11.30.2007
The Yankees are now mimicking the Red Sox — Evil Empire II — by developing young talent with frightening efficiency. [rosenthal]
Labels: stfu
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The Yankees are now mimicking the Red Sox — Evil Empire II — by developing young talent with frightening efficiency. [rosenthal]
Labels: stfu
Labels: quote of, things that are funny
Labels: quote of, things that are funny
BELLER--Helen, on November 21, 2007 at her home on the Upper West Side after a long and remarkable 104 years. Daughter of the late Anna and Joseph Heidt. Loving wife of the late Samuel Beller. Predeceased by her loving daughter, Mary Linn Pitofsky. Known as "Nana" she was a devoted Yankee fan and a blessing to her family. [ny times]
The great-great-grandma from Manhattan's upper West Side has been rootin' for the Bronx Bombers all her life, which began in 1903, the same year the Yanks were born as the Highlanders.
Last night she saw her first game at the stadium in more than a half-century - a treat provided by her grandson.
But then Beller got an unexpected treat, thanks to Yankee General Manager Brian Cashman.
She got to meet her favorite player, Derek Jeter, and for a moment she seemed less like a 103-year-old woman and more like a starstruck young fan.
"You're so goddamned handsome," she blurted out to the All-Star shortstop, as they posed for a photo.
Jeter looked around for help, then simply replied, "Thank you."
For a second pose, Beller put her arm around the grinning Jeter and whispered, "No one deserves to be that good looking."
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Labels: baby bombers, yanquis
Labels: quote of, yeah i bogged it
Labels: separated at birth, sox, yanquis
Dear Mr. Buffett,
The women of America need you. Badly. Have you ever been in the changing room of the lingerie section at a major department store? O.K., don't answer that. But I've been there, and I'll tell you, it ain't pretty. There's desperation. There's misery, fatigue and wild-eyed panic. Every single day across this great nation of ours, women have to force themselves into cruelly lit cubicles with ill-closing curtains to try to find a bra that fits. But only a pitiful few do. Warren, must this agony go on?
Ever since you bought Fruit of the Loom and its plus-size offspring Vanity Fair back in 2002, extending your empire to the firmament of the foundation garment universe, I have been waiting patiently, hoping that you'll turn out to be a revolutionary of the order of Herminie Cadolle. About 120 years ago, Mme. Cadolle figured out that it made more sense for women's breasts to be suspended from above than cantilevered from beneath. That is, she invented bra straps. So instead of walking around wearing the lingerie equivalent of the London Bridge, women could slide themselves into a Golden Gate. This was a huge relief—as anyone who has worn a strapless bra can tell you—because the London Bridge pretty much always falls down.
Or you could be like Ida Rosenthal. She invented cup sizes back in the 1920s. Warners picked up her idea and decided that most women would fall somewhere between an A and a D. At the time it was a breakthrough. But Mr. Buffett, please, this is such old tech. Are you wearing 80-year-old underwear? Again, no need to answer. But how can it be that in the past eight decades we've gone from measuring by furlongs and pinches to microns and nanoseconds and gigabytes, but we're still sizing bras according to the first few letters of the alphabet? And I'm not discounting the seminal work of the Swiss anthropologist Rudolf Martin, who classified breasts into four types: flat, hemispheric, conical and goat-udder-shaped. It's just that, inexplicably, his nomenclature system failed to catch on.
The crazy thing is, we already have the technology. Only this year a bunch of Hong Kong researchers published a paper in the International Journal of Industrial Ergonomics—a publication that I imagine is on your bedside table right now—that used 3-D anthropometric measuring equipment to take a very close look at 456 young Chinese women's breasts. (I know, can you imagine writing the grant proposal for that?) Their conclusions make for some tough reading. They note that 70% of British women are wearing the wrong size bra, and that among bigger-breasted women the sizing is particularly inappropriate.
Instead of taking two measurements (under the bust and over the bust) to find a bra size, the Hong Kong researchers took 98. The key to building a better bra, they concluded, is to use a depth-width ratio rather than just volume to figure out the cup size. Warren, can you see what's happening here? Are you going to let Chinese women have better-fitting bras than we do? Where is your sense of patriotism? First it's superior bras, then it's superior weapons, and before long the fat lady in her too-snug undergarment has sung, and it's over.
