Worldwide Leader

Absolutely unedited transcript of a phone conversation I had today:

Drone: Thank you for calling ESPN Fantasy Sports. My name is Scott. How can I help you today?

Me: Hi, Scott. I just added two teams to my league, and it cancelled our live draft time. I need it back.

Scott: Can you confirm your ESPN login?

Me: Yes, it’s commissioneral1.

Scott: Okay, and your team is the Las Vegas…uh…

Me: The Las Vegas Goddamn Animals, yes. See how the draft time says “830am”?

Scott: Please hold.

Sportscenter commercial. Not one of the good ones.

Scott: Huh. I guess it does. I haven’t encountered this before. But it does show that it resets if you add teams.

Me: Right. It doesn’t mention that on the “Add Teams” page. So I need you to just put our draft time back.

Scott: Um, I can’t do that.

Me: Why not?

Scott: The system doesn’t allow for that. The draft time slots are full. We have to limit the number of drafts going on at any one time, so the systems don’t crash.

Me, to myself: “Oh, like they did during the first two weeks of the fantasy baseball season?”

Me, aloud So I am to get eighteen people to agree on a new draft time and date inside nine days?

Scott: You can stay on the “Edit Draft Time” page and keep refreshing the page. A slot might come open.

Me: Just keep refreshing the page.

Scott: Yes. I had to do that for one of my drafts.

Me: I might as well move the whole league to Yahoo.

Scott: That’s probably your best solution.

Me: speechless

Drink It, You Pussy

How it came to pass:

I put an estimated teaspoonful of Original-flavor Laxatone (“Lax Classic”, to connoisseurs) on the orange rageball’s right front foot, per the directions. He shook off 7/8 disdainfully, licked off the remainder, and looked pissed. I wanted to give him the rest, so I read the ingredients to see if I had to worry about him vomiting himself inside out if I OD’d him. The ingredients, more or less:

Petroleum jelly (NF), corn syrup, caramel coloring.*

This didn’t sound objectionable. It sounded, in fact, like a caramel version of movie theater popcorn real imitation butter flavored topping. So I gave it a lick. I tell you, if I served it to you on a brioche and told you it was all the rage in SoHo, you would not question me.

*A four-inch tube costs $7.

* * * * * *

Bonus Quiz Item from J-Mac:

You are The Devil

Materiality. Material Force. Material temptation; sometimes obsession

The Devil is often a great card for business success; hard work and ambition.

Perhaps the most misunderstood of all the major arcana, the Devil is not really "Satan" at all, but Pan the half-goat nature god and/or Dionysius. These are gods of pleasure and abandon, of wild behavior and unbridled desires. This is a card about ambitions; it is also synonymous with temptation and addiction. On the flip side, however, the card can be a warning to someone who is too restrained, someone who never allows themselves to get passionate or messy or wild – or ambitious. This, too, is a form of enslavement. As a person, the Devil can stand for a man of money or erotic power, aggressive, controlling, or just persuasive. This is not to say a bad man, but certainly a powerful man who is hard to resist. The important thing is to remember that any chain is freely worn. In most cases, you are enslaved only because you allow it.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.


I’m not a hundred percent sure I want to report this knowledge, nor am I entirely comfortable with my possessing the information at all, but I feel very strongly, in a Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead sort of way, that the whole reason the internet was invented may have been so that I can communicate to you my discovery that the hairball medication sold under the brand name “Laxatone” is delicious.

On The Air

Fantasy baseball team in second place, check.

Fantasy football league configured and ready to go, check.

Blood & Thunder server restored to health, check.

Amusing blog-item idea ready to write up tonight, check.

Thanks for standing by during our technical difficulties.

The New Year Is Nigh

Here is Tuesday Morning Quarterback’s secret column formula: “Everyone thinks X, but actually Y is correct, and that tells us a lot about Z.” This secret formula can be used to write a contrarian column on practically any topic — just insert facts (if required). Please do not allow this formula to fall into the wrong hands.

Welcome back, TMQ.

Seven Things No One Needs To Know

Per bondgirl‘s tagging, here are “seven random facts about me/habits of mine.”

1. The fantasy team I co-manage with my older younger brother was originally dubbed the “California Teabaggers” in insulting reference to the state of residence of every owner save us, but has recently been renamed “Larry’s Comeback” in honor of the league’s commissioner, who ushed at my older younger brother’s wedding and is looking at the monumental achievement of having his fantasy team, which he attends to on a daily basis, go wire-to-wire in the cellar.

2. Seven months into my first foray into measuring physical fitness by distance, I can now run 1.75 miles in a row. Associated weight loss: Zero pounds. I would very much like to know who to sue about this.

3. My tenth airport of this year, if all scheduling shakes out the way I expect it to, will be the legendarily horrific Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport. I am vaguely excited to climb this reported Everest of inefficient chaos.

4. Presets so far on my birthday-present Sirius satellite Stiletto: “Backspin” (Old-school hip-hop), ESPNNews, Howard Stern (back at the top of his game), “Rumbon” (Reggaeton/Tropical). Additional preset demanded by girl who lives with me: “Hair Nation”.

5. I have taken to giving myself haircuts when I stay in hotel rooms. I procured clippers at the Key Largo K-mart for this purpose, complete with “TWELVE-PIECE ACCESSORY KIT”. In this kit, which I have now been toting around in carry-on luggage for a year’s worth of air travel (at least two dozen flights, the importance of which number presently), is a comb, a set of plastic attachments to cut hair to different lengths, a cleaning brush, a small tube of lubricating oil, a cloth, a bag to transport all of this, a blade guard, the clippers themselves, and, I noticed this morning after an oil spill, a six-inch pair of sharp, pointy scissors. I chose not to keep them. Never know when you might run into a TSA employee looking to pass her poopy day along.

6. I had such an awful fourteen years in school that I am hesitant to have children because I cannot bear to put them through it.

7. In conversation with a new friend last week, the following sentence was directed at me: “So wait, back up. You have a friend who is a pornographer, a friend who teaches evolution in Georgia, and a friend whose name is Unicorn*?” Uh, yeah. Is that weird? The roster gets odder from there.

As always, each of you who reads this is tagged. If you lack a blog — looking at you here, missunderstood — use the comments section.

* Not his real fake name, but in the ballpark.

Serving the Customer

When you have a complex situation with a large entity — let’s say, a rental car company — and from your perspective the only thing that will resolve the complex situation is the transfer of a goodish sum from the coffers of the large entity to your own in a transaction that must be approved by a small intermediary entity — let’s say, a woman named “Dawn” — and you believe, standing there at the counter, that your request for a capital disbursement is pushing it at best, since, although, when you had the AAA guy cut a master key, you certainly shouldn’t have been expected to know that the trunk-lock cylinder was disconnected from the key’s insertion point, which misconnection allowed the new key only to whirl in the trunk lock like the titular blade of a propeller beanie, which coincidentally is the specific chapeau you expect Dawn to look at you as though you’re wearing when you tell her you’d like the $138.61 it cost, all-inclusive, to finally get the trunk lid useful again, because you were the one who locked the trunk-release remote in the trunk in the first place, I ask you, in that situation, standing there at the counter, does anything improve your confidence with regard to your near-term success than the walrus serviced two customers previously returning to the counter and warming Dawn up for you by being a terrible gaping asshole?