Thursday, January 31, 2008

Here We Go Again...

The true virtue of rooting for an inconsistent team is looking at every victory as a loss.

Even when we win, we lose.


Young Dudes Carrying the News

As if unemployed college graduates need to feel anymore inadequate, along comes Courtney Oliver, a 10 year-old with a college certification.

And yes, it may just be as a veterinary assistant, but what the hell were most of us doing when we were ten?

Probably something like this. (Has there ever been a young person capable of encompassing the anti-porn movement via an avant garde dental structure ever before? I think not.)


Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Politically Correct Porn

I'm not the biggest Onion News Network fan, but this is hilariously great:

Use Of 'N-Word' May End Porn Star's Career

What's even more hilarious is that something like this actually happened in real life.


When In Doubt, Shamelessly Crossover

After a fairly bumpy first few weeks back from the two month strike hiatus, "A" Daily Show and the ColbERT Report, have made a nice run of shows, relying on their off-the-cuff comedic timing during interviews to compensate for the lackluster writer-less segments. Though opening segments and correspondent pieces are few and far between as the strike languishes on, Stewart continues to work his charming conceit, while Colbert relies more than ever on his ability to improvise in character.

The two of them genuinely have fun working with each other (as any studio audience member or member of the staff would readily attest to) and seeing them goofing off when the cameras aren't on is a sight to behold. Which is why the shameless publicity "crossover" between "The Daily Show," "Colbert Report," and "Late Night with Conan O'Brien," is a welcome event, the best of New York's late night shows helping each other out in a WGA strike afflicted world.

Current Colbert Report showrunner/producer Allison Silverman was also a writer/producer at Conan, which makes the "crossover clash" all the more sense.

It's interesting to note that during the strike, there seems to be a more unified front of support among the NYC comedy talk shows (Letterman's first night back showcased TDS, Colbert, and Conan writers; strikebeards), while LA's Leno and Kimmel appear more embittered than empathetic, even when they attempted a half-hearted crossover of their own:

Speaking of Leno, New York Magazine has a great article on why he continues to trounce Letterman in the ratings, despite the lack of a deal with his writers or eye candy celebs unwilling to cross the picket line. It's successes like Jay's "Tonight Show," "Two and a Half Men," and last weekend's number one "Meet the Spartans," that makes the prospect of Mike Judge's "Idiocracy" frighteningly plausible.

One other note: I almost forgot that beards can sometimes be pretty friggin' sweet.


Tuesday, January 29, 2008

$antana $avior

There is a god.

The Mets are probably going to overpay, the last three years of his contract are probably going to make us cry, and the prospects we gave up will all somehow end up being All-Stars/Hall of Famers, but it's not like it could get any worse...could it?


Jesus+Goalpost=Awesome. Jesus+Wheel=Not So Much

While searching for some George Jones drunken depressed goodness in the wee hours of the morning, I stumbled upon quite possibly my favorite song about Christianity and football ever, Bobby Bare's "Drop Kick Me Jesus (Through the Goalposts of Life)."

It's songs like this that make a urban minority like myself enjoy the humored nuances of countrified goodness.

Whoops, spoke too soon.


Monday, January 28, 2008

When Anchors Attack

When tragedy strikes you can always count on Fox News' John Gibson to keep it classy.

And offer up as halfhearted a apology as one can muster:


You gotta love how media bias works.

Political pundits can be racist, homophobic, and misogynistic, but a female sports reporter hits the sauce a little too hard at a friendly roast and suddenly, the very people who would stand by the hate mongering Gibson are up in arms over a drunken anti-Notre Dame, University of Michigan bias.

Here's the sobering apology:

(Another note: It's been over two weeks since the embarassing display of drunkeness, and somehow, someway, no audio or video has been leaked on the net? Damn Mickey Mouse is good.)


Thursday, January 24, 2008

Before We Even Get On the Field...

It's officially over...

I go to my mailbox and what do I find? Goddamn it SI, why must you hurt us so?

