You'll be happy to hear...

I got my CD set today. No wonder it took so long, the mailing label was so faded, I'm surprised it got here at all. Freaking Overstock.com. Never again my friends, never again...

Thoughts I’m having while thinking that Anna probably has impressive sideboob

Long day today. Always is when you have something you’re half looking forward to/half looking forward to getting over with (the play).

Actually, I’m pumped as all get-out for the draft tomorrow. As I’ve mentioned here about forty seven times, NFL Draft day is one of my favorite sports days of the year. To be honest with you, there’s even a part of me that likes this event better than the Super Bowl.

Maybe if the Super Bowl weren’t chock full of bullshit “entertainment” and heavy-handed celebrity pre-game cameos. And maybe if they recognized there’s a game being played and quit catering all the extraneous crap to the casual/non-football fan. And maybe someday the game won’t take five hours plus five hours of pre-game to produce.

If there’s one boon Janet Jackson has bestowed upon the nation, it’s halftime entertainment that will now be banal and whitebread enough that one won’t feel terribly about using that forty-five minute break to do anything but watch TV. Do a crossword puzzle. Take a dump. Talk to your kids. Whatever, you’re just missing “America’s Salute to it’s Indigenous Peoples” interpreted like an Olympic opening ceremony.

Yeah, that’s just what people want. To quote Lore Fitzgerald Sjoberg, ”Capture the Tedium!”

Anyway, draft day is special. Playing armchair QB is tough, because plays happen every 30 seconds or so, and without TiVo, you can’t replay everything and nitpick the QB’s decision making to death. That being said, playing armchair GM on draft day is easy, and loads of fun. With every player that comes off the board, someone slips another notch down. Who do you take? If so-and-so is slipping, are we going to let Baltimore or Tampa Bay trade up to get them? Who’s tumbling down the draft board for our second round pick?

And, of course, all the second guessing adds to the enjoyment as well.

So, from Noon to 7PM Saturday, don’t bother searching for me at PartyPoker. I’ll be right in front of my TV watching rounds one through three unfold.

It was Bob’s birthday yesterday. Happy Birthday. M, his fiancee, and I all pitched in to buy him a $50 T-shirt. I guess if I’m buying $35 baseball caps (and letting cousin Rachelle steal one) from that joint, I shouldn’t act aghast that a T-shirt costs $50.

I want a plane ticket and/or package deal for a Vegas vacation for my birthday. Targeting late August/early September. Who wants to pony up for me?

I turned down the opportunity to purchase a very serviceable table and chairs from the classified ads for $100 two weekends ago. I don’t know if I made a bad decision. The table was alright, but didn’t really go with my apartment that well. That being said, it was in good shape, almost six feet long, and there were chairs as part of the deal. Probably should have just ponied up the cash, but if I’ve lived this long without a table, I think I’ll be alright for awhile. I think I’d rather buy something I like, even if I have to spend $750 to do it. By the way, dining room chairs are ludicrously expensive. Even if they’re basic and boring, you’re talking about $129 each.

I’m going to play more poker this coming week I’ve decided. I have Sunday through Wednesday nights free, and I have a sincere desire to build the bankroll up, hopefully taking another debit from the account somewhere along the way. Actually, I hope to be playing more poker and listening to the Miles Davis Jack Johnson sessions quite a bit this week. But you know how the latter part of that equation has been working out for me.

Strange moment the other night. Was at rehearsal, talking with Jeff, who is in the cast and one year younger than I am. We did go to the same high school. I told a story about a stage kiss being this girl’s first kiss, and how we practiced the kiss for the first time at the student director’s house. It was probably the first time since that play in 1992 that I had said the student director’s name in conversation. One hour later, we’re both in the dressing room, and that same girl calls Jeff. Maybe her ears were burning.

Besides, “We’re the Monkees” and “Bad Company,” name me another rock song that used the band’s name as the title of the song. And no fair counting the Who for “Who are You?” I don’t count that one.

Opening Night

Well, six weeks of rehearsal finally pays off tonight, as our little community theatre production hits the stage.

I don’t generally get too excited or nervous for nights like this. I’ve got little problem, despite my obvious problems as a sociophobe, getting up in front of people and talking. Plus, I feel pretty well prepared for this anyway. The only thing I generally fear is dropping a line, but I think I’m prepared enough that it’s unlikely that happens.

Actually, that’s not true. I also fear missing an entrance cue. My first scene doesn’t show up until about 30 minutes into act one, but about ten minutes into the show I’m invariably pacing around (I always pace) near my entrance point awaiting my cue.

Even though I’m not onstage a great deal, I am in four scenes, and they’re spaced apart with just enough buffer to give me a little break before I go back up near my next point of entrance for the ten to twenty minutes leading to my cue. The other guy in the play is on in the beginning of act one (ten minutes in), and is only on one more time, thirty minutes into act two. He’s then off all of act three. Not bad work if you can get it.

