October 26, 2009
Worst Mistake
Like most of us, Steve Phillips has made many a mistake in his lifetime: trading for Mo Vaughn, trading Scott Kazmir for Carlos Zambrano, firing Bobby Valentine, or his affair with an employee of the Mets minor league affiliate. Personally, I think he has made no mistake greater than hooking up with this piece of work while working for ESPN. Hooking up with Brooke Hundley, or Fatal Attraction intern as I like to call her, eventually got him fired. She looks more like Todd Hundley if you ask me. And she even went as far as to Phillips' doorbell to leave a note for his wife detailing the sordid affair, and also befriending his son on Facebook. Just terrible. Apparently the one he got caught up with while he was the GM of the Mets was worse. It's pretty apparent that Mr. Phillips is not a good evaluator of talent on or off the field.
Labels:
girls,
girls with ambition,
mistakes,
Steve Phillips,
stupid
October 21, 2009
Bathroom Etiquette
I'm sorry to have to write this. I never thought it to be necessary until the events that took place in the bathroom at work today. Let me break it down for you. THERE ARE NO MANNERS IN THE BATHROOM. Let's say you're in a stall brownberrying. Or maybe you're taking a poop nap. If the guy next to you sneezes, you do not under any circumstances say bless you. The whole point of stalls in the bathroom is to maintain anonymity. They're not in there and neither are you. It brings up the age old question: If somebody sneezes in the stall next to you, but nobody's there to hear it, does anybody need to be blessed? I say no. It's awkward. What are they supposed to do? Common courtesy says you're supposed to say thank you. But just because you gave your voice up to be IDd doesn't mean they should too. That's a lot of pressure, so just don't do it. Even if you recognize their shoes. You don't say anything. You don't know them.
October 09, 2009
Beggars Can Be Choosers
I've been in New York for about a month now. I'd been here at least ten times before I actually moved, so I knew it was a different world. I didn't know it was a different solar system. Even the homeless are different here. I was sitting in the park eating lunch with some guys I work with. One of the guys told me he offered a homeless guy a bologna sandwich once and he turned it down. Turns out he didn't like bologna. He even asked him if he had anything better. I thought that was pretty funny, but nothing could've been funnier than seeing it in person. About five minutes later a guy walked up to us and asked for some food. I was about finished with my lunch, and the other guy had just finished his burrito, but one of the guys had a bag full of bagel chips. He offered the man a couple bagel chips, whereupon the homeless man bent over to peek inside the bag. He looked at my friend perplexed and asked, "What the hell is a bagel chip? I've never heard of that."
To which my friend responded, "Well, it's pieces of bagel, cut, fried and made into a chip."
The homeless guy peeked into the bag yet again, turned his head and said, "I'll pass. I've never heard of that shit."
I was shocked. A pretentious homeless person? He turned his nose up at bagel chips—fried bread. Maybe he was trying to cut out the carbs or something. And it was so nonchalant—like he wasn't even sweating it. Like bagel chips were beneath him. It was almost as if he couldn't believe he'd been offered some no-name snack. Atlanta homeless will eat your shoe strings if you offer it to them. What was the guy expecting, filet mignon? Did he have something specific that he wanted? I think I'm going to put a menu by my feet when I go to the park—like the ones restaurants put in the window so you know if you want to go in or not. Then the homeless guys can window shop and only ask me if they like what I'm serving that day.
My mom used to always tell me, "You're not starving. If you were starving you'd eat anything. You're not even hungry. You don't know what hungry is. You just want something to eat."
Well I guess this homeless guy just wanted something to eat, and he was treating the park like a drive through window. He pulled up at McDonald's looking for a Whopper and didn't find it. He probably just pulled up to another window until he found somebody with something that he liked.
To which my friend responded, "Well, it's pieces of bagel, cut, fried and made into a chip."
The homeless guy peeked into the bag yet again, turned his head and said, "I'll pass. I've never heard of that shit."
I was shocked. A pretentious homeless person? He turned his nose up at bagel chips—fried bread. Maybe he was trying to cut out the carbs or something. And it was so nonchalant—like he wasn't even sweating it. Like bagel chips were beneath him. It was almost as if he couldn't believe he'd been offered some no-name snack. Atlanta homeless will eat your shoe strings if you offer it to them. What was the guy expecting, filet mignon? Did he have something specific that he wanted? I think I'm going to put a menu by my feet when I go to the park—like the ones restaurants put in the window so you know if you want to go in or not. Then the homeless guys can window shop and only ask me if they like what I'm serving that day.
My mom used to always tell me, "You're not starving. If you were starving you'd eat anything. You're not even hungry. You don't know what hungry is. You just want something to eat."
Well I guess this homeless guy just wanted something to eat, and he was treating the park like a drive through window. He pulled up at McDonald's looking for a Whopper and didn't find it. He probably just pulled up to another window until he found somebody with something that he liked.
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