Worse yet, SI picks the Giants to win. TO WIN?! Over the undefeated 18-0 history chasing greatest football franchise of the 21st pick the beleaguered overachieving Giants TO WIN?!! Do you hate us or something? To quote the late Chris Farley:

And no amount of NY Giant jersey wearing Jersey Girl skankery will make this better... (You couldn't do one more cover on the Pats? Just one more?!)


Wednesday, January 23, 2008

ProRun Episodes 8 and 9

I thought I'd catch up and write two recaps in one post.
I'll be writing the second episode along with the broadcast so excuse me if my thoughts are scattered or if they make no sense. Let's get started shall we:


ANOTHER TEAM CHALLENGE! I think I might puke.
This season seemed to have the most team challenges which makes me want to write a mean spirited letter to Bravo. Let them work on their own. Yeah, for the most part, they are all boring and very quiet people but you need to let them be. Trying to cause drama by pairing them together isn't something that should be done every other episode.

They were told to create an avante garde design based on their models' hair. Chris March freaked out a little bit in a good way.
One of the models kicked off had dreadlocks. I wish they would've used her!

Imagine the gown they could've made with that hair as inspiration. Any other designer from previous seasons would have been like, "FUCK YEAH!" They boring ass people opt to kick her out instead. Losers... let the girl with the dreads play!

Here are the following teams:

My sweet little angel, Christian, and Chris March.
Gay boy heaven. Christian is the leader.

Sweet P Vaughn and that bastard, Rami.
Rami is the bald evil mastermind.

Jillian and Victorya.
yawn. Does it matter which one is the leader? They are both equally annoying.

Kit Pistol and Ricky.
I completely forgot they were even in this episode. I was halfway finished writing about this one and then remembered I didn't put them in. Whoops. Kit led this bore-fest.

Rami as a team leader is like working under a really anal boss. He was constantly all over Sweet P asking her if she finished this and if she did that yet. Rami needs to fucking stick his shit in his mouth and leave Sweet P alone. Puh-lease, like Rami is perfect... Just because you think you're hot shit doesn't make you awesome. YOU MAKE IT HARD FOR HER TO WORK!! Asshole.

Christian and Chris work together beautifully. They complement each other and show the other two teams how to make something happen while not being complete assholes to each other. They should've taken notes and then given the Chris combo money for providing them a learning experience. THAT'S how good they worked together.

...Jillian and Victorya were quietly annoyed at everything. Neither one wanted to let the other get the leader position. So they quietly argued it out and Bitch Victorya won the title. They weren't working fast enough and when Tim mentioned that they had to make another dress Victorya said, with her emotionless straight face, that she was angry and felt sick. Every moment these two are on the screen is wasted time. They contribute nothing but emotionless faces and the random odd sound bite.

Kit Pistol and Ricky worked together fairly well but I don't think they completely grasped the idea of avant garde. ... man I really have nothing to say about those two.

Things We Learned About Our Designers And Ourselves This Week (Ep8):

Rami disregarded Tim's advice to do something different. Doesn't he know that Tim is ALWAYS right?


Team Ferosh! Yeah... with a name like that you knew they HAD to win.

Apparently when presented with the idea of Avante Garde Kit and Ricky thought that they should go for the Raggedy Ann look.

Rami is great at draping but bad at everything else. Nina called him on his shit.  Go Nina, you spicy lady.

Chris and Christian's designs got a photo shoot and some sort of ad recognition. I'll never see it...

Kit Pistol got kicked out and I didn't notice. 
Hopefully Ricky or one of the boring twins gets kicked off this next episode. 
I think its time to call out my final three: Christian, Chris, and Rami-hole.

Episode 9

And the episode starts out with Victory-bitch calling Sweet P Kit repeatedly even after being corrected multiply times. Ricky talks about something that makes him weepy. I wasn't really paying attention. I was listening to my sister ramble off a ProRun text message. It was something along the lines of how sad Sweet P was when Kit got kicked off and how they had a joke about being each other's wife... yeah.

