n e n i e

I was on my way out of my office today when I saw this kid wearing this Tshirt that reminded me of Jen. As soon as I saw it, I immediately pulled my cell phone out and called her. I negotiated the stairwell with one eye on my cell phone and the other on the stairs. I finally managed to get her number called up on my speed dial by the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, and as I listen to her phone ring, I see my bus coming. Not wanting to be "that guy," I hang up and run across the street to catch my bus.

I get on the bus and end up talking to these two guys about the new bus we seem to have. Our normal bus is this oldskool 1950s model. The first time Corn got onto it he said he thought he had to sit in the back. How's that for a mental image? At any rate, our normal bus has these really hard, uncomfortable plastic seats. This one, while oldskool in its exterior look, had cushy vinyl seats. It was nice.

We're riding down Jayhawk Blvd, talking about the nice cushy benches and our respective fields of study (BiochemGuy and EconDude) when this RandomChica comes up to talk to BiochemGuy. Apparently she needs help with her Orgo homework, and he's refusing to help her. RandomChica is loud. Everything about her is loud. The pink ribbons in her hair, the pink North Face parka she's wearing, the pink shoes on her feet, the pink striped buttondown shirt poking out from beneath her pink North Face parka. Everything about her is loud.

She loudly demands that he help her with her current problem set. EconDude looks at me, and I look at him. Until a few minutes earlier, we'd existed in a universe that didn't include any of the other players and here we were, in the middle of something much larger than the three of us who had been talking about the nice benches on this bus.

At this point RandomChica gets to her point. BiochemGuy has to help her out because he didn't help her study for her last test and as a result she'd done poorly. Only, that's not the way things went down. She very loudly says to him, "I got a" and then she shuts up, and makes the numbers with her fingers "4 2" It was amazing, with her volume level she'd told the entire bus that she was struggling with Orgo, and then to hide the shame of exactly how poorly she was doing she clammed up and mimed her grade. It was truly priceless.

Not to be outdone, BiochemGuy has his own clever retort, "Maybe it's time to pick a new major."

RandomChica was flustered, "No, i love this major, i'm just having trouble with Orgo. You totally have to help me. You got an A when you took this class."

She continues to harass this guy, being alternately dumb and flirty. At this point EconDude and I realize that while this is none of our business, BiochemGuy seemed nice enough, and he really doesn't want anything to do with RandomChica- even as a friend. Yup, we got involved. EconDude and I decide via eye contact that the best way to help out is to pick on her, in order to draw the fire off of BiochemGuy. Only it didn't work. She didn't realize we were mocking her, even when we walked her through our insults. It was pretty rough.

EconDude and I had been amused before this and we're even more amused now. Eventually though, we get to BiochemGuy's stop and he runs off the bus, giving us this look that says "Thanks for your help."

As he exits the bus, RandomChica is yelling "You have to help me, I have collateral"

As the bus starts moving again, she starts to tell us what her "collateral" is. She has his clothes and she's going to hold them hostage until he helps her with her problem set. Riiight, this is going to end well. EconDude looks at me and smiles. We both had the same idea and it's decided that I'll lead this round.

"Wait, why do you have his clothes?" I ask.

EconDude jumps in, "Yeah, he did the walk of shame naked?"

RandomChica gets a look of abject horror that is appropriate for Halloween. You might remember this look from such eras as Junior High, it's the infamous "OH MY GOD BOYS HAVE COOTIES" look. She follows this up with the equally well known, "GROSS HE'S MY FRIEND" look.

She says something that neither EconDude nor I really pay any attention to and she gets up and goes back to sit in her seat with her girlfriends. EconDude and I are happy to he rid of her and go back to discussing such thrilling topics as gas mileage in L-Town. We eventually get to my stop and I get off and start walking the 2 blocks to my apt. It's at this time that I remember what I'd seen on my way out of my office and remember to call Jen.

The phone rings a bunch and eventually the answering machine kicks on.

"Hey Jen, it's Nenie. I saw this Tshirt on my way out of my office. . ." I say as I recount the story I've just told. When I'm caught up, I tell her what I'd seen. "The front of this kid's shirt said 'What is Mozart doing for Halloween?' The back of the shirt read. . .wait for it. . . .waaait. . .foooor. . .iiiiit. 'Decomposing'! HA!"

Yup, so that's the story of how I saw a Tshirt of Halloween and it reminded me of Jen.

I went out later that night and saw The Matrix: Reloaded at the SUA Friday Night Movie. And then I went to a friend's house and then Louise's. But really, the highlight of the night (not Jericho, although I dig him) was the memory of Jen.

Oh, and my hilarious phone message from Nena. But still. Yeah.

Posted by nenie at 11:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I went to see Sherman Alexie last night. Right, who is this guy. Among other things he wrote Smoke Signals and The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven. He's an incredibly intelligent and funny author/filmmaker who happens to be an indian.

His work is funny, sad, thought provoking and the most dishonestly truthful I've seen in a very long time. He's a coyote, the trickster character whom you long to believe- but know better than to trust entirely. Is his work autobiographical? An elegant fiction that gives the appearance of reality? Or is it some place in between? The world may never know, because Alexie isn't telling.

At any rate, Alexie spoke at the Lied Center last night. It was the same place that I saw Janet Reno speak last month. The audience, however, was markedly different. This crowd was much browner than the first. I honestly don't think I've ever been in a room with that many indians/Native Americans/indigenous peoples in my entire life. It was a pretty cool experience.

Afterwards, members of the AMS Krew went out for a few drinks to talk about what we'd just heard. There were a few differing opinions on what we'd just seen, and the value of said vision but there were two key components of the evening.

The first is the importance of seeing people that look like you, in an environment that you're not used to seeing them in. Indians never speak at the Lied Center. They're never invited as part of a large state university's lecture series in the humanities. Last night, a lot of kids who aren't used to seeing themselves reflected back at them saw just that; a successful indian intellectual being applauded and admired by people of many races and colors. Perhaps more powerfully, they saw white people laughing with and applauding someone who looked like them. Never underestimate the power of this, it can change lives.

A boy summed up the courage to ask a famous man who looked like him what it was like to create something that helped make him a famous man who looked like him. Alexie rambled for a moment and then said something that shook me. "The best part of making Smoke Signals wasn't the fun we had shooting it, or taking it to Sundance. It will be in 25 years when you accept and Academy Award and dedicate it to 'those two guys whose names I can't remember, but you made Smoke Signals and that showed me that I could do this.' That's the best part of making that film."

