Author: Kat (Page 82 of 89)

Notes From Work…

I don’t want to do my homework, therefore here are some short little things I’ve been thinking lately…

-What’s going on with all these football players suddenly getting busted for drug use? The Ricky Williams thing was shocking, but didn’t phase me all too much. But this Quincy Carter thing–I’m sorry, if he was stupid enough to be using drugs while being coached by Parcells, then he doesn’t have enough brain capacity to be allowed to play football. That’s like a 15 year old girl talking about having premartial sex in front of a old nun. You just don’t do that.



–I honestly love the listing of all the At-Bat songs on ESPN’s Page 3. I hate Page 3 usually, because it’s just a silly concept most of the time. I mean, I don’t read ESPN for entertainment news. I read it for sports news and commentary. If I want entertainment news, I’ll go to Yahoo or something. Not ESPN.

But anyway, despite me not really being knowledgeable about any baseball besides the Blue Jays, Red Sox, Yankees and Orioles (you’d think I’d know the Devil Rays, but no, never made the connection that they were all in the same division until recently. They have no connection to me. All those teams do: I grew up in Rochester, where we were the farm team for the Orioles; I love all things Canada, therefore have always rooted for the Blue Jays; I went to school with all Yankees fans (except for Brian, the lone Mets fan I knew at Binghamton); and I currently live in Boston and therefore am obsessed with the Red Sox. Tampa Bay has no play into that theme whatsoever. But anyway, I’m saying, despite me not knowing a thing beyond those four teams, I find this list of at-bat music highly amusing. One person on every team has “Yeah” by Usher. Some teams have that token alternative Christian music person. Then you have your token country guy who plays Tim McGraw (who I’m guessing has got to be the country artist of choice for baseball players, seeing who his father was and all). Then you have the 70s rock dude. Every few teams has someone with obscure salsa music. The rest is all popular rap.

Why do I bring this up? Well, it got me thinking. I was explaining to Kit not too long ago that I had this thing where I listened to Ben Folds’ “Rock This…” from his live album before I had to take a test or interview or something high pressure of that sort. It made me laugh hysterically that I was trying to get pumped up by listening to Ben Folds. I love the guy, he’s second only to Barenaked Ladies on my favourite artist scale, but he is not pump up music. But this song was to me. I don’t know. So I made Kit listen to it once, and she laughed. I don’t think she added it to her pump up music repertoire, but maybe she did and just hasn’t told me yet. I wouldn’t say that that Ben Folds song would be my “at-bat” music, which led me to thinking–what would be my “at-bat” music?

I still don’t know.

Here’s where ya’ll come in (all three of you left that actually read my blog.)

What would be your at-bat music? Or for those of you not as athletically-interested, what music would you have playing as you entered that big interview, that major test, that life-changing performance? E-mail me at katherinehas@yahoo.com and let me know, or IM me the rare times my computer in the apartment stays online. With Research Methods quickly coming to a close, I’ll have time to write more, and therefore, will be able to post and comment on your choices. I’ll also be asking everyone who doesn’t read my blog, so we’ll get some new names and faces as well.

Call it random audience participation time. I try to make this engaging. Whether or not I succeed is unknown.

****************************************

Later this weekend (because I didn’t post the link to this entry till Sunday because I was hanging with cows and tractors while learning various drinking games. Long story. Definitely fun times though.)

So for some flashback fun, read this entry of my blog from last year. A year ago this weekend, I was in Boston, trying to decide if I should move here or not.

And here I am.

Things are 65 times different than I imagined them. As much as I loved BU, inside I thought it was a given that I’d be a Harvard-ite. I thought I’d be working as a RD to get through grad school. There’s a couple more things that I won’t go into that I thought would happen that didn’t. Moving here was ten times harder than I thought–there were several times in the past three months that I’ve wanted to pack it all in and go home. But that’s natural–you can’t leave everything you know and not expect that to happen.

But I’m extremely happy. Busy, stressed out, overworked, insomnia-ridden–but happy. I have great jobs, I’m thisclose to being done with school forever, I have an awesome cat that sleeps with me at night, and while I don’t have a lot of friends yet, the ones I do have are amazingly awesome (especially the one that dragged me out to tractor country this weekend). I get to watch the Red Sox on TV, pass Fenway Park on the way to work, and talk sports with everyone because everyone gets them.

