rants and ramblings of utter randomness

Ramirez Suspended 50 Games For Drug Violation.

I'm sure a lot of people who read about this (not you, flist, y'all are smarter than that) are going to immediately assume that this is a steroids thing, which apparently it isn't. And? I have no idea why, but I believe the guy. For one thing, he's never had a positive drug screen, and he takes a lot of them on purpose. And also because I'm probably liek, the only one left in Red Sox Nation who still has a soft spot for Manny. *sigh*

In other news, I went to the chiropractor on Tuesday and he did an adjustment and now my back, etc. feels somewhat better (translation: pain level lower than an eight for longer periods of time). I'm feeling well enough to do some housework today, which I need to do before songdog arrives.

Cleaning without running water is a challenge, but definitely doable (in case I didn't mention it, I lost running water a while back due to burst pipes, and can't afford to get it fixed yet). It's interesting, but I'm learning a LOT about water conservation and how much I was using, and how it's really not so bad having to work around it. I still manage to stay clean/fed/dressed in clean clothes. Schlepping water is pain, but at least I'm schlepping fresh, clear stuff and I don't have to walk ten miles to do it, which means I'm much better off than most people in the world.

P.S. I know I've missed a lot of my flist's posts lately; it's because I've been working/visiting family/having owies. If there's anything that I simply have to see or answer or know about, please tell me? I should be back to more thorough reading soon. :)

Dear Alex Cora,

Marry me.

Love,
Me

Also:

( My Visual DNA )

Also, OMG, Happy birthday moonlight69! I'm only late by a few hours. What was I thinking? *hugs*

From redsox, an exerpt from The Mind of Bill James, about Grady Little and the decision that, right or wrong, cost him his job:

"Near the end of the seventh inning of Game Seven, with Boston in control, my mind drifted back to the eighth inning of Game Seven the year before. Aaron Boone should never have had the chance to end Boston’s season in extra innings. Pedro Martinez was 115 pitches into the red, jammed up after back-to-back hits to Derek Jeter and Bernie Williams. The Sox had relief help available, but manager Grady Little left Pedro on the hill.

A week later I heard a story that said it all.

A devout Red Sox fan got stuck in London on business at the time Game Seven was to be played. He went from pub to pub, looking for one with the necessary satellite equipment and that was going to be open all night. He didn’t find any that were good on both counts, but he found one with a satellite and an owner who agreed to stay open for a price. The fan settled in to watch the game.

It was near daybreak in London as Pedro gave up hit after hit and the lead slipped away, the Sox fan raging and writhing in agony while a half-dozen Brits drank away the night. Finally one of the inebriated Londoners looked over at him in concern, looked back at the television, and asked, 'Excuse me, sir, but would the rules permit those fellows to employ a substitute for the bowler? He seems to be laboring a bit.'

Grady Little had failed to comprehend what was apparent to a drunk, half-asleep Englishman who had never seen a baseball game before. Pedro was toast."

*snickers*

Yeah, I know, a lot of you don't get it. Get used to it, it's baseball season.

Manny, darling, I adore you, but fergodsake, would you please make up your mind?

I'm really not sure I believe that he doesn't remember talking to ESPN reporters. It just sounds like he was being himself again. Which I keep telling myself is one of the reasons I love him so. And it is. It's just--geh. I'm angsting like crazy over here. Grr.