The Fall is Becoming My Favorite Season

I am watching my first Braves game of the season in HD. I've caught a little better than half a dozen, probably, and not a one of them has been in HD, because of the move and how my beloved tv (let's call her "Trudy") has been in storage. Dr Sighted's tv, a might 13 incher, made me pine for the apple of my tv watching eye. Baseball is fine, and the Braves are doing very well considering they are in the same division as the best team in baseball, but it just doesn't measure up to the fall sports, sadly. Fall is when the best tv events happen, namely, football season resumes (Go Clemson!), which, as far as television experience goes, is like soy sports.

Summer used to be my favorite of the seasons, because I like warm weather and there was no school. Now that I'm married and adult and what not, it's still good, since long days mean more time for barbecuing and warm water for beach going (I haven't been in so long, though, that I'm not sure it would recognize me anymore -- it's the one with the sand, right?), the school benefits don't really apply as much and my youthful resilience to the heat requires me to drink a lot more water and change my shirt a lot more often. Fortunately for me, my sweat smells like cinnamon, so it's more a comfort issue for me than a smell one.

Another thing that comes up in the fall is Psych. Dr. Sighted has turned me on to the this program, and it is the flagship of the USA shows, which, I'm pretty sure, are all exactly the same. They found their formula and they are sticking to it with Law & Order like consistency. Psych, White Collar, Burn Notice, Suits, Covert Affairs, and Royal Pains are all exactly the same show in different contexts. I've gotten in arguments with people in my life over this, so I feel like the guy in Mystery Men trying to convince William H Macy that Greg Kinnear really is Captain Amazing. Yes, I just reference Mystery Men.

Here's the premise: the main character has some sort of outlandish skill that is not quite superhuman although still wildly unrealistic, but just specialized enough to make him excellent in a specific niche but also has a somewhat (or very) troubled past that is probably not his fault that causes him to be an outsider in the community where that very skill would ordinarily permit him to excel. He has a loyal but confrontational cadre of friends who stick with him through thick and thin, lives in a place with an odd frequency of circumstances where his skill is useful, and there is a minor celebrity who somehow is part of the action (Psych - Corbin Bernson. White Collar - Tiffani Amber Thiessen (your Amber will always be in my heart, Tiffani. [Also, Dr. Sighted asked, "Is that Kelly Kapowski? Her face looks fat." when we watched an episode. Yes. Yes that is Kelly Kapowski and shut your mouth.] Covert Affairs - Piper Perabo. Burn Notice - Bruce Campbell, although it causes me actual physical pain to call him a minor celebrity.). There are, inevitably remarkable opportunities for witty quips, charming romantic plotlines, and temptations that try to push our hero off the straight and narrow but he (or she) always chooses the right path.

It's brilliant, really. Psych does feel a little bit different, but I can't quite tell how; it might be just that I like it better. I also don't know why I don't like them all with the same enthusiasm I do Psych and Burn Notice (or even the Mentalist, for that matter, which is basically the same show as Psych except less funny, two years later, and more Australian). So, if you like lawyer shows, there's Suits. If you like doctor shows, there's Royal Pains. If you like spy shows, you have a choice! Still no engineer show, so far. Closest thing is White Collar, with a suave, handsome gentleman using only his wits to solve interesting problems. Was that convincing? Oh well. By the way, did the find the pineapple?

Plurals are tricky. If you're a second grader.

South Carolina is Braves country. It's also chewing tobacco country, which is really unfortunate. For a long time, actually, the entire Southeast was the territory of the Atlanta Braves. Florida, my homeland, got two teams in the past 15 years -- the Marlins (for which there was some initial confusion if they'd be known as the Florida or Miami Marlins) and the D-Rays, who are one of the lovably awful teams in sports. Like the Cleveland Browns in football or the United States in the World Cup. But aside from the Florida teams, the Nationals are the nearest team to the Palmetto State, but Southern folk are still a little leery of stuff that comes out of Washington.

Since I am going to become a Georgian shortly (Go Tblisi!), I feel like I need to pay more attention to the Braves. They're doing alright, since they just mad a bunch of trades. There is something about trades that make sports more exciting, isn't there? Anything: marbles, baseball cards, and children are all made more exciting when trading is involved.

Here's the thing, though, one of the important stats in the game of baseball, is, of course, the run batted in. For those of you who are uninitiated, a run batted in (or RBI) occurs when the batter, when up to bat, hits or "bats" in a runner. If there are more than one runner on base, say two, for example, these are called runs batted in. Notice which word is pluralized. So, when the abbreviation is pluralized, it should be RBI. Not RBIs. When some sportscaster says, "Andruw Jones led the Braves with two RBIs" I want to reach through the radio, grab him by the lapels and criticize his grammar. The spelling of Andruw wasn't up to him, so I'll let that slide. RBI is like sheep; it does not change when plurals are involved.

Also, just in general, when prepositional phrases are involved, the pluralization doesn't happen after the preposition. Forces of nature, wheels of fortune, powers of attorney. I don't know why this is so complicated. It's not like we're talking about the begging the question logical fallacy here.

Anyway, I think I need to become a Braves fan.

I see now, baseball is a metaphor for life. It's boring.

This is baseball season, unfortunately. We are in the wasteland of sports that is the summer, and although there are folks who are probably excited about tomorrow night's NBA playoff game, I'm sure it'll pass. I watched some of the NCAA baseball tournament today, and the vile Mississippi State Bulldogs ended the noble Clemson Tigers' quest for a national title this afternoon. But I finished following it on the radio. If you have read any of my work, you know I have rather strong opinions about the commercials. (I write this as if I expect somebody new to come across this page today.) I did see a Sonic commercial I did enjoy the other day, involving some uncertainty as to whether or not one of the characters knows how many letters there are in the standard Roman alphabet. (That's our alphabet, by the way.)

