People Sighting

Plaxico Burress was at the Nets game tonight. When I went back to the press box after halftime, we made quick eye contact. I think he wanted one of the Bavarian Dutch-Style pretzels I had brought back from the press room.

Burress is the newest New York Giant. He looks like he could be a basketballer, though, since he is really tall and thin. He used to play wide receiver for the Pittsburgh Steelers, but became a free agent and came to the Giants for a whole crap-load of money.

The dude was pretty mellow throughout the game. He had in his dreads and was wearing a white skullcap under his sideways Yankees hat. Buress is supposed to meet the local media on Thursday for the first time, but I will not be there. I shall be working on the continuing disappearance of Fat Riz during that time.

So far, it is moving along. I have been running fairly regularly, but not spinning as much as I should. The pilates thing seems to be working well, also. The more I do it, the more I seem to get it. It is kind of addicting, as well, this whole learning-how-to-control-your-core thing.

Last week I made my return to kickboxing. Quincey asked to partner up with me, and that girl can really punch and kick. She is one of the best partners with whom I have worked. The others - well, you know who you are ;-).

I am wondering to myself, Are you supposed to punctuate the end of a sentence that includes a winking smiley? I put the period there just in case, although it makes the winker look like he has a zit or something.

The Strat season continues on Thursday, also. I have not written much about Strat because it bores all but maybe two of the people who might read this log. It should be noted that Vanishing James is my partner in this new Strat League. We went 3-4 in our inaugural series.

Enough about that.

Vince Carter and Jason Kidd were both in a really good mood after the Nets' easy win tonight over the Clippers.

In the first quarter, Kidd was on a fast break when he laid the ball off the glass for Carter, who caught it mid-flight and threw down a sick jam. Carter made a similar pass to himself for a wicked jam in the All-Star Game, but when he tried it Monday night in Charlotte, he was thrawrted.

The beat writers were joking with Kidd, since I guess they have been egging him on to make the same play, but from HALF COURT! Carter said he is sure Kidd could do it, because Kidd is so great, and Carter is confident in his own ability to be able to catch it and throw it down. Kidd joked he would try it one day and would blame the writers for forcing him to do it if it did not work.

I really have grown to like the NBA players this season, covering a significant amount of pro hoop on-site for the first time. Most of them are pretty pleasant, although always having to go to the winners' locker room helps. Carter and Kidd are very accomodating. I have to rank Pau Gasol from Memphis as the nicest guy, though. Kevin Garnett from Minnesota seemed pretty cool, and Paul Pierce of the Celtics was not my favorite (I talked to him after his team lost).

Hockey games are the ones I have covered the most. Thanks to the lockout, there were none for me to cover this year, however. Cest la vie, I guess (sic?). I usually do not use French words when writing.

Martin Brodeur is always a good interview after the game. He listens to your questions and is not afraid to give you a real answer. Bobby Holik does it almost to a fault. He is not afraid to call out his teammates (not individually, though) if he thinks someone is not putting out a maximum effort. But a good journalist can usually figure out who he means.

Ken Daneyko was always a stand-up guy for the Devils, making himself available after every game, regardless of the outcome. He also was forthright during the times where he was battling personal demons. He is the genuine article.

I am venturing back into baseball coverage in a week or so, hitting Yankee Stadium as a professional for the first time. It should be interesting. I heard the Yankee Stadium press box has gone wireless! That is a big thing. At the Meadowlands, you have to connect via a phone line, so if you do not have AOL or some posting system, then you're out of luck. I would have thought the Meadowlands would be an easy place for wireless access, especially since some NBA and NHL arenas have it for the fans.

Easy or not, they do not yet have it.

Oh yeah, so Fat Riz has slowly been going away. I have my good days and my bad days. The carb battle is hurting me right now. If I went South Beach Stage I and kept up with my workouts, Fat Riz would just vanish right away. Maybe I just do not have the balls to do it. But I might.

The pants had gotten a little more loose the other day, but today they were a little too snug for my liking. I think sneaking some cookies, ice cream, pasta and other sweets at my sister's house on Easter and Tuesday knocked me back a notch, although I did run a personal-record 7 1/2 miles Monday. Just need some more focus and discipline.

I have not been having much coffee lately. The beans I have been using in the Grind-and-Brew have not been making me want java, but at the Nets games the coffee tastes so good. I knocked back a couple of big cups tonight (decaf, almost always), the first was used to wash down a little piece of cake (another no-no).

Chicken. Why do I always eat chicken for lunch on the day I am covering a Nets game? They always have it there for the dinner spread. And it is always good. The pre-game food for the Nets, while not spectacular, is always a solid bet.

It's a good experience to cover their games. Seeing people in person, working, that you normally see on television or hear on the radio is an experience most people never get. I actually take time to appreciate the work people are putting in and to assess the dynamics that are at work among the media hordes in the locker room or media room.

Speaking of the media hordes, among them is the Yes Network reporter Leslie Boghosian. I have not said Word One to her at any of the games, but for some reason she seems very familiar to me (not from a being-on-TV perspective).

I might have somehow known her from back in the day, but I just cannot remember. If anyone can figure out how I might know her, please tell me. Maybe there is some Armenian connection via Ted. Of course, Ted cannot remember a name to save his life, but sometimes he surprises me.