Another field trip!? Oh Tim, you crazy rascal. Tim's calling everyone fabulous. Christian called the different boroughs, "boro", and fabulous but not in a good way.


And there they met the challenge. They have to make an entire outfit out of Levi jeans. Go overt advertisements.
They were told to run to the fabric and they did. Sweet P lost a shoe and they all ended up with dirty Port Authority floor jeans. yum.

Everyone was having a really shitty time dealing with the denim. I like to think that it had something to do with the constant battle between making a wearable outfit and making their models look like the Marlboro man or Britney/Justin circa the late 90's:

Jillian's mental state is rapidly declining and after breaking into a silent sob after pricking her finger, it's showing. She knows that Bryant Park is close and bitch needs to stop complaining and start working it. Plus that jacket is getting made like every episode. They should probably tell her to stop making it. She's a one trick pony.

Kudos to Victorya who decided to steal Jillian's jacket trick after working with her. Man, I guess thats one way to get to the top. Steal the outfits of the other designers. Go for it... I hope she get kicked off but I think Sweet P might be Auf'd tonight.

Christian has immunity and cannot be kicked off. I will not have to worry about him tonight. Thank God.

Ricky starts to cry and Heidi gets into her best Tyra and asks, "What's up with you?"
(text update: Apparently Ricky got heat for crying after judging and his excuse was I just can't help it.)

Things We Learned About The Designers And Ourselves This Week:
Rami looked like a girl when he was a baby.

Everyone agrees Christian is a child. Oh wait, he's 21. Yeah he's a baby but he's also the youngest one around.

Victorya got whatever she wanted. Her mommy made her everything. Fortunate Bitch...

Apparently Christian thinks that Ricky should've gone home instead of Kit. He also called him annoying.

Ricky fired back by making fun of Christian by saying He's (Ricky) not one to go around and call himself great.

Chris talks to his clothing... We've seen this sort of behavior before in Daniel Franco (Sn1 and Sn2)

Sweet P has completely changed her outfit more times than any other designer. At least more than any designer that I can remember.

Chris called Jillian on her shit. Jill, hon, he's right. Stop taking on such detailed pieces and then complaining about how little time you have.

Immunity has been auf'd apparently. No more sending back the safe designers first. Oh my, that's how you know that B.Park is getting close.

Rami is the judges boy toy. They love him and I hate that. Har Har... yeah I'm not joking. Man, I hate him.

Michael Kors loves Amy Winehouse and brings that into judging. He also brought in the fact that he'd wear Sweet P's outfit with the right pair of heels.

Nina called Mr. Kors a lady. Aww... they have a working relationship.

RICKY WON!?!? what the fuck!? He's going to be this year's Wendy Pepper. You're a lingerie designer. Get Auf'd already, please?
And Victorya is out. At least one of the people I wanted to leave is gone. Dull woman number one is gone and now I wait for the other to get kicked off.

And our preview for next week includes Michael Kors saying he feels like the Pope at a sex show. Oh my... can't wait. This looks like it might be this year's ice skater outfit challenge.

I'll leave you with a link for Malan Breton's new webshow on the Bravo website. They gave him a webshow. Fabulous.


Empty, Vapid Award Show Predicciónes

The prestige of the Academy Awards has wavered for many years, as critical acclaim and mainstream popularity have continued to oppose each other, the days of great films coinciding with record crowds having gone extinct in light of the shifting bottom line focus of most studios. Great films still continue to be made, albeit for smaller budgets on vastly smaller scales, but in today's era of greatly expanding media resources and theatre price surges made to compensate for the constant competition of the entertainment marketplace, award shows like the Oscars will always struggle to toe the line between appeasing their critical constituents and the disinterested public whose attention they desperately desire.

That being said, hopefully the show goes on, and the WGA strike is finally settled if only for the sake of seeing Jonny Stew give me reason to actually watch this languishing God forsaken show.

And now for some nominee predictions:

Best Supporting Actress:
Amy Ryan has all the critical acclaim riding in and is the favorite. Though Blanchett may get the nod since the Academy appears to have decided to give her the "Annual Judi Dench nomination quota" treatment. Props to Ruby Dee, who is sadly and most likely to come away as the Academy's obligatory African American nomination of the year.

