sinatra hangover, knee pain, draft results, haircut laughter, m&c and mexican, music, maine
Jason posted on August 31, 2006

I don’t know about you guys, but nothing ameliorates a hangover for me quite like listening to Frank Sinatra.  I was so hungover on Tuesday morning that while standing on the subway platform I seriously contemplated turning around, going home, and calling in sick (thank you, $80 worth of bourbon I drank at d.b.a.).  Then "Luck Be A Lady" came on my iPod and I was so invigorated that I had to restrain myself from walking into work with a Manhattan, calling my co-workers "dames" and "fellas", and telling bawdy jokes about negroes, priests, and mobsters.

Also, just to put this on the record, I am the best singer I know.  100% true.  But whenever I listen to Sinatra now it makes me kinda sad, because I always had this weird dream of serenading my grandmother with a Sinatra song at her birthday party or something (as she was so moved when I sang to the butter pecan Puerto Rican in the Bahamas and also loved Sinatra).  But now she’s gone and I won’t be able to sing "Witchcraft" for her.  But, to paraphrase Ol’ Blue Eyes himself, that’s life I guess.

The point: I dare you to listen to any of Sinatra’s songs while hungover and NOT feel better.  It’s impossible.

("It’s Impossible" is also the title of a lovely Perry Como song.  I really think I should quit my job and cut a record of American classics, like my idol Sir Rod Stewart.  Would you guys buy this?  Can someone get on this for me?  Please?) 

***************

Remember when I said that I’d gain back all the weight I lost?  Well, we’re on our way. 

My knee is fucked up.  I hurt it last Sunday when I (and I know I wrote about this many times) ran for over 6 miles, far and away the greatest athletic achievement of my life.  It bothered me as soon as I stopped running, but I continued to work out and run every day, as the diet was winding down and I was trying to get below 200. 

I have not been running since Friday.  I assumed that if I took a few days off, the knee would heal itself.  Almost a week later, I’m still walking around with a limp. 

I asked my guru, the Bouncer (who, by the way, is a weightlifting visionary and now has a vested interest in turning me from "Jason Mulgrew, Slob" to "Jason Mulgrew, Animal and Inflictor of Pain") about this pain and his response was "Don’t be a pussy - and welcome to the world of working out as an adult."  I understand that one should expect a certain amount of pain with working out and yes, I am more than likely a pussy, but when I still can’t walk properly after a week, well, something’s not right.

(Rob said he was going to "kill" me for not doing squats on Monday when I explained to him that because of my knee I can’t get in a crouching position without any weight.  He said he still was going to kill me.  And I think I believe him.  So I’m kind of avoiding him for a little while.) 

Meanwhile, I have spiraled into a downward depression since I haven’t been running.  I feel worthless and like a failure.  But the simple fact is that I can’t run - I can’t even really walk.  So what can I do?  Feel sorry for myself, apparently. 

I called my doctor to make an appointment to get this sorted out, but his next available opening is in late September (apparently "my knee hurts" doesn’t get you to the front of the line at the doctor’s office; I should have said, "My penis is on fire" or "I’m bleeding from my eyes").  So to hell with that.  Instead, I’ve given myself an ultimatum: I am running on Tuesday.  This knee is going to either magically heal at this time, mostly out of respect for me and my tenacity, or it will blow itself out.  At least if the latter happens I get crutches (I look good on crutches) and I’ll have an excuse when I gain all the weight I’ve lost back ("You think I wanted this? I blew out my knee! How about a little compassion, asshole!"). 

Anyway, since I know you jagoffs just love it when I fail, I wanted to pass on the news.  I should be hovering around 250 by Halloween.  I’ll keep you posted.

***************

I had my main fantasy football draft.  I had fourth overall pick in a league with 12 teams.  We must start two QBs.  Below is my team, with the round in which I selected the player in parentheses (I had the 4th overall pick, then 21, 28, 45, etc).

QB: D. McNabb (3)
QB: J. Plummer (5)
RB: T. Barber (1)
RB: K. Jones (2)
WR: Santana Moss (4)
WR: J. Horn (7)
WR: T. Glenn (8)
TE: K. Winslow (14)
WR/RB: J. Lewis (6)
K: D. Akers (15)
DEF: Philadelphia (16)
Bench: D. Rhodes (9)
Bench: B. Johnson (10)
Bench: W. Lundy (11)
Bench: T. Williamson (12)
Bench: J. Stevens (13)
Bench: V. Morency (17)

I don’t know about you guys, but I’m impressed.  I have never felt more in control of a draft than I did last night: no surprises, no freak outs, no guys before me stealing people from my queue just before I wanted to pick them.  Everything was controlled, calm, and measured.  I had to take Tiki 4th and I’m a little bummed I didn’t get Jacobs as a handcuff, but he went too high.  I told you I was serious about Detroit - I like Kevin Jones this year and stand by that pick (besides, 16 of the first 20 picks were running backs, and with guys like Julius Jones (14), Willie Parker (15), and Corey Dillon (20) going before him, I was happy that Kevin Jones was still available at 21). 

I like my QBs…yes, McNabb was a bit of a homer pick, but I think he’ll do well this year.  Likewise with Jake the Snake, who was ranked as the 16th overall player last year (not bad for a 5th round pick and second QB).  My WRs, which I usually neglect, are pretty strong.  I don’t think Santana Moss will have as big a year, but I like Joe Horn, Terry Glenn, and everything I’ve read about Troy Williamson makes him a nice pick in the 12th.

As I said, I don’t pay much attention to TE, K, or Defense.  I accidentally picked Jerramy Stevens when I really wanted Kellen Winslow, so I grabbed Winslow in the next round, so confident was I in my team up to that point.  And Akers in the third to last round and the Philly defense in the second to last, well, I think those will be bargains and will at least give me something to root for (in Barber, Moss, and Glenn, I have too many NFC East adversaries).

I like my bench.  Brad Johnson, I think, is better than a majority of second QBs on the other teams in my league and I have (right now) three other starting RBs: Jamal Lewis (he’s still only 28), Domenic Rhodes (a rough preseason, but the opening day starting halfback on the best offense in the NFL - in the 9th round), and the combination of Lundy and Morency in Houston, with Davis really banged up.  I think at least one of those RBs, if not two, should work out pretty well.

But as I wrote before, the blessing and the curse of football is that since it’s once a week, anything can happen.  Unlike baseball or basketball where you can survive if on of your marquee guys misses four or six weeks, if Tiki goes down, I’m in trouble.  Let’s hope those 30 year old knees hold up. 

But I feel good.  Not physically, of course, but fantasy-wise.  So that’s nice.

***************

While getting a haircut this week, I had a laughing attack like I haven’t had since high school.

Remember in school when something stupidly funny would happen while the teacher was talking, and you and your friend would start laughing?  And then for whatever reason, you’d keep laughing?  The teacher would continue talking and before you know it you and your friend would devolve into shaking heaps of flesh, your laughter completely out of control, tears coming from your eyes?

Well, that happened to me at Super Cuts this week.  I was getting another terrible haircut when I thought of a funny, Jackass-type idea.  You know how there’s a big flourish when the hairdresser puts the apron on you - it’s the first thing they do when you sit and then they whisk it off you after the haircut, as a way of saying "ta da!" to the new and improved you?  Well, might it be kinda funny if during the time the apron is on you, you piss yourself, so that when she finally takes it off you have a huge piss stain in your pants?

…

…

…

No?  Well, it was funny at the time.

And more importantly, it caused me to absolutely lose my shit, right there in the chair.  At first it started with a mild chuckle.  Then I thought to myself, "Dude, stop laughing."  Of course, that only made it worse.  Before I knew it I was shaking in the chair and the hairdresser had pulled away, asking, slightly pissed off, what was so funny.  Since this was a very large black woman who said "MmmmHmm" and "Girlfriend!" several times while talking to her co-worker (I think she even once threw in a random "Chaka Khan!"),  I didn’t think she’d get my lame-ass white boy joke if I said, "I was just thinking about pissing my pants," not to mention that she had scissors inches from my eyes, head, and neck.  So I said "Nothing, nothing" eventually lamely offering, "I’m a comedian and I just thought of a funny bit."  The rest of the haircut was, believe it or not, very awkward.

…

You know what?  I just read that over.  It’s terrible.  Let’s just get moving.  

(It was funny at the time - you just had to be there.) 

(Dicks.)   

***************

I need some restaurant suggestions from my NYC foodie readers.

First, I’m looking to find the best macaroni and cheese in New York City.  If you have a favorite place, please email it to me, including "mac and cheese" in the subject line.

Second, I’ve mentioned that my friend Nicole and I have this thing wherein we go to a nice dinner once a month.  One month, she picks and I pay, the next, I pick and she pays.

September is my month and I need your help.  I want a nice Mexican place, but I’ve already been to Dos Caminos and Rosa Mexicano and don’t want to go to either one again (though I will if I have to).  So tell me one.  Note that the place should be "upscale"; one of my favorite Mexican place is Festival Mexicano, where the bean quesadilla is $4, but the point of mine and Nicole’s exercise is that we treat ourselves a little bit, so it can be a bit expensive.  If you have a suggestion, please email me with "Mexican" in the subject line.

