Back Again For The First Time

My deepest apologies to all for the short (yes short, three months and a week is actually quite short from an eternal perspective) layoff between blot posts. I wish I had a better excuse than "I've been busy," but my excuse isn't even that good since I spend a large amount of time sitting on the couch waiting for little biscuit to wake up so we can play the wobble-wobble game. Since it's been so long, I'm going to try something a little different than a normal blog post. We'll call it My Two Cents and it will basically consist of numerous random and likely unrelated comments on whatever tickles my fancy. Hopefully it will be entertaining, but I make no guarantees. Actually, I'll make one guarantee: Shaq really regrets being caught on tape with that rap about Kobe (note: I didn't say he regrets saying it, just getting caught on digital video)

Let's spend some cash:

• Let's reach way back to March Madness. Yes, I won, and yes it was just as sweet as I thought it would be (literally, Lis sent me a candygram as my prize). Not to mention the joy of seeing one of the greatest Championship games ever. Bill Self (Kansas coach) is lucky I still won the pool though. This is the first year I can remember that I didn't pick Rock, Chalk, Jayhawk for the Final Four and if they'd cost me the crown I probably would have driven to Lawrence and
  "doctored" the water in his office cooler. Take that to mean what you will.

• Whoever came up with those "Viva Viagra" spots should be beaten. I’ve spent considerable time mulling this over and I can’t possibly come up with a more ridiculous and unrealistic scenario than a bunch of middle-age musicians sitting around a barn/studio/garage jamming about their ED. And if you think I’m bitter because I saw the newest of these spots today and I haven’t been able to get the song out of my head in spite of two hours of Guitar Hero, well, you’re right.
  
  
• If there’s a better way to spend a Saturday night than having dinner with some good friends and then playing Rock Band until you sweat like Steven Tyler in rehab, then I haven’t found it.

• So Wimbledon started. Yep, that about sums it up.

• If I were to grade the Celtics-Lakers NBA Finals, I’d have to give it an Incomplete until the Lakers show up. Anyone who thinks Kobe is in the same league as MJ is either a moron, or a Laker’s fan (insert editor’s mark to show that those two terms are actually synonymous—boo-ya!)

• There’s predictable, there’s blatantly predictable, there’s egregiously predictable and then there’s the Utah Jazz drafting a big white dude with an Eastern European name who’s known for his jump shot more than his ability to play down low in the NBA draft. If Mormons were allowed to gamble, I would be wiping my son’s tushie with $100 bills rather than baby wipes after betting on this.

• What is the purpose of the door close button on elevators and why do I always end up riding with someone who insists on pushing it after every stop? Does the 2.46 seconds it may or may not shave off of the programmed door shut time really impact your life that much. Are you going to use that time to be 2.46 seconds more productive at work? Do you really hate the idea of someone else squeezing on the elevator within those 2.46 seconds that much? What am I missing here?

• I’m sure Earl Woods was immeasurably proud of his son Tiger “don’t call me Eldrick” Woods after the way he spent Father's Day overpowering the U.S. Open field on a bad knee. But I guarantee you he was no more proud than I was to see my little man try to stuff his whole fist in his mouth and come up only a pinkie short. Fatherhood rocks!
• Subnote: Yes, I know Earl Woods is dead. How dare you question my knowledge of the mortality of one of mankind’s greatest sports dads. The man was a visionary. No on else in 1978 was setting their three year-old son up to be the most famous 401(k) plan ever. Genius I say, genius!

• I’m two years into my fantasy baseball experiment and the results are mixed. On the one hand, I’m winning my league, so that’s nice. But on the other hand, fantasy baseball requires more maintenance, care, oversight and attention than Lindsay Lohan’s reputation.

• I just spent 25 minutes attempting to come up with a joke about this, but sometimes, comedy just writes itself.

That about covers the high points of the last few months. Like I said, I’m sorry for the delay and I’ll try to do better next time. One last thing though. This is supposed to be a space where I write my opinions and observations about all-things sports. However, the only things going on this time of year are baseball (which I don’t follow too closely other than my fantasy team and for the sake of my marriage I don’t even follow that too closely), NASCAR (possibly the most environmentally unfriendly sport the world has to offer), a little golf sans Tiger Woods (yawn), and that’s about it (as I implied earlier, tennis doesn’t count anymore since it shares the same level of relevance as Ricky Martin). Therefore, if you have any suggestions for topics, bring 'em on. I have a few in my hip pocket, but if there’s anything you’d like my perspective on (and frankly I don’t really know why you do, but I’m flattered nonetheless) let me know and I might even get it done before gas hits $10/gallon.