Best Supporting Actor:
This is hands down Bardem's lose, as his only real competition is the sentimental elderly favorite Hal Holbrook. Hoffman could've easily been nominated for "The Savages" or "Before the Devil Knows You're Dead" which (much to my chagrin) has been completely snubbed. Casey Affleck seems a mistake here as his turn in "Gone Baby Gone" was much more worthy.

Best Foreign Language Film:
"Beaufort" and "Mongol" are strong contenders, but surprisingly enough, the much heralded "La Vie En Rose (La Môme)" was snubbed. And where the fuck was "4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days"? A film that good just wasn't good enough? Damn you out of touch Oscar voters.

Best Screenplay:
Many believe "Juno" writer Diablo Cody is a lock, but with the exception of the underwhelming "Lars and the Real Girl," all the other nominees could easily walk away with it. Still, it would be pretty sweet to see what outrageous get-up Cody walks up there with. And her award show blog updates on the Pussy Ranch should be great.

Best Animated Film:
While in my heart of hearts I would love to see the wonderous "Persepolis" walk away with the prize, it's pretty much a given that Brad Bird and his "Ratatouille" will walk away with it. Here's hoping Bird brings stars Patton Oswalt and Janeane Garofalo up there with him, if not just for the visual of that awkward duo clamoring up the steps.

Best Documentary:
Following his last polarizing public display at the Oscars, odds are Michael Moore will not be awarded for his suprisingly heartfelt and strong doc "Sicko." Though it's interesting to note that the remaining nominees deal with some facet of war, and were it not for Moore and the disturbing absence of the hilariously well contructed "King of Kong: A Fist Full of Quarters," a sense of humor would be desperately lacking in the docs.

Best Music from a Motion Picture:
Naive casual viewers ignorant to the past of Kimya Dawson and her Moldy Peaches compositions may feel slighted, but worse yet is the inexplicable absence of Jonny Greenwood for his immaculate scoring of "There Will Be Blood." "Enchanted" is obviously going to win something being nominated for three of the five noms, but it would be a sweet coup for the beautiful "Once" to pull off the upset.

Best Director:
The strongest collection of nominees so far, Paul Thomas Anderson would be a perfectly deserving winner, were it not for the unassailable momentum of the Coen Brothers. Schnabel also has a shot, but his persnickety public persona may prove to disuade the Academy. Todd Haynes's masterful direction of "I'm Not There" was also a surprising omission. How the hell the amazing 82 year-old wonder Sidney Lumet and his crime masterpiece "Before the Devil Knows You're Dead" was overlooked is a complete and total fucking travesty. Ben Affleck may feel slighted, but fuck man, does Boston really need to win anything else?

Best Actress:
It all comes down to critical and sentimental fave Julie Christie and everyone's favorite girl of the moment, Ellen Page. Cate Blanchett is inexplicably nominated for a film and performance that was much maligned by critics and the public, once again showing the Academy's tendency to exercise the "Judi Dench quota." In a dream world, the heartbreaking Marion Cotillard would win, but since most people don't know who the fuck she is, she's a long shot. Some feel Angelina Jolie and Keira Knightley were robbed of nods, but in the end it'll coming down to the Alzheimer's geriatric and the pregnant teen.

Best Actor:
Daniel Day-Lewis is a muthafucking lock. And if he doesn't win, hopefully Clooney or Mortensen pull out some off-the-cuff shout out that encapsulates remotely even half the brilliance of Day-Lewis's acceptance speech from the Critics Choice Awards. Depp once again gets his annual nominated due, and Tommy Lee Jones should be trading spots with Casey Affleck, as his supporting role in "No Country For Old Men" was equal to Affleck's starring turn in "Gone Baby Gone."