One last note: though the Mexican restaurant place should be limited to Manhattan, I am willing to travel to the outer boroughs for the best mac and cheese.

Thank you very much for your cooperation.  I love you.  I really fucking do.   

***************

Six Songs

"Tart"  Elvis Costello
A gorgeous and haunting later Elvis Costello song.  What I like about him is that he’s matured over the years, adapting his style to his age, not pushing out the same pseudo-punk that he did early in his career (which would just be embarrassing).  Also, I kind of look like him.   

"Second Hand News"  Fleetwood Mac
God I fucking love Fleetwood Mac, even if this song has the dumbest chorus of all time, which goes:

Bam bam bam bam bam-bam  
Bam bam bam bam bam-bam  
Bam bam bam bam bam-bam  
Bam bam bam - Do it!

I’m not embarrassed to say that that moves me.

"The Wonder of You"  Elvis Presley
My favorite song by the other Elvis.  It reminds me of the wedding of my friends Christine and Louie, where, at 1am, the staff brought out a buffet-style breakfast for the guests.  I mean, wow. 

(Also, the band sang this song during the breakfast while I stuffed my face with eggs.  It was a real moment.)

"Pledging My Love"  Marvin Gaye and Diana Ross
Back in the days of BMG, I ripped them off for a number of box sets, including "Marvin Gaye: The Master."  Highly, highly recommended.  I don’t know what I’d like to do with this song, but it’s so overly sappy that it can’t be taken seriously.  So perhaps it should play over a masturbation scene in my future award-winning screenplay.  That might work, but I think I need to think about this a little more.

"Denise, Denise"  Blondie
Deborah Harry speaking French?  Um, yes please!  It’s funny, Deborah Harry (really hard for me not to call her "Blondie") was my first love growing up (actually, it was either her or Sandy from Grease) and now I have my choice of hundreds of girls who look and dress like Deborah Harry any night of the week in the Lower East Side.  Well, I don’t have my choice exactly, because that would imply that they would like to or at least consent to sleeping with me, but you know what I mean.

"All My Little Words" and "Busby Berkeley Dreams"  The Magnetic Fields
All of 69 Love Songs is incredible.  Literally, every song is good.  These, in my opinion, are the two best.  I wish I could tell you how, but I’m getting tired.  But I can tell you that I have been listening to them several times a day for over a week now.  Great stuff. 

***************

Going to Maine this weekend to drink beer and eat lobster (after tonight’s BC thing, hopefully).  Have a happy and safe Labor Day weekend.

pup/bc
Jason posted on August 30, 2006

I am physically unable to post today, as my main fantasy football draft is this evening and I am currently balls deep in projections and depth charts and more concerned about who is in their contract year than telling you about how I’ve become addicted to stool softener (I really have though - it’s lovely).  I’m sorry, but let me have my mania, and I’ll have something for you tomorrow.  And wish me luck.

On another sports-related note that should only be of interest to Boston College alumni in the NYC area: BC’s first football game is tomorrow (Thursday).  I have never been one to give a crap about BC sports, but I do give a crap about running into people I went to college with and telling them about how great I’m doing when in college I was voted "Most Likely to Die In Murder-Suicide Involving a Stolen Bus."  To this end, many BC alumni will be gathering tomorrow at 6pm at Society Bar & Restaurant on Laguardia between Bleecker & W 3rd.  As of right now, I am planning to be there, but may be whisked away on an impromptu Labor Day weekend trip.  At any rate, I thought I’d pass this along to any BC alumni interested in watching the game with other nerds who care way too much about BC sports while I say things like, "Yeah, I mean, fame is pretty cool, but sometimes I wish I just had a normal life, you know?" and "The worst thing about being popular is all the women who want to sleep with you - sometimes I’m like, ‘Let’s just get to know each other before you blow me in the Burger King.’  I mean, I love blowjobs and Burger King and all, but I love love, too."  Or something like that.

(Told you I was focused on fantasy football.)

Also, I’ve been listening to a lot of Otis Redding all day and it’s making me want to smoke cigarettes.  So there’s that, too. 

But anyway, I’ll be back tomorrow.  Happy Wednesday.  Here’s hoping Brandon Jacobs doesn’t vulture too many of Tiki’s touchdowns, because I’m taking him at #4 (Tiki, not Jacobs). 

the challenger
Jason posted on August 29, 2006

I can’t really explain what happened this weekend, but it got a little wild.  I could write about both nights, but I’m a little tired.  Since Saturday night was one of the Top 20 drunkest of my life, why don’t we focus on that one?

(Hey - those first two lines rhyme!)

My buddy Joe was in town from Boston this weekend.  Joe lives with his fiancée, so from the moment he arrived at my place (at 11:45 on Friday night), we started the boozing.  You know, because once you live with your fiancée, you can’t drink so much. 

After waking up around 2pm on Saturday with hangovers (that’s what happens when you stay at a bar until 5:30am because you’re throwing your money at the cute Asian bartender), Joe and I saw “Talladega Nights” (funny, but uneven), grabbed dinner (fried calamari and burgers are becoming my favorite one-two punch), and then started pre-gaming at my place.  I was hitting the bourbon pretty hard, helping myself to healthy pint glasses of Maker’s Mark and (diet) ginger ale (after the requisite two Red Bull and vodka’s). 

Then my buddy Jeremy came over.  Then friends Corinne and Brian.  Then Tom, Brendan, Nicole, and Stephanie.  Magically, there was a small party in my apartment.  Yay.

Unmagically, I was not prepared for this and so our booze ran out very quickly.  I suggested that we head to what we now call The James Fucking Iha bar, which is actually called Tile Bar.  We were off.

By this time, I was feeling pretty good.  Joe and I were drinking at dinner and had a number of drinks prior to heading out.  Things were going as planned.

We settled in at the bar and more friends arrived, including my friend Maryanne and some of her co-workers (”Maryanne” is not her name; I’ve changed it because I’m not sure she’d want to be associated with this post, for reasons that will become apparent shortly).  Maryanne was with two co-workers and promptly introduced me.  The first I had never met, but I did not need an introduction to the second, for I knew her.  

Indeed, she was The Challenger.

(Story time!)

A few years ago, I was dating a girl who abruptly dumped me.  This made me sad and I responded in the way that men respond to such things: by becoming a whore.  For some reason, whenever I come out of a relationship, my ”game” naturally elevates itself. I go from being about as smooth as your average bowling alley employee to just above the level of Antonio Banderas.

[Note that this applies only to relationships in which I've been dumped or otherwise felt wronged or unappreciated.  If the relationship ends amicably or by my accord, I do not get my magic powers.  Which sucks, because if this wasn't the case, I would probably start dating a series of girls in wheelchairs and then immediately breaking up with them, just to get my sexual powers.  But alas, it's not to be.]

It was under these circumstances that I first met The Challenger, who we will call Rebecca.  A bunch of my friends and I were out and Maryanne brought Rebecca to the bar we were at.  Rebecca and I were introduced and I felt it immediately - we were going to make out.  

I descended upon Rebecca like a hawk from hell.  I’ve written before that my idea of foreplay goes 1) Start making out; 2) Count to 100; and 3) Stick it in.  My process of seduction is similarly rushed and just as brutally effective.

I started talking to Rebecca, buying us drinks, laughing it up.  As I did so, I began to isolate us from the rest of the group.  Not that we were on the other side of the bar or anything, but so that we were far enough from our friends not to be distracted.  I need to do this because I can’t have my friends coming up to me when I’m talking to a woman and saying things like, “You know - I was thinking about that time junior year when you ate your own semen and in retrospect I don’t think it was that big a deal.”  Alternatively, I can’t have her friends pulling her aside to warn her about me or whispering things to her, like, “Maryanne just told me that this guy tried to rob a bank last week.  Run away.”

(I would like to say something semi-smooth like “By pulling her away from the others, I’m trying to create a date-like environment,” but that’s just not the truth.  If anything, I’m trying to trap her so that she’s forced to talk to me.  She could be a woman or a bear - it doesn’t really matter.

Rebecca and I were hitting it off.  She was an aspiring actress and, more importantly, a redhead (I had never been with a redhead - and still haven’t, I don’t think).  Things were progressing smoothly as I kept getting both she and I vodka tonics.

[Also, actresses are sexy to me, if for no other reason that if they start acting crazy, you can qualify it by saying, "Well, she is an actress."  I used to sort of see an actress who fascinated me and also gave the most incredible blowjobs in the history of mankind.  Of course, I fucked it up, in part because my old roommate Ben nicknamed her Big Hair.  Giving nicknames to girls I hook up with is typical of Ben - I've been with Big Hair, Man Hands, Man Shoes, John Wayne/The Mitt (who was so "rugged" that she could allegedly light matches off her face) and For Real (who was so talkative and annoying that Ben couldn't believe that I too didn't find her annoying, saying, "For real?  She doesn't annoy you?  For real?"  She actually did annoy the shit out of me but she was pretty hot, so I put up with it for as long as I could before dropping out.)  Anyway, the kicker with Big Hair was that she later got her hair cut and it wasn't so big anymore and it looked great.  And, of course, the blowjobs.  How it ends: I lose.  But back to Rebecca and I...]

