Addendum

An interesting counterpoint to my argument for Manny: although people do experience unhappiness at jobs, they don't go up to their boss and tell the big guy, "Hey, I'm unhappy. Can you send a good reference to this other company?" So does his unhappiness go pretty far, to ask someone to trade him? Yeah, I give that one up. Also, on the notion of booing Manny, it was put like this: "How can people cheer a guy who they know doesn't want to be there? Hi, we love you anyway? I don't get that." So there are some mixed reactions to my defense of Manny.

Regardless, tonight when he was scratched from the line-up put everyone on edge. It was horrible to think of Manny not in the game, but without any formal announcement. It was totally depressing. And that was just it: nobody liked the idea of the Red Sox without him. Sure, they won, but it felt like a huge part of the team was missing. When the guy came out to the dugout in the ninth, and when he came out onto the field (bear hugged Millar, for godsake), it was like everyone was home. The place even chanted "Manny!" for the guy. I think everyone got it: this team's not gonna be the same if he's not here.

Anyway. I'm gonna keep my fingers crossed.

Trading Rambles

I'm pretty much on edge today, because of all the potential trades this weekend in baseball. I'm freaking out, Bob. Seriously, I have ESPN on mute right now, but every time they show Manny I freak out and see if they're saying anything new, or if they're rerunning the same segment for the bajillionth time. I also find that at this time of the year, any time they mention anybody who might be leaving Boston, well, he suddenly becomes like my most favorite player EVER and they can't trade him. This is why I could never be in charge of a baseball team. (Haha, this ONE reason.) But really, if I were in charge of things, my biggest issue of the day would be the conflict over whether to start Brian Daubach or Kevin Millar at first base. (Scary, isn't it?)

This year's trading deadline is making me pretty nervous, obviously because Manny's name has been brought up a lot. It's reminded me of last year's situation, when Nomar's name was being brought up a lot after it seemed that his situation in Boston had gotten pretty desperate. This got me thinking about what happened to Nomar after he got traded, which made me pretty sad. Just think about it. To recap, he WAS the freakin Red Sox, he turns down a $60 million, 4 year contract, for whatever reason (and there were some who argued that he couldn't have been happy to begin with to turn down such a contract, which is a reasonable argument if you ask me) and then, he goes through that whole unhappiness with all the trade rumors. Then he sulks on the bench in a game against the Yankees when Derek Jeter goes all out. After that play, there was not one Boston fan who even entered the debate about whether Nomar or Jeter was better, and that's saying a lot. Finally, he's traded. That fall, the Sox win the World Series, and suddenly, the guy goes from being the reason Boston should win the World Series to being the reason that the Red Sox DID win the World Series - only that reason being because he wasn't there, and Orlando Cabrera, Dave Roberts, and Doug Mientkiewicz were.

Now this guy's career is always going to be tagged with that trade last year. Orlando Cabrera must love Nomar. Here's a guy whose career could have gone by without anybody in Boston noticing at all, and now the guy could return and have anything he wanted. Same with Dave Roberts. Doug Mientkiewicz couldn't get anything here, and that's because he took what he wanted when he left. But Nomar's got it bad. Forget his Boston legacy, which is ruined. Some people are like, "Nomar will still be one of the best players ever to play in Boston." True, but that statement will always come with the footnote, about his 2004 season and trade. And anybody who's like, "Nomar made it possible for the Sox to win because of all his years here," has a point, but is also pretty sentimental. His baseball legacy is still in question, but it's looking dim with this contract year spent mostly on the DL.

Obviously, Manny's in a different category than Nomar, simply because he helped the team win the World Series. But at the same time, I would really hate to see that tainted by a mid-season trade, especially with all of the recent stuff that went on in Tampa Bay. I mean, after Nomar left, it wasn't enough that he was gone; the Boston media exposed everything behind the scenes, all of the supposed sulking and teammate controversy. It was like they were trying to make us all feel better by saying, "Listen, Nomar wasn't that great anyhow," but hearing all of these supposed truths just made it all worse. Nobody wants to hear that a sports hero isn't the hero they imagined. There's nothing more disappointing than worshipping some sports guy or celebrity or whatever and then meeting the person and seeing that he or she is really not nice at all. So reading all the stuff about how much Nomar really didn't like Boston, or how much he really didn't like Boston fans or whatever, wasn't comforting at all. It was the opposite.

So I'm afraid that if Manny leaves this weekend, that's what I'm looking at next week. I don't want them to taint his legacy. Here's the thing: everyone expects too much from these athletes. Even I do. Seriously, these guys didn't sign up to be role models. They didn't sign up to be Boston posterboys, and they didn't sign up to be best friends to each other, to management, or the fans. They signed up to play a certain position. They didn't sign up to be nice guys. I'm not saying that all of these things wouldn't be good, and that they're not all important on some level, and necessary on some level, to have a functioning, successful team. But what I am saying is that I think the expectation that because these guys can hit homeruns and strikeout ten guys in a game also means that they always do the right thing is just plain wrong. And moreover, what gives any of us the right to decide whether Manny is happy in Boston? Or ANYBODY is happy anywhere? Really, I mean, how many people go into their doctor's office and think, "Hmm, I wonder if he's happy here" and then let that affect how they view their doctor? Nobody cares about how happy their doctor is, although now that I think about it, having an angry surgeon might not be the best idea. But that's not my point.

Similarly, does anbody ask their lawyer's office staff how they're treated, before they sign up for the lawyer's services? Anybody ask the accountant's boss how his accountant interacts with his co-workers before submitting their finances? And perhaps more importantly, how many people have never experienced a moment of unhappiness at their jobs? Or how many people have never experienced a moment of tension or disagreement with a coworker, boss, customer, or client? And how many people have never called into work sick, or have never taken a personal day from work?

Obviously, these things have limits, but I don't think Manny's reached them. How many days off has this guy had? You could probably count on them on one hand. My point is this: everyone has days at work they'd rather forget about. Everyone makes decisions about work that they think they could have done better or differently. The difference is that everyone has the benefit of making these decisions without having fifty billion people also making them for you. Does anybody call up a doctor and say, "You know last week, when you were doing that routine exam with that patient? Well, I thought you sort of half-assed that knee-reflex thing. Sure, it turned out to be nothing, but really, you should have done that better." Of course not! Whether the doctor half-assed the exam or not, and regardless of whether that's right or not, he didn't have the whole thing scrutinized by the entire freaking free world. Manny doesn't get that luxury. And you know what? Nomar didn't either. In the end, it didn't matter how much talent the guy had: he was going to be portrayed as a selfish sulker, a non-team player. Whether that was right or not, when Nomar left, that's what everyone read about. I'm just dreading something similar happening to Manny.

