knifefight in BK

stench. magnet.

The phenomenon of incredibly smelly, batshit crazy, or otherwise disturbed people being inexplicably drawn to stand by me, talk to me, or follow me around the gym is well documented at this point. So I wish I could be more incredulous about the following assault on my olfactory rights, but it's just kind of like, "Oh, wow, another person who smells like they died at least 2 weeks ago, and look, they're headed right toward ME again." But this is worth mentioning because stinking up a macho dude-filled boxing gym is kind of like being the hunk of maggot filled-cheese that makes the OTHER hunks of maggot-filled cheese gag and dry heave. So I'm at the gym, having a lovely time with my trainer, doing some pushups next to the ring, when a stench wafts by and slaps me in the face so hard I almost fell down. There are smells in this world so specific in their fetidness that they become burned permanently into some lost corner of your brain, and the very nanosecond you smell them again, you know EXACTLY what they are, even before you turn to run or vomit or whatever. DIRTY BOXING HANDWRAPS AND GLOVES ARE ONE OF THOSE SMELLS. I'm sure I've discussed this before (and I'm just too lazy to look through my posts and find out when), because you know what?

good job, beefy men!

You've probably noticed by now that the Giants won their Fun Happy Bowl, much to the chagrin of Mr. Gisele and his pals. Justin was really excited about this event (notice his affection toward Eli Manning, and Eli's coyness) because he's been a Giants fan forever, and our pal Dave was excited because he has to love the Giants now that he lives here. I'd like to share why, as someone who only understands football in the sense that I pick my fantasy league based on player names and if they're smiling in their team photo, I'm pleased about the Giants being the 2008 Super Football Champion Wonder Stars of USA.
1. Michael Strahan is PRECIOUS. In CAPITAL LETTERS. I want to hug him.
2. Plaxico cried! Awwww.
3. Osi Umenyiora may or may not like to poop on a lady at times. I'd pause to find that fact offensive, but it's too busy being hilarious.
4. That one mid-tackle, back-bend-and-helmet-catch thing was pretty fun, and I actually paused while making cookies to watch the replay 82 times. Great job! Super bendy head catch! Number 1!
5. I will bet you $50 Canadian that Eli Manning says or has said "aww, shucks," in all seriousness. Also, his brother makes nice commercials about cheering for insurance adjusters, which is thoughtful. Thanks Team Manning (Teammmmmanning)!
6. I don't like The New England Mister Giseles.
Go sports!

BRONX WINS

I totally wanted to post the video Justin and I took of the thrilling last 2 minutes of the Bronx/Queens Championship bout, but I don't understand the YouTube/why the YouYube hates my Mac, so... Here's a blurry picture. The Gotham Girls Roller Derby may well be the greatest sports league ever. It was an unbelievably exciting game (I'm not just saying that because we were in the posh VIP seats for Justin's birthday)(WOOOOOO VIP!) and the last 10 minutes were unreal because it could've gone either way. But the Bronx won, 95-90, and I was super excited because many of the ladies who've won my heart during Skills Night are on the Bronx Gridlock. YAY GRIDLOCK!

why didn't anyone tell me about clinton portis?

I'm not entirely certain what led me to the discovery that Clinton Portis is crazy, but it happened, and the world is a better place now. Frankly, if I made millions of dollars for playing a game in front of thousands of adoring fans, I'd probably wear a lot of hilarious wigs to post-game media conferences as well. I appreciate these wacky antics because I find them more entertaining than the actual game of football. Look at him! He's dressed up as his own version of Napoleon Dynamite! He actually had a shirt made that reads "Vote for Santana" (Santana Moss, brother of the awesomely-named Sinorice Moss) and that says just about everything I personally need to know about the consideration and forethought Mr. Portis afforded his "characters."

D'Brickashaw, D'Brickashaw, D'Brickashaw!