FYI- Smoke Signals was the first major film to be written, directed and produced by indians. "Yes, a lot of movies have been made about indians, but until then none of them had been by indians about indians." Was the line Sherman gave about that.

The second major point was personal narrative. It's not the most profound thought I've heard recently, but one with the most profound implications. Alexie spent 2 hours telling a story woven around the theme of personal narratives and the power that personal narratives have. We all have these narratives, we all have the story of our life being played out in our own heads. We're all the stars of our own movies and when someone else's movie intrudes and disrupts our script, we get pissed. We're all the self indulgent center of our respective universes, and anything that gets in the way of that. . .

A larger theme of the talk was September 11th. In Alexie's opinion people were so outraged, not because of the death that occured, but because those deaths, those attacks disrupted the American narrative of being universally loved and untouchable. Everything since then has been an attempt to restore the narrative to where it was on September 10, 2001.

It was a lot of ground to cover in 2 hours, and Alexie did it with a storytelling style that I envy. Corn met him beforehand and came to sit next to me in the 5th row before the lecture started. "Nenie, he totally tells stories the way you do. They're roundabout and funny." After seeing Alexie tell a story for two hours, I can now safely say, that he doesn't tell stories the way I do. He's the storyteller I wish I could be. He's amazing.

On our way out, Ulli told us that it wasn't what she was expecting. She was expecting the standard book reading- she was a bit disappointed that he didn't read any of his work on stage. Then it dawned on all of us. He did us one better, he wrote a story live on stage. He didn't read from one of his books, he wrote a new one for us.

Yes, read this man's work, see his films and go hear him speak if he comes near you. You'll laugh, you'll cry, and since most of you are pinkos like me, you won't be all that offended. It's 2 hours of insight, sex, politics and penis jokes. What's not to like?

Posted by nenie at 10:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Before my rant about United Airlines, I'd like to post a link.

Link

More fun flash animation, provided to me by my favorite Canadian. It's aboot the end of the world, eh.

Next, FUCK YOU United Airlines. I've been down with you guys, you're my hometown airline- as your commercials like to remind me. Seriously though, through all of the financial crap you guys have been through over the years, I've always pulled for you, and gone out of my way to fly you whenever possible, even if it costs me a bit more.

Yeah, fuck that.

I'm trying to get home for Thanksgiving (taking) right now. For the past 2 years, it's been $98 rt to get from KC to Chicago. Didn't matter when I flew; time, day of the week was all immaterial, it was always $98 with a 21 day advance purchase. Now, it could be anywhere from $130-$300. If I fly at the times I want to fly, it will be $170. If I fly in the middle of the afternoon a day after I wanted to leave and a day after I wanted to return, it's $130.

I'm a grad student, that $40 is huge to me. Bastards. It makes little to no sense at all to me. I'm going to call them and be a pain in the ass. This seems to please me greatly.

Posted by nenie at 04:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Quick plug. The Voice Activated Krew are gonna throw down on KJHK tonight at 9p CST. Y'all should listen in. Click on my "current listening" to get a live stream.

I just may show up on the air as well. Although that depends on numerous factors.

Posted by nenie at 05:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I saw snow for the first time this season on Saturday It was a happy thing, to be perfectly honest. There is a season for everything, to quote some book or another; now is the begining of the season for snow. Getting to the snow, however, is the interesting part of my weekend.

Saturday was a blast. At the KU/MU Football Game I realized that there was something I'd never done while at Carleton- something that really needed to happen. I needed to tailgate. I sent out some emails a few weeks ago asking for participants in this craziness. . .and crazy, it was.

Nena and I got out the door at 11:30a and got to Laird Stadium a few minutes later. Waiting for us already were Sancho, NicePersonality and NotMonochrome. I totally hadn't been expecting to see any of them this weekend, so their presence was an unexpected bonus to what was going to be a good day. NicePersonality had brought a case of Premo with him. It was the canned form rather than the traditional bottles, but none of us really cared all that much. It was like being an undergrad again; the grill was fired up, there was a Premo in my hand and my friends all around me. Life was pretty good.

Eventually Almejor, CK, GMS, MC Bacon and a few others filtered into the party and things were rolling along. We played crappy pickup football outside the stadium and extolled our mock-hypermasculinity as best we could. None of us really fits the beer drinking, football fan stereotype, though. When this is added to the fact that Carleton is something like 0-for the last 3 years and Div 3- you start to realize how incredibly absurd this whole thing was. Reflecting back on the situation, I think we must've been the first tailgaters at a Carleton game in at least a decade, if not longer. This is an event that needs to become a bigger deal.

As kickoff approached, we headed over across the parking lot to Laird Stadium where we grabbed some third row seats along the 30 yard line. I feel for the Knights, in all honesty. Every game is a road game for them. Bethel fans outnumbered Carleton fans by at least 3-1; a trend that is -sadly- not all that unusual. The goal for some of our number was to try and alleviate some of this pain for the men in yellow tights.

Carleton lost 41-14, but it was a lot closer than that until late in the 3rd quarter. Reallty, I blame myself for this- I'd made the mistake of taunting Bethel (and the football gods) when Carleton was down by 10.

Don't cry for yourselves BethelCollege
Because you won't beat the spread
Against Carleton
You over looked us
We don't suuuuuck
As much as you dooooo

After my invocation of Evita, the wheels fell off. But I refused to be bowed. I continued my taunts, this was a Carleton HOME game, dammit. And I was going to make this as difficult on Bethel as one fan in an old Carleton football jersey could.

"Hey quarterback, you got PICKED by CARLETON. MAN you SUCK."
"QUIT WHINING number 7. Before you bring down the THUNDER."

Whenever the Knights picked up a first down, the announcer (American Studies Prof and my former advisor Mike Kowaleski) would say "And that carry is good for another Knights." Leaving the end to be shouted by the Carleton fans. By the end of the game, our section was leading the "FIRST DOWN." response, and I'd stand up and signal the first down as the fans shouted. By the time I sang "Don't Cry" there were some older fans who were beginning to get a kick out of the section of young alums who were shouting "First Down" and the one guy who'd run up to the rail and shout at the opposing team.

The best line of the afternoon, however, was when Carleton had a first and goal on the five and I said to NicePersonality-
"WHOO, it looks like a Players' Party down there, cuz someone's gonna SCORE!!!"

Sadly, it was like a Players' Party, because the wrong people scored. IE- not Carleton.

By the end of the game, I'd shouted myself hoarse, and a good time had been had by all. Most importantly, Nena still wants to marry me. Even though her "poor babies are going to be so embarassed by their father." Eh, I doubt my kids'll be embarassed by me, they'll be too busy learning the art of fandom.