Some people say it's because of the money that these players make that makes them eligible for all this judgment. Some people say it's because they're public figures. Some people say that it's just because they can't help themselves that they make these judgments (I think I fall into this category most of the time). I mean, it's easy to condemn everyone for condemning Nomar and Manny and these thingsin general, but I've had my share of outbursts over first-pitch pop-ups, fielding errors, managerial decisions, and Jose Offerman. All I'm saying is I don't know how justified any of it is, if at all.

This all reminds me of back in 1999 when the UConn men won the NCAA championship and they planned this huge parade, and then their main guy, this kid El-Amin, got in trouble for possession of marijuana. Everyone was freaking out, because here was a guy who was a huge sports hero to every kid in Connecticut, even though he was only about 20 years old himself (In Connecticut, UConn basketball is like the Red Sox to people in Boston). But the point is, suddenly people were split on whether they wanted him on the parade float or not. People were like, "We should not glorify this guy." You know what I thought? Nobody's putting on this parade to honor these guys' character. Nobody was interested in El-Amin because he's supposedly such a good guy. We're having this parade because of his ability to get the basketball to the open guy on the court. So, he should still be in the parade, but let's not pretend that we're honoring the team for anything but what we're honoring them for: their basketball ability.

And so, by the same token, I hope that maybe, no matter what happens this weekend, that Manny is given a similar courtesy, which I feel is rightfully his. David Ortiz is right: nobody should ever boo Manny Ramirez in Fenway Park. You don't boo your World Series MVP because of supposed unhappiness or laziness. You don't. (And, let's face it: nobody cheers Manny Ramirez because we think he's such a great guy. People cheer Manny because of the baseball talent.) Are there issues that go on behind the scene that fans don't know about? I'm sure, just as there are issues that go on behind the scenes at every job in every situation. I don't care how happy I was anywhere, I would never want people to be like, "Let's recount every single day she was here, every single bad mood she was in, every single questionable decision she made." Yikes.

I don't know. It's been a while, and there's still no update on ESPN. I want Manny to stay. And it's not because I really think he's an amazing guy or because he's so nice or funny. It's because he's arguably the best right handed hitter in baseball, one of the best hitters in baseball history, and I think he and David Ortiz are the best one-two punch in baseball right now. And if he can't stay, which still seems as foreign as Nomah becoming Nomar again did last year at this time, I really hope that those stats are the only things anybody gets to read about in the coming weeks.

Good god I hope he stays.

In other baseball news:

1. Wicked depressing: I was looking to check up on the Dauber, so I went to the Mets website and checked on their major league roster. On the 25-man roster, Daubach's name isn't there under infielders, but guess who's is: Jose Offerman. Seriously, there is nothing more nauseating than reading that the result of "Daubach and Offerman fighting for playing time" (trust me, I thought THAT was the all-time low) ended like this (this is why AIM needs that puke smiley).

2. Wicked uplifting: Gabe Kapler makes his return to Boston today. This made me regret that I'd never bought a Kapler shirt, because I kept thinking this morning that this would be the best thing to wear today. I'm so excited, I hope everyone at Fenway cheers like crazy for him. I bet they will because it's the first time he's been in Boston since they won the World Series.

And that's it.

I have to get a life.

Thoughts (and No) Comments of the Day

I'm watching the Sox game, and I've been noticing this thing recently. There's this random girl between the TV commentators, who just sits there and never says anything or reacts to what they're saying. The two commentators basically talk over her. My question: why don't they put her on the other side of one of the guys? What's with this monkey-in-the-middle business? She looks ridiculous! I wonder what her purpose is. Don't the announcers feel bad having to talk right over her, as though she's not there? I want to know if in between the camera shots, the guys even talk to this girl like, "Sorry we have to talk over you like you don't exist." I bet not though. If they did, they'd probably find a way to switch chairs with her. (Seriously, why don't these people think of this?!)

Also, I'm now hearing about one of the announcer's tooth problems.

Speaking of problems, I'm a little upset about Manny. The thing is, I like Manny. I just wish he liked Boston. It's like you're in a relationship with the perfect guy, except he's just not into you. That's Manny with the Red Sox. He's perfect, except he doesn't like it here. It makes me pretty sad, to be honest. People used to ask me how I could like Brian Daubach so much, and while I used to defend his stats (i've given that up), I really liked him because of his attitude: he absolutely loved Boston and playing here. When he went to Chicago, he wasn't even psyched to get the big game-winning hits against the Sox. He talked about how it was bittersweet and he really misses his friends. Totally depressed me for like a week, and made me like him even more. I feel the same way about Millar. Say what you will about his stats, but here's a guy who clearly loves being here. I feel like that should be rewarded and appreciated, that's all.

But I'll tell you, that's as far as I'm going to go about Manny: I'm sad that he's unhappy. I'm not going to say anything about what I think about Manny's request to be traded. I'm not going to say anything about his supposed unhappiness in Boston, a town that has shown the man unconditional love and acceptance. I'm not going to touch the issue of his supposed distaste for the lack of privacy that he gets in Boston. And I'm definitely not going to comment on his recent Boston Globe photo shoot of his son's room in their private home, nor will I discuss his wife and son's picture on the cover of Boston magazine a few months ago. I'll tell you what I'm definitely, definitely not going to say anything about: his supposed refusal to play in today's game, even after his manager asked him to, with a day off tomorrow, because their lineup is a little shaky with Nixon now injured. And I won't comment on the fact that the manager granted the request, nor will I comment on the fact that his teammates, manager, and front office back him up - without question - to the public.

(For the record, I also am not going to finish that thought up there about the commentator's tooth issues, nor am I going to give my personal reaction to the picture of its infection.)

