Cold Cold Hampin'

OK this post should have gone up the day before yesterday but honestly Sunday night I was too tired and maybe a little drunk from softball and it was all I could do to throw in three loads of laundry, eat a pizza and watch Entourage before I passed out in my own drool.

And last night believe it or not I was still tired so the softball recap that I am handling will wait until tonight. I could have tossed up a quickie but I didn't. It has to be a good one because we had a good and interesting game with some surprises and some new faces and a truly fantasmagorical finish that left me rolling on the fake turf laughing with joy and disbelief and awkward drunken teenage sexual confusion. Or at least two out of those three.

I met with my editor today and we went over my plan for the softball recap and he was like, I dunno if that'll work. Then he thought about it some more and said, that's ambitious and time-consuming and don't you have a new job and a young baby and a wife and a responsibility to live a regular life with regular hours if for nothing else than your own sanity and then I cut him off and said stop stop stop just tell me do you think I can do it? And he said, goddamn I wouldn't bet against it and I said thanks it's times like these that I remember what I pay you for.

So that's done and it's up and rolling over in its usual place. It may not be good, but hell I tried.

Our buddy Lynn has been on edge lately and would like to be soothed by the image of young Hans atop his trusty steed. We can do that for ya:

I hope you're feeling better. Also remember that you can click on these images to make 'em bigger and then you'll feel even more better.

So like a family of little Diddies we hit the Hamptons this weekend. Bridgehampton to be specific. It was gorgeous. We were only there for like 24 hours but somehow it felt like a vacation. I need to remember to save a few million so I can buy me a country house (speaking of which, I lost the lottery again the other day -- I can't catch a break) someplace. Did you like the placement of those parenthesisesis? I coulda moved 'em over one word and made it all neatlike but something would have been lost.

As feared, I took my shirt off by the pool and was suitably ashamed although there was another dude there whose body hair situation almost trumped my pale gut and burgeoning Mickelson-tits. It definitely made me less self-conscious and allowed me to enjoy the 90 degree day and the 80 degree water.

Country living is pretty swanky. Get up, have a nice fresh sandwich and a beer, take a dip, play with the kids, grill some corn, drink some wine, chat about the grind of city living, pass out. The only thing I would erase from the weekend is the insect life. Beetles and skeeters and hornets and, most frighteningly, a family of angry wasps who fly around your head and want very much to kill you.

We left Sunday after watching the start of the World Cup Final. After France's bogus first goal on a PK, the Frenchman we were watching the game with said it was a good thing because the early goal "will open the game up." Huh? You're playing in the biggest game your sport has to offer and you need to fall behind in order to play aggressively? Good fucking grief. I adore my soccer-loving friends and so I won't weigh in with every uninformed opinion I have about why your sport is so desperately flawed. I'll just say it ain't my bag and leave it at that.

But again I must agree with Moncrief. If the sport is so great, why does it need to be pushed down our throats like a big ugly horse pill?

World Cup = Great Event
Soccer = wtf?

For ten GP's, what exactly did Geraldo find in Al Capone's vault? Don't google or wiki or do any other crazy shit that could make you hate yourself later.