After the game, Nena and I went home and warmed up. We'd made plans to go out with DakotaReese for dinner at The Good Earth. A restaurant DakotaReese had described as "An organic version of Perkins." With a description like that, how can you resist?

I mapquested the directions and drove up. I've said it before and I'll say it again, Mapquest is great, when Mapquest isn't being stupid. On Saturday night, Mapquest was being stupid. Instead of going up I35, we were taken up US52 and a few other country roads. Roads that took us out of the way, roads that are pointless when the retaurant is just miles from the interstate. Yup, it took us too long to get there -due to Mapquest's estimated travel time being TOO SHORT, for the first time EVER- and once we got close, DakotaReese started calling to give us directions. Wrong directions.

Eventually, we did get there, and we were only 35 minutes late. The irony in all of this is that Nena and I left the house on time for one of the few times ever.

That said, the place totally lived up to expectations and advance press. Everything was brilliantly good on the menu, and it was nice to not consume any refined sugar, especially after all the crap I'd ingested while tailgating. The true upside of the night was meeting DakotaReese's new SO. Granted, they've been together for a while now, but I just haven't seen the boy in so long that this SO is new to me.

She's incredibly cool. That's all I'm going to say about that.

After dinner and hanging out in our booth, we all went our separate ways. On the -much shorter- ride home, Nena commented to me, "isn't it nice to be a couple with couple friends." Yeah, she's right. Not saying anything negative about my single friends, but there's just something different when we go out with our attached friends.

As we arrived back in NFLD, it began to snow. It was the first snow I'd seen this season. Big, fat flurries that fell gracefully to the ground, only to disappear as soon as they touched anything. Nena started to fall asleep as I started to remember that like this snow, I'd be gone soon. It gets harder and harder to leave Nena after a weekend. A thought that dominated my mind as I drove back to L-Town on Sunday. The beauty of Wednesday's drive was not to be repeated though; the time change and my stop in Ames to have coffee with Gen. Belgrano and Cavitzi teamed up to make me drive through the dark for 60% of my journey.

But I had been given a lot to think about, and sometimes these drives are good for thinking about things.

I can't wait for it to snow down here.

Posted by nenie at 02:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Yes, I'm writing about wrestling right now. But even if you're not a fan. Read this post anyway. It might be interesting as a story.

Raw has been running this angle where Triple H offered $100,000 to anyone who put Goldberg on the DL. It's lasted a few weeks, with Triple H playing what amounts to mindgames with Goldberg. In the end they brought Batista back from the DL to take out Goldberg and win the $100,000.

OK, so what, right? Exactly. So what? Kind of a boring angle, especially when you consider that Triple H has been labeled the "Cerebral Assassin." Not too thrilling an angle. This is why I am presenting my alternative ending to this story arc.

Triple H continues with the video mind games, and the assaults on Goldberg keep piling up. No one person truly does serious damage to Goldberg, but the additive wear and tear is beginning to pile up. Not only that, but Goldberg is getting increasingly paranoid. All of this builds going into Goldberg's title defense at the Survivor Series (Nov 16).

Seeing what's happening to their champion, the General Managers decide on a Plan B Main Event for the Survivor Series. They plan on a merger between a 3 Way Dance and a Rumble. Translation: There will be 10 contestants in the match. The match will start with 2 men in there, and every minute another man will come down the ramp and into the ring. The last man standing is the new champion. How do you get eliminated? Simple, pinfall, submission, DQ and countout. All rules will be enforced, there will be 3 referees to ensure by the book officiating. There could even be a big fight between Austin and Bischoff on setting the rules for this match.

Goldberg is adamant that this match will never take place, that he will defend his title on the 16th as planned. Then, on Nov 10th, the last Raw before Survivor Series Goldberg is in a main event, when Batista comes out and dismantles him, much the way he did last Monday night. As Goldberg lays unconscious on the mat, Batista grabs the mic and tells Triple H that he wants his money. And that he will be collecting it on Sunday. That's how the show ends on Monday night.

Sunday can go down one of two ways, the way I see it.

1) Triple H comes out and says Batista will get his money after the Main Event, when, Triple H assures us, he is the new champion. The match goes on, and Goldberg comes down the pipe as entrant number 10, destroys everyone left in the ring, and retains his title.

2) Triple H comes out and thanks Batista. Batista comes out to collect his money, when Goldberg comes out of the crowd to beat both of these men silly. Having done so, he says he'll defend that night. Bischoff comes out and says, "We've already changed the Main Event, we can't go back. But, if you want to defend then I'll give you entry number 1 into the match"

Goldberg accepts and defeats all takers to retain, Batista is back as a MONSTER, and Triple H proves he really is the Cerebral Assassin. Everyone wins in this scenario, especially the fans. But the point of wrestling is not to reward the fans for their fandom. It's to make everyone else richer.

Posted by nenie at 09:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

As I said in one of the comments, people have been asking me if I'm going home for Fall Break. My standard reply was, "no,actually. . ." But the more I think about it, the more I realize that Minnesota is a home, of sorts, for me.

Not Carleton, the campus. I stopped in to talk to a few mentors I only ever see in email, and along the way was stopped by people who remember who I was. "Is it good to be back?" they always ask. As if I haven't been able to move on from this place. It's an interesting situation, really. How do I defend against that? I am back on campus- I do turn up pretty frequently for someone who lives so far away.

In the end, I realize that it's pointless to defend to someone, against someone that just won't get it. It's something more than the campus, and I don't miss being a student. I miss Nena, GMS, NicePersonality, NotMonocrhome, Almejor, DakotaReese and the rest of them. I miss the state, the environs. I miss I35 and Uptown. NFLD is nice. . .but it's not that big a part of the situation.

At any rate, it's good to be back. I haven't seen as much of Nena as either of us would like. But they have her working 12 hour days this week. Thankfully, we have things like breakfast and lunch to just be with each other. And I can tag along when she has to drive students to the airport. Which leads me to my helpful hint of the week.

When your iron's missing the plastic that shields the connection the cord makes to the iron, it might be time to replace it. When the cord has fried itself at said connection, it might be time to replace it. When sparks start shooting out of said iron, it might be time to replace it.

Needless to say, Nena and I will be registering for a new iron.

Posted by nenie at 02:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I used to roadtrip all the time. Once a month or so, on principle. I'd pack Arturo up and go someplace. I didn't ever go to far. Most of the time, it was just back to Minnesota to visit friends. Living in Kansas though, my wallet and my schedule have caused me to stop doing this. I've been living in the self-contained universe that is L-Town for entirely too long. Living in L-Town, you forget what the outside world looks like. Everything has the filter that living atop Mt. Oread gives you; thankfully, I got out yesterday.