I will comment on what I was watching while tracking this game. I was watching "Beverly Hills 90210" which could rank, in my opinion, as the best soap opera show ever. For ten years, they had unbelievable story lines. They got me every time. Just when I thought Kelly Snotslide (you've gotta SEE that thing) Taylor had had enough, they thought up another crisis for the girl: date rape, drugged, burned almost to death in a fire, brainwashed by a cult, cocaine addict, raped at gun point, shot on the way home from Hawaii, human rights activist. A cat has fewer lives than Kelly Taylor. Hell, Cher has had fewer comebacks than Kelly Taylor. Michael Jackson has had fewer sleepovers with little boys than Kelly Taylor. Nicole Richie has fewer people who know her better than anyone else than Kelly Taylor. (Okay, okay, I'm stopping.) Anyhow, I was lucky enough to catch one of the episodes where Kelly is in the brainwashing cult. This is amazing, amazing television. They have this smarmy guy who is definition skeevy telling her to get rid of her boyfriend (Brandon Walsh, never been better as the concerned Boy Scout boyfriend slash fashion victim wearing a jacket even 50 cent would think is too puffy). You know what always gets me when I watch this show? These people are supposed to be younger than I am! I can't ever get over that. Kelly Taylor and friends always seemed so old to me, no matter how old I was. Even now, when I watch the gang running the most successful nightclub in town, I think, "Huh, hard to believe they're only 20 years old." Then again, it might be because every cast member was about 100 when they were filming the show. I think Ian Ziering was something like 26 when he "graduated high school." What a show.

Anyhow, what I love about 90210 is that I know every episode, and I know the entire series, so when I sit down and watch an episode, I know all this background information. Like I know how Kelly ended up in the brainwashing cult (fire therapy) and I know that she will eventually blow off the cult, become the drug addict, get shot, and end up happily ever after being a PR girl for her best friend Donna's designer clothing company (The only thing I can think of that had more lives than Kelly Taylor is Tori Spelling's nose. Maybe her hair, too.). Anyway, this always makes me laugh. And it makes me a little embarrassed to be so enthralled with this show, but mostly, it makes me laugh. Aaron Spelling is a freaking genius, even if he did contribute to making... Tori.

l will also continue to comment on this ridiculous heat. I don't care how tired anybody gets of me mentioning how hot it is. Today, I was walking to work and some loser in a car blocked the street so I had to wait for him to pull out into traffic to cross the street. Thanks a lot, moron. In the battle between the air conditioned car and the oppressive outdoors, I should win. He should freaking roll out a red carpet for me to cross the street. This got me so angry that I started to get even hotter, which made me even angrier. It's one of the most vicious cycles known to man, I'm telling you. They say that there are more violent crimes committed during the summer. My psychology teacher used to use this as an example for what you can say is cause and effect and what you can't, and how you can't say everything is correlated. She'd be like, "So you can't say that eating more ice cream causes you to be more violent, just because people happen to eat more ice cream in the summer and more violent crimes happen in the summer." I could probably be committed for writing where I'm going with this, but I think it's pretty clear. Ms. Wells might have been onto something with that ice cream example, but I don't doubt the validity of that statistic. At all.

My last comment of the day is about, per usual, morons. I was in the ATM vesitbule, my one place of joy and happiness in this oppressively hot world, and I was leisurely getting my money and waiting for a minute before venturing out to die. Here's what happens: I feel the heat come in as someone opens the door, and then I wait for it to disappear, and I wait and wait... and then I hear, "Jen! Hurry up! Cross the street already!"

Yeah. I turn around, and this moron is standing there with the door wide open, ruining the air conditioning. If there were a cop around, I would have asked for her to be arrested.

I think that's a joke.

Honestly though, I'm not sure.

Thanks a Lot

Here are some things I really don't appreciate. At all.

1. The Air Conditioned Brush-Off

This happened to me recently, and I admit that given the hot weather (as in, oppressively oppressively hot) that's been around, this is sort of getting a biased top-billing, but the truth is, I don't really care.

For the past, what, two weeks, it's been about a billion degrees in my room. It's too hot to move, or think, or sleep. I have about three tantrums a day about it, which only makes me hotter. I wake up in the middle of the night and get so angry that my only options at the moment are no air circulation (which feels like suffocation) or hot air blowing directly on my face (which feels like hot air blowing directly on my face) that I can't get back to sleep. I finally cool down between six and seven a.m., for some reason, and then an hour later, I'm back up, ready to die. It's horrible.

Anyway, I was complaining about this to my friend, whose response was the following:

"You know, I don't want to hear this. You're like my friend, who always complains about this thing that she can do something about..."

I didn't even wait to hear what it was that her friend always complained about. I cut her right off, because I didn't give a shiiit. I could picture her, sitting there in her air conditioned room, telling me that I shouldn't complain because I can change my situation. Nobody was in my room at the moment, but I guarantee that my face was a mix of shock (that one eyebrow, dangerously arched), fury (eyes seriously bugged out), and summer heat (glistening red. And really, glistening is a euphemism).

Then came my father's response to my response that "I want to die" in my room, when he asked about how my life was going:

"Don't you have a fan?"

Very nice. Really sympathetic. What kills me about both responses is obvious: these people don't have to deal with the heat in the same way that every other person living in my building has to. They have air-conditioning when they get up, after they get out of the shower. They have air conditioning in their cars, on their way to work, and they have air conditioning at work and while they eat dinner at home and watch TV and sleep. They don't get up and immediately begin to feel disgusting after they shower (seriously, I feel like sweating just looking at my clothes, two seconds after a freezing cold shower), they don't walk to work (apparently some people don't know, but outside isn't air conditioned!) and they don't come home and lie on their bed, seriously wishing for a cool breeze or a fast death, whichever comes first.

Now I don't begrudge anybody their air conditioning. God knows I love it and believe it to be one of the greatest inventions, ever, period, end of debate. All I'm asking for is a little compassion here. (And no more of this "Well, we lived for a while without air conditioning, so it can't be that bad." That's like saying to someone who's in need of medical treatment but can't afford it, "Well, back in the olden days, we used to have you lie on a couch with a cool compress and have the village doctor come pray for you." Verrry comforting.)

2. The "Awesome Blossom"/Tower of Onion Petals

I think this is one of the cruelest restaurant practices ever. Everyone - EVERYONE - knows how horrible onion rings are for you. Seriously, it's like one of the universal human truths that you're reaaaaallly splurging if you're chowing down on the onion straws. So here's an idea: let's make it that to eat them, you have to order a gigantic portion of them (the "blossom") or you have to order them arranged in some sort of fashion that screams, "Hello! I am a larder about to eat a bajillion calories!" This is horrible, and should be made illegal, if you ask me.