This man is named D'Brickashaw Ferguson. Apparently, his name is a creative variation on a character's name from "The Thorn Birds." And huzzah to that. Football has some of the most interesting names in our nation's sports (sorry, Joba), including both a Taco and a Pork Chop. I'd like to share with you a few of the names I find most compelling in the NFL and possibly the country (sorry, Mormons)...
PLAXICO BURRESS (it's pronounced PLEXico, stupid)
TIKI and RONDE BARBER (they're so cute! twice!)
EDGERRIN JAMES (co-owns an indoor go-cart track in arizona - awww!)
VISANTHE SHIANCOE (my favorite TE draft pick)
TARVARIS JACKSON (i love the t-jack)
LAVERANUES COLES (he just seems like such a nice gentleman)
TROY POLAMALU (mostly gets my vote for his beautiful, flowing hair)
CARNELL "CADILLAC" WILLIAMS (i hope he's friends with ronde barber)
ROCK CARTWRIGHT (best 70's porn/action star name)
VINNIE TESTAVERDE ("testaverde" makes me giggle)
ALGE CRUMPLER (come on)
HINES WARD (hines!)
Before you mock this silliness, know that my fantasy football team (Lady Batterley's Shovers) is the only undefeated team in our league, and I chose my roster pretty much entirely on how much I enjoyed their names. Think about it. Giants, I'm free to coach whenever you need me. I'm doing this for OSI UMENYIORA, SINORICE MOSS, and Michael Strahan (regardless of what his heartless, gold-digging ex says - look at that face! Who could steal $15mil from that face?).

...and then the BFF steps in to represent tha' west coast

Right, so we here in NYC have the magic purple-clad elf-run old school quad roller skating class, whereas in SF they have the awesome terror (and totally unmined hipster trend!)(take note!)(do it now before it's "totally last year") that is TRAPEZE LESSONS. My favorite part of all this, other than the fact that my best friend sent me this totally nonchalant email about taking a trapeze lesson (like: "hey, I'm making some squash for dinner, and I took a trapeze lesson that may have given me irreversible brain damage, and I'm still cat-sitting..."), is that she took the lesson BECAUSE HER BOSS IS OBSESSED WITH TRAPEZE LESSONS. I'm jealous. Not of the trapeze thing, I think I'd probably cry a lot, but of the fact that her boss is obsessed with trapeze lessons. The technically-coolest boss I've ever had wasn't even obsessed with anything half as interesting - "oooh, I'm kind of pathetically fixated on garage rock, look at me." BORING. The sad part is that, while Nicole looks carefree and totally "one with the trapeze" in that picture there, it apparently made her VIOLENTLY ILL. So while she recovers from her body's rejection of the very idea of trapezery (what would you call it?) and works on her anti-trapeze public service campaign ("This is your brain, this is your brain on trapeze lessons..."), let's all use this as compelling evidence that Nicole should move to New York, where our quirky hobbies are less death-defying and more disco-friendly, ok? Thanks.

i love my roller skating class so much it almost hurts.

This is my roller skating instructor. This is his website. HE IS AWESOME. Now that we've answered the important questions, let's answer the less important questions, like "Why are you in a roller skating class?" The answer is obviously "Why AREN'T you in a roller skating class?" The more useful answer is probably that I done seen me some roller derby majesty, and I was inspired to try to relive the glamour and coordination I had as a totally skating-fixated 7 year old (which may or may not have had something to do with the fact that my regular skating rink had those giant pixy stix for $1, that stuff's crack to 7 year olds). I'd like to mention, at this point, that I have discovered that ROLLER SKATING IS NOT LIKE RIDING A BIKE. YOU FORGET HOW TO DO IT. Isn't it just awesome when you find out that something you practically did in your sleep 20 years ago is next to impossible when you're a totally awesome, suave adult? You know, like doing the splits or cartwheels or something? Totally instinctual at 7, totally embarrassing and awkward at 26. COOL. Anyway, my $5 thrift store quad skates and I will be attending our third beginner's class tonight, where I'm hoping to continue my awesome streak of not falling down in spite of the fact that gravity is totally against me and I can't tell my left from my right... 