When I was an undergrad at Carleton, the fall break was a Monday off. A three day weekend in a world where life never stopped is a respite from the storm more than a chance to break free from the specific gravity of academia. KU, however is different in this respect. The break is a Thursday and Friday, and with my light load on Wednesday I'm able to add a half day onto that. Forget a respite, to my go-go mind this is a full-fledged vacation from my bubble atop the Mount. By noon yesterday, I was on the road. It was me and Arturo v. the world, again, the way it used to be.

Arturo and I enjoy the freedom of the road and the speed that it allows us to travel at. No more of the stop and go world, the roadtrip is our chance to fly, to see the world at 80 MPH and reflect on it all in the solitude of each other's company. Yesterday was no exception. As we drove through Kansas and into Missouri, we began to notice the colors that Fall brings with it. At this time in October, the colors in Kansas and Missouri are reaching their peak. There's still enough green in the leaves to remind you that summer and its triple digit temperatures aren't that far behind you. Alongside this greenness, however, there's enough brown and yellow in the cut corn stalks and tall grasses to create a harbinger of the winter that is to come. There it is then; future and past fighting in front of your eyes, each with its own color palette- consisting of infinite shades of green, yellow and brown.

In the midst of this discusison comes the present. It's oranges and reds screaming for my attention from the side of the road.

"Look now, acknowledge the present, live in the moment, for we contain the greens of yesterday and the browns and yellows of tomorrow. But today, we rejoice in what we are, the fires of life."

And so I did. As I drove through all of this gaudy display of nature I was floored by it all. Every turn brought with it another permutation of the Rothko that was creating itself in realtime outside my windshield at 80 MPH.

Anyone who's ever called the Midwest flat has never seen my Midwest. There isn't the gross elevation of the mountains to be found here. Mountains are visceral, beautiful structures, the Wagner of life. The Midwest is subtle and slow-moving. It's languid lines shifting slowly as you travel through her. With time, the rolling valleys of the Missouri River start to give way to the glacial hills of Iowa. At this point in October, there are still farmers out in the fields; their green machines digging deep into the rich blackness of the hills of Iowa.

As I traveled north, through these hills the color palette shifted itself, gone were the bright reds of a few hours earlier, fall was a memory here and summer was long gone. Here, where the farmers ride over the black hills leaving yellow wakes in their green machines, the present is mindful of impending winter.

And on and on through the farmland I flew until the sun started to set near the Iowa/Minnesota border.

The sun set fire to the world, its orange hue tinting everything outside of Arturo's bubble. Is the world ever as rich as it is in the Autumnal Midwestern sunset? If it is, I don't think my eyes could stand to bear witness to colors as rich and beautiful as the world looks when bathed in the orange glow of this sun. Reading back over all of this now, I realize that my words do an injustice to the beauty I saw, but that to write nothing would be a further injustice, still.

In the end, I arrived in NFLD around 6:15. The sun was just about to leave for the day and the air began to get crisper. There was at least a 15 degree drop in the temperature between L-Town and NFLD. What was strange was that MN wasn't any colder than KS had been. The temperature was lower, but the air wasn't colder. Ponder that for a while. I think it has to do with the air in MN; there's something about the air here that I can't quite put my finger on. There's a crispness to the air here that I've never experienced anypalce else. It snaps at you, reminds you your alive, but doesn't make you cold. There is no dampness to it, the way it is farther south or east. Soon enough, the Minnesota air will remember how to bite, but for now it playfully nibbles at the sides.

It's good to be back. Although the journey is something I'm looking foward to repeating in a few days. I can only hope it is as wonderous in reverse.

Posted by nenie at 10:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (9)

All the kids are out there skatin'
Right around the old fishpond
The problem is that it's july now
Haven't seen bare skin in 6 whole months
And I think its a sin, yes

It's still snowin' here in April
Well, I haven't seen the grass in forever
Well, maybe you're too young to remember
The last time the Twins won the pennant

Sweet home Minnesota
Where the ground is cold and white
Sweet Home Minnesota
Lord, I sure do miss my wife

In Minneapolis they hate the governor
Now we all wish we had Jesse back
Now Pawlenty needs to go away
Does your wallet feel small to you?
Tell the truth

Sweet home Minnesota
Where the ground is cold and white
Sweet Home Minnesota
Lord, I sure do miss my wife
Here I come Minnesota

Now the Metrodome has the Vikings
And they've been known to lose a game or two
Lord they amuse me so much
They pick me up when I'm feeling blue
Now how about you?

Sweet home Minnesota
Where the ground is cold and white
Sweet Home Minnesota
Lord, I sure do miss my wife

Sweet home Minnesota
Oh sweet home baby
Where the ground is cold and white
And the Twins will always come through
Sweet Home Minnesota
Lordy
Lord, I'm coming home to you
Yea, yea Minneapolis's got the answer

Posted by nenie at 07:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Took the weekend off from blogging. . .vacations are nice. Looking back at the archive I'd blogged every day for just over 3 weeks. Yeah, I went kinda crazy. . .so here are a few random thoughts from my weekend.

1) Congress is stupid. These wankers didn't have the balls to vote against war in Iraq, and now they want to make the $87 billion a loan. Let me get this straight. They voted to destroy the Iraqi infrastucture and now they want to LOAN the Iraqis the money to rebuild?

I've been against this whole Iraqi adventure from the start, but I've come to realize that we have to give the Iraqis this rebuilding money. We did bomb the hell out of their country with shock and awe that was neither shocking nor awful. And now that we've destroyed Iraq, we want to LOAN them the money to rebuild? It's not like they bombed their own country. We did the damage, the least we can do is pay for the rebuilding. This whole thing is ridiculous to me.

2) Nena bought a wedding dress. Yeah, this is really starting to sink in. In a totally good way, though. This bit of news made me happier than just about anything I've heard recently.

3) If you want to go out, and you have a specific kind of club/bar in mind. Please, please, please tell people this when you say, "pick the place, I don't care." Because really, you do care; when you walk into a place and turn your nose up at it, you look really stupid.

4) Best Buy is stupid. I walked in, picked up a 30pk of Imation CD-Rs and walked out. Only at the register they rang up at $5 more than they were labled on the shelf. We went back, and yeah I was right. They got a manager who told me that the shelf was mislabeled. The sticker on the shelf was for the DATA CD-Rs not the MUSIC ones. I said I didn't care what they were for, I just wanted them at that price. She gave me a lecture on the dubious difference between digital media for music, and digital media for data. When I told her I wouldn't spend more than $13 on 30 CD-Rs she took me over the to data CD-R section of the store. They didn't have any Imation 30 packs, so she tried to sell me 100. Yeah, I walked out and went to Target. They had the product I wanted for the price I wanted.