Soon enough, sure enough, by the grace of God and the good people at Ketel One, Rebecca and I were making out.  I am an unabashed bar maker outter (I hope spellcheck later changes this word to otter, because that would be awesome).  I know that making out with a stranger at a bar in front of your friends is not really the classy thing to do, but really, when a woman wants to kiss me, that feeling usually lasts for only a brief moment in time.  Meaning, my window of opportunity is short so I must take advantage right away, whether in a bar or at a party or on public transportation.  Also, it’s fun to kiss a girl with your eyes open while looking at your friends across the room who are looking at you.  It really creeps them out.  Like, big time. 

One thing I’m not touching on is that by this point Rebecca and I were both pretty drunk.  I mean, there is a requisite level of intoxication that one must reach - even someone as shameless as I - before it’s acceptable to be groping another person in a bar.  The good news is that Rebecca and I had reached this level a good half hour before we even started making out.  So we were simply now two drunks all over each other in a corner.     

Eventually, when I realized that we might soon be asked to leave the bar because of the way we were carrying on, I started plying Rebecca with requests to come home with me.  She protested, saying again and again that she wasn’t that type of girl, that we had just met, etc.  She said that she wanted to see me again and to prove this gave me her number, then and there.  We kept making out.

I don’t remember how she made her exit (again, very drunk), but we pried ourselves off each other and she left the bar.  I walked over to my friends to hear things like, “Dude, that was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen” and “The image of you holding that girl’s face in your creepy hands while you kissed her - I mean, I won’t sleep for weeks.”  They were obviously jealous.  

About fifteen minutes later, I looked outside the bar to see Rebecca standing there with my friends smoking cigarettes, among them coincidentally my buddy Joe (the same guy who visited me this weekend), when I thought she had left.  Once she and I parted, my testosterone and boner had cooled off quite a bit, resulting me in realizing how drunk I actually was.  I stumbled out to say hello to Rebecca and maybe get some more make out time in.  Drunk Jason likes to make out.

I don’t remember much of us standing outside, but there was no making out or touching between Rebecca and I.  We just all stood around in a circle, talking. 

And then disaster struck.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a guy came over to Rebecca, grabbed her by the hand, and indifferently, casually, led her away.  There were romantic overtones in these actions.  As he led her away, Rebecca looked back at me with this look.  I can’t explain it, but I don’t know if she was trying to exude sexiness or if it was a cocky “fuck you.”  Any way you cut it, the girl I had just spent all night making out with had left with another guy. 

Fuck.

At that moment, Rebecca became The Challenger.  Why?  Because, according to Joe, who was an eyewitness as all this transpired, I made the face that every American made on the fateful day of January 28, 1986 when the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded in the skies above Florida.  I went through the same sequence of emotions: confusion about what was going on; shock when I realized what was actually happening; horror when I thought of its implications; and finally, deep and lasting sadness when I was left with its memory.  Not my finest moment.

Of course, I was duly ragged on by my buddies for what had transpired.  I called my friend Maryanne the next afternoon to chastise her for hanging out with such strumpets when she said, “Yeah, I forgot to mention that she has a boyfriend.” 

Thanks, Mare - INFORMATION THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN USEFUL YESTERDAY.  Apparently, Rebecca was out separately from her boyfriend, but they met up at the end of the night to go home together. 

As you might imagine, I was confused by the whole situation.  We made out all night long, she gave me her number, told me she wanted to see me again - was I played?  Was I the naive victim of a conniving temptress who nearly gave me blue balls?  Or was there something more here that required explanation?

I never found out.  I never spoke to Maryanne again about The Challenger and though the story would occasionally be brought up by my buddies (”Remember when you made out with that girl all night and then she left with her boyfriend and you almost cried?”), it was generally forgotten about, another horror story relegated to the annals of the miserable sex life of Jason Michael Joseph Patrick Aloysius Elizabeth Mulgrew.

NOW - back to this weekend.  The Challenger was now standing right in front of me.  Maryanne had long-forgotten the story and off-handedly introduced me to The Challenger before realizing her mistake as the awkwardness unfolded:

Maryanne: “Jason, this is my friend Rebecca.  Rebecca, this is Jason.”
Rebecca: [glint of recognition not so well-hidden] ”Uh, yeah…hi.”
Me: [sweating, clenching teeth] “Um, hi as well.  To you.  Hello.”
Maryanne: [realizing mistake, pooping self] ”Uh…uh…”

I pride myself on my ability to not be awkward in any situation, but when an embarrassing story I hadn’t thought about in years came to life before my eyes - after a half a bottle of whiskey, no less - well, this was a little much. 

At least the place was loud and crowded with my friends, so I was able to casually slip away after making the introduction so that I could run up to my buddy Joe and tug at him like a child trying to wake his parents on Christmas morning, screaming, “The Challenger is here!  The Challenger has landed!  The Challenger is actually in this fucking bar!”

Within approximately eight seconds, all of my friends who didn’t know the story had been surreptitiously apprised and the stage was set for an evening of awkwardness, pregnant with the possibility of drunken histrionics. 

But Dear Reader, I fear I will only let you down, like I let down my friends that night.  I wish I could report that I walked up to her and confronted her, possibly calling her an antiquated slur for prostitute like tart or harlot or even trollop; or that I shit in a bag in the bathroom, walked out of the bathroom, dumped the shit out in front of her, and said, “This is how you made me feel”; or that I start making out with my buddy Joe, groping him like I had once groped her, before finally saying to her, “I found kissing you so objectionable that I became a homosexual - how does that suit you?  And tell me: as you watch my boyfriend and I kiss, you wish you were him, don’t you?”

Yet I did none of these things.  Instead, I did what has since become natural to me: I retreated to the ever-loving arms of my true mistress, Whiskey.  Over the course of the next few hours, I did two things very well: 1) completely ignored The Challenger (who, it is worth noting, was wearing an engagement ring with a diamond smaller than most of the diamonds I find in my stool); 2) got completely fucking annihilated.  I don’t claim to be a serious whiskey drinker (despite my best efforts) but I have learned to tame it over the last few months, so I know how much I can drink and what state I’ll be in if I surpass this amount. 

But for whatever reason, on Saturday night, things fell apart.  I can’t give you an account of the night, but as I watched The Challenger from afar, stewing in my own rage and perspiration, I got very, very intoxicated.  I don’t remember the night, I don’t remember how I got home, I don’t remember anything.  I remember seeing The Challenger, vaguely recall being at the bar, and then waking up.  That’s all I’ve got from about 1am until 12pm Saturday night/Sunday morning.  

[A story to prove this point: my buddy Terry came over my place at 5am to hang out with Joe and I.  I was already passed out by that point.  But apparently they woke me up and I got up and smoked cigarettes with them until 7am.  I have absolutely no recollection of this.  Also, I don't smoke cigarettes.  But, you know, whatever.]

[Further, Joe, who's been one of my best friends for 13 years and who I lived with all through college, said the only time he's ever seen me so drunk is at the Mummers Parade, which regular readers know is a booze orgy Philly tradition.  So there's that too.]   

There is no resolution to this story, no great ending.  I met The Challenger, I balked, and then I blacked out from alcohol.  I made it through the night without confronting The Challenger or doing anything to harm myself or others. I successfully maintained my pride (I think) and self-respect but no vengeance. 

I woke up only with a hangover and a story.  But really, that’s all I’m looking for on the weekends, so that’s alright with me.     

atque in perpetuum, Challenger, ave atque vale

larry and jason: diet champions forever
Jason posted on August 25, 2006

This is how much I weighed when I started my diet, 60 days ago:

With some feet, since they’re probably my best feature

This is how much I weighed when I got on the scale this morning, marking the end of my diet:

Even my feet look thinner!

This is what I have to say to all the people who said I couldn’t do it:

Looking like a crazy person early in the mornin’

For 60 days, I dieted.  The goal was to lose 20 pounds in those 60 days.  I cut my calories dramatically.  Prior to dieting, I was consuming about 3000 calories a day during the week and upwards of 5000 on the weekends.  I shrank this to 1200 on weekdays and probably around 3500 on the weekends.  This was, believe it or not, surprisingly easy - in part because I compensated for lack of calories with more masturbation.  Which was nice.     

For 60 days, I dieted.  The goal was to lose 20 pounds in those 60 days.  I cut my calories dramatically.  Prior to dieting, I was consuming about 3000 calories a day during the week and upwards of 5000 on the weekends.  I shrank this to 1200 on weekdays and probably around 3500 on the weekends.  This was, believe it or not, surprisingly easy - in part because I compensated for lack of calories with more masturbation.  Which was nice.     

