BWB has been on hiatus for a number of weeks, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been active. In fact, I have been more active these past two weeks than I have since this summer, and it has caught up with me. I have spent more time on my back in bed than Paris Hilton. At least I am having a better time of it than Lindsay Lohan, who seems destined to be this generation’s Dana Plato. There’s still time LL, maybe you should meet with Dr. Drew so he can exploit, I mean help, you before it is too late.
I am so glad that people have Lindsay’s problems to concentrate on; after all it would get to real and worrying should they have to watch some more fake protests in Egypt. After all, caring about what happens in the Middle East is not only uncool but also unimportant because those uncivilized countries have problems like this all the time, right? And since protests in the streets, an angry citizenry calling for a change of government is something only third-rate, Third World countries have to deal with, right?
Oh wait, you mean Italy is in turmoil too? Yeah, it turns out their Prime Minister has a liking for underage prostitutes, and sex parties; life imitating a Stanley Kubrick film (at least so say the allegations). I don’t really understand what the problem is; he is Italian, powerful and rich, should we really expect anything different from him? So long as he isn’t indebted to the Mafia and bumping off the Pope I really don’t have much of a problem with him. Since Italy is now in the European Union, which all but neutered the official Italian government, does that mean the solution to deal with Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi is to geld him?
According to Wikileaks, whose information has been so correct you haven’t heard one solid denial by this government which has held up, not only did both Presidents Bush and Obama undermine President Hosni Mubarak by training and funding the rebel leaders who were the ones who staged the protests which “erupted out of nowhere” (which is the biggest lie the media isn’t covering), they have also related that President Obama gave away British nuclear secrets to "ally" Russia. I shall leave the legal debates to others, I also won’t even mention my personal feelings on the matter (which should be obvious to anyone who knows me) but instead I will ask this question:
Is everything America’s enemies say about us true?
If America were a person, it would be the woman at work who is friendly and giving to anyone and everyone they encounter and hit it off with only to stab them in the back as soon as they leave the room. You know the type, hell I work with the type, dated the type, loved the type. No wonder I still love America. We stabbed Egypt in the back by supporting the leaders of a rebellion to overthrow our thirty-year ally. And then we sold out the nation we have the strongest political, social, and historical ties in order to get the new START Treaty with Russia signed (a treaty which more than likely won’t be ratified by the Senate, thus making it inert) we didn’t actually need. Why? For what purpose?
In other news, the Packers won the Super Bowl. Upon looking at the brackets, I knew there was a hugely distinct possibility this would happen. First, they got to play a sagging Eagles team who peaked two weeks before the Wild Card Round. Michael Vick, the NFL’s Comeback Player of the Year (as if there was any doubt) didn’t put up too much resistance. With the Seahawks upset of the Saints, the Packers then went to Atlanta, where they played the Falcons tough earlier in the season, while they were not much more than a Mash unit. After bowling over their only real competition, they got to go back to Chicago and face the Bears with Jay “Trust me, I was too-injured to play” Cutler in his first real playoff game (the previous week’s game against the Seahawks only officially counting). The Pack stomped through them, not much of a surprise to anybody, except those optimistic Bears fans (are there actually such things?) As for the Super Bowl, well…to be honest, I was far too drunk to remember clearly how it all turned out besides the fact that the Rapist lost the game with his terrible interceptions. You are correct Big Ben, when you said you blew it. Or maybe that was what the girl in Georgia said? Or was it the one in Tahoe?
So, I don’t want to sound emo, but since this is my blog and I can write about whatever the hell I want to, I feel obligated to mention the fact Valentine’s Day is coming next week. Not only do I not have a date, which is par for the course (28 Valentine’s Days, one date) it got me thinking: how many single women do I even interact with on a vaguely regular schedule? It was pretty simple math: eight. When I discount the women I work with (because the dumbest thing I could do is date a woman I work with…again…) the number becomes two. One won’t talk to me, with good reason, and the other works at a Starbucks I rarely ever go into. In fact I only included the latter because I wanted to beef up my numbers a bit. Looks like it is a box of chocolates, a bottle of wine and a Red Box on Monday night for me!
It isn’t like it is Death Valley for me. I did make out with a married woman last week (an action I’ve regretted since it happened), and I came home from my sister’s birthday party a few days ago with a woman’s number in my pocket (a woman I can’t remember to save my life). I am also very interested in a woman who is otherwise attached. Yeah, it breaks my heart a little every night thinking about the fact she sleeps in the same bed of some other guy every night while I pine away like a teenager. Wow…I really am emo. My apologies to anyone who read the last two paragraphs.
The winter-spring sports season is finally upon us. It is the most jam-packed and least anticipated of the three sports seasons I follow, but the sheer amount of goings on make up for the fact my two favorite sports are off. The seasons are as follows:
Winter-Spring Season:
Begins: The moment the Vince Lombardi Trophy is handed out.
Ends: With either the Lakers of Celtics hoisting the Larry O’Brien Trophy
Signature Events: NCAA Basketball Tournament, end of the NBA and NHL seasons, plus their great playoffs, the now-annual “Will Tiger Woods win another Major?” debate
Biggest Disappointments: NFL Draft and Baseball Spring Training only because they make you pine for the real thing without delivering anything close to the level of excitement they promise.
Summer Season:
Begins: When baseball becomes the only sport actively playing in July and August
Ends: After the Red Sox are eliminated or until Week One of the NFL Season, whichever comes first
Signature Events: Baseball playoffs, humidity, ripping Alex Rodriguez to shreds for no other reason than because he is Alex Rodriguez, optimistic hope the Jets will win it all
Biggest Disappointment: Boston Red Sox, New York Jets
Football Season:
Begins: If the Jets are good, it begins at the Draft or the Combine or whenever the impending lockout ends; if the Jets stink, whenever the baseball season winds down with the cup check that is a Yankees world title
Ends: Next one will end with Mark Sanchez being named Super Bowl XLVI MVP
Signature Events: Weeks 1-17 of the NFL Season; thirty minute discourses with everyone from your boss to your barber to the douchebag kid who doesn’t bend his Chiefs hat’s brim about what a great/stupid idea it was that the Eagles/Titans/Vikings/49ers changed coaches/switched quarterbacks/went from 3-4 to 4-3 or vice versa.
Biggest Disappointments: BCS, and by extension the greatness of the college football season
I leave you now with one of the things I have been working on while not writing anything for this lovely website. I wrote this poem, it has a meaning, but I am not sure everyone will get it. It is called Orange Blossoms:
Cooing of a floating dove
Orange blossoms blooming on the mountains above
Rising sun waking, despair away in a shove.
In the alighted valley, and the world thereof
Now shines the light of my fitted glove
Now how to be worthy of?
Endowed with the blessing of your ?
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