It’s amazing that a year has gone by, and I’m here.

I just thought I’d share.

“Can I Get Some Information, Please?”

(quote courtesy of Paula Abdul, who I wanted to be when I was 9)



What is the purpose of a sports journalist? To report given information and place it in its correct context, or to report what information isn’t given and expand on it?

Wednesday, the Rochester Democrat and Chronicle devoted two articles (http://www.democratandchronicle.com/sports/bills/0804DO54EOD_sports.shtml and http://www.democratandchronicle.com/sports/bills/0804DO54EO6_sports.shtml) to Bills tackle Mike Williams, a second year player who had missed most if not all of the offseason workouts due to a “personal situation.” As per the information given by the Bills, a close member of his family died. Approaching the current training camp in good ol’ Rochester, Williams was demoted to the second string by Mike Mularkey because he had missed so much work in the off season. This was big news–Williams has always been toted as one of GM Tom Donahoe’s “good” draft picks (as opposed to Willis McGahee and the yet-to-be-determined pick of Losman as the new Jim Kelly, just several years removed.) Mularkey was making waves as a new coach by demoting such a player.

Williams was absent from practice on Tuesday, which incurs a fine from Mularkey. The Bills information said that he missed due to a “personal problem.”

These two articles on Wednesday infer that although Williams has suffered personal tragedy and family hardship recently, his absence was due to a lack of work ethic and therefore an oversight by Donahoe. Williams is a “38 million dollar backup” now, it proclaimed. They should of drafted someone else, in particular Byant McKinnie, instead. Will Donahoe ever get anything right?

In my own opinion, no, Donahoe will never get anything right because he’s highly overrated and worked only well with the defensive-obsessed Cowher-headed Steelers, who never ever had an offensive bright spot in the 90s (and yes, I remember Kordell Stewart.) But that’s besides the point. Williams indeed was back on Wednesday, ready to work after having to attend to family business the day before. His work ethic still intact, he told reporters that everything was fine, and he understands why he was fined.

However, the reporters at the Democrat and Chronicle decided not to report solely the information the Bills were giving them, and hypothized that Williams has just become lazy and happy to sit on his laurels, much like the recently retired Ricky Williams, and it was just a mistake by Donahoe, who might actually be the weak spot on this oh-so-promising-over-the-past-three-years-franchise. And their two stories (not just one–two–one presented as opinion but not attributed to any author on the website, and the other as a training camp report) revolved around this non-information.

And I, being the doormat that I am, ate it up.

I mean, I was raised by a lifelong Steelers hater. You blame Donahoe for something, well, I’m right on board. He’s from the Steelers, therefore he is evil. So I bought into this idea. I rely on the good ol’ D&C for my Bills news. If they are saying that Mike Williams could be going the way of Ricky Williams, they must have good reason.

And then you find out all of the information by reading what the Boston Globe is saying, and what ESPN.com is saying, and then you realize that those two articles were based more on inference than information.

What is the job of a sports journalist? Is it to explain to us, the non-sports-journalist, those of us who would love to do that but got derailed upon the way, what is going on in that sport? Or is it to take advantage of us who trust the journalist to give us the facts by “explaining” a situation by inference? We, the average reader of the sports section (a demographic which is constantly changing), are not “in the know” or smart enough to place pieces together and come to our own conclusions, so the reporters at the D&C have decided that they are going to use the information not given and present it as the only information.

Bill Simmons, in one of his many loving tributes (sarcasm) to Nomar this week, said this about Boston sports journalists: “Many of the columnists care more about stirring things up than making sports more fun to follow, which is the whole reason you should be covering sports in the first place.” These two articles were more about stirring up rumors about the “truth” the Bills were “hiding” from us, than the truth.