I also began “running.”  For my first “running” exercise, I decided to run as long as I could without stopping from being short of breath.  I lasted two and a half blocks and had to be carried back to my apartment by a Chinese family who I later learned were itinerant (the Hans - lovely people, except that little cocksucker Huan).  Slowly but surely, I progressed.  This past Sunday, I ran for 6.1 miles straight.  And I probably could have gone on longer, but after 60 minutes the treadmill goes into a 5 minute “cooling period” and then shuts down.  I now try to run at least 3 miles every time I’m at the gym.  Otherwise, no masturbating when I get home. 

When I started the diet, I was wearing size 38 pants.  If you listened closely though, you could hear my button and zipper holding on for dear life, screaming bloody murder (”Can’t…hold it…much…longer!  Smell…of semen…too strong!”).  So really, my waist was at least size 39, possibly 40.  As I type this, I am wearing size 36 pants and I feel comfortable and look fashionable (I also had to buy a new belt, as I ran out of notches on my old one and thought it wouldn’t be very professional to use a dart or kitchen knife to make another hole)

I have lost 33 pounds in 60 days (I had lost 20 by Day 38).  I am noticeably thinner, faster, more fit.  Most of my clothes fit me better; some don’t fit at all, since they’re too big.  I no longer suffer from heartburn, (most) poo problems, nor do I have trouble sleeping.  Even though I have yet to begin weightlifting, I’ve noticed muscles appearing in my arms, legs, and shoulders that were not there previously.  If I were to make love, I imagine I could do so for a longer amount of time (because, of course, I’m usually incapable of having an orgasm when I’m making love, as I’m so drunk I might as well be having sex with an empty trash bag, so how long I last depends entirely on physical rather than genital stamina). 

Most importantly, for me at least, it that for the first time in a very long time, I am under 200 pounds.  Sure, it’s only 199.5, but I’m kind of a lawyer and I can tell you that 199.5 is legally below 200.  All my life I’ve been 6′1″ and floating around 235.  Now I am 6′1″ and under 200 pounds.  This blows my fucking mind.

[I mentioned before that my junior year of high school ('95-'96) I ran for Student Council under the slogan "239 lbs of Vice President."  So I'm guessing the last time I was around 200 pounds was my freshman year of high school, 13 years ago.] 

But aside from the physical benefits, I feel great across the board.  I feel smarter.  I’ve never read books at such a feverish pace.  I’ve taken to going back to my old Russian books and cds and am brushing up on the language.  My bed is surrounded by books of poetry, partially to impress any women that lie there with me but also because when I read them they make me cry a little bit.  And all this calorie counting has made me a human calculator. (310 + 440 = 750.  I didn’t even have to look that up.)

I feel more driven.  I’ve set up a number of goals for myself - physically, mentally, professionally - for the next few months and intend to meet - nay, destroy - them.  I won’t get into mental or professional goals because some are gay and some are surprises, but the physical goals I can talk about.  When I started this diet, I intended these last 60 days to be only Phase I of the Jason Mulgrew Reclamation Project (Phase I was also known as ”Let’s Move It, Fat Chops”).  I had no specific goals aside to move more, eat less, and lose weight.  Phase II (”Now We Have Something To Work With”) will last through September and October and will involve circuit training with weights and more high level cardio activity, namely running 15-20 miles per week.  Phase III (”One of My Balls Could Beat Your Ass”), in November and December, will be the most intense yet.  During this phase I hope to be running 25+ miles per week and, after getting my muscles under control in Phase II, getting involved in some serious weightlifting.  The goal is that by January 1, 2007 I will be able to kill a man with one punch AND fuck his girlfriend AND climb a mountain to escape the police.  You know, pretty much what every guy wants.     

I feel more creative.  Maybe it hasn’t come across here in the blog, but in terms of my projects, I feel alight with inspiration and couldn’t be happier with how things are going.  Additionally, for the first time in four years, I’ve started writing music again.  I know that sounds precocious and I realize that creating songs that rhyme “You hit on my dad/I attract fags” does not warrant such a pompous declaration, but it’s true. 

[Also, "dad" and "fag" really do rhyme.  Bet you didn't realize that before you read this post.] 

This is a very good time in my life.  A most excellent time, even.

But there is one problem.  As you read this, I’m guessing that you’re having either one of two reactions.  I hope that you are saying, “Good for Jason.  I’m happy for him.  And I’ll probably fuck him now.”  Or you could be thinking, “Dude, stick to eating mozzarella sticks in the tub.  I don’t want to hear about this shit.” 

For those in the latter camp, I want to assure you that I will ALWAYS enjoy eating mozzarella sticks in the tub.  I’m not just saying this either; I love mozzarella sticks and am eating one now.  But I wanted to point out that this diet has strictly been limited to my personal time.  The diet has manifested itself when I’m alone: eating breakfast and lunch in my office or heating up a dinner at my apartment or going to the gym after work.  Never have I let it affect my social life.  I get really fucked up on the weekends (and some weekdays) and drink whatever I want (I’ve mentioned many times that my tolerance has been lowered because of this diet, which is great).  I have plowed through many a slice of pizza at 4am.  And I’ve gorged myself on all sorts of fat-full dinners out over the past few weeks.  Socially, I’m the same consumer that I’ve always been. 

(If you don’t believe me, bring some mozzarella sticks to my place tonight.  I’ll sit in the tub and eat them and you can sit on the toilet and watch.  But keep your eyes above sea level, if you know what I mean.)

And now I promise that I will stop writing about the diet, since it is, effectively, over.  Of course, I may talk about going to the gym, but that’s because it’s an endless source of material (also, I am falling desperately in love with a girl there; it’s only a matter of time before we are husband and wife so you should get to know her now, as I’ll need your approval of course).  You won’t be hearing anything more about how much weight I’ve lost (especially since as I’m shifting now to a protein-based diet and will begin lifting I expect to gain 10 pounds back and don’t want to brag about that), or how much weight I’m lifting or any of that.  So don’t worry.  Uncle Jason is here.  So is Larry.  So is normal Jason.  Everything’s gonna be alright. 

But for now, it is a time to celebrate.  My old roommate Brian and I have recently invented a new level of drunkenness: impotent drunk.  As the name implies, it is getting so drunk that you are unable to get and maintain an erection.  Well, I’m getting impotent drunk this weekend - all weekend.  I’ve got a buddy in town from Boston and another coming from Philly this Saturday and the situation should be fully out of control by about tonight at 10pm.  I may even poop myself - who knows?  I’m going to play it by ear.  All I know is that I’ve worked pretty hard and things are probably going to get a little crazy over the next 48 hours.

In closing, thank you for tolerating my talk of dieting.  While I am apologetic about how much space I’ve used on the blog to discuss the diet, it doesn’t change the fact that I think what I’ve done is pretty fucking awesome - no apologies for that.  But in the future, I look forward to talking less about it (or not at all).  Except of course when I gain 45 pounds over the next two weeks.  I’ll be sure to chronicle that.

[Have a good weekend.]

email re: skinny legs
Jason posted on August 24, 2006

I was going through emails this morning and found this lovely lil’ one.  Melissa from (I presume) NYC writes:

Were you walking on 1st Avenue near 12th [Monday] night?  Wearing an orange shirt?  I saw a guy that looks like you.  If that WAS you - you have skinny legs.

Well, hello Melissa!  Nice to meet you too!  Yes, that probably was me, as I was walking down 1st on Monday night and rocking my orange t-shirt (one of my favorites).  But I have to take umbrage with the "skinny legs" remark.  While my legs may appear skinny, I assure you they are not.  I have great legs.  Actually, an ex of mine said that the sexiest thing about me was my legs and often remarked how "powerful" they were.  So maybe you had a little too much to drink and couldn’t tell from your brief glance, but my legs are great.  Of course, the ex that said that about my legs is now in prison.  Which I feel kinda bad about, since I should have noticed the warning signs - what with her directing the word "sexy" at me and all.  But the psychologist said that some people are just born arsonists.  So that offers me some comfort.  That and my powerful legs.   

[On second thought, is it kind of sad that the thing my ex found most sexy about me was my legs?  Not my eyes, shoulders, or bird, but my legs?  Not even, like, my presence or charisma?  My legs?]

[...]

[This has been one painful trip down memory lane.  Thanks, Melissa.  Thanks a lot.  You know what - I didn't see you, but you have fat legs.  How does that taste?  Bittersweet, I bet.  Bittersweet.]

2006 fantasy football primer
Jason posted on August 24, 2006

I am the commissioner of a series of fantasy leagues called "Iron Sheik" (named after the one and only Iron Sheik, also coincidentally the name of our college softball team, the same one on which I batted .800 senior year, all the while maintaining a blood-alcohol level of at least .12).  Roughly the same group of guys have been doing this since 2000, with one league per year for baseball, football, and basketball.  This year’s football league is Iron Sheik XX.  Of the 18 titles so far won (as IS XIX - baseball - is still in progress), I have won 4 of them.  And this is a very competitive league.  Translation: I am fucking awesome at fantasy sports. 

