We cover wrestling now.
I submitted a request for media access to a wrestling event in Philadelphia, using this "website" as a "reference". Stay tuned.
Yes, I have a blog - when we're out and about, we bullshit about a lot, and about nothing. There's always nonsense that can't be settled at the bar so I carry a notebook with me, and keep track of what needs more research. Having an email distribution list was too 20th century for me, so I made a blog. And it rules!
I submitted a request for media access to a wrestling event in Philadelphia, using this "website" as a "reference". Stay tuned.
The record for grand slams in a game by a pitcher is 2, by former Red Sox pitching coach Tony Cloninger.
So technology rendered my notebook gimmick obsolete - everyone has a phone with the Internet, so information is always available. But not everyone is going to put it out there in a stupid blog. But I will.
Storming into 2007... without much to say. But we're going to say it, goddammit. Cleaning out the old notebook. (I'm procrastinating, obviously.)
Not that anyone sees this anymore, because I never update, but here's a little promotion for Mepos, the band. Mepos is a rock/roll/jam band based out of Rhode Island, and features my good friend (and shortest resident of 59 Green) on the drums. I hate hippies and jam bands and all that nonsense, but I actually enjoy watching these guys. Maybe it's because I know them, but whatever...
We're trying to figure out what the whitest song out there is, but there are a few rules. It can't be cowboy or country (no John Denver or "Thank God I'm a Country Boy"), it can't be heavy metal / hair band (no "Cum on Feel the Noize" or Def Leppard songs), and it can't be "ethnic" music, because everyone knows Irish drinking songs are white. We're talking WASP-y white music. The leader, so far, is Christoper Cross' "Sailing". I've never heard the song, so I can't say, but is there a whiter song out there?
Did you know that there was no such thing as the Brontosaurus? Turns out some jackass paleontologist took one dinosaur head and put it on the wrong dinosaur body and thought he had created a new kind of dinosaur. Not so much. (The USPS didn't care, and actually put it on a stamp. That made all kinds of "scientists" mad.)
I'm going to start this with some self-indulgence. If you're wondering how my genius operates, I'm laying in bed, listening to The Pogues and watching NASCAR. So there. One of these days I'll be listening to Morrissey and crying, I promise.
Here's an awful lot of information about The Golden Girls. And you can even listen to the theme song here, if you have RealPlayer.
Hookers at the Point...5 years later. Really, am I supposed to be surprised that they're still hookers? For real? If you told me any of them were out of being prostitutes, I'd be more surprised. Anyway, remember to click the ads. I'll buy you a drink.
I forget why I wrote down "UHF the movie", but I did. Actually, Eagle quoted it. That's why I wrote it down. I forget the quotation, though. Of course, I'm going to seriously doubt that Eagle remembers either. (Edited to add: Eagle did remember. It was: "You get to drink from the fire hose!")
First things first...I don't know anything about "The Cosby Show" episode featuring some kind of challenge, said with a strange French inflection. Plus, there's a lot to get to, so grab a drink and get comfortable.
Honestly, wasted blogging rules!
At the B Side lounge in Cambridge, they serve the “Windsor Hi Low", which is a Green Chartreuse frapp served with a pounder can of Schlitz. This may seem like a good idea (and the bartenders will give you a really sexy description of Chartreuse), but it isn’t. It turns out Chartreuse tastes a lot like grass clippings that have been run through juicer.
The Pontiac Silverdome hosted Superbowl XVI between the Cincinnati Bengals and the San Francisco 49ers. Yeah, guess who won this one? Well, the final score was 26-21, and the MVP was Joe Montana.
There's a lot to get to, y'all, and I don't even know who the Super Bowl MVP was, though I think it should have been Jerome Bettis' mom, or the Rolling Stones' half-time androgyny.