I was going to take this in the direction about how annoying commercials on the radio are, even more so than on television because you don't get the odd Geico or Sonic commercial that makes the whole free tv worthwhile. (Apparently, it costs like thirty bucks to get a commercial on the radio, because they make Alltel look preferable. [Actually, that's not true. Alltel is still much worse.]) I realized, though, as I was getting ready to write about the commercials on radio, that my life was pretty hollow right now. Like those delicious, delicious Easter bunnies.

I was also given a depressing description of the way life goes. I described my days as spending some time in the lab, coming home and talking to folks online afterwards while occasionally watching Law & Order. My mom basically said that's how life goes, except I'll have more money then. You know what? No dice. I don't want to be that guy who wears shirts and complaining about mortgage rates. I want to be the guy who wears shirts and talks about how I wish I were born in the 1820s so I could wear monocles and top hats. If my life were boring, then my blog were boring. Then I would be wasting your time, wouldn't I? I have an obligation to talk about the 1820s rather than mortgage rates, and it's a responsibility I don't take lightly.

In my eyes

My eyes are bothering me this morning. It happens every once in a while, something is in my contact, like an eyelash or a boulder. Right now, I think it's an eyelash. I meant to take my contacts out before I left for the lab, but I got out of the shower and before I knew it I had my contacts in my eyes (see previous post). In the lab, I have nowhere to put them if I were to take them out, other than in a beaker or flask or something, but I don't really want to put my contacts into a container that may have at one time held freon or anti-freeze.

I am a little conflicted about my eyelashes at times like these, though. You see, I have awesome eyelashes. People have told me that (and no, not my mom [actually, not just my mom]) but right now it feels like there is a sword piercing my right eye. As a result, I am tempted to grab the wire cutters in the cabinet and remove every last one of the vile hairs that are growing out of my eyelids. It's especially perplexing to think that there are people who actively try to lengthen their eyelashes with mascara. Long eyelashes might be nice, but I'm pretty sure only women notice them. And when they do notice that particular feature, it doesn't have quite the same effect as rock hard abs, a chiseled profile or a BMW, so really, it's kind of a disappointing victory in the physical lottery.

I wouldn't be surprised if after I write this, somebody writes, "I wish I had longer eyelashes." And that may be true. It reminds me of a pool party I just went to where two girls were complaining about their hair. One of them said to the other, "Your hair is so thick," to which she responded, "I know, it sucks." Evidently, she didn't realize that thick hair is good. It'd be like somebody else saying, "My legs are too long and sculpted. I can't wear high heels," without realizing that people wear high heels to have their legs look long and sculpted... or so I hear.

So, I guess I should stop my whining and suffer through the occasional maverick eyelash. I understand that some people think it's a good feature to have, even if I think of it as a baseball team having the best bat boy. It's nice, I guess, but I can think of a few areas of more pressing need. On the other hand, I'd probably look kind of weird if I went through with the eyelash cutting plan.

You're making quite a bit a' sport of me

I followed two sports over the past few weeks that I don't normally. You have already read about one of them, and the other is our so-called national pastime. The US team was eliminated in the World Cup and Clemson was eliminated from the College Baseball World Series. It's still two months until football season, so what am I going to do for the intervening time? Watch professional baseball? I'd rather eat the stuff at the bottom of my oven.

The soccer loss was a bit hard to take. I felt like I was forcing myself to watch it as a national service, choking down the programming the way a five your old would his cough medicine, trying to support the United States in a place where (surprise) everyone else hates us. We lost to Ghana. I don't really know much about Ghana, other than what its flag looks like and that the United States should never lose to them in anything. So basically, this would be like telling that five year old that the medicine he took was really just cooking oil. Not only did it make you wish for whatever disease it was supposed to prevent, but you might actually get that disease anyway. But soccer will be huge here in five years.

Baseball, on the other hand, is a little less effectual to me. I could go to Clemson games. They were fun, actually. Watching baseball on television is excruciating without a rooting interest. But since I am a Clemson student, I had one; UNC played a serious game and beat us. Then Cal State played us to the last inning and we came up short. It happens. At least it wasn't Ghana.

So back to the question - what am I supposed to do for sport in the time between now and opening day of football? ESPN has been showing paintball a lot, maybe I'll watch that.

For it's root, root, root for whoever the hell they are.

I went to a Greenville Drive game tonight. They were playing against the Asheville Tourists. That is no lie. Tourists are the sort of people that those from my homeland consider like cockroaches made out of money - disgusting in every way except that they are made out of money. Yet Asheville, NC named a Single A baseball franchise after them. Great. The Drive are a farm team for the Boston Red Sox, and the stadium looked like a miniature Fenway Park. It was pretty neat, and everybody had Southern accents instead of Boston ones. Some of you may be thinking, "Well, that's sort of a lateral move, isn't it?" The answer is no, it isn't. A Southern accent is infinitely superior to a Boston one in every way. The Boston accent is like poop on a cracker.

One thing I remembered while sort of watching this baseball game is that I don't really understand the "Charge!" cheer. Or the wave, but let's do one thing at a time. The "Charge!" cheer, in my opinion, has no place in baseball or football games. It's merely a Pavlovian sound that elicits the same response wherever you go. The point of cheers is to psyche up your team so they'll perform better. If "Charge!" is universal, then it could be monkeys in the stands, rather than actual fans. Clemson has a cheer where they spell CLEMSON by sections around Death Valley. That is intimidating. If the PA system played the do-doo-do-doooo Charge! sound, sure it would be loud, but so what? Charge! can go to hell.