Here's my query. If Best Buy were a decent kind of place, shouldn't they have just given me the CD-Rs at the price that was mislabled? Yeah, they suck.

Posted by nenie at 08:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (10)

I've become the token Cubs fan. I've become a fandom spokesman. My only purpose in L-Town is for all the bandwaggoners to get perspective from a "real Cubs fan." Everywhere I go I'm asked the same question: "How are you doing? Are you OK?"

Thank you for asking, yes I'm fine. Do you know why?

CUZ IT WAS JUST A FUCKING BASEBALL GAME.

Seriously, yo. It's not life or death, I mean while the Cubs were making a run North Korea announced it's now a nuclear power and China put a man in space.

It is kind of funny to be the Token Cubs Fan(tm), though.

Speaking of token things. . .Friday Five time

1. Name five things in your refrigerator.
Hrmm, in my fridge. . .good question. Condiments, water, milk, EXTRA SHARP cheddar cheese and. . .hrmmm. What the hell else is in there. Is this bad? that I can't come up with a fifth item? I'm at work, yo. This is harder than I thought. FRANZIA!! Yes, that's it. No, I don't drink it. I cook with it. Seriously. Stop laughing Freesia and Silence. It's really not funny.

2. Name five things in your freezer.
Flour. I have flour in my fridge, which is always ridiculous to me, but that's where Nena grew up keeping it. So that's where I keep it now. I have chicken and steak in there as well. There's also some ancient sugar free butter pecan ice cream that my mom bought when she came to visit me 2.5 years ago. Maybe I should toss that out? And frozen OJ. Can't live without the frozen OJ.

3. Name five things under your kitchen sink.
Lightbulbs, garbage bags, paint thinner, laundry detergent and Swiffer refills.

How sad is it that the easiest one to do is under my sink? I'm reaching new levels of patheticness. Good thing I'm the TCF(tm) out here.

4. Name five things around your computer.
Home: Cubs hat, books for next week's paper, assorted action figures, Nalgene full of water, socks. Don't ask about the socks.

Office: Attendance clipboard from class, me, phone, 2 weeks worth of the Kansan and Cath's winter hat with 1 glove.

5. Name five things in your medicine cabinet.
Sudafed. Lots of Sudafed. It's the only thing that keeps me breathing this time of year. Stupid seasonal changes.

Q.Tips, for as CK and I discussed the other night, Q.Tips make life better.

My old razor, Nena's razor refills and moisturizer.
____________________

What about y'all?

Also. . .taking suggestions for what to do with my Friday and Saturday nights. I'm not going to "Late Night in the Phog." I thought about it, but it seemed to be wrong to go without DakotaReese and Nena. Ideas?

Posted by nenie at 02:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

And with that, the season is over.

It's for the best, though. I couldn't afford to lose more study time to baseball than I'd already lost. No sooner were the Cubs eliminated than the paper from hell sprang from my head, fully formed like some sort of Greek Goddess. It was time for this season to end, as all Cubs seasons do. . .with them coming up short.

The big difference is that this year, this time. We can point to a day when it happened, or a series of days. Normally things fall apart so subtly that you can't really pinpoint anything.

I was ¬½berproductive last night. I read a ton, wrote a paper and went to bed a happy Cubs fan. They'd done well. This wasn't the year. I'd said so in February. So today I'll live my life and proudly wear my Cubs hat the way I always do. I'm a Cubs fan; win, lose or snow I'll always be a Cubs fan. And nothing will ever change that.

Posted by nenie at 10:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I thought about making this an edit to my earlier post. But it's my blog, I'll post as I please.

My mother just called.

"Hi baby boy, your father just called me from work. He wanted me to call you and tell you not to be depressed about the Cubs and to tell you that they're going to win tonight so you shouldn't worry. So tell me baby boy, who's the depressed one?"

Then she laughed, it was one of those laughs that a son longs to hear from his mother. We both agreed that my father was taking this worst of all. His normal cynicism towards the Cubs and optimism that they can always implode has been replaced by unfettered hope. For the first time in my life, my mother and I have the lack of faith. My father is the paragon of hope in our family; this is not the normal state of affairs by any means.

My mother and I comiserated on the phone. We're both better now and have promised each other not to watch the game tonight. We owe it to her grandchildren to survive this night. There's already been one heart attack in our family in the past 10 years. Best not to add to that number because of the Cubs.

And so I wish the Cubs well tonight. Go out and win one. Do it for Harry and Jack Brickhouse. For Mike Royko and his friends. Avenge Ernie Banks, Billy Williams and Ron Santo's lack of jewelry. And for Ryno, The Sarge and the rest of the 84 team. Do it for your fans. Do it for yourself. Do it for that idiot that interfered with Alou last night. His life is in your hands. Don't let him live his life thinking he cost you guys a trip to the World Series.

Do it for yourselves, guys. I believe in you.

Posted by nenie at 08:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

It's 6a. I don't have to be up for two hours, but I just had a dream about the Cubs going to the World Series. It woke me up because it hurt too much to keep sleeping. I know better than to be kept up at night because the Cubs have blown it, yet again. But I am.

It's over. The season is over. I won't be able to watch tonight. I'll tune in at the end to see how bad it is. But I can't stomach this anymore. So close, but in the end, we San Diego-ed it.

I was guesting on some friends' radio show last night at 9p. When we left for the studio the Cubs were up by 3. While we were in the studio, with the game on just outside, we saw the wheels come off. I could see the game from my seat, and I did what I could to not scream profanity on the air. I succeeded. *shakes head*

It's been a good season. The guys have done us proud. But it was not to be.

I'm a Cubs fan. I know that I should believe, but not get my hopes up. I should have known things would go down like this. But for a split second there, a split second that seemed like 6 months, I totally thought we had it.

Wait 'til next year.

Posted by nenie at 06:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

OK, so where in the blue hell did Paris Hilton come from. I mean, seriously? I know who she is, but who the hell is she? So apparently there's some reality show coming out featuring her and Lionel Ritchie's daughter. Aside from that? Who the fuck? Where the fuck? Suddenly, she's all over the place. Why? Who cares?