We had one technical glitch in our last dress rehearsal worth mentioning. In act two, it’s supposed to be night time. Our director wants to pipe in cricket noises. Well, not only did the sound person forget to turn on the cricket noises at the beginning of act two, but she left the volume on the sound system tuned up too high (we play music prior to the show, she didn’t adjust), and when the crickets all of a sudden appeared right in the middle of one of my lines, it wasn’t peaceful, it was frightening.

So frightening in fact, that I took it as a sign of the apocalypse, and was searching into the darkness expecting to see the rest of the four horseman identify themselves, now that pestilence had reared her ugly head.

Well, not really, but it was quite loud for cricket noises.

What I look forward to tonight is the relief I’ll hopefully feel immediately following my last exit in act three. Of course, I’ll only be relieved if I don’t screw up, otherwise I’ll be kicking my own ass well into next week. Well, relief and the beer and pizza I’m likely to be eating sometime in the 11PM hour tonight. I look forward to that as well.

Maybe possibly if I feel like lifting the veil of anonymity that the pseudonym “BG” provides, I’ll post a link to the review. Well, assuming it’s either positive, funny, or both. The last show I was in, the reviewer happened to show up on a night that featured a major technical glitch. Our lights lady tripped over the plug for the light board, yanked it out of its socket, and plunged the theatre into total darkness when we were no more than five minutes from the end of the show. I was onstage with a few others at this point, and the whole lot of us patiently waited in silence for the lights to come back on.

Thirty seconds passed, then a minute. At about the 90 second mark the silence was uncomfortable, and one of the actors quipped something like, “Is this what happens when you don’t pay your light bill?” It took nearly another 90 seconds for them to find the plug and get the lights back on, in which time there were a couple of other inconsequential improvised lines from some of the rest of the group. Nothing major, but the silence was a little uncomfortable, and the audience was chuckling, relieved, I think, that someone was saying something up there.

The review absolutely killed us for this. The line was something like “…and in an inexcusable technical glitch, the lights went out for quite some time. The actors took it upon themselves to improvise lines that they must have thought were pretty funny but they were not.” What a bitch. First of all, this is community theatre. All volunteers. We’re lucky that we have anyone who’s willing to come out to audition for a show, let alone willing to give up two weekends working a light board for nearly no recognition, and certainly no money. The reviewer also slapped around the director and some of the actors in the show, which also isn’t really fair to do to a community theatre group. Had she been at auditions, she would have realized that Laurence Olivier wasn’t trying out for this show, and in some cases, a warm body and willingness to give up ten weeks for rehearsals and performances was enough to get you cast in the show.

We’re getting reviewed tonight, and hopefully can put on a good show. A good review usually helps ticket sales through next week, and as anyone who has ever been onstage before can attest, a live crowd gives the actors more energy and encourages a better performance than a dead crowd, that’s for sure.

Overstock.com update

Guesses as to how Overstock.com is actually delivering my order

Via traveling carnival, when they reach my town, the Tilt-A-Whirl guy will bring it by.

The Travellers, that group of home repair gypsy con-men, will bring it by when they finish their half-assed job of my neighbor’s roof.

Richard Farnsworth currently has it on the back of his riding mower, and is crossing the country specifically to bring me my CDs.

By the winds of El Nino.

Upon the next full moon, so shall it be.

I’m actually currently on the phone, holding for “customer service” (which I use in the loosest sense of the phrase possible) from Overstock.com, looking to find out what method of shipping they really are using to deliver me a simple CD set I’ve ordered from what has turned out to be the most frustrating purchase experience I’ve ever had online.

What I found out was kind of funny. They assure me my product was shipped on 4/13. From the warehouse of their “partner” in Niles, Illinois. Niles, Illinois? Correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s less than 200 miles from my house.

In fact, assuming I’m walking at a rate of 3MPH, and putting in twelve hour days on my feet to physically go down to their warehouse, get my product, and walk home, I’d have spent ten-and-one-quarter days retrieving my CDs, and would have returned home by this point.

I know I like to piss and moan, and if you’ve been reading my site long enough, you know that as well. But I promise I will never order another product from Overstock.com, no matter how masochistic I am feeling at the moment.

This is the sideboob girl HDub sent me...

And apparently this is the same girl...

How does that work?

Overstock.com is the shittiest online retailer of all time

Just so’s you know.

Taking Felicia’s advice, I’m now committed to staying atop the dunderheaded oafs (take that Ignatius Reilly) in the “Customer Service” area of Overstock.com’s phone support line.

1-800-TheBigO

There are only two things that should be called “The Big O,” and yes, Oscar Robertson is one of them.

By the way, I really loathe having to spell my way down the telephone keypad.

Anyway, my order (which isn’t as much an “order,” as it is a “feeble request to possibly purchase a product sometime before summer is over, or whenever, you know, you might have the time”) with these people was placed on 4/13. It “shipped” on 4/13.