And you know this isn’t that big of a deal. It’s a fine line between the facts that are given and what is the truth and what needs to be shared and just overall ethics of giving thousands of readers information. Disputes like this happen often–this is why freedom of the press is an awesome idea. We need several different outlets so that we the reader can come up with our own conclusions. However, it’s sad in this instance because it is obvious that Mike Williams suffered a catastrophic family event and now a couple hundred guys in Rochester who think that Bob Matthews is the be-all-end-all of all sports media (sorry, personal jab–I listen to his show when I’m at home, but it’s only to argue with everything he says. My father always wants me to call in, but I’m too shy) think that he didn’t show up to practices because he’s just another Ricky Williams–a spoiled and free-spirited 20-something who got rich too quick and now wants to rest on his laurels. The guy, as per the actual information provided by him and the Bills, is going through a tough time and doesn’t deserve us thinking he’s a waste of space–physically and cap money wise.

I adore football season, but it’s back to studying research methods…

The Name Game

So, as you may or may not have noticed, my life has returned to that insomniac-like workaholic state that I thrived in back in Binghamton, thus me and my computer have little to no private time anymore. Tis a typical day in the life of grad school Kat:



6am-Wake up, get ready.

7:15am-Leave for work.

7:45am-8am–Get to work at PERD

12-12:30–Lunch, aka, I walk like a mad woman up and down the BU campus running errands

1-Back to PERD

2:30-3:30–Somewhere around there, leave PERD for the day.

And here’s where it varies:

Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays:

3:30-Grab a snack.

4-6:30 Go to Perspectives on Inquiry, aka the most frustrating class ever because I actually have to work at it, seeing that I have no basis in any of this educational psych/research stuff (Educational Psych at Ithaca three years ago doesn’t count because I don’t remember anything but watching a 10 minute segment of Kindergarden Cop.)

6:30-7 Wait in line to copy readings for class.

7-8 Get home. Seeing that I need to exercise and have no other time to do so, I usually walk either from Kenmore (where my class is) to St. Mary’s Street, where I’ll board the C line home, or I will just book it from Kenmore to Cleveland Circle, which is 2.8 miles. I get it done in approximately 45 minutes, sometimes 50 if Coolidge Corner is really annoying (me and that intersection just don’t get along.)

8-Eat dinner.

8:30–Call Caitlin and the Other Kat for “Apartment Search 2004” updates.

9:15–Other phone calls.

10:30–Read for class.

1am-Go to sleep.

Tuesdays and Fridays I go to work at the florist from 3-8, then the rest of the schedule is the same. On the weekends, I work at the store, do more homework and hang out with my favourite Bostonians.

Add to this the following:

-In a week, my lunch time is gone temporarily, as I took on a job as a Recreation Assistant for the Greater Boston Youth Symphony Orchestra Camp. I play on the playground with kids for two hours a day for two weeks and get paid handsomely to do so. Gotta love it.

-I interviewed for a grad assistantship on Thursday at the Student Activities Office. I’m crossing my fingers that I’ll get it–I’d get paid to be Miss Extracurricular. Wouldn’t that be awesome?

So that’s where I am. And I’m exhausted as all get out. My mom rarely hears from me anymore, as do the majority of you. I’m sorry. With the fall coming, I’ll soon find a routine and be able to balance it all better. I only have to be crazy for one more year. Then I’ll get to do normal things, like read, watch TV and breathe.

Here’s some random notes of the week:

–Dear Flower Customers of the World;

Thank you for giving me a job. However, just a few notes so that my blood pressure can stay its normal too-low self:

-Yes, that is the price of roses. No, that’s not just for Valentine’s Day. Yes, that’s the everyday price. No, not many places have them cheaper. Roses are expensive. I don’t control the prices. If you want them, suck it up and pay up.

-Okay, you’re in a hurry. That’s fine. However, if you want me to make you a unique bouquet with “nothing cheesy like those stupid carnations,” please allow me 5-10 minutes. Even the people I work with who have been doing this for as long as I’ve been alive take 5-10 minutes. It’s not as easy as it looks.

-There is nothing wrong with carnations. Well, I mean, if you want to impress a girl, guys, don’t get carnations. But any other time? They’re fine. They aren’t ugly. They bring back good memories of all of my dance recitals, where I would get bouquets of carnations from my parents and Grandma.