Best Film:
Once again a battle between critical acclaim and mainstream love. "No Country For Old Men" and "There Will Be Blood" should battle it out as the best films of the year, but period chick flick "Atonement" and box office hit "Juno" should put some pressure on the Academy. "Michael Clayton" seems like a nice surprise, but Clooney's showcase could potentially be locked out the whole night.


Requiem for a Text

Incoming Text Message 1/22/08 at 4:47 PM :

"OMG I'm in Soho right now and I think someone famous died or something."

Incoming Text Message 1/22/08 at 5:15 PM :

"Holy Shit! It's Heath Ledger! He's that cute guy from Brokeback and Ten Things I Hate, right?"

Incoming Text Message 1/22/08 at 5:20 PM :

"Do U think I could sell some of these pics I took of his place on my digicam for $$?

Incoming Text Message 1/22/08 at 5:25 PM:

"No seriously, Do U think I could?"


Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Everything Comes In Threes

I believe that everything comes in threes. That being said another piece of young hollywood died today and that makes the count two. I wonder who's next.


Shiny Suit Man in the Sun

Diddy did it again.

Okay, I'm not his biggest proponent (hearing his butchering of Zeppelin's "Kashmir" on a "Godzilla" soundtrack I shamelessly purchased as a youth still keeps me up at night) but Diddy isn't the worst ambassador hip hop has to offer (that's Flavor Flav for the record).

And several years ago, I caught an advance preview of his turn in the Broadway revival of "A Raisin in the Sun" that actually made me think he did a fairly decent job.

Then I saw this...

Mother-of-all-that-is-good-and-holy-fucking shit.

The grandiose intro of his "free ABC movie gift" to us, the fact that he seems to have overcompensated for the subtlety of the stage with the over the topness of the small screen... yet seeing the great Broadway cast return piqued my interest.
Until at 3:15...

Uncle fucking Jessie as the racist whitey?!

Damn Diddy, you may have "invented" and destroyed the remix, but even the greatness of Phylicia Rashad can't possibly save this debacle...but in this WGA strikened world, you know I'll be watching.


Enjoyably Pretentious

There are few things within the college experience more enjoyable than kicking ass in a class you make absolutely no effort in. My "Female Filmmakers of Europe" class was exactly that.

No reading the mind numbingly long essays, no studying, approaching every term paper and analytic discussion of a film like an off the cuff reparte among asshole film scholars, and drawing the ire of classmates who knew you were full of shit but didn't have enough evidence to call you on it...God those were the days.

Anyway, a new Criterion Collection of Agnes Varda films has hit the shelves, complete with my personal favorite, the visually alluring "Cléo from 5 to 7"

and the polarizing emptiness of "Sans Toit ni Loi (Vagabond)"

Check em out, they're pretty, precious, pretentious, but perfect for a game of "Guess How Much Smarter I'm Pretending To Be Just By Bringing These Films Up." Always kills at cocktail parties.


Love's Lost Lucidity

This week's Time Magazine cover feature does an interesting job of exploring the motivations of love, from the scientific, the flirtatiously psychological, to the irrational and manages to thoughtfully provoke some semblance of intriguing debate and discussion, a quality often lost in many current issues of Time.

The magazine raises interesting issues contrasting general interpretations of love, as well as medical ones (the Pill's the reason people end up in bad marriages?) but for all intensive purposes it essentially comes to a somewhat disappointing conclusion: no matter how much science and research helps us understand our biological and emotional urges, we're still in the dark as to what the fuck love is.

No matter how much we as a people, as a species has come, ideologically or scientifically, the irrationality of our physical urges continues to plague us. We love because we can't help it, and when we try to, we fall into the holes of synthetic byproducts that only prolong the pain and confusion, that never help us understand it any better.

Inarguably large sectors of the global economy are dependent on this unexplainable entity, whether it be in the form of empty symbolic gifts to appease the ones we long for, or unemotive objects of objectification, always ready and willing to arouse and away from the judgmental spectre of social interaction.

It's no wonder why religiousity in many respects is intrinsically linked to the idealism of love; both can only exist if one is willing to believe it.