To rehash: Plaxico at Nets game, Fat Riz too many carbs, NBA players are pretty cool, NHL guys are cool when they're around, where in the world is Leslie Boghosian from?

I'm out.

Things Are Working Out

I have no scale, and I have not been watching the food intake too critically. But I have worked out four straight days and have sights on continuing just about every day in the near future.

We're talking about a running-driven mini boot camp, but not nearly that serious. The goal is to get back into shape, shed some poundage, and be able to run some 5K races. I ran a couple last year and enjoyed it. The Draft Day 5K at Giants Stadium is a definite on my schedule, and I would recommend it.

Fat Riz is still around, but I have taken the initial step toward putting him into hibernation. Results are not yet visible in these few days, but pilates felt different today. I think I'm starting to get it. The running comes and goes. Sometimes it's hard to get through the miles on the treadmill.

The big move was getting back into the top-level spinning routine. Spinning can really drive you into shape, if it is done right. For all the workouts I do -- kickboxing, running -- I never get the body working as much as I do when I spin. I am on that bike and turning over the pedals and the sweat just pours down.

The reward for a good workout on a Wednesday night first was Survivor, and now King of Queens, with Yes, Dear to follow. It's hard to pay attention and appreciate the full comedic genius when you're blogging while it's on.

Commercial. Doug just won the chicken wing eating contest. He received a replica of the championship belt and told us the real belt resides in Cleveland. Simply, I am riveted.

Doug also made a Kirby Puckett reference. That drew from me a guffaw. When watching my favorite comedies, I tend to guffaw more than the average person. I'm not sure why, but I think sometimes I do it just to get my wife's attention. Actually, I think most of the things I do all day are designed to get her attention.

She looks like she is falling asleep on the couch next to me right now. I think I am going to just say fuck in a normal voice and see if it makes her open her eyes.

I said it twice, and it worked neither time. She is beginning to the sleep breathing, so I guess I am too late to the party.

On Yes, Dear, I like the Jean Louisa Kelly chick (the one with the curly hair who plays Kim). I think it's funny that I never knew her name but always thought she reminded me of Julia Louis-Dreyfus. Those names are similar.

Weird.

Syria fouled Julius. Loyal seal junkie.

More weird. Those are anagrams for Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Jean Louisa Kelly.

"Oh, there they are."

"What's that, Joe?"

"The straws for which I have been grasping over the last few paragraphs."

Yeah, this entry sucks. I was dying to post late last night, but the blogspot was down or something and I could not get on. I was going to do a stream of consciousness thing, and I thought I could do it tonight, but it just is not there. Maybe if I kept banging away at the keys, something would come.

However, I have to be up and out very early tomorrow, so bedtime is coming soon. Before hitting the sack, I have to take out the damn garbage. I swear, that is like the one chore that never seems to be anything less than sucky. It's probably the easiest and most mindless thing that is continuously repeated, but it seems a lot harder than it is.

Time for NCAA predictions: I am going out on a limb and picking North Carolina, although it is completely without conviction. I put two sheets into the pool at my old office, and have North Carolina winning on both. My respective Final Fours are North Carolina, Duke, Oklahoma State and Wake Forest (I have Oklahoma State in the finals); and North Carolina, Oklahoma, Illinois and Gonzaga, with North Carolina beating Illinois.

During his postgame press conference tonight, Nets coach Lawrence Frank did not break stride in his remarks when he said "Bless you" to one of the writers that sneezed. Nice. Next week, it could be me sneezing in front of him as my next run of freelance assignments is coming up.

Ah, I have denigrated into sports, and my wife (still asleep) keeps scratching her nose. I am going to wake her up now and bring her upstairs into bed.

I'mOut.

[Thou art] as fat as butter

[Thou art] as fat as butter.

(Taken from: Henry IV, part I, courtesy of http://www.pangloss.com/seidel/Shaker/index.html)

Yes, right now I feel as fat as butter. It is a weird thing for a guy to admit, but Fat Riz has been back for a while. He needs to go away now.

So the last week I have been trying to watch the eating, especially during the day. But it gets hard when freakin' Yahoo! decides to just give away ice cream one day. Yeah, that happens.

Brothel on My Block

The fuzz busted a brothel near my house this week.

What the hell is my nice, little neighborhood coming to? How could these people do this? This sort of thing belongs in Nevada, where it's legal, and in the Clinton White House. Not here.

Slutville was owned by a funeral home, too! The people who own the funeral home next door apparently leased out the house to the brothel people and had no idea what was going. Yeah, right.

Of course, most similar landlords are violating trust like crazy, keying their way into renters' lairs while no one is around. But the peeps taking care of the dead either looked the other way or are, like their normal clientele, a little dead in the head.

I expect more from those who bring commerce into my oversized hamlet. They're responsible for having a clue what goes on. They should have not rented or leased their secondary house to people who were going to run a brothel. Period. Can't happen. End of story.

A brothel, for God's sake! I have six nieces a nephews in this town! This is no joke.

Not only that, but they also did the old trick of painting the door red, apparently a classic sign for a house of ill repute. A few years ago we painted our front door, of course, red. But my wife says it's actually wineberry and not red, so we're OK.

Maybe not. Maybe the neighbors who knew that red door meant brothel have been laughing at us (or very curious about us) for some time. A red door in the seedy part of town in the Old West? I am thinking whorehouse. A red door a few blocks away from where I live? I am thinking they have the same taste as us.

Remind me to never judge.