Some very big news for everyone here in the jm.com family: Site Guy Brendan and his girlfriend Liz have gotten engaged.

I don’t know much about the specifics, since I got a text message from Brendan last night that said only, "Engaged."  I assume that that means "engaged to be married" and I assume it would be to Liz, but, again, I can’t confirm that for sure.  But I can’t fault Brendan for his brevity; I imagine when I get engaged I won’t even tell me friends via text message (though of course they don’t have text messages in Ecuador).

If Brendan and Liz are indeed engaged, I congratulate them both and I am very happy for them.  I know Brendan has been planning this for some time, and I’m sure he did a perfect job with the proposal (just as I am sure that Brendan and Liz will be very happy together for a very long time).

And if Brendan and Liz did not get engaged, well, let’s just hope someone tells me before either one of them reads this. 

(So if anyone can confirm or discomfirm, please email me asap.  Thanks.)

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Every day (weather permitting), I walk to and from work.  And almost every day, no matter what time I leave, I pass the same girl.

She’s about my age and always walking in the opposite direction.  She’s tall and thin; she looks kinda like Katie Holmes but with lighter eyes (either green or blue) and slightly chubbier cheeks.  She dresses well.

When I first saw her, I thought she was cute.  I still thought she was cute after we kept passing each other, but she’s not my type.  I don’t know if you guys have picked up on this, but I kinda like boobies.  And this young lady would be flattered if I compared her boobies to two rolls of scotch tape pressed against her chest.  Read: I do not leer at this woman in the same way that I leer at most beautiful women I pass on the street.  Come with the boobies or don’t come at all.  That’s what I always say.

Still, it’s kinda weird seeing the same person almost every day on the way to and on the way home from work.  Sometime during the second week of consistently seeing her, I decided I’d give her a smile.  We occasionally made quick eye contact when we passed each other, so I thought a smile would be a nice way to say hello.  Again, though while I certainly would have sex with this woman (I mean, she’s there and she moves by herself, thereby meeting my two qualifications), I would never approach her or ask her on a date or anything.  Smiling was my way of being a friendly neighbor (or at least, fellow New Yorker).

So earlier this week, during our brief moment of eye contact, I flashed her my best "I’m not a creep (really) and I’m just trying to say ‘Good morning’" smile.  She seemed unphased, except that she broke her gaze off maybe a nanosecond earlier than she normally did.  Fine.  I can deal with that.

I didn’t see her on my walk home from work that day, but the following day I saw her on my way to work.  As we approached each other, I got that non-threatening smile ready and fired it off at the appropriate time.  However, she didn’t look at me.  Oh well.

Saw her on the way home.  Didn’t look at me.  Saw her the next morning.  Didn’t look at me.  Saw her on the way home that next day.  Didn’t look at me.  Since she saw me smile at her, she hasn’t looked at me. 

Thanks.

Listen, sweetheart, I’m sorry.  I won’t smile at you any longer.  Instead, I will scowl when we pass each other, or perhaps I will gnash my teeth like a wolverine or, better, a vampire.  I apologize for making you uncomfortable by simply smiling at you, sending you into a deep and profound terror based on the fear that I might approach you.  Perhaps, next time we pass each other, I will approach you, if only to explain that I was smiling because sometimes it’s nice to smile, not because I’m using you for my masturbatory fantasies and/or picking out the names of our children.

Otherwise, have a good day at work.      

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Something I should have addressed before posting the pictures from the wedding earlier this week: Nass.

Most of my college friends call me Nass.  It’s sort of a long, boring story, but basically "Nass" is a contracted version of "No Ass."  Because:

1) I physically have no ass.  Seriously.  I have a back, then legs.  No ass to be seen.  It’s really quite amazing.  My body is a marvel of science.

2) At the time this nickname was bestowed upon me, I was getting no ass.

For whatever reason, Nass stuck and this is what almost all of my college buddies call me to this day.  So there.  Nass.

(Yes, I know – not nearly as good as the HD nickname explanation, but it’s really out of my hands.  At least now you know.)

(And no, you cannot call me Nass.  Sorry.)

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Am I alone in thinking that Jim McGreevey’s ex-wife, Dina Matos McGreevey, is hot? 