And it's not just me who takes notice of these things. When I was out at lunch with my family and some friends, someone mentioned that she had seen some people we knew at this restaurant, Red Robin. "Yeah," she said, "they were splitting that giant onion ring thing." Now, if they had each been having appetizer salads, do you think we would have heard about that? Of course not. Nobody cares about anyone being healthy, but if someone's driving the junkfood train, everyone takes notice.

I still wasn't sold on this myself until I went to Red Robin to check it out. My mom, sister and I went in for dinner, and as luck would have it, just as we're entering the place, someone's getting their tower of onion petals delivered to their table. Let me just tell you. This thing could be a freakin maypole. All they need are some onion straws to be ribbons, and you could have people dancing around it, for godsake. Totally attention-grabbing. And then they deliver it, and my heart drops, because it's to a table with some portly diners.

Now, before anyone freaks out, I'm not saying that these people shouldn't order what they want. I'm saying the opposite, actually. I'm saying that they don't deck out a tower of lettuce, so they shouldn't have any pomp and circumstance for the onion rings, either. There's no need to give a shout-out to the entire restaurant that someone's about to quadruple their risk for a heart attack. Not necessary. Man, just thinking about the whole scenario makes me depressed.

It also reminds me about how when people at Coldstone get the large size ice creams, they practically put on a fireworks display when they hand it over. Just about kills me, every time.

3. The Picture-Taking Paparazzi (supposedly my friends)

I swear, sometimes digital cameras are the bane of my existence. Almost every freak I know who owns one feels the need to document every single event with their camera. Of course, they make sure to review each pic to make sure that THEY look nice, but god help you if you ask to see one of them. You hear about how it's a whole ordeal to go back and show you the pictures, but they have no problems making everyone sit around and smile again and again and again so they can get the perfect shot. Then, these things show up on websites and photo sites, with these stupid captions that are like, "this is so and so reaaallly up close" or "here are my ten million shots of an event that nobody cares about but me." With a disposable camera, or even a regular old-fashioned camera, this crap doesn't happen. First, you only have so many pictures, so people feel like they shouldn't just take pictures of garbage (or of friends eating, blowing their nose, or sitting around loooking unattractive). More importantly, it's equal opportunity. Nobody knows how the picture came out, so everyone has the same chance of looking like complete crap. It's the only fair way to go.


4. The Away Message Love Declaration

Oh, my god. If I could make one rule in life, it might be to ban any romantic declarations on instant messenger. Seriously. If I instant message someone, I hate when I get this in response: "At work... love you, babe." Am I babe? No. I don't care about this. What kills me is that these technologically-loving people can just as easily personally IM their objet d'affection, or they can text message them all the sweet nothings they want. I don't care. But why do I have to read every single day that you love babe? (Because they'll appear cool, and they want every single person to know that they have a babe and love her very much and miss her and hope she gets better real soon and is looking forward to when she can come visit and most of all wants everyone to know that she is the most perfect babe and girlfriend in the worlds - both cyberspace and reality.)

And again, for the record, not everyone on instant message can have the best boyfriend or girlfriend in the world. It's impossible. (This, by the way, reminds me of the funniest comment I've read in a long time. I was reading about these celebrities declaring their love for their fiancees, and Genius Nicole Richie said, "I love him because he's one of the few people who knows me better than anyone else." Uhh, how many people are there who know you better than anyone else? These people are total morons.)

Anyway, I'm just plain tired of this away message garbage. You know what, I'm going to petition instant messenger to make a puke smiley, just so I can have the proper response to these toolbags.

5. Birds... and fish.

I know a lot of people like birds, but I don't. I'm not sure if it's because my aunt's always been nuts about birds (among other things, really), but whatever it is, I don't care for them at all. I hate pigeons and seagulls, and I don't get what's fun about having a freakin parrot around to repeat everything you said. Half the time I don't want to remember what I said, let alone have it repeated back to me for eternity.

Actually, while I'm on it, I don't appreciate fish very much either. They just swim around and don't do much. Anybody who thinks they have a fish for a pet is kidding themselves. They have a bowl of water and this thing that swims around and will never talk to you or understand a thing you say to it. Completely useless, except you have to clean its fishbowl and buy it smelly fish food. Anybody that wants to do this is a weirdo.

6. The Pronunciation Morons

Okay, I get that my name can be tricky to pronounce. Fine. But once I correct someone, shouldn't it not be that difficult? Or, how about the nice people who say "Ehh, what's the difference?" Okay. How about instead of Matthew, I just call you Asshole? Really.

The Sox Shirts

I first wanted a Brian Daubach shirt. I was set on having a Daubach shirt because I loved Dauber, and so when I went to Fenway and found out that they didn't make Daubach shirts because he wasn't in the union, I was crushed. This was back in, like, 2000. I did the next best thing and bought a Trot Nixon shirt, because I liked Nixon second best, but mainly because he and Daub were best friends, so I figured if I couldn't support Daubach, I'd support Nixon and then be like, "Well, Dauber would want it this way." Totally insane, yes, but that was what I was thinking at the time. (And, if I'm honest, it's still what I think.)

The Nixon shirt has become the clutch shirt. It's the go-to shirt in times of dire straits. First, it's the most worn shirt because it's the oldest. It's got tiny holes in some places, but you really can't tell, so I wear it anyway. I wore it back in 2003, when the Sox were playing the Yankees in the ALCS. It was Game 6, and Pettite was on the mound, so naturally I was nervous about the Sox winning. I pulled out the Nixon shirt. They won. Total clutch. Now, any time there's a big game? Nixon. When the Sox needed to win Games 5, 6, and 7 of the ALCS in 2004? Nixon. Game 4 of the World Series? Nixon. Big test in school? Nixon.

