Okay, technically it was more of a catfight than a bidding war, but I guarantee you it was fierce. I was in college at the time, and I somehow duped two girls into believing I was A-list boyfriend material. A gnarly girlpocalypse ensued.
It was awesome.
Then there was also the time in middle school where, for a small fee of one US American dollar, I would open up my father’s Playboy collection for viewing, all in the name of health and sex education, of course.
But I’ve never been Yu Darvish-ed before. I mean, I’ve never had a bunch of folks throwing MAD MONEY at me just for the opportunity to negotiate a contract. I know, I know, it’s hard to believe, but Nolan Ryan has never gone all in on my ass…ets. My assets. That’s what I meant to say.
Personally, I cannot WAIT to see Yu Darvish in action. I’ve been salivating at his proposed Major League entry since the ’09 WBC and now it looks like I may finally get my wish. Picture a 2012 season with an Adam Wainwright, a Stephen Strasburg AND a Yu Darvish!?!?!? Somebody douse me with Gatorade!
Meanwhile, if Yu’s people are any good, then they got their Newt Gingrich on before teams put in their final bids. You know it, I know it and the American people know it: no one sells access like the Grand Old Party.
Oh the Dems do it too.
Ron Paul. That is all.
And don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Things to Do in Miami When You’re Dead
Just one week ago I wrote about all the good the Marlins are doing. It’s been an interesting week since then. I baked. I strung lights. I went sledding in my neighbor’s bathtub (she may or may not know this). I made a gingerbread house. I have Christmas fever!! And it’s Big Cat week!! But wait, there more!
I’m also slightly sore from the waist down since my man Aramis Ramirez is leaving the Cubs, but I’m not in the same stratosphere compared to what Jeffy is going through with Alberto de la Pujols. But that’s not why I called.
See, my father lives in the Miami metro area. He slipped me a story that’s been going on down there, one that hasn’t been reported too much here and it details the mess the Miami Marlins have created with the locals involving their new stadium. Check it out from the Herald.
And *this one* too!
Apparently all isn’t so sunny in Dade County regarding the tax payers who paid for the stadium. And the Marlins are BANKING ON FILLING THE HOUSE. Way to piss everyone off before DAY FREAKING ONE.
Will owners ever learn? They can tell you they put on pants the same way you do, with the whole putting one leg in at a time, but they probably just lay on shag carpets and have the butler put them on for them. I know this because my iguana, Dudley, does this for me every morning (despite his violent protests).
The Marlins couldn’t come close to half capacity, even winning it all twice. Now this?
Again Vice City proves just how douchey a place it really is. Other than visiting my father and my two stripper friends Leviticus and Deuteronomy, you can keep it. I have enough Crockett and Tubbs in my life. Just when I thought the new look Marlins were doing things the right way they go and screw the locals.
But I gave Dad some advice for when they tax him again: “The problems of the world won’t be solved by love alone. You need the opposite of love too… and by ‘opposite’ I mean Scientology.”
And… “Life is like a mustard burp, momentarily tangy and then forgotten in the air.”
Follow Johanna on Twitter!
And so in this Podcast brought to you by Lifestyles…
Albert. Frakking. Pujols. Could this episode really be about anything else? Give it a listen, close your eyes and imagine Jeff really is strangling Johanna. No. Seriously. Do that. Please?
Also, remember to send us a picture (to email@example.com) showing why you’re RSBS‘ biggest fan so YOU can win some sweet Oakley Bender sunglasses from our good friends at Crown Royal. Pass the crown, yo!
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Recorded Saturday, December 10, 2011
It’s pretty clear that the 30-year War on Drugs waged by the United States has been spectacularly unsuccessful at best and criminally wasteful at worst. Within our borders, jails have become overcrowded with small-time offenders while the rate of new usage continues to increase. Outside of these same borders, a new generation of druglords continue to show the world that Pablo Escobar was an amateur.
I guess the thing I’ve never understood is, why are drugs so bad? Yes, I understand why abusing drugs is bad in the same way that I understand why abusing people or anything is bad. But there’s a big difference between using and abusing. I use alcohol in that I have a beer with dinner. I don’t abuse it, though, because I know what the effects would be. Plenty of people use marijuana in the same way and quite honestly, I trust them a lot more than I trust my alcoholic friends.
So why do we continue to demonize drug use even as we profit from it? It’s the same thing with drug use in sports. I don’t want to see guys abusing the stuff but if a small dose of some sort of PED from time to time can keep a guy healthy, why not? We already know what kind of a toll the rigors of professional sports take on the human body. And yes, the athletes know what sort of risks they face. But why wouldn’t we do all that we can to ensure their health and safety?
Honestly, I’m tired of reading about A-Rod or Manny or Ryan Braun. McGwire, Sosa and Bonds? That’s something else. That’s abuse. But those other guys? I really couldn’t care less. If regulated use of PEDs could help players stay healthy, play until they’re 40 and enjoy life post-baseball, that just makes sense. But, so does de-criminalizing marijuana and collecting taxes off of its sale. I don’t expect to see either one anytime soon.