As you know, W.B., bras carry a lot more freight than just the bosomy kind. When women stand in front of the mirror, they don't see a bra that doesn't fit. They see a woman who doesn't fit—whose cup runneth over, who is insufficiently endowed, who is goat-shaped.
About half the adult population wears bras. The other half strategizes about them. Building a better-fitting one is not just good for female self-esteem, it's good for business. And you are the guy to do it. Can't you see the ad campaigns? "The Buffett Bustier: because one size does not fit all." Or "Get yourself into a neBRAska. We've got room for everyone."
Warren, I beseech you, just spare one moment today to think about breasts. I know you can.
[belinda luscombe]
Labels: i don't even know, what it feels like for a girl
Labels: quote of, team a-rod
Labels: quote of, team a-rod
Labels: things i watch that i love
Bitter is like the most popular guy in school asked you out, you think he likes you, you basically act the part of the dude in "When a Man Loves a Woman" (the song, not the movie, and the Percey Sledge version, not the Michael Bolton one -- he's going to come on the scene and freak you out in about eight years) and jump to his defense when everyone tries to knock him, because you know, believe he's genuine, and then he dumps you to go bang all the sluts in your school, your crosstown rival and at the Catholic school. Because you sticking up and defending him in blog posts that took you weeks to write meant nothing.
[bisch, explaining bitter to baby bisch in one of my most favorite blog posts of this or any other times]
And now it really doesn’t seem much different than your typical boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl story…does it?
He told you many times how much he loved you, how much he wanted to be a part of your family. You heard him, but did you ever really believe him?
It was love at first sight in February 2004…right around Valentine’s Day in fact. You couldn’t believe your good fortune. The prettiest girl in school really wanted to go to the prom with you??? Together you were going places. You had your ups and downs, but you thought in the end your love for each other was going to pull you through. After all, money can’t buy you love…can it?
Of course, you’ll get another chance. You’ll have the chance to take him back. Maybe before he takes that last fateful step, before he signs the final papers and makes that phone call. You know the one. “Baby, are you sure we can’t work this out?”
But you laid down the law. Just like Gloria Gainor, you told A-Rod that if you “walk out the door, don’t turn around now, cuz you’re not welcome anymore.” If you go back on your word now, you’re inviting everyone to walk all over you for the rest of your life.
But now you start to wonder…were you to blame for this? You knew this might be a possibility. It was part of the pre-nup you signed, remember? And he didn’t keep it a secret. He hinted at it this past spring…if you don’t treat him better, maybe you won’t have him to kick around anymore. Maybe you could have loved him more, been more understanding when he was feeling troubled. He says he still wants to be with you, but you’ve had your doubts all along. [sweeny murti]
Labels: team a-rod
Labels: i don't even know, quote of, team a-rod, yanquis
I heard this song lyric the other day and guess which just-opted-out 3rd baseman it reminded me of:
“Baby I got my facts learned real good right now. You better get it straight darling. Poor man wanna be rich, rich man wanna be king, and a king ain't satisfied till he rules everything. I wanna go out tonight, I wanna find out what I got.”
That’s from “Badlands” by Bruce Springsteen.
I’m in a big Springsteen kick right now just like everyone else. The new album is terrific. I saw one of the shows at the Meadowlands last month. I even went last weekend to see a terrific Bruce tribute band called Tramps Like Us. Not just a knockoff band, these guys are good. Check ‘em out at www.trampslikeus.com.
Maybe I’ve been spending a little too much time thinking about A-Rod when I get reminded of him listening to a Springsteen song. Anyway, it’s getting late and I have to run…because the night belongs to…oh, never mind. [sweeny murti]
St. Louis Cardinals third baseman Scott Rolen may waive his no-trade clause to escape manager Tony La Russa, the St. Louis Post Dispatch reported Monday.
Rolen, who has battled shoulder problems the last two years, was benched for a few games during the 2006 postseason, causing a rift between he and La Russa, who just signed a two-year contract extension.
The two claimed they had patched up any differences, but it was obvious there were problems between the two and according to the report, the club now acknowledges the problem. [msnbc]
Labels: birds on bat