Tough thoughts on divorce
A selection of incoherent gibberish, esoteric haughtisms, and maniacal ravings provided for your pleasure.
So the 5 day marathon of testing and grading is about over. I have nailed the first two exams, and I am just waiting to take my last one on Tuesday, after which I will try to grade all of the Munchkins' finals that night before I fly home. Yee ha!
Last night on Nightline, in a piece about diamonds, the narrator said that most engagements and proposals happen this time of year. He backed this up by saying "December and the run-up through Valentines Day accounts for 25% of all engagements." So, let's see, Valentines Day is in February, and January comes between February and December... So three months account for 25% of all engagements that occur in a calendar year. Hmmm...
Good Times! So they got him, and they got him for about the original contract they sent (so that Boras crap was a wholelot of nothing). $8.5 per, so not bad considering the numbers getting bandied about.
I got an email today asking what my opinion is of the Patriots chances of making it 4 in 6 to match the 70's Steelers. Well, after watching that game on Sunday, being asked that question gave me the same feeling that I got when the Resident Female asked me to go onto the Jerry Springer show: this probably isn't going to end well.
I'm pretty sure Matsuzaka is signing, as is this guy. Right now, Boras is just playing chicken, thinking that the Red Sox are in for a penny then they are in for a pound. There is no other team offering him a contract, no other dark horse deal lurking in the shadows to snatch him away from the Sox. The only way to squeeze the Sox is to make them think he wouldn't sign. So, he takes the comprehensive deal sent by the Sox and tables it for three weeks. He makes time the enemy, pushing the posture right up to the deadline to see how much squirming and movement he can elicit out of the Red Sox before they move to double their offer. That is what he is doing, and the Sox know it, and they will get a deal done. And if they don't, I am going to break my other ankle.
Last night I had a dream where Roger Clemens tried to bean Ortiz, charged the plate after the throw, then had a look of complete shock and horror on his face as Tizzle managed to severely break Clemens' ankle in such a way that he would have an arthritic limp for the rest of his greedy and bitch-like days. It was one of the best dreams I've ever had, possibly in part because it was so random.
Sure, they paid too much and put too many years into Lugo and Drew. Hopefully they also won't trade Manny, meaning the Sox are spending a lot of money this year. Sure, it was a winter of excess in terms of dollars. However, I'm not making any trips to Fenway this year, I'm not buying any merchandise, and I'm not paying any part of their salaries. So instead, as currently constituted (and if they don't make another move other than signing Matsuzaka), the Sox are going into training camp with the following team:
I like sex to be like eating a grapefruit: when you're done your hands are all sticky and your eyes are stinging from the spray.
It's true: Fletcher is now 26. So, let's take a quick examination his life.