8. Subjected Myself to Amy Grant’s Greatest Hits
7. More Beer
5. NBA Network
4. Dissected a Battery, Smoked What I Found, Had a Conversation with a Fern
3. Murder (Not Telling… HINT: Involved a Smurf)
1. This Video… Over and Over and Over Again…
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
When something like this happens:
It’s funny to think that maybe this was happening behind the scenes:
But most likely it’s closer to this:
I predict that within six months Perry’s secret male lover will no longer be able to hold his tongue. Let’s just call it a hunch.
During the playoffs and the brief period between the end of the baseball season and the handing out of the postseason awards, the debate raged about whether or not Verlander would or indeed should win both the Cy Young and the MVP. There are those who I’m sure continue to claim that since the pitchers have their own award, they should not be considered for the MVP award. I have only one thing to say to that:
Happy Friday! The weekend starts now.
I am trying not to be angry right now.
But I am hurt.
I’m human. And humans have feelings — feelings that, obviously, get hurt. I understand Albert Pujols had some hurt feelings too, because Ryan Howard — a mere scrub in comparison — was making more money than him.
Once again, a professional athlete tells the world with his actions that the fans don’t really matter — that having statues erected in one’s honor, charitable foundations in one’s namesake and a universal key to the city, forever and ever and ever just ain’t worth a pass at a few extra million.
The Cardinals will be fine. Maybe they go hard after Prince now. Or maybe they just move Lance to first and let Freese and Craig become superstars hitting in front of and behind Matt Holliday. Maybe they go and get Jimmy Rollins or one of a bazillion other high value free agents.
But Albert Pujols’ legacy will not be fine. No longer will we mention him among legendary Cardinals like Gibson, Brock and Ozzie. His seat next to Stan the Man is no longer available.
That was Albert’s choice.
Pujols will be remembered as a great Cardinal, yes, but one who, in the end, was all about the money. I thank him for all the memories — memories I will hold dear to my heart until the day I die.
But now there’s no denying that those memories will always be bittersweet. And there’s nothing I can do about it. In the end, the fans don’t matter. And that’s just a reality we’re all going to have to deal with on our own.
“Gee, I wish we had one of them doomsday machines.”
There are three things I can never remember: the first is people’s names. The second is… is…
Anyway, I know I love me some hot stove! I’m making my yearly pantsless expedition to the wonderful world of MLB offseason rumors and conjecture! I’m even careening into mailboxes on my bike because of the madness!! I have puppies and chimps in my kitchen and we put on plays about how free agent negotiations “go down”. It’s like a Japanese game show. You never know who’s going to get eaten!
So far Miami is the big mover/shaker, but who will be next?
For years they’ve employed unreal drafting strategies, worked on the cheap, biding their time while the super powers outspend each other. But now… THE SUM OF ALL FEARS.
Russia, China and America (Yankees, Red Sox, Cubs) have initiated the snap count for a Red Alert nuclear attack but ended up killing themselves fighting each other whilst brilliant strategery is quietly coming together in south Florida. They have a new stadium, new digs, new manager, new closer and now Jojo Reyes. Will Reyes and Pujols share casserole recipes? REMEMBER: don’t share with Hanley! He’s already good on the whole putting on muscle mass thing.
But as much as the Marlins (and possibly the Cubs?) are pushing for Albert, I think he’s staying home in the Lou. By the way, I’d rather go toe to toe with a mountain lion mother protecting her cubs then go through another Aldopho Soriano situation if the Cubs sign Pujols for nine years and he looks like he’s 48 after just two of them. And brother Jeffy will be singing this for days when that happens…
If my beloved Cubs can swing a reasonable deal for Prince Fielder though, I’m beyond down. I’ll do anything — shine shoes, wait tables, blow… glass.
But in the case that neither Senor Jeffy or I get our wishes, you will probably read someday of an infamous double Groundhog Day beheading.
Follow Johanna on Twitter!
In a stunning turn of events, Herman Cain will not be the next President of the United States. In other news, snorting pixie sticks will not get you high. The one thing that these two items have in common is that a lot of people should have seen it coming before trying it out.
So now it’s Gingrich. Oh right, and Romney. It’s like the longest and most asinine game of musical chairs ever. The only problem is that instead of removing a chair each time, they just substitute a person and make them keep playing. Please, can we just make it stop and give Romney the nomination? I know you don’t like him and I know you are afraid the Mormons are going to steal your children but there’s something to be said for having a candidate who’s actually qualified to run. What’s next, Palin redux?
The real issue is that the Republicans are so adverse to nominating Romney that they treat every new challenger like how MLB treats Kyle Farnsworth. “Well, we didn’t like him before and he hasn’t really done much but he sure looks good on paper. Eh, what the hell. Let’s give him a shot.” And, just like the Republican challengers, you find yourself wondering a month or two later what you possibly could have been thinking. And, of course, like any circle of abuse, you convince yourself that you’ll never let it happen again…
…At least not until next year when you’re looking for a middle reliever (presidential candidate) and notice that Farnsworth (Gingrich) is on the market….