Yet that is why we are forever at a romantic crossroads; if generations of people have been incapable of solving their quarrels over ideology and faith, then the constant strain to know how to get what we really want and what is really good for us will continue to be mutually exclusive interests.

In the end, even if we finally all knew better, would it solve anything, or merely provoke new strains of thought as to how to undermine ourselves?

Till then, let's enjoy our manipulative money grubbing attempts at love... well as come up with new ways of loving ourselves.


Monday, January 21, 2008


Wunderkind J.J. Abrams' virally ballyhooed "Cloverfield" geek-gangbanged its way to an MLK weekend box office record, giving Hollywood another glimmer into the power of low budget viral-minded marketing that has provided mixed results. (i.e. "Blair Witch," "Snakes on a Plane")

And make no mistake, Abrams' monster mash is visually effective, just as "Blair Witch" was, (causing several audience members during my screening to lose their breakfast) and like "Blair Witch" it's equally as frustrating.

Just as "Blair Witch's" tiresome campers "Fuck!" and "Holy Shit!"-ed their way to a lame ass oh-my-god-he's-facing-the-wall-ending, Abram's yuppies "Oh My God!" ad nauseum through a film that combines the worse elements of "Felicity" with the inept plausibility of late Season 2/early Season 3 episodes of "Lost."

"Cloverfield's" protagonists are New Yorkers of the worst kind: non-New Yorker transports. They're whiny, self-absorbed, but not in a convincing New York-ian manner. It's as if Abrams fell asleep watching a marathon of "The Hills" and "Laguna Beach" and decided to forgo the whole finding plausible New York yuppies portion of the casting.

With holding a sense of realism within the main characters wouldn't normally be a problem in a monster/disaster pic like this if it were only consistent with the reality of "Cloverfield" but it isn't. While over the top schlock like "The Day After Tommorrow" and "Godzilla" reveled in it's so-bad-its-goodness, "Cloverfield" strives to exist well within realm of our reality, so much so, that it visually lends itself to comparisons to footage of the 9/11 attacks.

I'm not one to aim for the politically correct or unnecessarily protect people from supposedly disturbing images, but "Cloverfield," (more so that most standard monster mash fare) shamelessly exploits the cache of fear in a post 9/11 world without justifying it within it's supposed sci-fi reality.

The reptilian monster is a pathetically CGI-ed amalgam of mid 90's PC gaming fare, like a slapdash attempt at "Godzilla" with a splash of "Lost's'" cloud monster. The monster isn't scary, nor are the creepy crawlers it appears to wantonly drop.

The fear is all about the unknown, and not the unknown appearance of the monster, but the lack of provocation for the mindless carnage.

Not to get all socially righteous or anything, but it's interesting to note that while real life minorities were able to quell their seemingly brown-bred instinctual urges to loot and pillage during recent blackouts and terrorist attacks, Abrams' seems to believe his poor-man's Godzilla would drive 'the brown folk' to revert back to their "Summer of Sam" days.

With a better script, better cast, and even a marginal attempt at creating characters we can actually care about, "Cloverfield" could have been monster epic with tons of replay value. Instead, we're left with something empty and shameless, like a politician parlaying a tragedy he happened to be present at for the purpose of personal gain...not that anyone would actually do that or anything.


Big Blue Ballin'

la dame may have beat me to it, but I gotta say it loud, say it proud...

The Giants Did It?

Okay, I was going to go with a some fancy pants font with "Giants Are Going to the Super Bowl!" in some over the top superfluous colors, but as a true blue Giants fan, I'm not sure if I'm shocked, surprised, stunned, or even feeling oddly a little guilty after the victory.

Make no mistake, the Giants deservedly earned a hardfought win against America's favorite 38 year-old boyish gun slinger, but the sudden and late surge of Big Blue in the past few weeks has been somewhat of a shock, even for the most ardent Giants fan.


Merely weeks ago, Tom Coughlin's disciplinary schtick was bound to be axed, Eli "I'm Not As Good As Peyton" Manning was lauded as being good, but never being capable of living up to his family pedigree, injuries were mounting, Strahan was regretting not retiring, and Tiki "I'm Too Pretty to Use a" Barber was running his mouth about Eli's "laughable attempts at leadership."

