight's late? I'm not going to ride the Blue Line up and back 50 minutes each way only to not see her. O'hare is a big fascinating place full of big airplanes that fly and interesting people, but I spend enough time there waiting for my own damned delayed flights. We'll see her a couple weeks later when we head out west.
But here's what really chaps my ass. Since moving to Washington a couple years ago, Mom has NOT ONCE come to Chicago to visit me. She's flown to Rochester 5 or 6 times (granted, a couple of those times was when her mother was dying) and gone to Utah for my sister's conversion to Mormonism, but not once has she come back to the city she lived in for 10 years to visit her oldest kid or her friends. Flights here are cheap and plentiful, and I've invited her repeatedly to visit. So she'll only visit on her (inconvenient) terms for an hour or so. Grrrrrr.
Meanwhile, the Red Sox swing into town this weekend for 3 games at The Urinal Up North. Last fall, a lot of Cubs "fans" jumped onto the Red Sox bandwagon since they can relate to Carmines fans due to the prolonged period of suckage both teams have experienced. Every Lincoln Park Trixie and Chad was sporting a faded and pre-brimmed "B" hat. My guess is most of these folks are so oblivious, they don't even realize that it's time to switch back to their Cubs hats.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Sage Advice
Not many of you all know this, but when I was a struggling clerk on the floor of the CBOT in the late 1990s, I used to sling drinks at the Wrightwood Tap for extra cash. It was by far the best job I ever had--made decent money, got to drink for free, and needed a steamshovel to keep the babes away. OK, so I exaggerate slightly.
Anywhoo, Metromix ran an interesting piece today about basic bar etiquette. To this piece, I add the following tips:
1) No matter how hot you are, you can't use the bar phone.
2) Yes, I know the bathroom is a shithole. But you're the one drinking here, so deal with it. This isn't Charlie Trotter's or Aunt Susie's house. It's a BAR.
3) If you're my buddy, you get a free drink or two. Free drink does NOT imply that you don't tip me, however.
4) If you're going to walk into a neighborhoody type place and order a glass of wine, it's gonna be crappy tasting wine. Deal with it.
Not many of you all know this, but when I was a struggling clerk on the floor of the CBOT in the late 1990s, I used to sling drinks at the Wrightwood Tap for extra cash. It was by far the best job I ever had--made decent money, got to drink for free, and needed a steamshovel to keep the babes away. OK, so I exaggerate slightly.
Anywhoo, Metromix ran an interesting piece today about basic bar etiquette. To this piece, I add the following tips:
1) No matter how hot you are, you can't use the bar phone.
2) Yes, I know the bathroom is a shithole. But you're the one drinking here, so deal with it. This isn't Charlie Trotter's or Aunt Susie's house. It's a BAR.
3) If you're my buddy, you get a free drink or two. Free drink does NOT imply that you don't tip me, however.
4) If you're going to walk into a neighborhoody type place and order a glass of wine, it's gonna be crappy tasting wine. Deal with it.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Will The Cat Curse Strike Again?
In 1969, a black cat ran past Old Cub Ron Santo at Shea Stadium as he knelt in the on-deck circle. The Cubs went on to lose the game, and ended up pulling off a September choke job that was impressive even by Cub standards.
Last night, a black cat ran out onto the field at The Shrine Up North, probably to escape the piss smells in the bathrooms and/or avoid being ground up and served as hot dog meat to drunken Yuppies. This just after the Cubs went on their damned West Coast tear last week. So here's hoping that this little kitty cat has the same effect as Black Cat I, Sam Sianis's goat, Steve Bartman, and all those other curses.
If it does, will they boil the kitty up and serve it in spaghetti sauce at Harry Caray's a la the Bartman ball?
In 1969, a black cat ran past Old Cub Ron Santo at Shea Stadium as he knelt in the on-deck circle. The Cubs went on to lose the game, and ended up pulling off a September choke job that was impressive even by Cub standards.
Last night, a black cat ran out onto the field at The Shrine Up North, probably to escape the piss smells in the bathrooms and/or avoid being ground up and served as hot dog meat to drunken Yuppies. This just after the Cubs went on their damned West Coast tear last week. So here's hoping that this little kitty cat has the same effect as Black Cat I, Sam Sianis's goat, Steve Bartman, and all those other curses.