I asked the lady on the phone if by “shipped,” that meant that someone put a label on the package that happened to have my address on it, and remembered to include proper postage. She assured me that my interpretation of “shipped” was indeed appropriate.

However, to these cretins and their unusually broad definitions of commerce, “shipped” gives them a window of 4-15 days to deliver the product.

Oh, alright. That means that I can expect my product no later than 4/28, am I correct?

I’m sorry sir, that’s fifteen business days.

What the fuck?

My guess? I bet that the products sold on Overstock.com, the shittiest online retailer in all of cyberspace, are inhabiting a rat-infested syphilis den of a warehouse somewhere in Bangkok (which, because of my last post, I’ve now referred to twice today), and they have to have their sweatshop laborers pick and pack to ship to Guam, whereas my CDs will board a rusting steamer filled with crates of illegal immigrants from Southeast Asia carrying dozens of knockoff Gucci purses, only to arrive in San Diego in ten days time, needing nearly a whole week beyond to simply clear customs.

Compared to Best Buy though, I’m saving $7. And getting good material on which to base my pissing and moaning for today. (/end rant)

Oops…

I titled the post below Swag… because I wanted to mention one of the great things about being in a job where vendors are forced to kiss your ass. That, of course, is free stuff.

Back when I was a mortgage rep for a respected bank, the holidays (even April Ham Day) were a virtual smorgasboard of nuts, fruits, chocolates, and on one very special day, baklava. Vendors hit their expense accounts hard for us, giving us coffee mugs, T-shirts, mouse pads, pens, and whatever else had enough room for their corporate logo.

In my current job, it’s not really as great. So far, I can claim a nice tin of mixed nuts as my only holiday gift, and up until yesterday only a calendar and a coffee mug (a really great one though) as the only other additions to the swag list.

One of the vendors yesterday though brought me one of those digital desk clock/calendar/calculator things. It’s 1249PM here currently. Did you know it’s 849PM in Moscow? 1249AM in Bangkok? 549AM in wherever Wellington happens to be? Didn’t think so.

I pulled it out of the box yesterday in front of the vendors whom I had just met. Protecting the life of the battery was a cellophane tape-like pull tab protruding from the battery compartment. Figuring it was the means of activating all those wondrous features promised in the grammatically unsound owner’s manual (example: “ATTENTION before you use it,” and “After [Count-down timer] is started, unless press the key or it will continue to keep.” Keep what? I’m frightened.), I pulled the tab from the bottom.

Had I read the owner’s manual (“Please pull out the PVC insulation sheet Beside the battery-cover on the bottom, Then the music will come up. Press any Key to stop it. This is regular situation.”), I would have been slightly more prepared for the sharp tones of what I think was the William Tell Overture as done by the best whirring and beeping noises the Thai can program.

Look, just because you figured out how to make the beeping noises resemble musical notes doesn’t mean you should instruct them to do so.

So, as I’m fumbling madly to open the lid and ease the strains of the eardrum piercing melodies, I remark to my new gift-giving vendors, “Gee, that’s not the littlest bit annoying now, is it?”

Give these guys credit though (the vendors), as they managed to find the most craptacular product they could on which to put their logo. Don’t you think it reflects poorly upon the company giving the gift when more enjoyment is gained from reading the owner’s manual (another one: “If the display shows up a disorder situation After you pull out the PVC Insulation sheet, Please press the (RESET) key on the bottom. Then the music will also come up. Please Press any key to stop it.”) than from the product as a standalone utility?

What the hell, it’s free, right?

Swag, and other stuff…

If the great Ignatius Reilly can call someone a “mongoloid” in the midst of an insult, why can’t I? I’ve always thought that was a terrific word, but in these sensitive times, one must stick with less offensive insults like “drunken mick,” or “greasy wop,” I suppose.

By the way, I’m part Italian, and I don’t loofah or moisturize. Does that make me a greasy wop too?

I’m really enjoying “Confederacy of Dunces” so far, by the way. I think I’m going to have to engage myself in an immediate re-read, as I’m rarely satisfied digesting books seven to twelve pages at a time, as I’m doing in my down time during this show. I think I need to take a weekend and knock the book off in two or three sittings to really “get it.”

By the way, a little literary math for you: Ignatius Reilly = Me + Walter Sobczak (“Big Lebowski”) + Holden Caufield

I think.

So, no update yesterday, and for good reason. I was responsible yesterday for introducing two new vendors to my client company, and each visit by each vendor took nearly three hours out of my day.

While it was nice to not be glued to the computer all day long, I scheduled these visits with only about 45 minutes down time for lunch, and wouldn’t you have guessed that the first set of vendors left 15 minutes later than scheduled, and the second set showed up 15 minutes early?

In my 15 minutes for lunch, I had a Snickers bar and a cigarette.