i don't take kindly to folks who look at my bowling...

maybe i'm part of some creepy urban weirdo subcategory, but i like going to the suburbs. yes, i might be able to walk down the street and get some pizza and a carton of organic grapes at 2 in the morning, but i sure as hell can't wander around inside a nearly empty supermarket that actually has, like, produce AND cupcakes and more than 3 aisles, or walk into a target and wait on line for less than 6 hours. now, knowing this, i don't think i'd actually MOVE for these things; hi, i'm from omaha, nebraska, i grew up wandering through miles-long supermarkets and experiencing target as more of a "convenient shopping experience," you know, and less of "a life-or-death struggle for hidden goods within the confines of a post-apocalyptic, pillaged shell" a la target in brooklyn - it's just that living in the metropolis has made the space and access of suburbia EXOTIC. this was all a very long lead-in to this: justin and i went bowling on friday night, at strike: long island. it was fun, because bowling is fun, and a bunch of ridiculous, posturing guidos trying to look cool WHILST BOWLING/pretending that the "club atmosphere" of strike is anything more than an excuse to make you pay $6.50 a game is PRETTY DAMN FUNNY. but the point was...

i done seen a roller derby!

justin took me to the gotham girls roller derby on saturday (uh, at gloriously air-conditioningless long island university gym, of course), where we saw the brooklyn bombshells get their asses handed to them by the bronx gridlock. i know, we were sad about it, too (although i attribute the bronx victory in large part to this member of the gridlock, whose name alone made me wish i didn't have to cheer for BK). anyway, the point is, holy crap, have you ever been to a roller derby? those ladies are NO JOKE. now i know what i want to be when i grow up! wait, no... anyway, these ladies are pretty awesome. there's nothing i admire more than a woman who bodyslams people with impunity. yay gotham girls! go bombshells! (but secretly, go beyonslay!)(shhh!)

i'm all sad about matsui

i know, you're thinking "why didn't you use a logical 'matsui's sad wrist' picture?" CLEARLY I HAVE FOUND A BETTER ONE. and naturally it was on benihana's website (don't even try to act like this isn't the best picture available of mr. godzilla, ok? he's all... annoyed... and he has fun tan lines.) look, i've never been shy about my feelings for matsui, and his status as possibly the most adorable hulking baseball giant ever. my sadness about his wrist goes beyond any sort of yankees-related sporty sport sport thing; i'm sad because this can't happen if matsui's wrist is all busted. how would he help ichiro carry the muffin basket? anyway, get well soon, godzilla, and please bring me some muffins. i think everyone should send him a card, um... in... japanese... yes. because what the crap is he going to do with a bunch of cards he can't read? seriously. anyway, do it. here's the address.

Hideki Matsui (or Matsui Hideki, or Matsui-san, i don't know, how pretentious are you?)
c/o New York Yankees
Yankee Stadium
161st Street and River Avenue
Bronx, NY 10451

how i like to spend my evenings

i know what you're thinking: "gail, when's the best time to attempt the assembly of a confusing and potentially dangerous piece of machinery?" friends, the answer to your question is a resounding "late at night, in your pitch-black backyard, using a rapidly dying flashlight." obviously! that's right, justin and i decided we'd better assemble a 76 pound heavy bag stand in complete darkness. because it's not really important to make sure that the only thing standing between me and 100 pounds of swinging bag is correctly assembled, right? right. look, i had to post this, because it's ridiculous. i know it has nothing to do with anything.

still, you should check it out. it's funny. we took pictures, just in case one of us got horribly or hilariously mangled...

look! it's brad pitt! uh, sports!