If it does, will they boil the kitty up and serve it in spaghetti sauce at Harry Caray's a la the Bartman ball?
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Kerry Is So Very...
...the list of adjectives goes on and on and I won't even try to put them all in here. C students can be President, D students have to settle for marrying well.
...the list of adjectives goes on and on and I won't even try to put them all in here. C students can be President, D students have to settle for marrying well.
Monday, June 06, 2005
White Sox Weekly Rewind: Week Nine
Record For Week: 4-2. Record For Season: 37-19, First Place, AL Central
The Good: Frank's back, and he was greeted with a rousing ovation Monday. And Tuesday. And every other day. He's making contact and hitting the ball hard, plus he's not running funny. Konerko is looking a little better, and Jermaine Dye is looking a lot better. Carl Everett gets a start in LF and looks sharp. Pitching continues to rule the day...El Duque and Garland both don't bring their best stuff against Cleveland, but still manage to be effective and notch the Ws.
The Bad: Frank's back, and the Big Hurt is already opening his Big Yap about not getting enough playing time. Everett's been hot the past few games and it's awful tough to put him on the bench. The Sox still can't break games open with runners in scoring position. The bullpen's got more ups (Cotts, Politte) and downs (Vizcaino, Marte) than the crude oil market. Hermanson's scoreless innings streak comes to an end..and now he's given up runs 3 outings in a row.
Ahead: At Colorado, 6/6-6/8. At San Diego, 6/10-6/12.
Thoughts: Colorado sucks in much the same way as Kansas City and Tampa Bay do, which is a guarantee that we'll have a tough time beating them. Then again, maybe our still-anemic offense needs a trip to the thin air to wake up. San Diego just got thrashed by the Chubs, and are going to be out for blood. Meanwhile, the Twins are just 3.5 games back, and get to play Arizona and San Fran.
Record For Week: 4-2. Record For Season: 37-19, First Place, AL Central
The Good: Frank's back, and he was greeted with a rousing ovation Monday. And Tuesday. And every other day. He's making contact and hitting the ball hard, plus he's not running funny. Konerko is looking a little better, and Jermaine Dye is looking a lot better. Carl Everett gets a start in LF and looks sharp. Pitching continues to rule the day...El Duque and Garland both don't bring their best stuff against Cleveland, but still manage to be effective and notch the Ws.
The Bad: Frank's back, and the Big Hurt is already opening his Big Yap about not getting enough playing time. Everett's been hot the past few games and it's awful tough to put him on the bench. The Sox still can't break games open with runners in scoring position. The bullpen's got more ups (Cotts, Politte) and downs (Vizcaino, Marte) than the crude oil market. Hermanson's scoreless innings streak comes to an end..and now he's given up runs 3 outings in a row.
Ahead: At Colorado, 6/6-6/8. At San Diego, 6/10-6/12.
Thoughts: Colorado sucks in much the same way as Kansas City and Tampa Bay do, which is a guarantee that we'll have a tough time beating them. Then again, maybe our still-anemic offense needs a trip to the thin air to wake up. San Diego just got thrashed by the Chubs, and are going to be out for blood. Meanwhile, the Twins are just 3.5 games back, and get to play Arizona and San Fran.
Sunday, June 05, 2005
Not A Porn Site! I Swear !
My guitar teacher, who has the patience of a saint in dealing with me as I fumble, stumble and sputter through 3-chord Beatles classics, recently released "Subtle Bodies," a compilation of music composed, arranged and recorded by him which was originally designed for massage therapists to play in the background as they work their magic.
It's also great for falling asleep to or just general relaxation, and I highly recommend it. Like the tagline says, it's way more than just a massage CD.
Details here.
My guitar teacher, who has the patience of a saint in dealing with me as I fumble, stumble and sputter through 3-chord Beatles classics, recently released "Subtle Bodies," a compilation of music composed, arranged and recorded by him which was originally designed for massage therapists to play in the background as they work their magic.
It's also great for falling asleep to or just general relaxation, and I highly recommend it. Like the tagline says, it's way more than just a massage CD.
Details here.
Friday, June 03, 2005
Wait A Minute!
All this time I thought that people who lived in East Coast Blue States were smarter than everybody else! From what I was told last fall, people who live in the nation's breadbasket and South are all morons!