For breakfast I had a buttered bagel.

Mix in about five cups of coffee, and I’m bouncing off the walls and starting to feel ill.

The second set of vendors and I had almost an hour between two of our scheduled meetings, so we did get over to Denny’s at about 3PM.

Instead of being smart and having a bowl of soup or a sandwich, I had a piece of cheesecake and two more cups of coffee.

I felt sick as hell at 5PM, but got a sandwich down my gullet and felt a bit better.

Anyway, with the vendors yesterday, I would walk them to a manager’s desk, make an introduction, and then back out of their way for about fifteen minutes. Lather, rinse, repeat all day long. I must have played three dozen games of “Battleship” on my Palm Pilot, along with two dozen Yahdice! (not to be confused with Yahtzee!) games on that handheld. Needless to say, it got pretty old pretty quick.

Here’s an interesting fact about the company at which I’m working: My ID badge will scan me into any door I want to enter in any of the IT areas. My ID badge, however, will not get me into the office where my desk is located.

Yeah, that makes sense.

By the way, kudos to Hank, who is willing to credit me with the invention of the term “sideboob.” He also sent me a link to a picture of some actress on a Disney Channel show with a terrific sideboob shot.

Just so you know, I type many of my posts in MS Word prior to cut/pasting them into Blogger. Now that I’ve taken the word “sideboob,” and did the rightclick/add to avoid spellcheck’s wavy red line of shame, I do believe “sideboob” is official enough to enter the vernacular.

Now, as far as sideboob is concerned (so nice to type that without spellcheck nailing me to the wall), there are obviously two types of sideboob. Inner-sideboob is the most commonly seen out in public. Inner-sideboob is always nice, but since cleavage is not something to which we are unaccustomed to seeing, it’s not special. It’s terrific, but it’s not special. The sideboob I really enjoy is outer-sideboob. This is the picture HDub sent me.

Not every woman can pull off outer-sideboob. Space-age bra design and construction has given even the most planar of women the opportunity to create illusions of shadow and depth with highly sophisticated angular lifts and pushes. But outer-sideboob is a beautiful, natural occurrence that cannot be faked.

Let’s not confuse a glimpse of a brassiere restrained breast from the side with true outer-sideboob. While wonderful in its own way, it is the illusion of partial nudity that gives true outer-sideboob (again, the picture being a textbook example) its beauty and wonder.

You got the right one baby… Uh huh.

Apparently, Blender Magazine has tabbed “We Built This City” by Starship as the Worst Rock Song of All Time. I can’t say for a moment that I disagree with that notion. What a terrible piece of shit that is.

Of course, on my list, you’d find the following:

That’s the Way I Like It – KC and the Sunshine Band (we’ll leave their contributions to this list at that, although for these guys, I could go on)

Pour Some Sugar On Me – Def Leppard

More Than A Feeling – Boston

Sweet Home Alabama – Lynryd Skynyrd (Oooh! That Smell! Also a contender)

Firestarter – Prodigy

The song that goes “click, click, BOOM!” that they use in movie previews – Limp Bizkit (notice the theme of bands that can’t spell properly)

Lady in Red – Chris DeBurgh

That song that has that really brassy saxophone interlude that goes ba-BAH-DAH-duh-duh-DAH-DAH… buh-BAH-DAH-duh-duh-duh… And it also has that wispy voiced guy singing stuff in the middle before it launches about a half dozen times into that sax crap. Hell, you’d know it if you heard it.

The CCR version of “I Heard It Through The Grapevine” (extended guitar noodling mix)

Fee (or is it Free?) – Phish (nothing like a bunch of dirty hippies making themselves dizzy to drive me up the freaking wall)

Surf City – Jan and Dean as “The Beach Boys…” or is it The Beach Boys as “Jan and Dean?” Who could tell? Good god I hate surf music.

Greatest Athletic Feats in Sports

Very interesting list. I like a lot of their choices here, but would add a few of my own:

Kirk Gibson’s HR in the World Series for the Dodgers - If hitting a fastball is the hardest thing to do in all of sports, then how hard is hitting a fastball 400 feet with only using your arms? Bonus points, by the way, because Gibson is a former Spartan.

Tiger Woods’ 200+ yard bunker shot - I wish I remembered more precise details, but I know it was a windy British Open, I know he was in one of those pot bunkers, and I know he was 200 some odd yards out. And I also know he hit the ball within five feet of the pin. Most amazing golf shot I’ve ever seen.

Vince Carter dunks over Fredric Weis in the Olympics - Weis is a legitimate seven footer. Well, legitimate in the sense that he’s seven feet tall. And Carter took off over Weis. Not just through him, but very literally over him. I can still see Carter’s entire torso completely above the head of Weis, who must have been looking to try to take a charge. Doesn’t work very well if he’s just going to leap right the hell over you, does it?

