My Day as a Cubs Fan

Come on, Wells!

Yesterday, I spent four hours in a state-of-the-art trash dump watching the Mets.  Obviously, I had to root for the away team , which is why I now know What It’s Like to Be a Cubs Fan.

Things We Don’t Hate

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Everyone who isn’t a flaming Liberal is thankful for the obvious things: democracy, family, bacon, etc.  That’s why, this Thanksgiving, Claire and I are concentrating on the meaningless, trivial things that help get us from one day to the next.  Because THAT, my friends, is what the holidays are all about.

1. TV on DVD, Hulu, Netflix, On Demand…basically TV anywhere other than actual TV
2. When friends stay logged into Facebook on our computers
3. Compressed gas spray cans for your keyboard
4. Ridiculous PR pitches
5. White wine
6. Inanimate object Halloween costumes
7. Red wine

Just in Time for the End of Baseball Season…

It relates, I promise.

My bad. I completely forgot that Mene and I came up with a few “guidelines” for attending baseball games (though I’m pretty sure most of these can be extended to all other sports and, well, life). They are as follows:

#1 You can’t wear Yankees jerseys with names AND numbers on the back. This is just plain inaccurate, because the players don’t. If you MUST let the world know that you are a Jeter fan, get a t-shirt or a tattoo. (This is not dissimilar to how Mene wanted to go as Jabba the Hut for Halloween, but only if I went as Sexy Princess Leia. But I didn’t want to go as Sexy Princess Leia because I have a rule about those sorts of things, so I said I would go as a slightly-less-sexy Princess Leia. But Mene ruled it out because it wasn’t completely accurate. Jabba and Leia only had one scene together and it was while she was in the string bikini. )

Every Now and Then with Evan

Evan got hot nuts in the South.

So, sometimes Claire and I have to work on things besides this blog. I know. Which is why we take certain liberties when it comes to our “content”: farming it out to friends, making it up or, mainly, just cutting and pasting it from Gchat.

BUT EVAN HAS NO EXCUSE FOR NOT ANSWERING OUR FRIDAY QUESTIONS!!! My tv shows (PLURAL!) happen daily, Claire’s magazine is weekly. Evan? His publication comes out once a month, if even. Plus, he only has to cover one subject–Science! That’s like, the easiest one of all. The Earth is getting hot, Pluto’s not a planet, Stephen Hawkings is smart cause he talks in a robot voice. Done and done. And yet, Friday after Friday, Evan lets us down by ignoring our questions and breaking the hearts of tens of twenties of our weblog readers. To add insult to injury, he casually informed us that the latest questions were “lame”.

Now, in retrospect they were. Especially Claire’s (after all, when I promised Evan better questions this week she was suspiciously silent). Let’s take a look at what she asked a few weeks ago…

Baby’s First Baseball Game

Not really how you use it...

When I got home from work today, Mazall was watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.  Obviously, this was unacceptable.  Her ensuing lethargy, thank the Lord, made it quite easy to grab the remote and switch to the Yankees/Red Sox game (with a brief argument about the many reasons why I would not, I repeat NOT, watch Victor/Victoria).  For some reason, she stayed sprawled on the couch and “watched” the game with me, only rising to refill her glass of vodka and/or show me her batter’s stance.  What follows is 100% true and unedited documentation of our evening’s conversation.  Let’s play ball?

Mazall:  I’m just so fascinated…with their butts

Dispatches from a Mets game with Claire. Or, “Three Strikes You’re Out”

Not Amazin'

#1 Claire, Evan and Molly sit together on a quiet 7 express train. They are on their way to CitiField and are, naturally, talking about baseball. Manny Ramirez comes up.
“But seriously,” says Molly, “everyone does steroids. Even me!” She then flexes her ‘biceps’ and the group laughs. The obvious stream of muscle jokes begins:
Do you have a band-aid? Because I’m cut. Do you have any tape? Because I’m ripped. Tickets to the gun show, etc.
Then Claire decides to take it to the next level.
“Are you the President of the United States?” she says while flexing. “Cause I’m Michelle Obama!!” People are staring and Evan is shaking his head. Claire can’t stop giggling, and adds:
“Also, are you from Malwai? Cause I’m Madonna.”

#2 Claire: “How long is a baseball game?”

#3 Claire and Molly go to the bathroom and, unfortunately, their stalls are adjacent. The game is playing over the speakers, and someone on the Mets doubles. The stadium roars. “OH NO!” Molly yells from her stall.
“What!?” says Claire. “Did you pee on yourself?”

How the Other Half Lives: the Black Tie Edition

Not our Claire

We don’t say “No” to much. Throw in a nice round number of celebs, free martinis, and a reason to wear sparkles, and you pretty much seal the deal. Which is what happened Tuesday night, more or less, with a way fancy event we are calling the “Newsweek 99″ (wait for it).

Oh, except that Molly did say “No”, for unfortunate reasons we won’t go into here. Needless to say, Claire was wrought with devastation. “BUT WE COULD HAVE BLOGGED IT!,” she e-squeaked. “And we still can,” said Molly.

So here it is folks, a time-coded comparison of our Wednesday nights. Claire in pink, obvi.

How the Other Half Lives, a new blog series

The other half being Claire and myself. So much of the weblog is us interacting with our beautiful and voluminous readers, but rarely do you get to glimpse raw, uncut Claire and Molly interaction. So here it is, our NEW SERIES.

Fine. Actually, I just needed an outlet to show Claire making a real, live, semi-relevant sports reference in casual conversation. Never mind the fact that she can’t spell. Here goes:

Tuesday Sports Roundup: D-Wade’s socks, Obama’s Sox and, uh, teeth.

Let’s start with the NBA: Claire and I recently made separate but equally bad purchases which, long story short, led me to watch Dwyane Wade’s fitness videos on the Pepperidge Farm Goldfish website. In an effort to get fat kids off the couch, D-Wade has brilliantly “invented” two “sports” that even unrealistically multicultural groups of children can play. The first one is sort-of like basketball (surprise!), but instead of a hoop you use a small white boy (Claire correctly notes that this is more helpful than white guys normally are when it comes to hoops). And the second activity is cleverly titled “Bouncy Sock” but required you to play hacky sack with D-Wade’s dirty laundry. Both of these activities are sure to get you no where near the NBA, but after an hour they should burn off at least 10% of the suggested serving size of Flavor Blasted Xplosive Pizza Goldfish. If I were a fat kid, I’d rather stay inside and watch the Heat/Hawks playoffs. So maybe D-Wade knows what he’s doing after all…

I hope they put Kobe Bryant on a bag of Mint Milanos

So I go to the grocery store and I buy a bag of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish. When I pour them into a bowl, I notice that some of the crackers are circle-shaped instead of fish-shaped. “Wait a minute,” I think to myself, “fish don’t look like circles.” So I look at the bag. Next to the image of a smiling goldfish it says, “Basketball shapes inside!”

whaaa?

Goldfish and basketballs?

What?

There’s some Miami Heat player’s image on the back of the bag, next to the nutritional information. What kind of sad, pathetic athlete is the Pepperidge Farm spokesman? That has to be kind of embarrassing. Other NBA players have deals with Wheaties, Pepsi and Frosted Flakes and he’s stuck on a paper bag that’s half-filled with cheddar crackers designed look like fish. And basketballs. Fish and basketballs.

Side complaint: Basketballs don’t taste nearly as good as goldfish.