CAUTION: May contain gay commentary on professional baseball, national politics, public education, showtunes, and other manly pursuits.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Because the world is run by the man
Oh, you don't know the man??
Today, the man is the Student Account department at my school. They are a collection of ladies who, perhaps not themselves as people but certainly as bureaucratic drones, have a lot to say about how my financial aid money should be spent. To make a very long story short, I won't be moving in to my new place until next Friday at the earliest. Yeah, I'm pissed.
I know it's not their fault...they think they're doing the right thing, zero-ing out all my accounts and so forth. Theirs is the problem with a lot of the public (and private) bureaucracies that have become too large to be useful...the right hand has no clue what the left hand is doing. I have more money coming down the pipe. It will pay for all my debts to the school. What was leftover from this round of loans, then, was going to pay for my lease. These sweet-sounding, Midwest-nice ladies on the phone at Student Accounts didn't know about the second round of student loans coming later next month, so they and their actuarial overlords just gobbled up everything now, including my rent money. Ironically, this is what I've been jamming to in my car all day...
Now I guess it's all snark.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Well shit.
ESPN: 11-player, 3-team deal sends Cardinals CF Colby Rasmus to Blue Jays, White Sox SP Edwin Jackson to Cardinals, and Jays 3B Mark Teahen to the Sox. So the Toronto Blue Jays just turned 4 spare parts into a 24-year old CF with ballooning talent. UUUUUUGH!
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Hot Stove
I know at least one fan will be highly disappointed if the Cards trade Colby Rasmus.
Personally, I wouldn't mind it, so long as we get quality in return. The Rays have reportedly been interested in Colby for a while now, and they have a wealth of young pitchers. I especially like Jeremy Hellickson, currently a starter for the major-league ballclub with a record of 9-7 in 18 starts and a FIP (Fielding Independent Pitching...a more accurate measurement of a pitcher's success than the traditional Earned Run Average) of 4.42 in his rookie year, and Matt Moore, the Rays' stud prospect just recently promoted to the AAA minor-league club. Hellickson is probably the likelier candidate...lower ceiling than Moore and a couple years older.
Colby's stats on the year don't knock you down. His OPS (On-Base Plus Slugging Average) is sitting just above MLB-average at .753 while his BABIP (Batting Average on Balls in Play) is .284, a full 70 points lower than his season mark last year. Some of his troubles this year can be explained by luck...he's hitting fewer line drives and more ground balls this year, but he is also getting a lot fewer homers out of his fly balls. With 14 doubles and a whopping 6 triples on the season, the power is there...it's just not producing runs like it did last year.
Honestly, if we do wind up trading Colby for another starter, we'll probably just be trading one worrisome problem for another. Adding a starter would send Kyle McClellan back to the bullpen, so that's a plus, but unfortunately we don't have another stud centerfielder to take Colby's place. Jon Jay saw his production take a major hit last year when he became the everyday rightfielder in Ryan Ludwick's absence. I like the Chief Justice coming off the bench (pun intended) but not in an everyday role.
On a happier note, Westbrook performed beautifully tonight, pitching out of every jam he got himself into. This recent stretch of his where he has showed more confidence in his breaking and off-speed pitches has been fun to watch. He's locating the ball much better now than earlier in the year, keeping it down to avoid careless mistakes that wind up getting rocked out of the park. Albert's homer tonight was a homer, no matter what Rick Horton says. And I am choosing to ignore any news of Berkman's shoulder until the mothership tells me otherwise.
This is Jax, the basset hound pup with the adorably floppy ears. He belongs to a fraternity brother of mine who was out of town today. He asked me to come dogsitting, and really, with a face like that, who could refuse?
No Hot Stove stuff tomorrow unless there are new developments...
Personally, I wouldn't mind it, so long as we get quality in return. The Rays have reportedly been interested in Colby for a while now, and they have a wealth of young pitchers. I especially like Jeremy Hellickson, currently a starter for the major-league ballclub with a record of 9-7 in 18 starts and a FIP (Fielding Independent Pitching...a more accurate measurement of a pitcher's success than the traditional Earned Run Average) of 4.42 in his rookie year, and Matt Moore, the Rays' stud prospect just recently promoted to the AAA minor-league club. Hellickson is probably the likelier candidate...lower ceiling than Moore and a couple years older.
Colby's stats on the year don't knock you down. His OPS (On-Base Plus Slugging Average) is sitting just above MLB-average at .753 while his BABIP (Batting Average on Balls in Play) is .284, a full 70 points lower than his season mark last year. Some of his troubles this year can be explained by luck...he's hitting fewer line drives and more ground balls this year, but he is also getting a lot fewer homers out of his fly balls. With 14 doubles and a whopping 6 triples on the season, the power is there...it's just not producing runs like it did last year.
Honestly, if we do wind up trading Colby for another starter, we'll probably just be trading one worrisome problem for another. Adding a starter would send Kyle McClellan back to the bullpen, so that's a plus, but unfortunately we don't have another stud centerfielder to take Colby's place. Jon Jay saw his production take a major hit last year when he became the everyday rightfielder in Ryan Ludwick's absence. I like the Chief Justice coming off the bench (pun intended) but not in an everyday role.