Still might be the case. But when it comes to driving, gomers are tops!
All this time I thought that people who lived in East Coast Blue States were smarter than everybody else! From what I was told last fall, people who live in the nation's breadbasket and South are all morons!
Still might be the case. But when it comes to driving, gomers are tops!
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Burt, Richie. Richie, Burt.
One of the most entertaining creatures in Chicago politics is 42nd Ward alderman Burt Natarus. The cantankerous old pol who represents the richest ward in Chicago is always looking to pass fun and creative legislation through the City Council, such as banning rollerbladers and motorcycles from the streets of our fair city.
Mayor Daley's latest move seems to take a page straight from Natarus. Hizzoner Da Mare is proposing a recycling program for kitchen scraps which can be turned into compost.
A noble idea, yes. But this is Chicago, which has one of the lowest recycling rates in the whole country. The thought of bagging up scraps and bones from dinner into a blue bag ain't very appealing to me, that's for sure.
One of the most entertaining creatures in Chicago politics is 42nd Ward alderman Burt Natarus. The cantankerous old pol who represents the richest ward in Chicago is always looking to pass fun and creative legislation through the City Council, such as banning rollerbladers and motorcycles from the streets of our fair city.
Mayor Daley's latest move seems to take a page straight from Natarus. Hizzoner Da Mare is proposing a recycling program for kitchen scraps which can be turned into compost.
A noble idea, yes. But this is Chicago, which has one of the lowest recycling rates in the whole country. The thought of bagging up scraps and bones from dinner into a blue bag ain't very appealing to me, that's for sure.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Things That Go Beep In The Night
3:05 am. Beep beep.
The beeping jolted me awake. What the hell was it? It sounded vaguely like the noise my cell phone makes when it's on its last battery legs, but I turned it off last night.
Beep beep.
Must be K's, I figured. We have the same phone. We had different phones, but then she decided it would be fun if we got the same phone so we could accidentally grab the wrong one when leaving the house in the morning. I jumped up and down, flashed the lights 10 times, dumped cold water on her head and finally got her to half-open one eye. "Where's your cell phone?" I asked. She muttered back a very lengthy reply about how it was in her purse, in her backpack, 2 rooms away and that there's no way that 1) it could be out of batteries since she charged it at work and 2) there's no way I could hear it.
Beep beep.
I stumbled into the living room and found her backpack. Her phone was in there, powered on, fully charged, and not chirping.
Beep beep.
I stumbled into the second bedroom/my office/baseball shrine/nursery for our invisible child, thinking it might be the computer going bonkers. It could have been some kind of primal DOS beep indicating that the computer was about to melt down, but the PC was fine.
Beep beep.
I went back in the bedroom, ready to blast off through the 13 foot ceiling with sheer rage at the noise that wouldn't stop being noisy. Then I found it. On my nightstand.
The damned cordless phone was telling me in what it thought to be a nice pleasant soothing sound that it really needed to go in the charger. It almost went out the window.
3:05 am. Beep beep.
The beeping jolted me awake. What the hell was it? It sounded vaguely like the noise my cell phone makes when it's on its last battery legs, but I turned it off last night.
Beep beep.
Must be K's, I figured. We have the same phone. We had different phones, but then she decided it would be fun if we got the same phone so we could accidentally grab the wrong one when leaving the house in the morning. I jumped up and down, flashed the lights 10 times, dumped cold water on her head and finally got her to half-open one eye. "Where's your cell phone?" I asked. She muttered back a very lengthy reply about how it was in her purse, in her backpack, 2 rooms away and that there's no way that 1) it could be out of batteries since she charged it at work and 2) there's no way I could hear it.
Beep beep.
I stumbled into the living room and found her backpack. Her phone was in there, powered on, fully charged, and not chirping.
Beep beep.
I stumbled into the second bedroom/my office/baseball shrine/nursery for our invisible child, thinking it might be the computer going bonkers. It could have been some kind of primal DOS beep indicating that the computer was about to melt down, but the PC was fine.
Beep beep.
I went back in the bedroom, ready to blast off through the 13 foot ceiling with sheer rage at the noise that wouldn't stop being noisy. Then I found it. On my nightstand.
The damned cordless phone was telling me in what it thought to be a nice pleasant soothing sound that it really needed to go in the charger. It almost went out the window.