Mike Vick’s Most Athletic Play - Look, I know the one on the list was spectacular. I get chills just thinking about it. But in a game against the Panthers (if memory serves) this past season, Vick made a much more athletic play that actually went as an incompletion due to a dropped ball. He was flushed out of the pocket to his right, and after eluding the rush threw an absolute dart no less than forty-five yards in the air across his body down to the far sideline where only his receiver could possibly have made a play for the ball. It wasn’t one of those desperation throws, it was just an amazing display of his feet, hips, head, and rocket arm all in conjunction to deliver an amazing ball under tremendous pressure. I’ve never seen the announcers replay an incomplete pass as many times as they did this one.

Barry’s Thanksgiving Treat - I can say with near certainty that you can count the number of Barry Sanders’ games in a Lions uniform that I missed with one hand. Therefore, there weren’t more than three dozen carries of his I’ve missed in his career. I wouldn’t trade the memory of this one for anything. Thanksgiving Day game versus New England, and Barry gets one of those running handoffs from the QB on a sweep right. He gets into the secondary, and the only guy standing between him and the goal line is a Patriots safety (possibly Lawyer Milloy, I forget). Barry, at full speed, gives him a shake that starts him turning one direction, and after a full rotation gives him a shake that turns him completely around in the opposite direction. By the time the defender makes two complete revolutions, Barry has his hand on the guy’s shoulder as if to turn him backwards again in order to get a good view while he blows right by. It was the most amazing run I’d ever seen, and trust me, as a Barry Sanders fan, I’ve seen a lot of amazing runs.

Don’t Ever Shop At Overstock.com

Just a quick note. I bought that Miles Davis CD set I spoke of last week via Overstock.com on Tuesday 4/13. I was billed on 4/15.

It’s now 4/20, and the status of my order is still sitting on “Accepted,” with no news as to what they’re doing with my order, if anything at all.

How long does it take to grab something out of the warehouse, stick it in a freaking box, put a label on it, and throw it in the mail? It’s irritating.

First Dress Rehearsal

We had our first full dress rehearsal last night, and I’m tilting a little on the inside this morning hoping I got all of the stupid eyeliner off. Man, I hate stage makeup, but then again, it beats looking pale and sickly up there.

In costume (suit/tie) for the first time, I was looking at myself in the mirror, and came up with a couple of things. First, I have more hair on my head now than I have had at any point over the last ten or more years. But when you consider that I have a big square head anyway, it just makes my dome look really, really huge. Which then, by virtue of not being broad shouldered, gives me a head that’s nearly as wide as my shoulders. It doesn’t look natural.

All this hair on my head also has prevented me from enjoying my baseball cap collection over the past month or so, as I have too much hair over my ears for a cap to look half decent on my head. I’m getting flippies on the sides. I hate flippies.

I mentioned last week that I was diagnosed with psoriasis, which basically gave me scaly skin in a couple of spots, most notably right at the back of my scalp. I’ve been on the drugs for a week now, and they kick major ass. Part of the reason I hadn’t gotten a haircut for awhile is because of the small patch of psoriasis I landed up there, but it’s clearing up nicely. Actually, the drug they use for up there is a foam (Bob would just call it a topical) that comes out of a little can that looks like a mousse can. If someone could just combine this drug with a mousse that leaves my hair manageable and lustrous, they’d make a small fortune.

Anyway, back to the dress rehearsal. Part of the crew for this show is a chick that I’m pretty convinced was hitting on me last time we ran into each other. I’m flattered, but the only way she’d be less my type is if she had a full body tattoo. Actually, she looks like she really liked Bon Jovi about fifteen years ago, and just hasn’t changed her wardrobe or haircut in the years since. Right down to the black leather jacket with the rocker girl embroidery.

Look, I’m always happy to be seen as a sex object. I really enjoy being nothing more than some girl’s boy toy. But what I’m really bad with is having the social grace necessary to gently deflect the obvious interest without acting like I’m creeped out by it.

I’m not creeped out, per se, but I just somehow don’t have the ability to make conversation with someone when all I’m thinking in the back of my mind is, “Oh my god, she likes me! What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

Actually, that happens both when I’m interested as well as when I’m not. I think my social skills fall somewhere on the scale between withdrawn and could-be-autistic. At least with women.

On to the show, I had use of a briefcase as a prop for the first time last night. It’s old school, and it’s basically busted, which means that it takes two hands and an awful lot of focus and effort to unlatch it and pull it open. It’s not a pop-the-top type, it’s more like a big doctor’s house call bag. I loaded it up with all my crap last night (pads of paper, pens, medical charts), and tried to gracefully open it up and yank out one of the medical charts. Wasn’t exactly graceful. Then, at the beginning of Act II, I come out to a dark stage, and tried to open the bag, find the right pad of paper in the darkness, and find my spot. Just opening the bag was a challenge, I didn’t know I’d be trying to determine which of three nearly identical pads of paper would be the right one without benefit of sight. Then, at the end of the scene, I have to put the paper back in the bag, close it up, and get out the door. The bag, unfortunately, doesn’t cooperate, and I can’t get it latched.

