obama us and tattoos

As I sit here putting down these words, the Red Sox parade is taking place in Boston. The weather is perfect and I wish I was there. Instead, I went to my job. That's what you call being an old coot.

BUT I'M THERE IN SPIRIT. And here to recap some of the more unnoticed moments from the last two days. Let's not forget all the chewing and spitting done in the Series. I loathe spitting and saliva in general, as my closest dearest readers know. (THANKS FOR SHARING THAT WITH THE NEWBIES, BECK!!!) You're very welcome. Seeing someone brush their teeth makes me grimace. I had an old roommate who used to chase me around the apartment with a mouth full of toothpaste. Ick.

In terms of sports spitting, the kind I really hate is done by David Ortiz (who is otherwise without flaws). It's the one that comes out from the bottom teeth and heads in a more straight trajectory, a line drive if you will. Ick. Terry Francona lets his spits go with real contempt. Right down on the ground. GET RID OF THIS. His are easier to watch for me.

Sorry I don't have a picture of it.


Jacoby Ellsbury, or cute Jacoby Ellsbury if you prefer, gets his mouth into a perfect rectangle, for what reason we don't know. He continues to sport the Dollar Store goggles when others have concluded that they are too peculiar to wear. That's okay. After the catch he made in the ninth inning, he can wear them all night if he wants. The guys all need swimmies, those things that go on babies' arms to keep them afloat. Then they'd look perfect.


Two grown men. That's all you can say.


Oh babe, I was the one that kept calling you at 2am. Did you know?


I'm only going to say this once. Japanese men do not look good in that weird dot-beard configuration. Neither do Danish men or Greenlandian men or American men. Ick.


Coco channels Richard Simmons while cute Jacoby clings to peculiar goggles.



K E G G E R!!!!!!!!!!!


Red Sox Nation, some still hung over from 2004 (better not be any of my students in there)


I'm supposed to be with the Shriners. Shut up about Monica Lewinsky.

• 
• 
• 
• 
• 

That's St. Peter over there, I think. Hey Pete!! Yeah, great game, huh? Look at all those angels. Geez, in 2004 they were wearing those little white robes with the wing deal on the back. What's with the new look? Sort of astronautish.

You know what? WHATEVER.

THAT'S FINE. WE DON'T CARE!!!!

BECAUSE WE'RE DELIRIOUSLY HAPPY!!

We're here, Red Sox Nation. I don't know about you, but I'm ordering nachos. Jason Varitek just about made me cry with his interview on Fox. What a stud.

Wonder how many absences there will be tomorrow in my class. I must go to bed. I must.

Except I can't. I have to do the Weird Spastic Dance all around my house.

A bientot

love,becky

• 
• 
• 
• 
• 

Get your dictionaries out, folks, and look up "stud." Here is the picture you will see.

Josh Beckett is money in the bank and a smile on the face of Red Sox Nation. He's got these chipmunk cheeks with the little dot/goatee on the chin. What I like about him is how casual he is. Give me the ball. Okay, I'm going to start chewing now. I'm pounding this gum. It's going to be sorry. All the nerves you don't see in my demeanor? They're going onto the gum.
Beckett sometimes looks like he's trying to accomplish something with the gum. Then when he gets a strikeout, he just kind of stretches his mouth and mandibles ready for more chewing and wanders around for a minute. Okay give me the ball again. He is thrilling to watch. You have to look closely at this picture and it's a little disturbing, but whatever. Beckett can kill Bambi if he wants. I don't really care.


Here's the old man, the grand master. I'll bet he gives advice to all the young players about weird stuff. Eat plenty of donuts. Ask for gravy. Stand up for your rights if they say they don't have it. They're lying. Curt Schilling seems like a great family man.


Maybe he helped pick out the pattern that everyone is wearing here. Maybe it's like Sound of Music at his house and the kids are wearing clothes made from the curtains. The hills are alive, baby, and Curt will make them sing tonight.


Daisuke Matsuzaka, Dice K (has he been on the Special K box yet?) as he is known, is mysterious. He has a total baby face, innocent and naive, but they say he is a fierce competitor. I'll bet when he leaves Fenway, he is like a big clown. Pulling his pants down and mooning T drivers. Throwing flaming arrows into cemeteries. Hey. I saw that red streak in his hair. It wasn't quite covered up by his hat. Every time journalists have to write about him they give into their worst punning instincts. NO DICE. ROLL THE DICE. DICE SQUAD. It's pretty frightening. Let's hope we can get one more decent game out of him.

• 
• 
• 
• 
• 

Batting leadoff is Dustin Pedroia, a goony-geeky-looking kid. This is his college picture. BUT WE LOVE DUSTIN!!!! Wonder if he was named for Dustin Hoffman. If I were a fan of an opposing team, I would hate him. He looks like a gum-snapping obnoxious little twerp that keeps getting hits. OH YEAH, BABY!!!!

Batting second is Kevin YOOOOOOOOOOoooooukilis. This was taken before he went for the Van Dyck beard affectation. He has attitude.

Batting third is God.