But before I get into my fantasy primer, I have to admit that football was not kind to me last year.  I failed to even make the playoffs, a decidedly not awesome move.  But at least I have an excuse: I took Daunte Culpepper in the first round and Ahman Green in the second.  Ouch.  Injuries destroyed these two players and ultimately my season.  That’s the joy and pain of football: because it’s only once a week, anything can happen.  Which is great, except when I get fucked. 

[I should note that in my leagues, we start two QBs, which makes things immensely more difficult.  There are only 30 starting QBs in all the NFL and twelve teams in my fantasy league.  Do the math.  QBs are very important to us.  However, this has no bearing on the rankings below, since I've broken them up by position.]

Iron Sheik tradition is that draft order is determined one week before the draft.  On this day, a female co-worker - one who I hopefully have no made out with, but few are available - will come into my office and randomly pick out of a hat (or folder) the names of each of the league participants.  To ensure validity and that I’m not rigging this, she does this while at least two other members of the league are on speakerphone.
 
We determined our draft order yesterday, as the draft is next Wednesday.  And I got the 4th pick.
 
Yes, the dreaded 4th pick.  It is widely accepted that 1-2-3 in pretty much every single fantasy football draft is some variation of Larry Johnson-Shaun Alexander-LaDainian Tomlinson.  After that, you’re left with a mish-mash of RBs that are too similar too each other for much of a difference.  And I have to pick one of these bums.
 
[Or maybe I'll take Peyton, but I doubt it - I'll explain below.]
 
So while I struggle with what I’m going to do with my 4th overall pick, I’ll give you my draft primer.  First, I’m repeating the same draft tips I wrote last year, then I’ll get into the individual rankings.  Good luck and god speed.
 
Draft Tips
 
1) Do your research.  This may seem obvious, but if you wing it, you’ll lose.  Sure, anyone with a fundamental knowledge of football can navigate through the first few rounds, but what happens in round 8 when you’re looking for a 3rd receiver and are deciding between Braylon Edwards and Donte Stallworth? 
 
At the very least, visit the fantasy sections of ESPN, Yahoo, and CBS Sportsline to get a general idea of two things: what statistics players put up last year and where players are being drafting.  Yeah, odds are good that Peyton Manning will have around 30 TDs and he’s a high pick, but what about a guy like Thomas Jones?  Where’s he being drafted in relation to Cedric Benson? 
 
Go into the draft with some stuff printed out with last year’s stats.  That’ll give you a cheat sheet to look over during the draft.  Additionally, I like to highlight certain guys I like, making notes on the side.  Do whatever makes you comfortable, but you should have a little bit of paperwork to refer to during the draft.
 
2) Lie and manipulate.  If you are in a league with friends, constantly engage them in conversations before the draft.  Feel them out about their battle plans, who they like, etc and reciprocate with information that is entirely false.  The important thing is to be sincere and seem honest.  A good way to do this is by saying stuff like, "You know, I don’t even know if I should tell you this, but I think John Kitna is going to blow up this year" when you secretly think his shoulders going to detach from his body in Week 3. 
 
Say you have the 6th pick in the first round, and you’re buddy has the 5th.  You really, really want Edgerrin James, but think your buddy at 5 is going to take him.  The solution: talk up another player.  "Dude, I love Portis.  Did you see how sick he was at the end of last year?  But c’mon - don’t take him, dude.  I’m calling dibbs on him."  More than likely, your buddy at 5 will take Portis, in the hopes of screwing you over, and you’ll get Edge.  Remember, the other owners in your league are just as soulless as you are, just much, much dumber.  The point is, NEVER show your true hand.  Flaunt your fake hand constantly.
 
3) Don’t panic, and start or stay off the waves.  Countless mistakes are made during the draft because the manager was panicking.  Don’t be like this.  As your pick comes back to you, be sure to have at least two choices ready.  This way, if the guy ahead of you takes the player you wanted, you don’t make a rash decision and end up taking a kicker in the 5th round.
 
A good deal of draft panic derives from position runs.  This happens when a number of players of the same position are selected in a row, causing owners to think, "Holy crap!  All the [QBs, WRs, TEs, etc] are going!  I have to get one now!"  The result is that they wind up with a not-as-good player, because they jumped on the wave too late.
 
My advice is to either stay off these or start them.  I usually stay off rather than start them, just because it’s easier.  But say you’re in the third round, and the guy a few picks before you takes Daunte Culpepper.  Then the next guy takes Donovan McNabb.  Then the next guy takes Jake Delhomme or Matt Hasselbeck or someone.  Then it’s on.  You’ll see a flurry of managers selecting QBs that shouldn’t be selected.  In this situation, I would back off, take a RB or star WR, and wait a few rounds before taking a serviceable QB (Warner, Bulger, etc).
 
Runs or waves most often happen late in the draft when people pick kickers or defenses.  I usually completely ignore these, preferring instead to take a third RB or another QB.  Which brings us to…
 
4) Fuck tight ends, kickers, and defenses.  Simply put, these don’t matter very much.  There’s something to be said for having Tony Gonzalez or Antonio Gates, but if you don’t get them in round 4 or 5, forget it.  In a 16 round draft, I won’t take these three positions until rounds 12-16.  And even then I don’t put much thought into it.  I’d rather pick up a different defense every week and draft a young WR with a lot of upside than take the Pittsburgh defense in the 8th.
 
5) Know your enemy.  When you’re picking, it’s important to know who the managers around you already have on their teams.  For example, say you have the 8th pick in a 10 person league.  It’s the 3rd round, and you’re really looking for a QB, but you see that a nice WR has fallen to you.  Check to see who the 9th and 10th owners have.  If they already have a QB, take the WR with your 3rd round choice and then get the QB on the wrap in the 4th round, following the logic that if the guys picking after you already have a QB, they’re not going to take another one.  This knowledge is key. 
 
6) Think "best available."  I’m all for filling out your roster positions, but at the same time I adhere to the principle of "best available," meaning take the best available player, regardless of position.  For example, say by the 3rd round I’ve drafted two quality RBs and a decent QB.  In round 4, if I see another very good RB who I think has lasted too long, I will take him over a WR that I have less confidence in.  Sure, it means that I have one RB too many, but it also means that my competitor won’t have this RB on his team.  It’s a wise decision to draft best available because it means a) you’ll have trade bait and b) it’s offensive by being defensive.
 
7) Handcuff, handcuff, handcuff.  Spend the last few rounds making sure you draft the backups of your marquee players.  Players get hurt and their backups step up and often times play well (especially in the case of RBs and, to a less extent, QBs).  For a lesson, look at the sorry losers who drafted Priest Holmes last year but didn’t also take Larry Johnson.  Um, opps.     
 
So there are your tips.  Now onto the positions.
 
[Note: We will assume that this is a standard scoring league with ten teams playing head-to-head, the position break-down being: QB, RB, RB, WR, WR, WR, TE, K, DEF.  "Sleepers" and "busts" mean that I think relative to where these players are being drafted, they will perform better or worse.  If I say that Peyton Manning is a potential bust, I don’t mean that I think he’s going to throw for 6 TDs and 20 INTs.  I mean that he ain’t gonna perform like a #4 overall pick.  Dig?]
 
QUARTERBACK
1 Peyton Manning, Ind
2 Tom Brady, NE
3 Donovan McNabb, Phi  
4 Carson Palmer, Cin
5 Matt Hasselbeck, Sea
6 Daunte Culpepper, Mia
7 Eli Manning, NYG
8 Jake Delhomme, Car 
9 Drew Brees, NO 
10 Kurt Warner, Ari
11 Trent Green, KC
12 Jake Plummer, Den
13 Marc Bulger, StL 
14 Ben Roethlisberger, Pit 
15 Michael Vick, Atl 
16 Brett Favre, GB
17 Byron Leftwich, Jac  
18 Jon Kitna, Det
19 Brad Johnson, Min
20 Philip Rivers, SD 
 
Peyton at 1, Brady at 2, and - McNabb at 3?  Call me a homer, but he looks terrific in camp.  Yeah, yeah - he’s got no one to throw to, but he didn’t for 90% of his career and had some fine years.  Carson Palmer has the biggest question mark of any player in the league.  Yes, he threw for 32 TDs last year, but his knee got really fucked up.  As my buddy Joe and I were recently discussing, he doesn’t seem like what the announcers call "a player" - everything I’m reading is talking about how tentative he’s being.  I’m not exactly saying he’s a pussy, but I am saying I hope that I don’t have to make a call on draft day on whether or not to take him. 
 
[And I stress this every year (well, last year and this year): do not overvalue Peyton.  Yes, he threw an unbelievable 49 TDs two years ago.  But in the past five years he's thrown 26-27-29-49-28 TDs - which of these things is not like the others?  Fine numbers and all, but expect 28, not 38.]
 