for the record, the one nanosecond of entertainment i personally have experienced through the NCAA basketball business currently going down took place this morning, when it said "brad pitt" on the screen. ha ha! brad pitt! basketball! hey justin, you're touching brad pitt! ha ha! what bracket's angelina in? ha ha ha funny joke!
whatever, at least i'm trying.

i'm sick, ok? don't expect too much majesty.

ok, my brain is full of mucus and fever, so forgive me if this is hardly the most awesome post of my career. i've decided that i'm going to tell you about some adorable men, and you're going to be ok with that. ok? ok. let's begin with mr. robinson cano, the most adorable man of baseball. i know, people have a boner for mr. jeter and mr. alex rodriguez, but i think their collective hairstyles bring them down in the rankings to "hotness level comparable to that of an attractive dad that the other soccer moms have a crush on." sorry guys. robinson cano is waaaaay cuter than you both. look at his preciousness! he's like, "i'm wearing a cheerleader outfit, and i'm very adorable!" i couldn't have photoshopped it better myself...

pointless boxing update!

do you know what makes me a sad panda? the fact that my first ass-hat boxing trainer sucked for 300 different reasons (i can produce an alphabetized list, if anyone cares), and one of those reasons is HE DIDN'T TEACH BOXING VERY WELL and my second trainer had to pick up the pieces. ok, so i've been with shedrick for what, eight or nine weeks now? i feel bad for him, because i'm probably the wackiest white lady he's ever had to deal with, and i come in and forget all my footwork and can't tell my left from my right (don't laugh) and then make long-winded observations about recent population trends in eastern asia. but anyway, i've learned a lot of things, i'm way faster than i was with rene, and i can take a (gentle, practice) punch to the head OR dodge a (real, scary) punch to the head. and my back is still weirdly huge and i could probably pull a "hulk MAAAD" flex of some sort and destroy most of my shirts, but now i actually have, like, REAL MUSCLES in my stomach area. and i don't want to sound totally full of myself, but i'm pretty confident in the fact that my jump-rope skills are even better than they were in 4th grade. that's right, i said it. so if anyone wants to start some kind of um, group of jump rope ninjas or something, you know where to find me...

derek jeter

i thought grand slams only happened at denny's, but that's because my baseball knowledge is seriously lacking. regardless, here's a picture i took of mr. derek jeter hitting the first grand slam of his career last saturday. apparently, this is a big deal. it's a big deal to me because i never knew the digital zoom on my camera was that effective. also, it's a big deal because this was the first time i've ever been to a yankees game, and they were playing the cubs, and i don't like the cubs because when i lived in chicago i felt like the white sox had nicer outfits, and i found it immensely pleasing that there were 5 foot tall cutouts of magglio ordonez at jewel sometimes. anyway, you can see all my pictures from the yankees game here.

my life with boxing: the update

ok, so i can box. if you're concerned about my progress in the magical world of boxing, you should read about it below.

yeah, romance is confusing, y'all

my boxing trainer and i had a rough go the first few months i was working with him, largely because he IS that guy who yells weird attempts at flattery at ladies on the street and expects it to, you know, work or something.
so we had a few problems early on when he'd make angry comments about how i wasn't single, and wipe the sweat off my face and then smell the paper towel (that's horrifying, lads, that's not hot), and forcibly walk me to the train, and berate me for not wanting "some" on the side, and comment frequently on his feelings about my breasts, and the like.
did i mention that he's got children that are my age? and that i'm paying him for a service that technically does not involve disturbing attempts at seduction? and that i'm not really interested? at all? and that the suggestion that my boyfriend is the only factor keeping us apart is not only presumptuous but fairly ridiculous?
but we're past all that now, i think, because he's decided that he's going to be all paternal and stuff. and possibly because my wackiness and complete lack of smoothness finally (FINALLY) turned him off. and also because someone complained to the manager.
but anyway, he still feels the need to share his exploits with me. and this one is AWESOME (continued)...