After barely locking up a postseason berth and seemingly bound for yet another short lived season, Big Blue appeared destined to be mired in mediocrity.


Then Week 17 came.

A seemingly idiotic, if not all out tactical blunder on many analyst fronts, Coughlin's decision to play his starters all four quarters against the perfect season seeking Pats, not only gave fans a great game, but invigorated the Giants with a confidence fans hadn't seen all year.

The offense deficient Bucs came and went, the underachieving and distracted Cowboys laid an egg, and miraculously, Eli had NOT FUCKED UP. (For non-fantasy football afficianados, the prospect of Eli going three weeks without an INT or a late second fuck up is like The Donald going five minutes without dumping on Rosie)


Now the G-Men have vanquished America's man-boy next door, and are off to the Super Bowl, to face the very team that gave them the push for the amazing drive they're on now. Casual fan boys are crushed by the Farve loss, but the matchup with Big Blue is still something to behold.

Once again, they're going to be overmatched, overlooked, and overpowered by a better team ON PAPER.

And despite my childhood fandom of the unassailable asshole known as Randy Moss, the prospect of seeing Eli and his slack jawed mug upsetting pretty boy Brady would be freaking sweet. (Even if it means seeing Peyton smiling at Brady's possible defeat way more than he should be legally allowed.)

So big ups to the Giants...and please God don't let Eli end the Super Bowl like he did here:


Sunday, January 20, 2008

a lady's take on football

Giants won!

Well look at that... They are actually going to the Super Bowl. The only reason I know about any of this is because of two things: my family and my Sega Dreamcast.

Like most men in the New York City area, the males in my family came together, plopped in front of our t.v., drank excessively, and watched "the game." I get sucked into the general splendor simply out of being a daddy's girl. I like hanging out with the boys and so I adapt. I know about baseball, football, and basketball. I can watch games and make insightful observations. Its one of those things most people don't really know about me. I'm not a huge fan of sports and I get easily annoyed when people around me talk about sports but I can sit down and watch a game like a champ. That being said I watched today's game and saw all the men in my family flip out when that last kick went straight through the goal posts.

I get excited about the Super Bowl. I like the commercials. Its a fun time in my house. Lots of food, angry men, and yelling. That sure sounds like a good time to me.

I began this odd interest in football in daze. It was post 9/11 New York and I , like a lot of people, was just trying to take my mind off of everything. I delved deep into the only video game system that could keep my attention, Sega Dreamcast.

I have gamer ADD. I can't stay on one game for too long. So when I was finished trying to kill my sea-man and banging my crazy taxi into walls I popped in the one game that my dad bought for himself to play, NFL 2K.

I started out a novice but by the time the Super Bowl finally came around I was kicking ass left and right on that game. My team of choice just happened to be the New England Patriots. I was rooting for them to win the Super Bowl that year because I was winning with them on my game. If anything I'm a simple person and my loyalty for something as trivial as a football team, (well to me it was trivial) could've been swayed with the pettiest of things. My video game team won the Super Bowl and I was there watching at the edge of my seat as Adam Vinatieri kicked that ball right on through. It was a happy moment for me.

Now my beloved video game team goes up against the most unlikely of New York teams to be seen in the Super Bowl. The Giants are going to play against my Patriots, a team that hasn't lost a single game yet. They are seemingly unbeatable and the Giants are taking them on in two weeks. Now I'm not sure how to break it to my family but I don't think they are going to do so well. Even with the loss of my beloved kicker, Vinatieri, the Patriots still kick ass and the Giants are, well, the Giants. Either way I guess I'll be content considering there will be food, yelling, and the occasional severely drunken ramblings of a long lost great cousin.

Whatever the outcome two weeks from now the men will reconvene and start their ritual all over again with me sitting in a corner quietly rooting for everyone.

maybe I should break out the Dreamcast again....


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