You might wonder why I didn't wear my Nixon shirt for Game 4 of the ALCS, another must-win game. I had the same question when I was choosing my shirt last October. I was all set to put it on when I saw my Derek Lowe shirt peeking out from my closet. I bought the Derek Lowe shirt in October 2003, after the Sox won the ALDS. It was on the day of Game 7 of the ALCS and my friend Andy convinced me to skip class to go to the souvenir store to get Todd Walker shirts because we both loved Todd Walker. When we got there, Walker was sold out. Totally depressing. But I bought the Derek Lowe shirt instead. I had been meaning to get the Derek Lowe shirt since his win in Game 5 of the ALDS, when Oakland had two men on and like nobody out in the bottom of the ninth with the Sox ahead by one run. Totally frightening, and Derek Lowe's pitching performance in that game - with the final strikeout, no less! - convinced me that no matter what happened with Derek Lowe in the future, I could always wear the shirt with pride because of that performance. That one inning earned Derek Lowe the shirt.

Anyway, on the day of Game 4 of the ALCS, I was nervous and all, but we had Derek Lowe going. And I realized, this was the perfect day to show my support for Derek Lowe. So I went with it. I didn't stick with it, because I was loyal to my Nixon clutch shirt, but I still really like my Lowe shirt. With his performance in the post season - seriously, the winning pitcher for the deciding ALDS, ALCS, and World Series games - makes it, like, insanely obvious and logical that this shirt will forever be a must-keep. No matter how many teams he ends up on or how many times he has a psychotic breakdown on the mound. Those four performances in the 2003 and 2004 postseason have made him a part of the t-shirt pantheon. Forever. Amen.

In between the Nixon shirt and the Lowe shirt, I bought a few others. Back before I came to Boston, when I bought my shirts at Bob's, I actually bought a Carl Everett shirt. No idea why. I think I liked the controversy in owning a Carl Everett shirt. Who in their right mind would walk around in one of those? This is the guy who was known as "Jurassic Carl" because he claimed dinosaurs didn't exist and he would beat up anybody - ANYBODY - who said otherwise or accused him of crowding the plate (which he did, at every single at-bat, by using his cleat to rub out the batter's box chalk line). Anyway, I wore this shirt for a while and then I deemed it ridiculous so I wore it to this painting event and got paint all over it. I threw it away the next day.

I also had a gray Ramirez shirt that was so gigantic I wore it to sleep in. I still have it, somewhere, but I'm not sure where. I wore it a lot in London.

Back in 2001, I was adamant that the one off-season move the Red Sox had to make was to acquire Johnny Damon. When they did, I was ecstatic and I bought a Damon shirt immediately. Due to recent off-the-field antics, I have put that shirt on probation and I wear it only to the gym. With his on-the-field statistics, I can still justify the shirt, and I can always justify him as a key Sox player (huge homeruns in Game 7 of the ALCS last year). Still, it's not my favorite anymore. Plus, just about every bandwagon fan around has the shirt because they all think he's the "face of the Red Sox." Umm, no.

Last year, before the trade obviously, I bought the ghetto "Boston/Nomah 5" shirt from the people outside Fenway. I wore it twice before he got traded. I still have it, and I might pull it out sometime. I feel like I can now because the guy's career is basically trashed. Now, instead of being thought of as one of the greatest players in Boston history, he's forever attached to "The Trade that Made the World Series Win Possible." That must be very depressing. People everywhere are like, "If they don't trade Nomar, they don't win the Series." Yikes. Plus, now he's injured (again) in a contract year. The guy turned down $60 million over four years a few years back, making that the biggest mistake in contract negotiaton history (if you don't count Alex Rodriguez himself). So now, out of almost pity, I would wear the shirt. It's like saying, Nomar, back when you were Nomah, we loved you. Sorry pal.

Last year was also the year that they came out with Brian Daubach shirts. This was my full-circle moment T-shirt wise. Oprah the Great talks about full-circle moments on her show, these moments when something in your life becomes complete or something like that. I felt like my initial search had finally ended. I was ridiculously excited buying the Daubach shirt last spring. I bet people were like, "What is WRONG with her?" when I was practically glowing when I asked for it. I still wear it, obviously, and I always, always will. I don't care how many comments I get from co-workers who wonder how I can wear it around with pride. He's my all-time favorite player, even if I have no solid stats to back up my position. I don't care. And the thing I love is that when I wear it, I always see tons of other people wearing Daubach shirts, too. The guy has a cult following, I'm telling you. People loved him.

This year, I bought a Millar shirt. I like Millar, because of the same reason I liked the Dauber: here's a guy who likes his job. He loves playing for Boston. He's a nice guy. A hard-worker. Granted, recently Millar's been saying a lot to the media that's been a little out of sorts, but I can't help but feel the guy's situation as possible odd-man-out. I wanted to get the shirt before it was unavailable, let me put it that way. I like his attitude, even if it is altered with part Jack Daniels, part out-of-control.

I have tons of other random shirts: Posada is a Little Bitch (a special gift, but I have yet to wear it outside), Sox girls have more fun (the only decidely girly piece of Sox clothing I own), Reverse the Curse (happily retired), Yankees Choked (fabulous), plus some regular "Boston Red Sox" plain shirts. I own two sweatshirts, one zip-up sweatshirt, and one fleece. Some people have fewer clothes in their entire closet. It's extreme, I admit it.

A few days ago, I went to the souvenir store with some friends. For my birthday party, everyone's going to watch the Sox game, so I said that the dress code was Red Sox shirts. I didn't expect people to take it seriously, but people did. The Souvenir Store should send me a thank you note, or at least commission, because of all the business tossed their way this week. So my two friends each bought a t-shirt, and then, I couldn't help it. I figured, it's my birthday. I should buy a shirt to commemorate the occasion.

Timlin's the newest addition to my t-shirt roster. I bought his shirt because I like Timlin a lot, but mostly because I feel like he should have been an all-star. So if he can't be an all-star, I'll buy his shirt and show my support that way. It's totally ridiculous reasoning, but it's what it is.

Last night, my friend Allison, who had gone to the store with me a few days ago and had just bought a Sox shirt (classic, no name on the back) told me she wanted to buy a player shirt now. "I think it's only right," she said, sounding disturbingly like me (well, minus the Southern accent). "I mean, I should have a player shirt. The thing is, I want to get your opinion. I only know a few players, but I want to know, should I get Johnny Damon?"

I laughed and gave her my own reasoning about my Damon t-shirt. In the end, she decided on getting a David Ortiz shirt, I think. (Oh, right, I have an Ortiz shirt as well. This story is decidely less cool. I went back to the souvenir store to bait this guy to ask for my phone number. Sad, yes. I ended up with both. I don't wear the shirt that much, because almost everyone in Boston has one, and I don't really think the trip back was really that worth it.) Anyway, the point is, I'm becoming known in my circle of friends for giving advice on which Red Sox t-shirt to buy.

