Oh No

Not Big Papi. Anybody but him. And there were 100 on the list? Is anybody NOT taking steroids? I suppose the 90-pound weaklings aren't, the skinny guys with the low batting averages. But the big guys, the ripped muscle dudes, juiced juiced juiced. Didn't Jose Canseco tell us this in his book?

I can see how it happens. You're a good player with a lot of ability. You desperately want to make it to the top level before someone else does. The guy standing next to you, the wimpy bloke in glasses, a smart guy, tells you it won't hurt you. "I'm telling you, it won't hurt you. Not what I have." He's giving you something else that when you take it, gets rid of all the bad possibilities. "No side effects with this stuff." It won't show up on tests and nothing bad will ever happen except that you will become an awesome player. Oh go ahead, you say. I'll try it.
Well.........


This makes me think of fingernail polish. Stay with me, dear reader. I normally don't wear the stuff and think of it as a pain in the ass and not worth my time and shallow in the extreme. Not that I am against shallow. But you live your life a certain way when your nails are painted. A little more contained, a little more tentative, you're careful not to grab or scrub or poke too energetically. It's definitely a girl thing.

But then when I do have my nails done for an event, such as my son's wedding this weekend, I LOVE it. I am constantly holding my hands out to admire them. I hold them at different angles so I can see how the sun glints off the individual fingers. Sick-o. Within days they are flawed, scratched, and otherwise violated, of course, but my point is that it's easy to embrace an activity you know is stupid and to give yourself over to it regardless of the consequences. Vanity, thy name is Revlon.

See? That is your Nail Polish Sports Theory of the day. Oh and what was David Ortiz thinking during the Manny 'roid scandal? And the A-Rod one? Gosh, that could be me? Geesh. No wonder they don't criticize each other.

Many are now saying our World Series wins in 04 and 07 are tainted. Just don't forget one thing, though. Yankees still suck.

In other news, the car situation is still not resolved. Here's the main scoop: I picked out a car model that I liked. I sat down with Salesman X and he and I agreed that it, let's call it the ABC model, was the model for me. I told him I didn't want the high upper edition with the leather seats, etc., but I didn't want the base model either. The ABC was perfect. I drove one. I liked it. I negotiated a price. We came to agreement and shook hands. I signed a million papers, being careful to check all the figures. Here's where it gets tricky.

They make you sign off on everything to do with the car delivery before they actually deliver it. Then when they do drive it up to you, all you want to do is buckle in and bust out of there. The first thing I noticed when I opened my new car door was the driver's seat---manual instead of power. What's that, I asked Salesman X. Here was his answer. "I don't know." Also missing on the car was the keyless entry system. He still didn't know, but said he would look into it. Okay, I already know, this was the point when I should have leaped out of the car, held up my cloves of garlic, and said no way! I won't accept this car! That's what I should have done, but I didn't. I drove away and started calling Salesman X who assured me he would take care of it. They gave me the base model instead of the ABC. There are more details, but I don't want to get into them just yet. So now I have a car that I don't like and don't want. It's new, though, and when this wedding gets past, I will be in attack mode. If they don't make me happy, you may be sure that their names will be plastered all over this blog.
Still Living the Dream
love,
becky