Nothing like props that just don’t work out for you.

I also mentioned that I did that stick figure art of the abusive husband injuries on the medical charts, right? Well, later in the show I have to hand an envelope that contains pictures of the main character, a young married white girl, having sex with a young black boy behind her husband’s back.

Believe me, I thought of downloading some nasty porn and tossing it in the envelope. Sometimes though, I think things like that are probably only hilarious to me.

After our run last night, our “resident expert” on all things Mississippi (she went to school with the playwright’s sister in Mississippi) told me I was hitting the accent right on. Sweet.

Redneck cracker, thy name is BG.

In the vast amounts of downtime I have during this show’s rehearsals, I’ve been reading book after book after book. I just picked up Confederacy of Dunces, after much encouragement to do so. Interesting story behind this book, as the author penned it in his late 20s or early 30s, killed himself, and his mom went to a publisher begging him to read her dead son’s novel. Which ended up winning the Pulitzer Prize. Pretty interesting stuff so far. Maybe when I’m done, my geometry and theology will find a good balance.

But as far as rehearsals go, we have one more tonight, and one Wednesday, then it’s showtime on Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and then next Thursday through Saturday.

Then, on the thirteenth day, he was able to rest…

Bullshit

Mike Williams and Maurice Clarett are now ineligible for the draft this Saturday.

Here's my problem with the courts issuing this ruling now, instead of months ago when it should have: Because they've hired agents, Williams and Clarett, who fully expected to be allowed in under the ruling back in January, cannot be given back their eligibility in the NCAA.

Of course, that's not a big deal for Clarett, but it's a huge deal for Williams.

Here's what is likely to happen... The league will lose its appeal (today's decision wasn't as much a full ruling on the circumstance as it was a stay of a previous ruling until the league's appeal could be heard) in the near future, at which time Clarett and Williams will enter a supplemental draft.

In the supplemental draft, the teams bid by sealed envelope what pick they'd be willing to give up in next year's draft in order to take Williams or Clarett in the supplemental draft. Lowest (best) bid wins, and that team is awarded the player, but loses their pick in that round for next season.

Williams is essentially going to go from being a first round pick, slotted into a salary position by nature of where he was picked, to being a supplemental draft pick, with no surrounding players against which to set his market value. Plus, there isn't a true precedent for a supplemental pick chosen in a specific slot to make the same salary as the guy from the draft picked in that same spot.

For a "special" player, maybe a Bo Jackson type, a can't miss prospect, they could demand a rich contract to sign. But a guy like Williams, who could have gone anywhere from pick five to pick 30, he's not going to be able to demand his market value.

The NFL's ruling has cost Mike Williams his eligibility, as well as potentially millions of dollars he was rightfully expecting under the guidelines given to him no more than a couple of months ago.

I don't see why the courts could have waited until after the draft to make this ruling. I don't feel badly for Clarett, he wasn't going back to school anyway, but Williams is really stuck, and that's completely unfair.

Stealing From MMQB

Ten Things I Think I Think About the 2004 NFL Draft

1. San Diego should never in a million years pass on taking Eli Manning with the first pick. I understand they think there isn't a great deal of difference between Manning and Phillip Rivers, but they have to consider the nightmare they'll be facing if they pass on a superstar QB and take a guy who fails. You can fail with the #1 pick, as long as you take who you're supposed to take. Their fans, assuming that's still a plural number down there, won't ever forgive them if Eli is as good as Peyton, and if Rivers is the next Trent Dilfer.

2. If the Giants or Browns are able to negotiate themselves successfully to #1 with the purpose of taking LT Robert Gallery, you can throw every mock draft done in the past four weeks out the window. If Eli Manning is there for Oakland, do they pick him? Do they trade out? The entire complexion of the first six to eight picks hinges on what San Diego manages to do with their selection.

3. USC's Keary Colbert, in the minimal amount I watched him last year, reminds me of the guy I told anyone who'd listen would be good, and that's Brandon Lloyd. I think Colbert could be even better. As a matter of fact, I'll lay even money on Colbert having a more productive career than at least two of the five or six receivers picked ahead of him. Reggie Williams and Lee Evans are two that come to mind.

4. Will Smith and Kenechi Udeze, both of the big time DE prospects in the first round, would have been second rounders at best in most years. Maybe not Smith as much as Udeze, but this is a terribly weak year at the top of the defensive draft board. After Sean Taylor, Tommie Harris, and Vince Wilfork, there's a significant drop-off in talent.