Also, if your last name is also the name of a large hotel chain. You might want to think about NOT naming your child after a city. Because it will haunt the child later in life. Case in point, on Around the Horn yesterday, Jay Mariotti said that "the problem with Brian Urlacher's game right now is that he needs to stop staying at the Paris Hilton." *rimshot*

Which brings me to my next point. WTF, Brian? Wasn't this guy gritty and married to his baby's momma? What happened there? When the fuck? And now. . .damn. It's sad to see someone so hardcore go so soft, so quick.

Posted by nenie at 09:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)

I'm getting married in less than 300 days. I just realized that. I now know this, but it hasn't hit me yet.

This is going to hit me at an unfortunate time, today.
I can tell.

Posted by nenie at 08:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

What a change 24 hours makes.

24 hours ago I was at the Tap Room with my peeps happy that my Cubs were one game away from the World Series. In my delirium I'd managed to forget the ghosts of 1984. In doing so, I broke the second commandment of Cubs Fandom. "Forgive, but never forget."

1984, the Cubs won the first two games of a 5 game NLCS against the San Diego Padres. I was 5 years old, and my heroes were one win from the World Series. Even at 5, I knew this was a pretty big deal. I'll never forget watching those games with my dad, in his cut-off jean shorts. The Cubs then lost the next 3 games to the Padres. They had 3 chances to win one game and they couldn't do it. I've forgiven The Sarge, Bull, Ryno, Penguin and the boys for breaking my 5 year old heart. And last night, I forgot for the first time in 19 years. The forgetting made today that much more painful. This is why Cubs fans are mandated to forgive but never forget. Things hurt that much more when you're reminded.

Last night I sat in my living room and saw how brilliantly the lineup can be when they fire on all cylinders. This was the promise that I knew was there. Today's game showed me the flatness that I'd come to expect. To borrow from my father. "They scored all their runs for the week today." Here's to hoping things turn around.

Last night was fun, though. Went out after the game, hit the Tap Room, took in the atmosphere and hit Perkins afterwards. All in all a good night. Thankfully we have tomorrow off from Cubsdom. Time to recover and get work done.

Word.

Posted by nenie at 11:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Party hoppin', feelin right.

That's how the song goes, yo. As luck would have it, that's pretty much the way things went down. Like I mentioned the other day, I've been eating pretty shitily as of late as have a lot of my friends. We've been kinda broke and making ends meet by eating crap, so it was decided that we'd go out for a good dinner tonight in celebration of payday.

The plan was simple, we'd all go our seperate ways after work, some to home, some to other engagements, me to hear Josh Gamson's lecture on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy and Boy Meets Boy. The talk was really good, but I'm a geek for sociology of popular culture. By the time the lecture was over at 5:30, I was starving so I called Corn.

Not answering his cell. I was hungry, seeing stuff hungry. So I left a message for him saying that the plans had changed and we were going out without waiting for him. I felt bad, but after calling the rest of my people, I realized we were all too hungry to wait up.

We were torn between Mongolian and Thai. After a quick call to the Mongolian place, it was discovered that they jack up their dinner price on Friday nights. In protest, we hit the Thai House.

Damn.

Panang Curry has never tasted as good as it did tonight. I waddled out of there a very happy man. My body was regaining its strength when I left the restaurant, checking the messages on my cell. Instead of the message from Nena that the display had told me about. It was from Corn. Yeah, we ditched him, I felt kinda guilty, but I was too full to be truly sad. And plus there was a Cubs game to watch.

The game went well, the Cubs unexpectedly pulled it out in 11 innings. That's all I'm going to say about that.

After the usual post-game calls from Nena and my mother, Kid K gave me a call. "Hey, looking to go out and celebrate the game?" he asked.

I don't normally go out after 11p, but tonight I felt too good to stay home, so I headed out to the club.

I changed out of my PJs and into the first thing I could find, which happened to be my old Carleton sweatshirt. I arrived downtown, and started making my way to the club. While walking down New Hampshire, two different people stopped me in the street with the same question.

Bystander: Hey Carleton

Me: Who me?

Bystander: Yeah, is that Carleton College in Minnesota?

Me: Yup.

Bystander: Wow. . .

Yeah, pretty random. Walking throught L-Town on a Friday night only to be stopped by two seperate drunk people who recognized a Carleton sweatshirt. OK, maybe I'm the only one who appreciates things like that, but I thought it was kinda strange.

When I finally got to the club, I met up with Kid K and friends. We danced a little, they drank a lot, and I held court in my makeshift VIP room. Every once in a while, some Cubs fan would see my hat and strike up a conversation about tonight's game. It's as if we're all part of a not so secret fraternity. Kid K remarked that it was eerily similar to the Stonecutters from The Simpsons.

Eventually though, the club shut down, and it was time to head out. Happy with the amount of dance I'd gotten on I climbed back into 'Turo, called Nena and headed home. Not a bad day. Definately better than the one I expected when I litterally dragged myself out of bed this morning.

Posted by nenie at 02:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Damn.

I can't believe they won that.

Posted by nenie at 11:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I've been feeling pretty run down as of late. Last night, I figured out what it was. I've been eating like shit. I'm eating, but not eating well. Had a great dinner last night and now I'm back in the game. . .sorta. My body remembers what real food is like and now it wants me to keep it fueled like that all the time. I just had some pasta alfredo, hopefully that'll get me through tonight.

Other than that, today's been one of the most oddly productive days in a long while. I'm getting a lot of reading done, and I had productive talk with a prof this morning about where and what I'm going to try and present this season. I'm sending out four proposals. Here's hoping that one of them sticks, somewhere.

For those of you who are curious, yes, three of the four proposals are about wrestling. The plus side to this is that if successful, I'll get to talk about ReyRey. And really, who doesn't love him?

OK, back to work for me, WHOO!

Posted by nenie at 04:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Well, the Cubs have pulled themselves even in the NLCS, but as my father said to me tonight "I'm worried they've scored all their runs. They won't have anything left for Friday." He's right, though it's the way the Cubs work. Score 13 on Wednesday, don't score anything for two games. They have a finite number of runs they're capable of producing.

Oh well, that's the challenge. Keeping things up.

Which brings me to my current irritation, the bandwagon. Now, I'm glad the Cubs are doing well. I'm happy for the existance of a bandwagon that folks can jump on. I'm even really cool with people jumping on said bandwagon. But please, for the love of God don't pretend like you're a die-hard fan.

Moving to Chicago within the past year or two, and realizing the Cubs exist within the past 6 months could qualify you as a Cubs fan. But please, don't stay up late watching a few extra inning games and then call yourself die-hard. Don't think that 3 heartbreaking losses allow you to understand the true pain and anguish die-hard fans have endured their entire lives. Please, enjoy the ride, it's wonderful and magical and there is room for all. But don't act like you truly get it; because when you do, you turn all of us into a parody of ourselves.

