GAME FOUR, BABY

Today is game four. In the fourth, with 11:41 to go, Pistons are up by 19. Is that right? It must be. It's too quiet in the arena for it to be a mistake. The Pistons are playing great ball? (Okay, yeah, I hope so.) Or, are the Spurs just crappy tonight? (That seems more likely.)

Either way, I'm pretty sure the win (which seems likely for the Pistons, yeah!) is due 100% to these ladies:



Okay, maybe 50% to them, and 50% to some dark magic that has influenced the Pistons to get the offensive rebound once in a while.



I wanted to do some live blogging on the score tonight, but it seems to be a snooze fest of a game. The Pistons are up by TWENTY-FOUR POINTS. What the hell? This is lunacy and very boring. There are about 9 minutes left, so who knows. I mean, I want the Pistons to win, but I'd at least like to justify my lonely evening at home by being able to truthfully say to people that I was engrossed in the game. Instead, yawn. Go Pistons, blah, blah, blah.

Follow Your Bliss

Sometimes, happy is easy to find -- it may, for instance, slap you in the face as you walk down the street (see the post about the cute little girls loving on Louis). Somesimes you have to work to find happy. Sometimes, you can order happy in the mail and it comes to your office just when you've forgotten you've ordered it. That's what happened today when I went to the receptionist's desk and saw a package for me. "What", I thought, "can this be?" This is what it was:



I love this shirt. Every time I look at it, I just laugh and laugh. Even when I'm sober. You need to get one, too, so go to Snazzy Town and buy one. Now.

Truth in Advertising

Hey! This looks like fun!

From www.cinemasterpieces.com

Too bad it's a lie. Heat ... killing .... me ... argh.

The Deep End of the Ocean

Well, I am just recently able to admit that I don't swim in the deep end. No, I'm completely shallow, which is okay for me, but I expect more of you, FYI. For example, this man is pretty much the only reason I watch CSI Miami:



Now, looking at him (Adam Rodriguez), you'd probably agree with me that that's a pretty good reason to watch a show starring David Caruso, right? I mean, David Caruso? I'm not critic, but it seems to me like he can't act at all. We got fooled by NYPD. But, that non-modulating voice thing? The thing where he makes a statement that is really a question, but you don't know it because, well ... he's not such a good actor? It gets on my nerves.

Anyway, the show's not nearly as good as the original, but Adam, and these two cutie patooties make me happy:

Khandi Alexander, courtesy www.imdb.com


Emily Procter, courtesy www.emilyprocter.com