-Don’t tell me “don’t make a ugly bouquet.” Do you think that’s my aim? Really now.

Keep these in mind and all of our lives will be 17 times easier. Thank you!

Sincerely,

Kat

-I had to update a database at work this week to cross list the names of the parents who register for our programs with their children’s names. I had to shuffle through two-three years of back registration forms to do so. Now, the forms were indexed by child’s name. The database is indexed by parent’s name. I had to match up each child with their parent, and add that information to the database. Easy enough, right?

Wrong.

Thank you, feminist theory and increasing divorce rates for making this task 10 times harder than it had to be. I love women’s rights as much as everyone else , and I regularly exercise the rights that this movement has fought for. However, when I get married, I will take my husband’s name, and now not just because of the impossiblness of my own last name. And my children will have my husband’s name. And I will try my darnest not to get divorced. Some poor office worker will appreciate it. Trust me. (Hyphenating is fine too. I couldn’t hyphenate because I have the longest name ever to begin with. As long as some aspect of the name is shared between child and parent, it’s all good.)

Also, I recognize that everyone wants their child to stand out, be unique, express your and the other parent’s ideals and personality. However, remember that your child has to live with this name for their whole life. In addition, they might have high aspirations to be something with a lot of prestige. Please consider these factors before naming your child, otherwise in a few years some poor office worker is just going to look at your child’s name and say, “That poor kid.”

-Steve Beurlein retired on Wednesday as a Carolina Panther. He was one of the original “Steve Quarterbacks.” The “Steve Quarterbacks” were a group of QBs in the early-mid 90s that my Dad and I followed simply because he and them shared a first name. This is where my Steve Young fandom came from, seeing that he was the founding QB of the group. The group consisted of Young, Beurlein, Walsh, DeBerg, and later on, McNair. It expanded to include honorary members Christie and Tasker, who were not QBs, but played offense for the Bills, and I’m sure Dad wishes Doug Flutie’s name was really Steve Flutie. But alas, some things are not meant to be.

But Beurlein’s retirement means that McNair is the only active Steve left. Christie, one of the honoraries, is currently a free agent in his 15th season, meaning he’s sitting in limbo, praying that some kicker freakishly tears a tendon. It’s a sad day for my father and I. The Steves are gone. My childhood is now completely over.

So here’s to you, Mr. Beurlein, the second to last official Steve to retire. You still hold all Panthers’ passing records despite the work of Jake Delhomme last season. You were a journeyman, and have the distinction of existing in the NFL for just about as many years as my sister has been alive.

-Peter King has returned from vacation. Bill Simmons graces us with writing nearly everyday. I am a happy girl. And I contend that I have never written Simmons, meaning that non of the letters in the last two week’s “Fe-mail Bags” (http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=simmons/040730) are from me. But read them over. They sure sound like it, don’t they? I’m glad I’m not alone, despite the fact that it negates a bit of my uniqueness.

-I will never get sick of the smell of ice rinks. I walk in Walter Brown Arena every morning and take a deep breath and I swear for that second, all is right in the world. Another childhood dream fulfilled: work in an ice arena. It’s downright sad–I still get nervously excited sometimes from that smell, just like I did when my parents would take me to the War Memorial to see a hockey game or skating show. I remember being a child and getting so excited when I’d walk in to an arena that I would tremble. I’m crazy, I know. But that’s my almost-Canadian childhood for you.

–I wish I had good stories from the DNC, but the only thing I have is that I walked by Lewis Black from the Daily Show on Wednesday because he was taping a piece outside of the Tsai Center on campus. The Daily Show was taping on campus all week, but because I’m a workaholic, I didn’t get to see it. 🙁 I didn’t venture downtown at all this week. I stayed in Brookline, and only was able to catch Kerry’s acceptance on TV. Darn no cable in my room.