Potential Sleepers: Three jump out - Culpepper, Kitna, and Rivers.  Culpepper burned me (and many others) very badly last year, but when he’s healthy, he’s an incredible talent.  As I said yesterday, I’m a big believer in Mike Martz’s offensive system and John Kitna (I never thought I’d say this) is a good QB.  As for Rivers, remember: many had him higher than Eli on their draft boards.  He’ll take his lumps, but he’s got a 6′6" target who just so happens to be the best TE in the league within ten yards of him and one of the top RBs in the league lining up behind him (and a great pass catcher).  I can’t think of a better set-up for a young QB than that. 
 
Potential Busts: Culpepper.  Just too damn intriguing to let slip too far, but such a painful history (so, so much pain).  I only have a hunch about this, but I feel like Eli is very overrated (especially if you have Giants fans in your league) and people are a little high on Delhomme (even though I think the Panthers will win the Super Bowl).   
 
Guys Who Might Kill Me Because I Hate Them: Drew Bledsoe, who isn’t even on this list.  Fuck you, Drew.  Also, fuck you, Chris Simms.  You and your dad both suck. 

RUNNING BACK
1 LaDainian Tomlinson, SD
2 Shaun Alexander, Sea
3 Larry Johnson, KC
4 Tiki Barber, NYG
5 Clinton Portis, Was
6 Edgerrin James, Ari
7 Steven Jackson, StL
8 Rudi Johnson, Cin
9 LaMont Jordan, Oak
10 Carnell Williams, TB
11 Ronnie Brown, Mia
12 Kevin Jones, Det
13 Domanick Davis, Hou
14 Willis McGahee, Buf
15 Corey Dillon, NE
16 Reggie Bush, NO
17 Brian Westbrook, Phi
18 Julius Jones, Dal
19 Chester Taylor, Min
20 DeShaun Foster, Car
21 Joseph Addai, Ind
22 Mike Bell, Den
23 Warrick Dunn, Atl 
24 Reuben Droughns, Cle
25 Willie Parker, Pit
 
You really can’t go wrong with any of the top three in any order.  I choose LT because he’s done it for awhile now, while LJ has less than a full season of dominance (serious fucking dominance, but still) and Shaun Alexander is a) no longer in a contract year; b) lost star o-lineman Steve Hutchinson; and most importantly c) is on the cover of "Madden 07" and thus susceptible to the Madden cover jinx.  Tiki is a natural at 4 (no, I don’t believe that Brandon Jacobs will vulture too many of his TDs AND look at Tiki’s yards receiving the past few years).  Portis and his shoulder scares the hell out of me, especially since the Skins traded for Duckett (who WILL vulture goal-line touches), but no one puts the fear of God in me like Edge.  Yes, Kurt Warner quietly had a great year throwing to two of the best WRs in the league (Fitzgerald and Boldin), but that o-line is terrible, absolutely terrible.  Edge could have an MVP-type year or, um, not so much. 
 
Potential Sleepers: Why is everyone down on Corey Dillon? Have I missed something here?  Maybe I have, but he had like a dozen TDs last year but isn’t cracking many top 20 lists.  I think Kevin Jones could have a nice year for the same reason I believe in John Kitna - the RB in a Martz system is the recipient of a lot of scores (yes, I realize that Kevin Jones is no Marshall Faulk, but if he’s half that, that’s cool with me). Watch out for Chestor Taylor and DeShaun Foster as well. 
 
Potential Busts: I think Reggie Bush is very overrated at the moment.  I think I have him too high in my list, but there is always a chance that Deuce gets hurt and Reggie runs for 1400 yards, so I want to cover my ass.  But I wouldn’t take him too high.  I mentioned Edge’s and Portis’s potential as busts above 
 
Guys Who Might Kill Me Because I Hate Them: Take your pick - Cedric Benson, Thomas Jones, Deuce McAllister, Reggie Bush.  I have little to no idea what’s going on in these situations, so fuck ‘em all.  Fuck ‘em all to hell. 

WIDE RECEIVER
1 Steve Smith, Car
2 Marvin Harrison, Ind
3 Chad Johnson, Cin 
4 Terrell Owens, Dal
5 Torry Holt, StL
6 Randy Moss, Oak
7 Larry Fitzgerald, Ari
8 Anquan Boldin, Ari
9 Hines Ward, Pit
10 Santana Moss, Was
11 Chris Chambers, Mia
12 Roy Williams, Det
13 Plaxico Burress, NYG
14 Reggie Wayne, Ind
15 T.J. Houshmandzadeh, Cin
16 Javon Walker, Den
17 Joe Horn, NO
18 Lee Evans, Buf
19 David Givens, Ten
20 Derrick Mason, Bal
21 Donald Driver, GB
22 Andre Johnson, Hou
23 Darrell Jackson, Sea
24 Keenan McCardell, SD
25 Joey Galloway, TB
26 Matt Jones, Jac
27 Brandon Lloyd, Was
28 Drew Bennett, Ten
29 Rod Smith, Den
30 Troy Williamson, Min
 
Admittedly, WR is the weakest part of my game, in part because I just can’t be bothered as much as with the other positions.  A good QB will get 20 TDs and 2500 yards, a good RB 10 TDs and 1200 yards, a good WR 7 TDs and 1000 yards.  So naturally I spend more time on the money positions.  And it kills me almost every year.
 
But this year I’ve been researching a bit more on the WR position and feel pretty confident.  The top 10 here and the same top 10 you’ll see on almost every list, but two things to note: 1) If Terrell Owens is healthy (and I don’t know how big that "if" is), he is going to have a very big year.  Or I will assassinate him.  2) Did you ever think you’d see the day when Randy Moss is out of the top five?  I had trouble doing it myself, but I had a lot more faith in Kerry Collins (and we all know how that worked out) than I do in Aaron Fucking Brooks.  Poor guy.  Randy, why don’t you come to Philly?  Please? 
 
Potential Sleepers: Roy Williams (see Jones, K; Kitna, J), Javon Walker (if he regains his speed, Plummer likes the bomb - could be a nice match); Joe Horn (yeah, he doesn’t score, but who else is Brees going to pass to?), Matt Jones (gotta love a white guy who learned to play WR just last year and had a good season). 
 
Potential Busts: Depending on the fate of Carson Palmer, I’m a little concerned with the Cincy guys; I don’t even know if I truly feel Johnson should be #3, but his potential and gold teeth lure me to him like a siren song.  And Hines Ward can’t possibly have a better year than he did last year.  Other than that, since WR is a difficult position to predict, no one really jumps out as a potential bust. 
 
Guys Who Might Kill Me Because I Hate Them: Because I’m not so hot on Eli, Plaxico might give me fits this season.  Keyshawn gets a big fuck you, and while we’re at it, so does Jerry Porter (nicknamed by former coach John Gruden "The Rainbow" - pretty when he’s around, but barely so) and Laveranues Coles (just because I had to look at the ESPN.com site five times before I spelled his name correctly). 
 
TIGHT END
1 Antonio Gates, SD
2 Tony Gonzalez, KC
3 Alge Crumpler, Atl
4 Jeremy Shockey, NYG
5 Todd Heap, Bal
6 Jason Witten, Dal 
7 Randy McMichael, Mia
8 L.J. Smith, Phi
9 Kellen Winslow, Cle
10 Ben Watson, NE
11 Vernon Davis, SF
12 Chris Cooley, Was
13 Dallas Clark, Ind
14 Heath Miller, Pit
15 Jerramy Stevens, Sea
 
There is actually some pretty nice depth in the position this year; no need to fret if you miss out on Gates and Gonzalez early on.  Though they still are the best of the group, if you’re in a 10 person league, I think these top, say, 12 guys are all capable of at least 6 TDs, in some case many more.  I’ve been doing fantasy football for six years and I can’t recall and deeper class of TEs (translation: don’t waste an early pick on Gates or Gonzo).  
 
Potential Sleepers: I am loving three guys later on - LJ Smith, Kellen Winslow, and Ben Watson.  I think LJ finally stops dropping passes and pulls it together - reports from camp have been good.  Kellen Winslow is a complete asshole, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he has a very big year - he’s been drafted rather low among TEs, so don’t forget him.  And Ben Watson, well, I just feel it.  I’m thinking he could pull something like 8 TDs this year.
   
Potential Busts: Jeremy Shockey’s 900 yards last year were nice, but when is he going to establish himself as a big-time red zone target?  I have him listed 4th here and I believe that he is, but I wouldn’t draft him before round 8 or 9.  Yes, everyone knows Vernon Davis is big, but don’t bite too early on him. 
 
Guys Who Might Kill Me Because I Hate Them: None come immediately come to mind.  I mean, I hate Shockey and Winslow, but I guarantee I won’t have Shockey on any teams (other assholes will take him higher than I would) and Winslow is just a dick but kinda sexy, so there’s that. 
 