5. You'll notice I don't mention DeAngelo Hall, Chris Gamble, and Dunta Robinson in the above list. All three are lucky they're coming into this draft without a Champ Bailey/Charles Woodson/Shawn Springs-type "sure thing" corner this year. With one of those guys in the mix, the rest of this group would be severely devalued.

6. All this talk about WR Mike Williams slipping severely (one report had him completely out of round one) due to a slow 40 time are ludicrous. The kid is a football player, plain and simple. He's big, he's strong, he's a playmaker. It's not like he's coming out of Southwest Kansas State Polytech either. USC plays big games, and he's a big kid who plays big games. Some team, hopefully no lower than the bottom of the top ten, will be lucky to get this guy.

7. With a draft this deep in what are effectively third through fifth round type talents, you'll see one or two scratch-your-head type picks in round one. TE Ben Watson, G Chris Snee, CB Jeremy LeSeuer, DT Igor Olshansky, and DE Jason Babin are all possibilities in the bottom of round one.

8. This year's low round QB steal? Not a big name like John Navarre or even Jeff Smoker. Try La. Tech's Luke McCown on for size. Kid played big when it counted, and has a good football head on a pretty decent arm. And, am I crazy, or are the little brothers usually better pro players than their big brothers?

9. Regardless of all the talk about wheeling and dealing at the top of the draft, I think only Detroit at #6 is likely to make a move. San Diego needs to keep #1, Oakland isn't likely to pass on adding Roy Williams or Robert Gallery, it seems that Arizona is deeply in love with Larry Fitzgerald, and the Giants will take either Gallery or Roethlisberger at four. That leaves Washington, who doesn?t have the ammo to move up, or the smarts to move down. For a team that likes to try to add "name" guys at every turn, moving down for more picks isn't a likely option. I'm not saying Detroit will trade out of #6, but that I think they're the most likely ones to move down.

10. I think that if you're sitting in the top fifteen, and you maybe possibly see a roster spot for a WR on your team, you pick the next available guy off the board at that spot. This draft is likely to produce at least four guys who play in at least two Pro Bowls each.

Movie Moments

Ain’t It Cool News had a little piece in “Moriarty’s” column asking readers for their top 100 movie moments. I thought it was a nifty idea, so here’s a bunch of mine. I might not get to 100, and I’m not trying to tell you these are the greatest movie moments of all time, but these are some of the ones that I remember, and that mean something to me.

In No Order…

Phoebe Cates getting out of the pool and taking off her top in “Fast Times At Ridgemont High”

Neo and Agent Smith’s fight in the subway station in “The Matrix”

Max Fischer and his Headmaster (Brian Cox) in the office, the “For old times’ sake?” conversation from “Rushmore”

The Max Fischer Players’ productions of both “Serpico” and the Vietnam play from “Rushmore”

Leon and Matilda playing dress-up charades from “The Professional”

Sonny Corleone kicking the crap out of Carlo Rizzi from “The Godfather”

Every scene with Hymen Roth from “Godfather II”

The screenwriting conversation between Charlie Kaufman and his “brother” early in “Adaptation”

Eddie Griffin driving his drop top Caddy like a maniac, but never spilling a drop of his orange soda from “Undercover Brother”

Jake, Elwood, and the Penguin from “The Blues Brothers”

The Theme from Rawhide from “The Blues Brothers”

Albert Brooks and his mother talking about the food in her freezer (“protective ice”) from “Mother”

Albert Brooks, half crocked, professing his love for Holly Hunter from “Broadcast News”

Peter Finch going apeshit berserk on-air in “Network”

Every single moment Peter Sellers is on screen as the title character in “Dr. Strangelove”

The toys crossing the street under cover of traffic cones in “Toy Story 2”

“The Mole” from “South Park: Bigger, Longer, Uncut”

Kate Hudson as Penny Lane, right when William Miller tells her she’s been sold to another band for a case of beer from “Almost Famous”

The final cocaine orgy gun battle from “Scarface”

Every exchange between George Clooney and Holly Hunter in “Oh Brother Where Art Thou?”

“The Jesus” in “The Big Lebowski”

The Battle of the Bands finale of “School of Rock”

O-ren Ishii, Go-Go Yubari, and the Crazy 88 making their entrance into the House of Blue Leaves to that ubiquitous “Kill Bill Vol 1” theme music

Hell, that whole entire House of Blue Leaves sequence from “Kill Bill Vol 1”

Every last little bit of Pei Mei from “Kill Bill Vol 2,” but especially when he grabs his beard

The breakfast conversation from “Reservoir Dogs”

The song “Across 110th Street” used in “Jackie Brown”

“You know, if you kill me, you’re liable to lose quite a few of those Humanitarian Awards up there.” From “Fletch”

Every song sang in the movie “Bob Roberts”

Lloyd Bridges and his “Looks like I picked the wrong week…” soliloquies from “Airplane!”