That said, I had a conversation with Callahat tonight. His RedSox whooped up on the Yankees and we allowed ourself the quick moment to think of a 1918 rematch. I think the highlight of the conversation was when we talked about Famine polishing his saddle.

But enough of that. Both the Sox and the Cubs have their work cut out for them. With that, I need some sleep. I'm totally dead.

Posted by nenie at 11:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

It's almost 1a and I feel like shit. No, it wasn't the Cubs. No, I'm not sick. I'm just emotionally drained. Today in 801 we dealt with the obligatory book on race. Only it was about Whiteness. It was about how white women didn't realize they were racist. And then the class reenacted the book in front of my very eyes.

I feel sick.

I feel so drained right now. Class ended 8 hours ago and I'm still in shock from what happened. I felt completely disengaged and shut out of class, that doesn't happen to me. I fucking hate it.

Maybe they finally began to understand that something was possibly wrong when I let this line fly, "Yeah, well I've waited all my life to read my own name in a book. I've waited 24 fucking years to read my own name in a book. And this was the book. Only in this book, I was an adulterous, abusive husband. On top of that, I read my brother's name in this book as well. Guess what, he was abusive and adulterous too. I don't want to read my own name in a book anymore."

What follows under the tag is what I started writing in class to make me feel better. My classmates aren't bad people. Not at all.

Do white students feel disenfranchised, disconnected "othered" by colored discussions of race and the construction of "Brownness?" Why then do I want to disconnect from this discussion of "Whiteness?" Why am I disengaged? Is it because the space I inhabit is being threatened? I'm not entirely sure.

I look around and am reminded of why the brown kids always sit together. There is safety in numbers. In these numbers there is safety and engagement and the feeling of empowerment that comes when people HEAR you. I'm feeling increasingly that when it comes to certain topics, people don't hear me. They listen, but they don't hear.

Imagine living in a world where people acknowledge that you are making sounds but that you are not saying anything. It is as if I've forgotten how to speak. In this forgetting I have lost my will to speak. When you can no longer express yourself, you lose what little power you had. That must be the tragedy, then. When an entire race of people have given up their only chance at true power.

I've been told over and over again that I need to have a thicker skin. I need to reconstruct and reconstitute the way I've positioned myself, to distance myself and my psyche from any injury that might be incurred in the way and places I choose to live out my life.

This makes me angry. It makes me want to ask the questions that I know will place me forever on the outside, alone as a minority in this world. So instead I sit here silently, hearing the words of those who can only listen to me.

I guess it's my own fault. In many ways, I chose this life for myself, I chose to embrace my otherness. I could have passed, I could have pretended that my name and my complexion aren't what they imply me to be. Lord knows that most folks would never have been able to tell the difference, were it not for my stupidity in pointing it out to them.

Such is life, I guess. That's time. Class is over, my friends and I can now leave this classroom. My friends can stop thinking about race and the uncomfortable implications it brings with it.

I really hope I can forget about it for a few minutes. Just a few minutes rest would be really nice right about now.

Posted by nenie at 01:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I've been talking to all sorts of people about the Cubs' playoff run. For a lot of folks, I'm their one stop shop for Cubs fandom. I'm a bit uncomfortable with people looking past the Marlins. They're a talented young team, and the hottest in baseball right now. But that's neither here nor there.

I was talking to my boy Cody the other day when he said the following thing to me:

"The Cubs are going to win the world series. First of all it dawned on me that home or away, the Cubs have atleast as many fans as the team they play. Last night there was as much blue in the stands as there was red. Beating the Cubs in a seven game series means beating Woods and Prior at the 1 & 2 and the 6 & 7. That's hard to do."

He's wrong about the second part. Beating the Cubs means beating Prior and Woods in games 2&4 and 6&7. Yeah, I know that's jumping around in the rotation, but don't tell me that they wouldn't bump Wood up so he can seal the deal.

He is right about the first part though, Cubs fans are everywhere and they're passionate about their team. They're passionate in a way that only football and soccer fans traditionally are; their fire just seems out of place in baseball for some reason. So why all this emotion over baseball?

I don't really know. I think it has something to do with losing. I think all those years of close calls and futility have helped create a mythos around the Cubs. This, in turn, has created a rabidness in their fans that's become their greatest asset. What am I saying?

The Cubs' history of losing has created their greatest strength in assembling a dynasty: their fans.

Don't tell me that the 10K+ Cubs fans raising hell in Atlanta didn't help. The players understand it, why the hell do you think they all kept running back onto the field to high five and spray down the fans? They did it when they won the division, and again in Atlanta.

Since their last World Series title, the Cubs have had 48 managers, thousands of players, a handful of announcers, and two stadiums. The one constant in all this time is the unconditionally conditional love of their fans. So long as there is baseball, there will always be Cubs fans. We, more than anything else define this team.

Tinkers, Evers, Chance, Brock, Williams, Banks, Santo, Jenkins, Matthews, Sutcliff, Smith, Sandberg, Dawson, Dunston, Grace, Sosa, Alou, Prior, Wood have all been the face of this team at various points in history, but the fans are constant, the fans are forever. Before their was a Wrigley Field, before Jack and Harry, there were the fans.

The thing about this team, this incarnation of the Cubs spirit, is that they understand the power that they can draw from the passion of their fans. They understand that giving in to this passion can propel them towards the stars, towards immortality, towards the thing that every baseball player dreams of, a ring.

Posted by nenie at 10:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

A few stats about the Cubs from Sportscenter.

Since the last time the Cubs won a postseason series, the following things have occurred.

4 states added? Nena's hometown wasn't in the union last time the Cubs won a postseason series, how insane is that?

Next round, a team the Cubs have never faced in the playoffs. In the AL, all three teams left are ones that have beaten the Cubs in the World Series. If the Cubs get past the Marlins (and that's a BIG if) they get to avenge either the 1918 WS loss to the RedSox, the 1938 & 1932 losses to the Yankees or the 1929 & 1910 losses to the A's. Yup, lots of payback could come in the World Series. . .but in order to continue sagas that have been on hold for 92-65 years, they need to start a brand new one.

Posted by nenie at 09:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Yeah, that's a Harry emoticon. It works, kinda. . .but that's not important right now. For the first time in 95 years, the Cubs have won a playoff series. For the first time in 14 years, they're back in the NLCS.

I've been a Cubs fan all my life and I've been raised to believe that the Cubs will always let you down. They don't mean to do it, they're just incapable of doing anything else. It's like having a spouse who cheats on you, kinda. They did it once, and no matter how often they say they won't do it again, they will. They're just incapable of doing otherwise; it's the way of the world.