–Best Baseball Game Ever: Last Saturday’s Red Sox-Yankees battle. I was in the car when Varitek scuffled with A-Rod. Of course. The biggest fight of the year and I’m not in front of the TV. My friend Brendon and I were screaming at the radio. “HIT HIM! EJECT A-ROD!!!! GET JETER INVOLVED!! Come on!!!!!” Then there was my, “No, no, DON’T HIT KAPLER AND RUIN HIS GORGEOUS BOD!!!!!!!!!” Then there was the, “Why the HECK are we not in front of the TV?!?!” We ran into his apartment the minute the car was parked and turned on the game, waiting in intense anticipation for the replay. Then there was the whole winning home run in the ninth…AMAZING GAME. I love Boston, because everyone was listening to the game, and everyone was yelling at the radio and screaming at their TVs, and you could hear it all. We may be Democrat, we may be Republican, we may be college students or professionals, we may be born here or transplanted, but we all are united in that one common cause: The Yankees are evil and need to be stopped.

I’m officially a baseball fan. Hardcore.

Just in time for football season.

Hmm……

“You’re so 1990/And it’s 1994…”

Life is trying to knock me back into 1994, where only my firefighter uncle had a cell phone and where the internet was just Tricia’s family computer with Prodigy and it’s wacky “Teen Zone” mad libs.

For the past three weeks almost, my cell phone and wireless internet have been waging a battle against me. Neither have been able to consistently pick up a signal for quite a while. I’m convinced I’m back living in Terrace 5 at Ithaca again, where it was not possible to pick up any television or radio stations. And seeing how much I rely on both things to talk to my friends (the majority of my friends living in New York State), it’s made me appear to be ignoring you all. I’m really not. I just can’t get a hold of you at all. When my internet works, it’s spastic and goes out five minutes after I finally get online. My cell is just weird. I’m under the new assumption that the fact that I still have a 607 number and I no longer live in a 607 area is working against me possibly, and that it might be the time to take the plunge and get a 617 number. I keep teetering the fence on that one. One, I’m only guaranteed to be here a year. But two, part of this Boston Dream Life I’ve dreamt of for years involves me either owning a car with Massachusetts license plates or having a 617 number. We’ll see what I end up doing.

So I’m not dead, I’m not ignoring you, and I haven’t fallen into some deep black hole of post-graduation depression.

What have I been doing then?

-Tackling the worst and most difficult class I’ve taken since AP Physics my junior year of high school: Perspectives on Inquiry, aka Research Methods for Educational Research, aka A Class That is for Future Teachers, Not Higher Education Administrators, aka The Complete and Total Bane of my Existence. I read for class, read it again, go to class, take notes, reread again and STILL not understand a word of it. And it’s hard to even care to understand, because learning about teaching teachers to better teach mathematics problem solving skills to first graders has nothing to do with anything I’m going to be doing. I think I took more relevant classes to Higher Ed when I was in Art History. That’s how bad this is. If I survive, I will be surprised.

-Working my two jobs. Yes, I now have two jobs. I work for Boston U’s recreation programs during the day, and then nights I don’t have class and weekends I work at Olympia Florist, the 101 year old florist where you can find only the best flowers for your Shabbat. (We cater to Brookline’s Jewish population, which made training there so much easier. “So, we do a lot of business for Jewish holidays and Shabbats…do you know anything about those?” Um…more than a Catholic-born girl should know.)

-Hanging out in Boston, making friends and having a good time. I love Boston, and the homesickness has for the most part disappeared. This is an awesome city, and I’m so lucky to be here. I try to make the best out of all my time here, because I know how tough the job market is in higher ed admin here. I probably won’t be here after I graduate, but at least I get to live it up now.

-Getting all of my Dream Job hopes crushed. I didn’t even make it to be seen by producers–it’s a long story. I’m sad. But there was so much awesome talent there–I can’t even compare. I am a total wanna-be compared to all of them. I’m really pulling to see some of the guys I waited in line with on TV. In addition, I’ve had sense knocked into me–guys get too intimidated by girls who legitimately like sports. I didn’t realize it fully until a few weeks ago. So I’ve kind of had to start leaving that part of me behind. I’ll never be anything sports related, and I need to stop thinking that guys are going to like me for my sports knowledge. After the Dream Job audition, I had to chaperone the day camp trip to Fenway, and when we sat in the press seats, I looked down and realized that that would be the only time I’ll ever sit there, on a tour. I looked out onto the field, having had my hopes dashed that morning, having heard the bitter truth about guys, girls and sports a few days before, and just knew it was time to grow up. It was hard to take. I guess I’ll only check ESPN.com twice a day now, instead of 564. I mean, a lot of people never get to fulfill childhood dreams–I’m lucky enough to be able to fulfill one (live in Boston). I would be pressing my luck to ask for more than that. Anyway, the field of Higher Ed needs me and my perkiness!