The thing is, it's hit or miss. Take Orlando Cabrera and Doug Mientkiewicz, for example. A Cabrera shirt is now solid. Nobody will ever hate Orlando Cabrera because he was with the Sox when they won, and he made up all these secret handshakes. Everyone loves him. Mientkiewicz? I would burn a Mientkiewicz shirt after the whole World Series ball fiasco. So you never know.

The bottom line is to have your own screwed up reasoning about why you buy a shirt. That way, no matter what, you can always have your own story attached to it. For Allison, maybe her story will be that she came to Boston to see what the whole Red Sox thing was about, and by the end, she had gotten into it enough to know a few players' names, so she bought a shirt (a little piece of Boston and the Red Sox, if you will) to take with her to California. That's how I like to think of it, anyway.

The Heat Brings Out the Morons

I was going to take a break from detailing the miscues of morons for the day, but then I got this phone call at work. Some moron was calling about getting information on the Ed.D. programs. Now, as soon as I hear that someone wants to get information about a doctorate program, I assume that there is at least some brain activity going on, because they have to show proof of two degrees at least - a bachelor's and a master's - in order to be accepted. Turns out, I was wrong. Or maybe not. There might be some brain activity, but if there is, it's deeply twisted.

I offered the gentleman a mailing of our bulletin, so that he could get the general information he was seeking and then narrow down his career choice so that we could set up an appointment with him and an academic advisor. Here's his response to my question, "Would you like us to mail you a school bulletin?"

"Does that have writing?"

(Umm, no, sir. We just make up these things of blank pages and send them out to you. It's like fill in the blank degrees here. You just fill in exactly what you want, and we say okay, you can have a degree in that. You can even draw your request or submit it in symbols. Total moron.)

"I'm not sure what you mean sir."

"Does it have a lot of writing?"

"Well, it is a book. It outlines all of the programs we offer, with the requirements and course information."

Silence.

"Sir, would you like me to send you one?"

"No, that sounds like too much to read."

Ohhhhh. Okay. You want an Ed.D. program, but you don't want to have to expend the energy to read the school bulletin. This sounds like a candidate we would love to accept. In fact, just skip the whole application process - lots of writing involved there, too - and come on in. Forget doing actual reading for any of the classes, either. We'll just make up a big diploma with just your name and degree, like they'd do in preschool when you graduated and you got your name with a big "Way to Go" sticker, because back then, you couldn't read! People kill me.

And another moron sighting:

Yesterday, at my other job, this woman comes over to me. "Can I exchange my ticket?" she asks.

"Is there something wrong with your seat?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, may I ask why you want to exchange it?"

"I want to see a different game."

"I'm sorry?"

"Yeah. This game is already pretty much decided. I'd like to leave now - it's only in the third - and I want to come back for a more exciting game."

Granted, it was about 1000 degrees there yesterday, but still. I can't believe that there's not a filter in these people's brains. Then again, that would be assuming they have brains. Not a good bet.

My last moron encounter was sad because I knew both of the people. Now, before I get in trouble, neither are morons, but it reminded me of moronic encounters, so they get put in this entry whether they like it or not.

It's been about a billion degrees in my room, so I freak out about it approximately once per day. It's like this thing where I'll be fine, and then all of a sudden, I'll realize how stifling it is and I will throw a mini tantrum and find myself becoming irate. It's insane, but it happens.

Anyhow, I was on the phone with my "friend" when I was telling her this, and her response was: "You remind me of my friend, who always complains about (I forget what). The thing is, she can do something about it, so..."

I cut her off. "EXCUSE ME!" I basically shouted into the phone, "are you telling me this from your nicely air conditioned bedroom?"

Silence, the beautiful sound of surrender.

My father was the second loser. After he asked me if it really was THAT hot in my room, I told him yes.

"Don't you have a fan?" was his response.

Oh, now that you say it, my two fans really do the trick. I mean, sure, they're blowing hot air around, but really, it's not so bad. Why didn't I even think of that? If I have a fan, I'm all set! In fact, maybe I should throw away my electric fans and go back to those paper ones from Ancient China. They made it through the heat with it, why shouldn't I?

Seriously. It's always nice to hear the nonchalant "Don't you have a fan?" dismissal from someone sitting in an air conditioned office in a suit and tie. Reaallly understanding.

Anyhow, I just thought about how a few months back I wrote about how rain brings out all the morons, and now I'm saying that the heat brings out all the morons. So really, when I think about it, they're just always out there.

There's a depressing thought.

Forget Florida

Uncle.

I got a phone call from my father last Sunday, asking me why I wasn't writing this anymore. I asked him if he had read my last entry. He had. I asked him why he was asking the question then.

"You mean you're done writing because of what I said?!"

"Uhh, yeah."

"No!"

"Yeah, I told you, it was the letter in the mail."

"But that wasn't in reference to EVERYTHING, it was just going back to that one post I told you to take down."

Apparently, my father has never seen a dead horse.

Regardless, I decided to keep this thing after all. If I'm honest, it's partially because it's all I've been hearing for the past week when I run into anyone I haven't seen in a week or so. If I'm really honest, it's also because I can't deal with all the morons in the world without complaining about it. (Speaking of morons, nobody even got the literary allusion in the title of my formerly final post. Poor form.)

Anyhow, this past week, having been a former retiree, it got me thinking about other famous retirements, which got me thinking about annoying people, which got me thinking that I should write about it.

In my opinion, here are some of the best and worst retirements (and retirement announcements, really), ever:

1. The Beanie Baby

A few years back, these things were huuuuge. Adults who were freaks were out collecting them like they were going to be worth tons of money. In my family friend group, there's always some kook who gets on the latest craze and is obsessed. I remember clearly who that kook was. She was OBSESSED with getting the latest Beanie Baby and with tracking how much each was worth on Ebay. The thing was, they started releasing only limited editions, which were impossible to find, and then they started retiring old ones. For example, I had a vintage pig. This thing was worth a ton. I also had a vintage blue elephant.

Actually, that's a lie. My brother had the vintage blue elephant, which he loved. Nobody got why. He was a little kid so he probably just liked that it looked cool because it was a royal blue elephant. Anyhow, this thing became the jackpot. So what did I do? I told everyone it was mine. Typical.