KICKER
1 Adam Vinatieri, Ind
2 Neil Rackers, Ari
3 Jason Elam, Den
4 David Akers, Phi
5 Mike Vanderjagt, Dal
6 Shayne Graham, Cin
7 Jay Feely, NYG
8 Josh Brown, Sea
9 Jeff Wilkins, StL
10 John Kasay, Car 
 
I’m not going to do sleepers/busts for kickers and defenses because I don’t care, I don’t know enough to, and this is already really, really long.  I have two rules when it comes to selecting kickers: 1) Take a kicker on an offense that scores a lot; 2) Take a kicker than plays in nice weather.  I have no idea how many field goals any of these guys will kick, but I know Indy will score points and they play inside.  There are exceptions (Elam, though the thin Colorado air makes the ball fly) and ol’ Ryan Longwell back in the GB days, but a kicker is not going to make or break your season so don’t take any of these guys too high.   
 
DEFENSE
1 Bears
2 Steelers
3 Panthers
4 Colts
5 Seahawks
6 Giants
7 Ravens
8 Jaguars
9 Broncos
10 Eagles
11 Buccaneers
12 Cowboys 
13 Redskins 
14 Patriots
15 Bengals
 
More important than kickers but more difficult to predict are defenses.  Unless you use some crazy scoring systems, the most important indicator of a good fantasy defense is how many TDs it scores (whereas in the NFL defenses are ranked on yards allowed).  How the hell can you guess how many TDs a defense will score?  Frustrating owners further is that statistically, there is only a slight (or at least erratic) correlation between the NFL’s best defenses and fantasy’s.  Fuck.  So use this list, use another list, or just make it the fuck up: as long as you don’t take a defense too early, we can still be friends.   
 
***************
 
There’s your 2006 fantasy football primer.  Wow - almost 4000 words.  Do you see what happens when I’m allowed to write about sports?  Thank you for indulging me over the past two days and tomorrow we return to our regularly scheduled programming.  Good luck on your fantasy football drafts and I look forward to the 200 or so emails I’m going to get calling me an asshole who doesn’t know shit about football.  Don’t expect a response. 

2006 nfl preview
Jason posted on August 23, 2006

My god I love the fall.

I know, I know - it’s not fall yet, but it’s coming.  The oppressive heat and nasty smells of the summer will soon be gone, leaving behind cool nighttime breezes, sleeping with the windows open, finally having an excuse to cover up any exposed parts of my body, and of course, football.

I love football.  I love both the game itself and the experience; there is nothing like waking up at noon on Sunday with a hangover, kicking whatever random girl you’re with out of your bed, ordering a pizza and 50 wings, and spending the next ten hours watching football.  A better way to spend a day, I can think of none.

What follows is my 2006 NFL preview.  Many of you know that my favorite team is my hometown Philadelphia Eagles, who had a bad season last year.  However, what’s past is past and we must look forward to the future.  And now let’s never talk about the 2005 Eagles again.  Thank you for your support.

[Note about the preview that I give every year: I have neither the time nor the mathematical prowess to count every team's projected record to make sure the league's cumulative record is even at .500.  So just give me a break on that, ok?]

NFC EAST
New York Giants  10-6
Philadelphia Eagles 9-7
Washington Redskins 8-8
Dallas Cowboys  7-9

Why do I have to start with this division, which, I believe, is the best in football (not that I’m biased or anything)?  I think the Giants are the best in the division but are a bit over-hyped (I don’t think this is the year Eli makes "the leap" and yes, I realize how many Giants fans are going to email me after his first 4 TD game).  I like the Eagles, I truly do.  I think they could even make a potential run at the playoffs if only because they solved a major dilemma from last year: the shitty d-line.  When you blitz, if your front four can’t get pressure, the whole thing is fucked.  This is what happened last year (oh yeah, and some injuries and something with one of their receivers).  They are now DEEP at d-line but I have no idea who’s playing outside linebacker and I will never feel happy with Westbrook as a feature back and let’s not get started on the receivers and those last few games in this year’s schedule .  So I’ll put them at 9-7.  Washington seems mediocre and much depends on how tender Portis’ shoulder is.  And finally…Dallas.  Though I put a futures bet on them to win the Super Bowl, it already seems like it’ll be tough: weak O-line, Romo breathing down Bledsoe’s neck, and, oh yeah, T.O.  I think it’s only about three games before Parcells and T.O. are fighting.  Three weeks tops.  

NFC NORTH
Detroit Lions  10-6
Chicago Bears  10-6
Minnesota Vikings  7-9
Green Bay Packers  4-12

I’m a big believer in Mike Martz’s system (please, at least try to conceal your laughter).  I know it’s a little crazy, but I think Detroit has a lot of weapons.  Maybe they turn it around this year.  The debate now in Chicago is Grossman or Greise and my suggestion is: who gives a shit?  Let’s get Cedric Benson 400 carries and ride that defense out.  The Vikings, well, I don’t think they’ll be any boat cruises, but Brad Johnson just lost his #1 WR to a DWI and Chestor Taylor as your main guy?  Much has been said of Favre’s comment that this is the most talented team he’s played with…let’s just make sure we all start our fantasy defenses when he’s playing.

NFC SOUTH
Carolina Panthers  11-5
New Orleans Saints  9-7
Tampa Bay Buccaneers  8-8
Atlanta Falcons  5-11

Carolina is freak nasty as long as nothing major happens to Steve Smith; by Week Six it should be obvious that they have the division wrapped up.  I think New Orleans will surprise many people this year and yes, Reggie Bush will be starting by midseason at the latest.  Tampa could make some noise but I just can’t bring myself to believe in them with Chris Simms at the helm.  I can not say this enough, even though I’ve been saying it for years: Michael Vick will never be truly successful as an NFL quarterback.  Yes, he scrambles, but so did Randall Cunningham.  Both guys are the same: all tools, no brains.  And no, I’m not being racist, even though Steve Young, a nice white boy, scrambled and was successful.

NFC WEST
Seattle  12-4
Arizona  10-6
St. Louis  6-10
San Francisco  3-13

If Seattle doesn’t win this division, someone needs to be fired.  Arizona, with Matt Leinart at the helm, will make the playoffs (even though the o-line is highly suspect).  And really, what can anyone say about St. Louis and San Fran other than, "Eh?"

************************

AFC EAST
New England Patriots  10-6
Miami Dolphins  10-6
Buffalo Bills  6-10
NY Jets  4-12 

Though they win the division, this is the first year that the New England dynasty takes a serious hit.  I see a couple of failures where failures previously did not arise.  Just an instinct.  Everyone is all over Miami.  I like Saban and his system, I like Ronnie Brown.  Daunte Culpepper, after what he did to my fantasy team last year, will never be the beneficiary of my love or trust.  Also, their uniforms are still teal and orange.  Buffalo, sadly, will remained mired in its horrid post-90’s quagmire and it’s going to be a looooooonnnnnggggg year for Gang Green.  Ouch, baby.

AFC NORTH
Cincinnati Bengals  11-5
Pittsburgh Steelers  9-7 
Cleveland Browns  8-8 
Baltimore Ravens  5-11

Yeah, I know the Bengals love getting arrested and I know that Carson is still tentative about his knee, but I think he’s going to be nasty this year.  They have a stud QB, a very good RB, a great WR, a solid defense, and a very good coach.  You know how one Super Bowl team misses the playoffs the next year?  Say hello to Pittsburgh.  I’m not feeling you, Ben.  Sorry.  Cleveland is my version of New Orleans…I still don’t know who Charlie Frye is and I’m listed as their second-string center and Kellen Winslow is just such a fucking cocksucker, but I really think I’d like the city of Cleveland, so let’s let them at least be .500.  And Baltimore…this is Brian Billick’s last year there.  Mark it down. 

AFC SOUTH
Indianapolis Colts  12-4
Tennessee Titans  9-7 
Jacksonville Jaguars  8-8
Houston Texans  5-11

No surprise: the Colts win a lot of games.  I think the Titans make a little noise and sneak into the playoffs - remember, Vince Young is NOT Michael Vick (Vick never passed for 3000+ yards in a college season; Vick never passed for over 2000).  Jacksonville doesn’t continue on the momentum of their 12-4 season last year and Houston fucking stinks (I understand that they needed help on their d-line more than in the backfield, but really?).

AFC WEST
Denver Broncos  11-5 
San Diego Chargers  8-8 
Kansas City Chiefs  8-8 
Oakland Raiders  6-10

Denver has another solid, spectacular season (no, Jay Cutler will not start).  San Diego falters but Rivers shows flashes of brilliance.  KC under Herm is inconsistent, winning or losing by a lot, giving gamblers fits.  Oakland - do you really think Aaron Fucking Brooks is the answer?  Man, I feel bad for you.

[Notice though, that even if I seem to have taken some risks (i.e. Detroit, Arizona, Miami, etc), they're really not that risky at all since they're the "hot" NFL picks.  But I'm a wuss.  I applaud any man who can pick the Titans to win the AFC South or the Rams to win the NFC.  'Cause I ain't doing it.]