Despite this all, things are good.  I’m busy, therefore I’m happy. 

 

Time to escape research methods and go to bed…

When The Going Gets Tough, The Tough Make Really Bad Analogies

I think the following antidote is the perfect analogy for how my life has seemed lately:

On Tuesday, I realized that no one in my fantasy baseball league had snatched up Pokey Reese. This was a complete surprise to me, considering that two members of my league are a Red Sox fan and his brother who will intentionally take Red Sox players just to get his goat (example being who just happens to have Nomar). So I dropped my under performing 2nd baseman and picked up Reese (who Peter King referred to as “The Pokester” in Monday’s column–frankly, I’m scared).

Later that night, I turn on the radio to catch the last few innings of the Red Sox-Rockies game. And I swear, within 2 minutes of turning on the game, the announcer says, “In case you just joined us, Pokey Reese scratched tonight with an injury…”

Of course.

Thankfully, he’s not on the DL or anything, and he came back two days later, but still. It’s just my luck.

I would elaborate, but things seem to be getting better, plus no one wants to hear about post-graduation syndrome, ’cause ya’ll have gone/will go through it sooner or later. And this is all it is. The best thing people can do for me is to say to me randomly, “Kat, put the application to Canisius/UB/U of R away.” or “Kat, stop outlining cover letters to jobs in Rochester.” Or better yet, say, “Kat, suck it up and live with the fact that you’ll have loan payments until you’re 60. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

Actually, I should write them out on big pieces of paper and wallpaper my room with them. They’re my new mantras. “Put the resume paper away. You do not need to apply to that job at St. John Fisher/Nazareth/fill in the blank with any school in Western NY. Back away from your resume. Stop thinking off convincing reasons why someone should hire you without your Masters.”

I will suck it up, take out more loans, stick it out and get my Master’s from Boston University if it’s the last thing I do.

And that is that.

–So I was walking down the street to the T the other morning, and a guy was walking towards me. He had a smallish-medium black cargo bag. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a cargo bag. You know, serves the same purpose of a backpack, but you don’t look like a middle schooler carrying it. (Which I do when I carry a backpack. I look like I’m 12. Some may argue that I look like I’m 12 all the time, but for my dignity, I’d like to contend that it’s just when I’m wearing my backpack.)

The guy sees me walking and starts fidgeting with the bag, like it was uncomfortable. He’s looking down at it. As we walk by each other, he looks at me and kind of shrugs and quickly looks at his bag. It seemed to me that he was embarrassed to be seen by a girl carrying the bag. It was the kind of look that said, “Don’t mind my man bag, my girlfriend/mother/grandmother/aunt gave me it and it was the only thing that held all the stuff I needed for work, but really, I’m not into man bags, I wouldn’t buy them for myself, no, not at all…” I felt really bad for the guy. For the record, I tried to give that, “I’m not going to judge you for your man bag” look, but it was too late. I don’t hate on the man bags, so Men of Boston, don’t be so self-conscious.

Men in Boston are interesting. There are tons of totally nice looking ones. I mean, I remember my first day of college at Ithaca, where I looked around and was like, “It’s a guy supermarket! No, a guy Wegmans! There’s all these different kinds, and they’re all good!” Yeah, Boston is like that 200-fold. It’s a guy Pittsford, NY Wegmans. (The Pittsford Wegmans is a super-crazy-get-lost-no-matter-how-much-you-try-not-to Wegmans with everything ever. Example: I am addicted to Manichevitz Macaroons. Normally, you’re really lucky if you can find one variety, even at Passover time. Not at the Pittsford Wegmans, where they stock like every single flavor all year round. Yummmmm….)