For some unfathomable reason, none of us ever cashed in on the Beanie Baby bonanza. It's probably a result of us not knowing how to really deal with Ebay, when I think about it. But my point is, these TY people made a killing just by announcing you couldn't get some stupid red bull (no, a literal red bull stuffed bean bag animal) after August. The big seller was the Princess Diana bear. This purple thing was huuuuuuuge.

Now, nobody gives a crap about them. TY's rolling in the money from this little scheme, and I've got a collection full of random stuffed bean bag animals that at one time would have gotten me a new car.

In the end, everyone's a loser but the company. Brilliant scheme.

(This reminds me, by the way, of this time that I was playing monopoly with my sister and I had thought up this huge scheme to win the game. It was a little advanced, I admit, but it was really genius. So my dad came over and saw what was going on, and right when I had convinced my sister to agree to this trade - good for the short run, doom for her future - my father said to her, "You don't want to do that!!" And he stopped the deal right then and there and basically told her how to own me and all my properties. I still think about this.)

Final Retirement Rating (FRR): B+ (because some people still buy them, and they still make them sometimes, even though they aren't nearly as cute. Then again, that might just be because I'm not tweleve or an obsessed Ebay kook.)

2. Seinfeld

These guys went out on top. When I was in my conceited mood, I figured I would go out on top, too. Meaning not that I was the best ever, but that I was going out when my popularity was the highest. People didn't want Seinfeld to end, but by pulling the plug, the show didn't deteriorate into cancellation. A classy move.

FRR: A + adjustment for the fact that none of the original cast has done much since = C (Seriously, Jason Alexander's biggest role was playing back-up to an 8-year old and a monkey.)

3. Tom Brokaw

A solid retirement. He announced it, he didn't back away from it when the time came, he had a good end of the broadcast speech, and he still makes special appearances now and then to let everyone know he's retired, not dead.

FRR: A+

4. Jay Leno

He's announced his retirement for 2009, which makes me very upset. Jay Leno is the one celebrity I would really, really like to meet and just have as a buddy. I really love the guy. I include him in this list only because of those facts.

FRR: F, for retiring in the first place, and for having Conan (considerably less warm and cute) as his replacement. If I had a sad face, I'd use it here.

5. Cher

Notorious for announcing her retirements and then continuing on with her uhh, career, Cher is the Retirement Girl Who Cried Wolf. I just want to know who the freaks are who continue to buy into the "This is my last tour ever" gimmick. They're absolute morons.

FRR: Z

6. Sex and the City

Like Seinfeld, this show went out on top and with people begggging them to continue. There's even all this talk about how a movie was scrapped because of negotiation/diva issues. Look, I love the show but I'm happy that they had six solid seasons, told the stories of these characters, and that was that. It's like a good book: you don't want it to end, but in the end, you have a solid story and you can go back and re-read it if you really want. I feel like people should get this, but nobody reads anymore anyhow so it's futile.

This show is a little more complicated than "Seinfeld" with success for its stars though. Take Jerry Seinfeld. The guy sold out his comedy tour thing, great. If that's what he wants, then awesome. But nobody's made the jump to movies, or even another hit TV show. Sarah Jessica Parker, clearly the star then and now, has emerged as a huuuuuge selling point for everything. The others, though, aren't doing so hot, if you ask me. Kristin Davis is playing the Jason Alexander back up role in some third-rate movie about a superhero kid Sharkman or something. Kim Cattrall's in London, and Cynthia Nixon is in New York, having basically come out to the world. Rosie did the same thing: ended her successful talk show and came out, and look where she is. Doesn't look good for Cynthia.

FRR: A for show, tentative B- for cast success post-show, and if I'm honest, D for all the stupid "I'm Carrie" crap that has sparked because of this show. How many "I'm shoe shopping" voicemails am I going to have to listen to? Just how many?!?!

7. Michael Jordan

First, the guy decides to play baseball (FAILURE), then he retires, then he decides that he's going to come back, now he's retired. Uhh, Mike? Maybe you should try GOLF, like every other retired person.

FRR: ?

8. Jose Offerman

Should be retired.

Scratch that. Should be fired.

FRR: Ineligible.

9. Paris Hilton

At 23 or however young she is, she decided to announce her retirement. Okay, Paris? You have to have an actual occupation from which to retire. Seriously, what is she retiring from? Being the partying-hotel-heiress? Being the sex-tape actress? Hooking up with ex-boy band members? I'm confused.

FRR: C, because I don't really get it, and when nobody gets it, they always say to choose C.

10. Oprah

Oprah decided in, like, 2001 that she would announce her retirement for 2006. People don't announce royal appointments with that much notice, but it was Oprah, so it was accepted. Then, she decided that she would continue to 2009. If we get to 2008, and she's like, "Uhh... 2015," then I hope nobody plans a retirement party for her, ever. Just because I think it would be unfair of her to keep annoucing stuff that's not true. Even if it has no bearing on my life and she's not harming anyone, it still drives me nuts. I think it drives me nuts because it's very presumptuous of someone to assume that people will care that you're retiring FIVE YEARS FROM NOW. Mark your calendars. Ridiculous.

This follows (hold on a second. Hooolld up. I JUST heard the most annoying, overdone cell phone ring ever. It's that doodoodoodoo, doodoodoodoo, doodoodoodoo DOO from Love Actually. I want to drive a nail into my head every time it freakin rings. Whoever sells that needs to retire THAT one, for godsake)... back to Oprah. This "Let me Announce my retirement ten billion times" follows the same type of behavior she's now been displaying for some time, and it's about time somebody called her on it. Might as well be me. Here's the thing about Oprah: I like her. I really do. I have a lot of respect for a woman who has made herself into a freakin world-wide name like that. Plus, she has pretty good shows most of the time. I admit it. I'm an Oprah-watcher.

Still, what gets me is this: she has this Hermes battle going on right now, which (OH MY GOD THAT STUPID RING AGAIN) is a little insane. Granted, I know absolutely nothing really about this, given that I wasn't at Hermes, and I don't know Oprah, but whatever. Apparently, Oprah showed up at Hermes after it had closed, like by ten minutes, and wanted to go in to buy a watch for freakin Tina Turner. She wasn't allowed in. She says it was bad and that there was some racism included in the customer service send off. If that's the case, that's bad, obviously. But here's the thing: if I show up at Hermes, fifteen minutes after close, and I want to buy a watch for my friend, they're not going to let me in. Hell, if I show up during the day to buy a watch for my friend it's unsure whether they'd let me in. So how come Oprah should get the rules bent?