I'm one of the fortunate ones, I've only been around for 24 seasons. My parents have been around for 32 of them, the folks I really feel sorry for are the ones who've been around longer, who remember the heartache of 1969, of 1945. . .and earlier. The ones who've been waiting for the return to glory that seems to be just around the corner. Wait until next year, they say. . .and next year never comes.

Next year hasn't arrived, not by a long shot. The Cubs haven't won anything, they're just in a position to actually win something. We've been to this level twice in the past 20 years only to come up short. In a surprise to everyone, my father is looking on the bright side for a change. He believes, his faith has been restored. He won't talk about 1984, or 1969 he's just looking ahead. It's amazing.

I called home at intervals during the game, I'd talk to Dad while Mom would scream at the TV in the background. Nena would call and check in from a hotel bar in Tucson. She was watching the game with some other women who were in town on business. I guess they felt better sitting there with the SigO of a Cubs fan. Or something. I even called JLo when things got tense in the later innings. And that's what's interesting about being a Cubs fan, it's a family affair. Nena had no interest in baseball, until she saw how much people believed in this team. I'm not JLo's brother, but through this connection she's my sista fromanotha mista. Through this team, large chunks of the city are united with each other, and with the expats wherever we may be. Thankfully and surprisingly the team seems to understand this too. They know that C on their chest means something important.

Once again tonight, after dousing each other with champagne, they ran back onto the field to douse the fans that had made the trip down to Atlanta to see them. Driving all those hours just to support their team. Faith. Faith is a powerful thing.

On the streets of Wrigleyville, folks are singing and dancing in the streets, and I wish I was one of them. All I could do from my apt in L-Town is watch on TV, and call friends. It's just not the same and it made me pretty homesick. I guess that's part of the attraction though; the Cubs are my link to home. No matter where I go, or what I do I'll always have my Cubs hat on my head, and my home in my heart.

Go Cubs.

Posted by nenie at 11:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Yup, the Cubs blew it today. Today reminded me of why I never give my heart over to anything, because it will inevitably get crushed, really hard. Man, I haven't felt this bad in a really long time, generally lethargic. It's silly that something like a baseball game can do that to you. Yknow?

What a week it's been for Cubs fans. Last Saturday night we were celebrating our first Divisional Title in 14 years, our third ever. And tonight. . .it's a lonely feeling knowing we've blown it. The only consolation is that IF by some miracle we get past the Braves tomorrow night, we get homefield advantage for the Marlins. Yeah, big if.

Yup, I'm never giving my heart over again, ever. Which is why it's odd that today is Nena and my anniversary.

Our relationship hasn't exactly been textbook, or storybook, or any kind of book I can really think of. It's been odd. We don't really know when we started dating, in all honesty so tonight's anniversary marks the day we realized we couldn't deny that we were in love. A year ago tonight I saw Nena for the first time in over a year, and I fell in love with her. It happened in a laundromat of all places, and the deal was sealed over cheese curds. Yup, I'm man enough to admit it, I fell in love with a woman over Tide and fried cheese.

If you think that's wacky, you should hear the story of how I proposed to her. . .6 months ago today.

So while I'm left to ponder another Cubs heartbreak, I'm glad I've given my heart over to them, and to Nena. She doesn't quite understand why I'm so distracted and beaten up right now. . .but she makes things a lot better. And I thank God every day that I have her in my life.

Posted by nenie at 07:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Damn, I don't think Mom can take much more of this. After the Cubs won tonight's game she called me, hysterically laughing.

"HEEHEE, Hi baby boy, HEEHEEHEE, did you seeeehee hee hee, the gameyhee hee?"

As the final out was haniging in the air, the phone rang, I announced to the amassed guests that the call was more than likely from my mother. They laughed, and I answered. . .yup, it was Mom, they laughed again.

I really don't think Mom can take much more of this.

Prior was a complete stud tonight, once he settled down. The future could be a very beautiful thing, so long as the Tribune manages to keep this team together. OK, tomorrow Clement. I have faith, I really do.

Posted by nenie at 11:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Wood or Sosa jerseys are also applicable to the title of this post. But I think people that know will get my point.

Cubs fans are like children; you give us a Divisional Title, we want a sweep in the NLDS. What can I say, we're insatiable. We want it all, and we want it this year.

That said, the following memo needs to be sent.

___________________________________________

TO: Chicago Cubs Offense
From: Chicago Cubs Fans

When you load the bases with no outs, you're supposed to score some FUCKING RUNS.

That is all.

Love always, Your Fans

_______________________________________________

Seriously, yo? Wood pitched a gem on Tuesday, and had to win the thing with his own bat. Word to MaaaaxWellllll, the DH rule is for punks.

Last night, Zambrano pitched a nice game, but received no run support. The offense had it's hitting shoes on, but they just couldn't bring folks home. It's the same story as always, I guess. It's just unfortunate. I have yet to discuss this with my father, because I really don't want to hear his condemnation of the Cub offense. He'll go on about how the Cubs just don't hit, then he'll go into a diatribe about the 84 NLCS v. the Padres.

In other family related Cubs news, my mother has called off her hit on Kerry Wood after his performance on Tuesday night. Those of you who remember this episode will be relieved to hear this. Those of you who don't know, click the link above and read all about the time my mom threatened to end Wood's career.

Gotta love my mom, she's fabulous.

Posted by nenie at 12:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

October 5, 1945.

Until today, that was the last time the Cubs had won a road playoff game. 57 years 360 days. It took a while, but they finally did it. Unlike last night's Bears game, I was more than happy to have worked my ass off in order to see this game.

I think my point about homefield advantage was proven rather nicely today, though. There had to be as many Cubs fans in Atlanta tonight as there were Braves fans. It was crazy, my favorite moments came when the Cubs fans would start doing the Tomahawk Chop while the Cubs were batting. I think The Chop is racist and offensive, but it was kinda nice to see it thrown back in the face of the Atlantans.

Folks came over to hang out tonight. It was nice to have people in the apartment for a change. Until tonight, no one other than my family and the Gunders had been inside this place. It's starting to feel a lot more home-like. It was almost like being back at Carleton again, almost. There was something different about tonight, not in a bad way. It was nice. Really nice.

OK, one game down, two to go. Zambrano v. Hampton in Game 2. As Fesser said earlier tonight, "Zambrano's pitching is 70% emotion. And emotions are good right now." He's right. Things are looking up for Zambrano's game and Hampton is, well, Hampton.

Should be another good night, yo.

Posted by nenie at 01:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)