Monday, April 17, 2006
Of course I had class today, since Patriot's Day doesn't exist anywhere in the known universe outside of Boston, and U of M doesn't believe in Easter Monday either (which works for me, since they equally don't believe in Passover). My morning classes ended at 11:30, and, after stopping to get coffee (vital) and a billion more travel packs of tissues (sadly vital... *cough cough sneeze sniffle*), I staggered back to see if I could catch some of the Sox game.
I don't like using MLB.tv if I'm doing too many other things on the computer at the same time since it makes it buffer like a dying wombat, so I fired up the Gameday broadcast, just to see what was going on. I kept half an eye on that while doing work and gathering materials for class tonight, which I have to leave for in half an hour because my partner is a worthless untrustworthy human being. Just as an aside.
At one point I clicked over to see what was going on, and saw that Julian Tavarez was pitching. Since this was Gameday, that meant that his mug shot was duly displayed.
I nearly fell off my seat. I've always thought it, but it's even more startling when you see it sort of sprung on you: THE DUDE LOOKS LIKE AN ALIEN. A violent, insane, tempermental alien. The kind of alien who would beam cows up into his spaceship and perform all sorts of experiments on them, like to see how cowflesh reacted to his alien fist when he slammed it into their bovine heads.
Anyways, it was nice to see someone other than Papi get the clutch hit, for once, so big fat fake holiday thanks to you, Mark Loretta. This is not to say that Papi did not contribute, because he went yard. Again. Because that's what he does. I'm still pleased about that contract. Really my only concern is durability because Papi, love him as I surely do, is not the sveltest of players. Which is fine for right now, but it's hard to tell how he'll hold up as he ages over the length of this contract. It's entirely possible, of course, that he'll be like Roger Clemens and just keep on truckin' regardless. And when I say 'like Roger Clemens' I mean in physique, not personality or attitude or general level of evil.
Man, I can't wait to get back East, where I can actually watch these games. There's little comfort in being in Michigan, because it doesn't matter that I love the Tigers, the damn games aren't televised half the time anyways.
I went to the last game of the Michigan/Ohio State series on Sunday, despite the fact that I sniffled through it like a huge sickly loser. Photos are here if you'd like to see them, but I'll probably be writing about it when I've got a little more time anyhow.
Oh, and on a completely non-sport-related note, the End of the Year show awards were announced a couple days ago and I, um, won an award. Which is entirely shocking, because I never win those sorts of things. I won it for an approximately 5 foot long print of this photo (click for big):
It was the sort of thing I submitted to the show just on a whim, because I'd already had to get the damn thing printed out for my photography class, and if you spend that much money getting something printed large-scale, you may as well use it again, right? Plus it had taken a bleedin' long time to draw all that crap on myself, especially the bones on the back of my right hand, because I had to draw them with my left hand and I am not in the least tiny bit lefthanded.
This is the third year I've submitted something to the End of the Year show, and the first time I've won anything (although, in all fairness, there was no way in hell I was gonna win for what I submitted freshman year. Still, I thought last year's offering was pretty good). I'm still very surprised about it all. This image, incidentally, is one of my most popular photos on Flickr, which says something about the good taste of Flickrites, I'm sure.
Any incoherence here I fully attribute to the fact that I am ill and feel like cat pee right now.
Labels: art, baseball, Julian Tavarez, MLB, offtopic, Red Sox