If I were an opposing fan, I would hate him too. He plays with no pressure. Hey man, we win or we lose, no big. Now some criticize him for this, but in truth it enables him to perform WHEN WE NEED HIM TO. Any time he saunters up to the plate is the potential end of a pitcher's career. Manny oozes with talent. In addition, he has found new ways to push the Hair Envelope

Below is Mike Lowell, as Kevin Millar introduced him on Fox the other night, the man with the biggest eyebrows in baseball. He could rival Mike Dukakis.

He's a canny, cagey hitter and must love it when they walk Manny to get to him. He makes them PAY. Love this guy and he looks so sincere, doesn't he? I think he could sell cars.

Here's J.D. Drew. This was taken before the season. Look how happy he is. By the time he hit that grand slam the other night, he looked lower than a snake's belly. It must be tough listening to all the remarks about how terrible he is. That grand slam must have made his season and I'm glad for him.

Jason Varitek runs the whole show from behind the plate. He inspires confidence. He's manly. I think he would change my tire if he saw me on the highway. He does have a low hairline, but I'd still let him.

Julio Lugo is very earnest. He doesn't act silly or crazy. I think he takes his work seriously. That's probably why he is struggling in the lineup. I am putting him out of correct order because I want to end with.....

the New Babe, Jacoby Ellsbury. That's such an unusual first name.

JACOBY!!! YOUR OATMEAL IS READY!!!

JACOBY!! DID YOU PUT THE TOILET SEAT DOWN?

This kid is serious eye candy. Of Navajo descent, he is the studliest looking young fellow to come along in a while. Also a skilled player and a lucky one. I think I'm feeling faint.

Let's look at the pitchers another time. I need to fan myself.

A bientot

love,

becky

• 
• 
• 
• 
• 

What does it mean that I buy clothes and never wear them? Can you explain that to me?

Here is one side of my regular closet. It's full of things I bought and have never worn. I intend to, don't get me wrong.

Are we on the clock right now? Am I allowed to have this Kleenex? Is your secretary going to keep humming like that?

Okay, so anyway, see that red sweater there? I bought it last year. I love it. It looks good on me. How many times have I worn it?

None.

Right. None.

No, I'm not talking about nuns, Doctor. I'm talking about zero. Zip. Ze big doughnut. Have I tried it on? Oh, repeatedly. Whenever I go anywhere, I have a tremendous fashion show. Clothes are strewn all across the bedroom and the hallway. It's a terrible job picking them up. But in the end I have always rejected the red sweater.

Oh gosh no, it's not the only one. There's a gray turtleneck there; I don't know if you can see it.

Yes, I know it could all use a good organizing. But what I'm trying to say is, I bought that gray turtleneck and have never worn it.

Dr. Freud? Do you want to trade? You sit on the couch and I'll sit on the potty seat?

I sometimes think the more I pay for something, the less likely I am to wear it. It's an odd theory, I know. This summer I had an event to attend and I wanted to look swish.

Pardon me? Oh yes, swish means good. Chic. Better than good. A certain little edge that a woman likes to have. Anyway, I bought a dress and two tops.

I nearly went insane trying them all on and ended up in a white blouse with black pants, just like every other time. What is wrong with me?

I guess I like the security of having several things to choose from. It's the choice that makes me crazy, though.

What do I choose to wear? Pretty much the same things over and over, black top with black pants or white top with black pants.

Nunlike? That could be, I guess. I was thinking more like caterer.

Yes, I do have another closet. Here it is.

I keep my luggage in here too, so it's kind of tough to get all the way to the back. I don't really know what's back there. Could be an old boyfriend, haha.

Sorry, doctor, it was only a joke. Shall I get you a drink of water? Oh, is this sherry? Sure, I wouldn't mind having a glass. Let's. It's not that weird Mogen David stuff, is it? Is that sherry?

Oh, never mind that clothes quandary thing. I'm happy in black (book title?)

Be here now, dear reader. It's all good.

A bientot

love,

becky

(who is going to an event today and has a new dress, which is under review right now.)

• 
• 
• 
• 
• 

Okay, not a biggie. We're down two games to one. It means nothing, well, not that much. We're doing fine.

And we really don't want to talk about it.

We're leading our normal lives. We're not going out of our way to do stupid superstitious stuff.

• 
• 
• 
• 
• 

These thoughts came to me while I labored intensively at the track.



Most people work, right?

[ed. note: Author knows not everybody works. Lots of her friends don't have to and she still likes them, even though they cannot -- and wouldn't want to -- enter her inner sanctum. Also they should stop reading now because there are offensive and lower class behavior suggestions coming up below.]

And we're freaking exhausted most nights when we come home, right? It's about all we can do to prepare dinner and clean it up.




Or shove it in the microsave and let the good times roll. This means laissez les dirty dishes pile to the sky, baby. How many times can I rinse off this fork? Good grief, who put all these here? I don't have to do them tonight, do I? Can't it wait till Sunday?




Making a bed? Making it what?

[ed. note: this photograph is entirely self-serving and bears no resemblance to author's bed. Sheets shown here are far too not dingy. Author sleeps in sheets from 1970s, many in faded psychedelic swirly patterns that probably contribute to her neuroses]

[ed. note: Author lives alone. She is fooling you with Google again. She couldn't possibly have this much laundry in a year. I mean she must do it before a year goes by. You would think. Although I'm not there every minute......]

• 
• 
• 
• 
•