Oh, right, because she's OPRAH. Hermes is very stupid though because now everyone will hate them if Oprah says so, and plus, nobody can ever figure out whether it's Her-mezz, or Hermies.

And last, about Oprah: she hosted this Legends Ball to honor all these African-American women who really contributed to society. Great idea in concept. She had this huge party, where she ordered that it was a black and white ball, so people had to wear either black or white. That was it. What does she show up in? A bright red dress. Bright freakin red. The legends she's honoring? Have to be in black or white. Oprah? Red.

Wait, one more thing. Well I'm at it, I was once watching the Daytime Emmy Awards (I know, I know, why?!?) and when they were giving out the award for best talk show, Oprah gave it out and said that she had "removed" herself from being eligible, because she had won so many times. ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!?! That's like saying, "These people are beneath me." It's like, "I'm saying that no matter what, I automatically win and beat all of you, so this award is really like, 'Who's second best?' " Insane. Whoever let her do this is ridiculous.

Then again, she can't claim getting an Emmy since like 1995 or whatever. Actually, you know what? I bet she just assumes she would have won, so none of it matters. I bet if she actually asked the Emmy people to make her an award for every year just because, they would give serious consideration to it. I'll give her an Emmy. An Emmy for Worst Diva Behavior Ever.

And you know what kills me more than anything? This woman's always like, "yessss, I looove Walmart." Bullshit. She hasn't been in a Walmart, since, like, 1980. Don't give me that crap.

FRR: B- + adjustment for diva behavior = C - -

Ahhhhh it feels good to be back.

The Lost and Found

A few days ago, I was running through the Lost and Found voicemails at work when I realized that people are morons. When you're leaving one of these messages, you have to keep in mind that only three things are necessary: clearly saying and spelling your name if it's difficult, a brief description of the item with anything that makes it unique or signifies it as yours, and a very slow, clear reading of your contact phone number. That's it. The end. Hang up and move on.

They have this pre-recorded message at the beginning of the voicemail, like all other voicemails, giving these instructions. Basically, you only need some sort of brain activity, however faint, to participate in this hotline process. The people who I got messages from this week? Total flatlines. Flaaaatlines.

I heard all about these stupid wallets, embroidered with flowers and beads or suede with gold snaps or leather with black trim and brown animal print. I got a list of contents in this woman's bag - key ring, lipstick, concealer, handcream sanitizer - Cocunut Cucumber scent. And then all the cards! "I lost a wallet with a Shaws card, a YMCA card, a Jurassic Mini Golf Course card, a Loser Membership card, do you have it?" The catch, of course, is that these morons leave fifty second messages, and forty-eight seconds of the message are spent giving this insane description crap and one point two seconds are spent speeding through the phone number, at this point mumbling. I love these people. Or how about the people that call and say, "Little Jimmy lost his baseball glove. Do you have it?" Umm, lady? I'm sitting at a desk looking at about fifty baseball gloves. Which one is his? "It's brown." Verrrrry helpful. Verrrrry helpful. Narrows it right down. My boss's personal favorite: "I lost a silver flip phone." Oh REALLY? So did about fifty other losers.

State of the Union

One year ago, I was sitting in the exact spot that I'm sitting in now, and I decided that I had wasted enough time checking other people's blogs and away messages and profiles, and that I would just start my own and see how many other people's time I could waste. I began writing believing that shut me up would have a short life and then spend the rest of eternity in the internet junkyard, whatever and wherever that is. Turns out, people - including myself - have a lot more time to kill than I had ever thought possible.

My first entry was about the Red Sox. It was a rant. I went off on everyone in the Sox organization, every player I found to be under-performing. I said Nomar was a crybaby and a sulker. I said that Francona could be the owner of a "Life is Good" t-shirt with a picture of the world blowing up on the back. The next entry I wrote was about clowns, and how people often feared them, and even though people thought a fear of clowns was silly, that there are many clowns in history who have been psychopaths. For my third entry, I wrote about laughing at my sister who fell tap-dancing in the living room.

For some reason, people read this junk.

Over the past year, I've written about basically everything that's happened to me, only I've written the events like stories rather than daily journal accounts. Nobody cares that I got some law school applications or that I went to the gym, but I've found that people might be more interested if it's that I got the law school applications to buy some Puma sneakers, which turned out to be out of stock anyway and rendered my entire breakdown unnecessary, or if it's that when I went to the gym I unintentionally insulted the Blind. In the end, I think what makes any of this interesting - if it's interesting at all - is that it's not about what happens to anybody, it's about why or how it all happens.

People have said to me in the past year that they would write this stuff themselves, but nothing interesting ever happens to them. I say that's impossible. Everyone has some crazy stories about growing up, even if they don't involve playing poor people or crappy cars (some children, apparently, have souls). Everyone has a crazy relative or ten. Most people have a favorite sports team or hobby that they can rant about, though I admit that having the Sox in the postseason and then having them win it all was pretty good for business, and, incidentally, for MY LIFE. And last, and possibly most important, I truly believe that there are just too many morons out there for these encounters to happen only to me.

I ran into a sticky situation when my dad started reading. At first, I didn't really care that much. And then I made a pretty crude joke, and I got a phone call. My dad basically told me I could be fired and completely fucked for life if I didn't take that entry down. I followed his advice because I didn't want to listen to him about it anymore, but also because he was right. The only thing is, my dad takes every single opportunity to remind me that I once wrote this joke and how bad it was and how it almost cost me my job (even though "almost" is a bit much there) and how lucky I am that he was reading it and saw it and yay my father is a hero blah blah blah. At least, that's what it sounds like to me. That was my big brush with censorship.

In the end, my father was the only person who heeded the title of all of this. He tried, and almost succeeded. It reminds me of this time, years and years ago, when I was in the sixth or seventh grade maybe. I was riding in the car with just my father to Borders bookstore, and I was telling him some story or some random thought I'd had. I had been talking for a while probably, and all of a sudden, my father looked at me and asked, "Do you ever stop talking?"

Umm, guess not.