And I mean Blahhhhh in the ''I'm having kind of a crappy week'' way, not in the ''I'm a rapper in the background of a Ludacris song, just makin' awesome noises'' way.
It's been cloudy or raining most the week, which normally I don't mind, I've always wanted to live in Seattle or Portland.....but when I'm already borderline crabby, I need the sunshine.
I'm reading a book about Bruce Edwards (Tom Watson's former caddy) which isn't exactly the happiest book in the world, as it details his battle with ALS.
My golf game is in the shitter. My parents were in town last weekend, and both my dad and I played terrrrrrible on Sunday. The only way we could've been worse is if we were Tom Watson in the British Open playoff (too soon?) Every single minute I've spent working on my driver for the last ten years has been completely and totally worthless. Right now I'm hitting my driver, a $300 Great Big Bertha, no better than I hit my $40 'Devestator' that I bought from Sam's Club when I was 14 years old. Maybe even worse. Is there a more frustrating sport than golf? Robin Williams sums it up well. (NSFW, ol' Mrs. Doubtfire drops the F bomb like it's his job.)
The Red Sox are slumping, which isn't allowed when you play in the same division as the Yankees, Rays, and a 4th place team (Toronto) that would probably win the NL Central. The Sox gave up their lead in the AL East faster than you can say "We've got 7 capable starting pitchers, can we maybe trade one of them for another bat to help out the clearly struggling lineup?"
I can't find the Erin Andrews video because the Internet Police, in conjunction with the ESPN lawyers, confiscated it too fast. I've even resorted to asking Alex if her trashy celebrity gossip websites have anything, which goes against everything I believe in. And still nothing. What's going on, Internet? If one was so inclined, one could find sex tapes of Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian, fill-in-the-stupid-ugly-pseudo-celebrity-here without even breaking a sweat, but the hottest girl on the planet gets videotaped naked in her hotel, and we can't get a glimpse ANYWHERE? Where is the justice?
And to top it off, lately I've been woken up by really, really bizarre or scary dreams, and had trouble falling back asleep. Some of them are just weird- like an, um, erotic dream with Tracey Gold that takes place on set of the filming of the music video for 'Renegade' by Styx. OK, the Styx part is easily explainable, they're the greatest American rock band in history, and the only reason they get a bad rap is because most critics are cynical assholes...but Tracey Gold? I never even watched Growing Pains, and she certainly isn't hot. You tell me. Some of them are scary, like John Malkovich breaking into our apartment and nailing my hands to the wall because I stole something from him, while my 7th grade homeroom teacher looks on. Some of them are so vivid, I end up getting out of bed at 4:30 a.m. because I've convinced myself that I have to go to work early in order to leave early to catch my flight....because Brother scored some US Open tickets? Seriously, I went and drank a big glass of water, went to my room and grabbed my towel, and was literally stepping into the shower before I realized that it was a dream and I should go back to bed.
(Side note: I've told a couple of girls about the really weird dreams, and both of them replied with some form of "Are you on your period? I have messed up dreams when I'm on my period." Two things here: 1) No, I'm not on my period. My cycle usually starts around the end of the month. 2) NEVER tell me things like that again. I can't imagine a scenario where that information would be valuable to me, nor do I care to. Crazy women and their crazy periods.)
Anyway, I'm hoping that our softball tournament in Topeka this weekend turns my frown upside down. Either that or the Sox trade for Matt Holliday or Adrian Gonzalez.
OR someone finds the Erin Andrews video for me.