******************

PLAYOFFS

NFC
1) Seattle Seahawks
2) Carolina Panthers
3) Detroit Lions
4) NY Giants
5) Arizona
6) Chicago

Wild Card
#3 Detroit over #6 Chicago
#5 Arizona over #4 New York
Inspired by their first playoffs games, um, almost ever, Detroit and ‘Zona overtake the Bears and G-Men with their gumption.  John Kitna turns in a Christ-like performance as the Lions win 10-0 while Leinart proves he’s much better-looking and better-playing than Eli on this day: Cards 24, Giants 16.

Divisional
#1 Seattle over #5 Arizona
#2 Carolina over #3 Detroit
Though they had a nice run and made for a heart-warming story, both Arizona and Detroit are crushed by the two teams that have been the cream of the crop in the NFC all season long.  Both teams cover the spreads: I buy a boat.   

Conference
#2 Carolina over #1 Seattle
Carolina continues its nasty season and dispatches Seattle at home - without even shoddy officiating. 


AFC
1) Indianapolis Colts
2) Denver Broncos
3) Cincinnati Bengals
4) New England Patriots
5) Miami Dolphins
6) Tennessee Titans

Wild Card
#6 Tennessee over #3 Cincinnati
#5 Miami over #4 New England
6′6" 320 pounds Albert Haynesworth falls on Carson "Pretty Boy" Palmer’s knee: Titans 23, Cincy 17.  Miami shuts up 60,000 Massholes by stunning the Pats at home (told you it was the beginning of the end for New England). 

Divisional
#1 Indy over #6 Tennessee
#5 Miami over #2 Denver
While Vince Young may be a stud, the uber-nerd Manning wins the day as the Colts rout the Titans.  Miami, led by the nasty Ronnie Brown, runs all over Denver and - shockingly - Mike Shanahan chokes in the playoffs.

Conference
#1 Indy over #5 Miami
Finally, Indy gets to the Super Bowl in a boring game in which Miami never challenges.  Also, at halftime, I get a blowjob.  Just a hunch. 

SUPER BOWL
Carolina over Indy
I’ve gone on record to say that Peyton Manning will never win a championship, so I can’t go back on that now.  Carolina is going to be champs: a B+ defense, depth at RB, one playmaking receiver and another who’s just a dickhead enough to cause some problems, a QB with experience, and solid special teams.  Carolina, Carolina, Carolina.  Mark it down.  

[Tomorrow, tune in for our annual fantasy football preview.] 

tuesday miscellany
Jason posted on August 22, 2006

Last night, I got home, made myself a nice lil’ dinner, and sat down to watch one of my favorites: that evening’s Tivo’d BBC World News.  But I couldn’t.  Because my cable was shut off.

So I did what they did before television and went for a walk, enjoying the beautiful Manhattan night. 

The point: maybe I should focus on paying my cable bill instead of getting a car.  I mean, I’m not a financial planner or anything, but that seems like the smart play.  A car, I can live without.  But if I can’t watch my BBC World News, my murder shows, and Tivo’d episodes of my favorites sitcoms, well, that’s not going to be good for anyone.   

**********

Re: my bachelor party post yesterday.  Those present, after reading my post, reminded me that I forgot two very important elements to the party.  Of course, now out of the context of the post, they aren’t going to sound very funny.  But in the interests of journalistic integrity (to really "surround the story"), I offer them to you now. 

1) Dave & Buster’s, the place where most of the bachelor party took place, is an arcade-type place.  Like most arcade-type places, they award tickets for high scores (like my high scores in ski-ball and foul shooting) that can be redeemed for prizes: anything from junk like plastic toys to fo’ real shit like microwaves and televisions. 

One of the guys in the bachelor party is currently seeing a girl with a kid, a daughter who’s a toddler.  He’s ok with this, but we sometimes "have fun" with him about it.  The daughter’s name is Hannah.

All night it became a running joke that we were trying to achieve (in Lebowski parlance) in the various video games in order to win tickets to turn in for presents for Hannah.  My buddy Ryan started this, screaming, "Hannah’s gettin’ a bracelet!" after he scored high in foul shooting.  As each person kept playing and winning more tickets, we kept upping the prize for Hannah.  Finally, when I blew everyone away with a 71 in foul shooting, I screamed, "Fuck it - Hannah’s gettin’ a pony!"  After that, the joke sort of hit its ceiling.  But, um, it was fun.

[See, I told you it wouldn't be funny a day later.]

[Or maybe, ever.]

[But conversely, there was a running joke on me.  I've told you that no one can really tell that I've lost weight, and after a few drinks, barbs starting flying about this.  Stuff like, "Dude, it was a really good idea for you to go on that strict diet, because I can totally tell that you've lost weight" and "So now are you shopping at Gap Kids or what?"  Again not funny, but painful.  Very painful.]

2) I have a disease.  I would make up a cute name for it like textmessagitis, but I’d just as soon make out with a cousin.  Basically, I text message EVERYONE when I’m drunk (or even getting drunk).  If I have your number, odds are 99% that you’ve gotten a text message from me in the last two or so weeks (especially with last week’s weeknight drunkenness).

Generally this is not a problem.  Most of the people I text I know pretty well (I mean, I have their numbers) and they know to take it as a joke or brush it off.  And I’m not texting anything weird; my favorite last week was a quote from The Royal Tenenbaums: "Did you tell Margot about the letter I wrote to you?" (Richie asks Eli this).  But I sent this to people who only knew the joke - the rest got something random and harmless. 

But sometimes it is a problem.  I’m hiding the fact that, in keeping with my creepy style, I’m a number collector.  If we made out three years ago and you gave me your number, I still have it (even if we had never spoken again).  I have numbers from people from college I haven’t spoken to since.  Worse yet, I have numbers of girls I made out with either in college or post-college that I have not spoken to for a very long time.  

And, as you might guess, these people get texts too.  Again, stupid harmless stuff that can be as simple as "Hi" or "Do you smell that?"  But sometimes I get a little faux-randy and send out a "Seriously, what are you wearing?"  This is all fine to friends that I speak to regularly, but if I last spoke to you in a bar in November of 2003, well, it’s not so good.     

My buddy Kyle is aware of this and always jokes with me about it.  In the incipient stages of the night, he saw me reaching for my phone and texting away.  He offered to take the phone from me so that I couldn’t text, watching it in case anyone called or texted me.  I agreed.  I realized I needed help.

I was ok with it during the night.  I only missed my phone as a watch (since I don’t wear one, it tells me what time it is).  But then there was a problem.

Kyle was supposed to be checking my phone for incoming calls or messages.  But, being drunk, he kinda forgot.  Finally, when we were leaving the strip club (at about 3:30), he gave me my phone back.  Much to my chagrin, I had missed some texts - Kyle didn’t do a very good job of checking at all.  Most of them weren’t important (like my old roommate Brian asking me where I was even though I had told him several times during the week and even the night before that I was in Philly - I guess he was, shockingly, pretty banged up).  

But then I got an unsolicited message from a girl that in a previous life I used to make out with.  She was in Philly.  She knew I was in Philly.  She wanted to see what was up.  She had messaged me three hours earlier.  I was unhappy.    

Since Kyle failed to achieve, even in the modest task that was his charge, it cost me a potential make-out session.  Desperate loser that I am, I immediately fired back a text to the girl.  However, since bars close in Philly at 2 and it was now almost 3:30, I did not get a response.  Fuck.

I suppose it’s for the best - I was probably too drunk/tired to get an erection anyway (assuming that an erection would even have been called for) and at least I got my broccoli cheese puffs.  But I learned an important lesson: it’s better to be addicted to text messaging than to miss out on (potentially) making out.  So fuck that.  For those of you whose number I have, expect some texts this weekend.   

**********

Finally, some extracurricular reading courtesy of Misha in Baltimore.  This is an article from a Washington Post from last week, listing the smelliest places in NYC.  I would like to point out that the first location they mention is literally two blocks away from my apartment.  And I don’t mean to spoil anything, but I’m actually kinda pissed that they found that it wasn’t the stinkiest place in Manhattan.  I mean, wtf?  I’ll have to check out the winner and report back.   

**********

And really finally: you’re going to get a lot of football over the next few days.  You have been warned.  If you want to just come back Friday, I’ll understand.  See you then. 

five things I learned about myself, bachelor parties, and life this weekend
Jason posted on August 21, 2006

1) I love sleep, sweet sleep.
I left NYC on Friday night for a bachelor party in Philly on Saturday.  I could have stayed in NYC on Friday night and left the following "morning," but that would not have been a good idea.  We were to meet at a buddy’s house on Saturday at 4pm to start the festivities.  If I had stayed in NYC on Friday night, I would have gone out, gotten bombed, woken up at 1pm, then would have had to rush home with a hangover.  Not a good idea.

(To give you an idea, NYC to Philly via Amtrak takes about 1.5 hours, but costs $70.  NYC to Philly via local trains - NJ Transit and Septa - takes almost three hours, but costs $20.) 

Since I was planning on getting a train at 10pm, I opted for Amtrak, since I did not want to be riding the rails