Ichiro

From The New York Times:

As Suzuki nears a record ninth straight season of 200 hits, he seems little concerned with how his unique approach is embraced by a society that digs the long ball.

“Chicks who dig home runs aren’t the ones who appeal to me,” he said. “I think there’s sexiness in infield hits because they require technique. I’d rather impress the chicks with my technique than with my brute strength. Then, every now and then, just to show I can do that, too, I might flirt a little by hitting one out.”

I don’t get how anyone could ever say that he is a “potential” Hall of Famer. He should be a unanimous first ballot choice. He’s one of the best pure hitters ever. His ability to consistently get these weird infield hits is so underrated. He’s won an MVP, batting titles, plays great defense, and lead the Mariners to the record for most wins in a regular season back in 2001.

I’d say he and Rickey Henderson are the best leadoff hitters ever.

Ichiro is the man.

Just Found Out

Edward Kennedy and Ted Kennedy are the same person.

Interesting.

Times Are Tough, And That Includes Parsley

Parsley is the “times are tough” garnish, if you will.

Oh, you will.

Avid readers/stalkers may recall my essay on the unnecessary amount of parsley in a bunch. While everyone else was sitting on the couch twiddling their thumbs, I stepped up and called for parsley portion control.

How much parsley does one need? I asked. I pleaded with parsley bunchers to show some restraint.

Okay, so today I went to the farmer’s market and got supplies with which to make my famous gazpacho.

I bought some tomatoes and asked the guy to grab me some parsley. When he handed it to me, I was struck by its size.

No, it wasn’t an enormous bunch. It was a small one. Actually, it was the exact amount I needed.

And yet, I felt cheated, wondering why parsley bunches are half as big as they used to be. I felt like a chump for paying a dollar for an amount of parsley previously valued at fifty cents.

Of course, I sucked it up. I said, The recession is hitting everybody. And at least now parsley portions are under control.

Oh hey, what’s up

Forgot About Laun-Dre

Yo yo yo.

What the fuck is going on.

I’m doing laundry once a week, while you’re storing quarters in your beak.

When I say FREE LAUNDRY, I’m not campaigning for a cause. I’m telling you my situation. Laundry costs nothing over where I live – how about where you live? What? You say it’s free? Do you pay for electricity? Then it’s not free, motherfucker. I don’t pay for Jack P. Shit. Bitch.

I already told you this. Now I’m braggin.

So what. What you gonna do? You gonna put your head down and cry? You gonna say, “But… but… but… this is unfair!” Shut the fuck up. I deserve this. I used to walk eight goddam slimy ass blocks to do my laundry. What’d you do? Walk three blocks, including one where you cut across a yard?

BIG DEAL. FUCK YOU.

I’m the only Laundromack in these parts.

You forgot + I reminded you = Now you know.

End of equation.

Now I’ma get back to my morning paper.

I Am Unable to Walk Around and Brush My Teeth

Is multitasking overrated? I don’t know. Probably not.

Mike told me that if you do little things while brushing your teeth – say you need to hang up your pants, you hang them up while brushing your teeth, instead of brushing your teeth and then hanging them up – if you do this, over the course of your life you will save a week, or something. I forget the time amount. It could be a year. Maybe even TEN.

Okay, okay, relax.

When I try to walk around and do little chores while brushing my teeth, all that happens is I brush the same spot over and over. Then I get concerned that toothpaste and saliva will fall on the floor.

That reminds me, one time when I was 19 and had just gotten off the phone with my girlfriend, she called me right back and said, “I love the way you brush your teeth, the toothpaste gets everywhere and it’s disgusting!” Then she hung up.

So maybe it’s just me. At least she was into it.

Does anyone else have this problem?

Write back with your thoughts. No matter how late. Don’t worry about waking me up. I’d rather listen to you than sleep.

Because you are my friend.

Two Pictures That Give Me Endless Pleasure

No, they are not pictures of gaping assholes (which for the record I dislike), or any otherwise nude ladies. They are these:

A sad white blob and a happy white camel. I think that’s a camel.

Compliments of the beautiful Gabriella.