“Big Jim Slade” from “Kentucky Fried Movie”

The taunting Frenchman from “The Holy Grail”

Jack Elam in “Cannonball Run”

Kevin Costner has a catch with his dead dad in “Field of Dreams”

The first encounter between Juliette Binoche and Jeremy Irons in “Damage”

The letter from “Drugs” Delaney being read aloud to Tim Dunphy by the Headmaster of his school in “Outside Providence” (I’m giggling just thinking about this one)

Sean Connery showing up at the school to bail out his friend at the end of “Finding Forrester”

Everything inside the mind of Jim Carrey in “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”

“PC Load Letter? What the fuck does that mean?” From “Office Space”

The dream of my childhood being fulfilled with Alyssa Milano getting naked in “Embrace of the Vampire”

The bar scene where Will Hunting dresses down the pretentious textbook regurgitating Harvard boy in “Good Will Hunting”

The shot of Royal Tenenbaum’s headstone with Van Morrison’s “Everyone” playing at the end of “The Royal Tenenbaums”

John Shaft replying to a woman saying, “I love you Shaft,” with, “I know baby.” From the original “Shaft”

Marge Gunderson and the Asian guy from high school in the hotel bar in “Fargo”

Jack Nicholson’s explanation as to how he writes female characters so well from “As Good As It Gets”

The deleted scene restored to the original “Austin Powers” DVD, where Robert Wagner tries to bribe Austin Powers with a briefcase full of money, and they argue over who effectively is paying for that briefcase

Anyone else have some to add?

Sunday Morning, 5AM

One of those angry, blustery thunderstorms blew in over the lake this morning. There wasn't even time to count your "one thousand ones" to see how far off the storm might be, it was almost as if the thunder was a grumbling constant right outside my bedroom window.

This is my 5AM Sunday wakeup call.

So I've been up two hours already, thanks to the first real solid thunderstorm of the season. It's unreal how little there is to do early on a Sunday morning. I watched a little Ronco Showtime Rotisserie Grill, and some Chef Tony and his Ultimate Chopper (what they fail to tell you is you still do have to use a knife to chop the onion into manageable pieces for the Chopper to chew). I'm now through iteration number two of SportsCenter (lather, rinse, repeat), and am just biding my time until I figure out what I want to do with my day.

There's a part of me that wants to head up to the casino to play cards, but that's nearly two hours one way to do something I can do just as effectively on PartyPoker. I know I should do my ironing today, but hate doing that crap and am putting it off as long as humanly possible. And I probably will put that slightly ill-gotten $10 Kohl's gift card to good use on a new shirt or two for work.

I'm also itching to spend some cash for some reason. I'm probably going to be adding this cheap-o universal remote control, as I have none for my CD player or amp. I'm also knocking off somewhere in the neighborhood of two books a week at this point, but considering they're just the "Fletch" series of mysteries I've already read before, I wouldn't be too impressed. So a new book or three could be a good idea too.

I saw Kill Bill Vol. 2 yesterday. Loads of fun in that one. I can't wait to see how it all edits together, and I'm sure that when the extras-loaded set comes out on DVD, I'll be right there to pick it up.

I also took the dog for a big long walk yesterday. We walked the mile down to the beach, and then the two and a half mile boardwalk to downtown back home. There was only one good looking girl we encountered where having the dog should have been an asset. We were a half a block behind what was probably a mom, her two daughters, and their dog. When the less attractive daughter stopped to tie her shoe, so did the mom with the dog, and we got right up there with them. The good looking girl kept walking though, and was keeping that slightly insulting 20 yard cushion between herself and a guy who might possibly want to hit on her. Doesn't having an adorable dog count for anything anymore?

Frye did get into a series of growling confrontations with various dogs along the boardwalk. I think he won all of them. My dog is a bad motherfucker when he wants to be.

I passed up an opportunity to head down to Ann Arbor to golf with my mom and Bob, who will be celebrating a birthday on Thursday. Considering my next two weekends will be chock full of theatre crap (we open on Friday), I should have went. That being said, a couch day (hell, a couch weekend) isn't the worst thing I could imagine for my weekend. I got a long walk in, I'll get some shopping in today, got my laundry mostly done, and didn't spend an inordinate amount of money shanking golf balls into the trees.

Speaking of laundry, this is the second weekend in a row that I've gone to do my laundry and my neighbors have left laundry in the machines. We share the basement, and share the machines, and I feel a little bit weird about messing with their clothes. That being said, I started my laundry at about 5PM yesterday, and there hasn't been a car in their garage since about 3PM yesterday. That's a little irritating. The girl downstairs has a son who's about three years old, maybe four, and it's been his socks and underwear in the washer or dryer two weeks running now. I snicker a little bit when I see it, because the guy who lives there is a little guy with little feet, and I look at those little socks that I couldn't fit my whole hand in, and think for a second that maybe they're his. Not likely, as he's got little feet, but they're not that little.

I've got to let you go, SportsCenter is starting.