Well, hold on. The analogy isn’t complete yet. So Boston is the guy Pittsford, NY Wegmans. But I am the lone customer without a Shoppers Club Card, while every other female in Boston has theirs. I don’t know yet about the Shopper’s Club Card, but look at the discounts longingly and ask myself, “Why can’t I get that price?”

Have I totally lost you yet?

Analogy complete. What I’m saying is that I see all these great fantastic totally hot and sports loving guys with totally lovable Boston accents, but I haven’t a clue how to get them yet. I’m working on it though–I’ve caught acceptable guys staring at me several times lately, so I’m making progress.

Basically, Kat needs a man, because Kat’s jaded and old and Kat can’t sit around and watch NESN, ESPN Classic, Showbiz Moms and Dads and Food Network 24-7. And Kat needs to stop talking in the third person.

–I give you the wisdom of Drew Bledsoe:

”I’ll throw a couple times a week, just enough to keep my arm in shape and the last week and a half before camp I’ll throw a little more,” Bledsoe said. “(I’ll throw to) anybody I can find, my brother, and there’s usually a couple neighborhood kids out in Montana. Or I’ll hang something up on the garage wall and throw at that.”

Western NY, your starting quarterback is going to pick some 9 year old off the playground in Montana of all places, and be like, “Let’s play catch,” and somehow that’s going to help him prepare for trying to get the Bills out of the depths of depression. I mean, sure, if you lived in, oh, Louisiana or Texas, sure, maybe that would help. But Montana? Imagine that neighborhood kid. “What did you do today, Timmy?” “Man, that annoying neighbor begged me to throw with him again…it was cool at first, but when he started saying, ‘How’d you like that, Losman?’ and hitting me with the ball when we were just supposed to be throwing the football around, and then muttering weird things under his breath about how evil the Patriots are and how he should have two Super Bowl rings, then it got kind of weird.”

Yes, these are the things I think when I read the Democrat and Chronicle sports section at 7am.

(I don’t hate Bledsoe. I just found that quote weird. I don’t know.)

–I didn’t feel the lack of old school MP3 downloading until very recently, when I just realized there are a list of songs I’d love to have, but they are all the only ones on the CDs they are on that I’m interested in, and my subscription service doesn’t have them. But you know if only we had Napster in all of its heyday glory, I’d have those songs and be sick of them by now.

–A sign that I’ve lost all taste in music: I find the recent covers of “Take My Breath Away” by Jessica Simpson and “Our Lips Are Sealed” by Hilary Duff ten times better then the originals. I guess I need to see that Guster/Ben Folds concert more than I thought. I’ll regain my taste in music after that.

–It’s June, and I get to talk hockey at work. If you like hockey, go to school in Boston, I swear. It’s great.

–So the decision has been made: if Dream Job decides to audition for its second season in Boston, I’m going. I’ll do some manic NBA studying before hand, look extra sexy, and hope they send Tony Kornheiser down so I can get Binghamton alumni bonus points. Because really, when I get all gussied up, I’d like to think I’m one of the best looking moderately-knowledgeable female sports fans out there, and I’m using that to my advantage. And in the most probable event I don’t pass the audition, at least I could maybe pick up some dates! (Trust me, my co-worker Nicole and I have been hatching my Dream Job plan for a few days now.)

–I always knew when I was little that when I was finally grown up and left to my own devices, I’d have a seriously difficult time trying to get myself to cook and not buy dinner each night. I love going out to eat, even if it means running to get coffee or bagels or whatever. I always have. And I’m left to my own devices now, with easy access to tons of restaurants and the like…and it’s hard. Very hard. When I was a little girl, my parents couldn’t afford to take me out to restaurants, and as I got older and they could afford it, they had littler children who wouldn’t sit still in restaurants. So I’m making up for my childhood. But really, I need to stop. I’ve done well this week though…

–So I may have found a way to be a semi-real sportswriter, or least pretend to be one, meaning a little less blogging, but when I do blog, it’ll be less about sports. Which I’m sure will excite several of you out there who aren’t the biggest sports fans. But we’ll see how it works out. I’ll fill you all in a little later as to what I might be doing, because it’s not a sure thing yet.

–More later this weekend…