On a happier note, Westbrook performed beautifully tonight, pitching out of every jam he got himself into. This recent stretch of his where he has showed more confidence in his breaking and off-speed pitches has been fun to watch. He's locating the ball much better now than earlier in the year, keeping it down to avoid careless mistakes that wind up getting rocked out of the park. Albert's homer tonight was a homer, no matter what Rick Horton says. And I am choosing to ignore any news of Berkman's shoulder until the mothership tells me otherwise.
This is Jax, the basset hound pup with the adorably floppy ears. He belongs to a fraternity brother of mine who was out of town today. He asked me to come dogsitting, and really, with a face like that, who could refuse?
No Hot Stove stuff tomorrow unless there are new developments...
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
I'd rather be at the ballpark...
Busch Stadium...baseball heaven.
Every time I go to a baseball game, I buy two things: A scorecard and a hot dog. Sometimes two hot dogs. But that's really all I need. I guess you could call me a fanatic minimalist. I don't need beer so badly as to pay a whole hour's wages for just one. I don't need to visit the team store and drop an entire paycheck for a windbreaker. I certainly don't need those ridiculous phosphorescent slushy-drinks that dangle from the vendor's rack like my dad's collection of '80s neckties. Just give me a simple lineup card and a sky clear for baseball.
I wasn't at a baseball game today. I was at work, which really didn't make today much different from so many other days this summer. I work at a fake Mexican restaurant for white people who like to think they're cultured. The food comes from a company called "U.S. Foods." The place is owned by a native Iranian who moved here after the Shah was deposed. The closest we've ever come to hiring an actual Mexican was one guy who was half-Cuban, but he was an asshole, so he didn't last very long.
I think some of the servers don't trust me like they used to. A couple of them have been watching me much more closely when they come to get their tips, and a few others are just yelling at me a lot more. One of the other hosts noticed this last Friday and asked me what I must've done to get them so riled up. To be absolutely clear, I don't steal tips. I don't work for tips, but if I did, I wouldn't be working in this place because the customers are cheap. It's probably because the customers are so cheap that a couple of the servers are growing more paranoid.
It's not a glamorous job by any means, but it pays for my car and my phone. Student loans cover the rest. I'm moving into a new place next week, closer to campus and in a nicer neighborhood. Which reminds me...I still need to find a desk and a bed frame before next Monday...the desk would at least give me a proper place to write my pedagogy papers, and I'm sure a bed frame would be much more impressive to any gentleman callers than just a twin mattress on the floor...
The gentlemen haven't been calling lately. It's just been a long(ish) line of douchebags typical of the rural Illinois gay scene. I think when classes pick up again I'm just gonna have to grit my teeth and look for a guy from Chicago. He'll probably be a Cubs fan...seems like they all are...but hopefully he'll have one or two redeeming qualities, like a proper tenor range or a tasteful sensibility toward beer.
The Cards play Houston again tomorrow, Westbrook on the mound. I won't be sleeping easy tonight...
Every time I go to a baseball game, I buy two things: A scorecard and a hot dog. Sometimes two hot dogs. But that's really all I need. I guess you could call me a fanatic minimalist. I don't need beer so badly as to pay a whole hour's wages for just one. I don't need to visit the team store and drop an entire paycheck for a windbreaker. I certainly don't need those ridiculous phosphorescent slushy-drinks that dangle from the vendor's rack like my dad's collection of '80s neckties. Just give me a simple lineup card and a sky clear for baseball.
I wasn't at a baseball game today. I was at work, which really didn't make today much different from so many other days this summer. I work at a fake Mexican restaurant for white people who like to think they're cultured. The food comes from a company called "U.S. Foods." The place is owned by a native Iranian who moved here after the Shah was deposed. The closest we've ever come to hiring an actual Mexican was one guy who was half-Cuban, but he was an asshole, so he didn't last very long.
I think some of the servers don't trust me like they used to. A couple of them have been watching me much more closely when they come to get their tips, and a few others are just yelling at me a lot more. One of the other hosts noticed this last Friday and asked me what I must've done to get them so riled up. To be absolutely clear, I don't steal tips. I don't work for tips, but if I did, I wouldn't be working in this place because the customers are cheap. It's probably because the customers are so cheap that a couple of the servers are growing more paranoid.
It's not a glamorous job by any means, but it pays for my car and my phone. Student loans cover the rest. I'm moving into a new place next week, closer to campus and in a nicer neighborhood. Which reminds me...I still need to find a desk and a bed frame before next Monday...the desk would at least give me a proper place to write my pedagogy papers, and I'm sure a bed frame would be much more impressive to any gentleman callers than just a twin mattress on the floor...
The gentlemen haven't been calling lately. It's just been a long(ish) line of douchebags typical of the rural Illinois gay scene. I think when classes pick up again I'm just gonna have to grit my teeth and look for a guy from Chicago. He'll probably be a Cubs fan...seems like they all are...but hopefully he'll have one or two redeeming qualities, like a proper tenor range or a tasteful sensibility toward beer.
The Cards play Houston again tomorrow, Westbrook on the mound. I won't be sleeping easy tonight...
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