I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve been a little lonely lately and for whatever reason am developing a thing for older women, but I am very attracted to her.  It could also be because she’s been wounded; I’ve always been very good at being the rebound guy who is nice and always ready with his shoulder to cry on but who will also love you like a mighty Cossack ravaging the sweet peasant girl on the steppes of the Caucasuses.

But something is definitely aflutter in my groin when I look at her.  If anyone can put me in touch with her, please email me asap.  I’d like to take her out to dinner.  Wearing my Cossack uniform.  You know, just to see what happens.   

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Two sports-related notes:

1) The MLB Extra Innings baseball package is changing my life.  It’s on my TV every night when I go home, where I’ll spend an evening watching usually about three games.  The Phils, of course, are a staple, but I’ve found that I’ve become a fan of the Cleveland Indians.  This isn’t (necessarily) because they are winning, but because I have CC Sabathia in all three of my fantasy baseball leagues, Grady Sizemore in two of them, and Hafner and Borowski (and possibly others) in at least one.  Then I’ll flip back and forth to a third game that I find most compelling (i.e. if a pitcher of mine is pitching, if it’s a close game, if I’ve made love to a woman in the city the game is being played in and I hope to see her in the stands, etc).

But I could not recommend the package highly enough.  Like I said, every single night I’m watching three baseball games.  It’s fucking glorious.

2) A lot of you have written in asking what I thought about the Eagles draft and my answer is: I really don’t know.  I don’t get into the draft too much, as I’m not a big college football guy.  Therefore, any opinions I express and purely visceral and without much intelligent basis.

That being said, why the fuck did they draft a third round QB in the second round, with their first pick of the draft?  I thought our shuttling of Garcia out of town (which I agree with, though it could have been handled a bit more delicately), was all about assuring McNabb that this is his team, has been all along, and for the foreseeable future, will be.  And then this?  I’m not a sports psychologist, but knowing how delicate the collective sports psyche of the city of Philadelphia is, as well as how tempestuous the relationship has been between McNabb and the fans and the front office has been, well, it just doesn’t seem like a good pick to me.

However, I do have a bit of faith in the Eagles front office when it comes to drafts, and perhaps this Kolb s.o.b. will be a solid player. 

(That was me lying and trying to convince myself.  Thank you.)    

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Six Songs

"It’s Your World"  Gil Scott-Heron
I’m thinking of starting a playlist called "Strut Like The Mother Fucker You Are."  This song would be the first on that playlist.  When it comes on my iPod while I’m walking around the city, I transform from hungover overweight guy who spent the morning crying in the shower to the Incredible Hulk of Funk and Cool. 

"We Used To Vacation"  Cold War Kids
Unique.

"Ruby Don’t Take Your Love To Town"  Kenny Rogers
Seriously, Ruby, don’t.  No one wins when that happens.  Probably my favorite song about a crippled Vietnam vet who shoots his trollop wife. 

"The Crow"  Tony Trischka
Guess what I’m getting this weekend!

[youtube]1jn3KCZEqxc[/youtube]

Yes, I’ve conquered the guitar (I can play at a 4th grade level), I’ve conquered the bass (I own a bass), and I’ve conquered the ukulele (I can play "Something" by The Beatles and "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" like that big Hawaiian guy named Israel), and now it’s time for my next challenge: the banjo.  I saw this on Letterman last week and it blew my fucking mind.  I got the album off iTunes about two nights ago and have been rocking out to it ever since.  If after watching the clip I have to tell you it’s great shit, well, something’s wrong with you, friend.      

"How Much Fun"  Robert Palmer
Speaking of albums that are currently rocking my balls off, I splurged and bought Robert Palmer’s "Sneakin’ Sally through the Alley."  I’ve been a huge fan of the "Sailin’ Shoes-Hey Julia-Sneakin’ Sally” medley since I first heard it years ago, and consider it one of my favorite songs.  But this song, from the "Sally" album, reminds me of what it feels like to be drunk and in love.  If I ever go on a date again, I imagine I will listen to this song while showering and getting ready in order to pump myself up.  Then, of course, the cocaine.  That gets me pumped, too.

"You Are Too Beautiful"  John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman
A friend of mine’s dad recommended this song to me, and I can’t remember what superlative he used when describing it; it could have been something like "the most beautiful song ever recorded" or it could have been more specific, like, "the greatest marriage of vocals and music etc."  Both could apply, I think.  This is on my all-inclusive "Smooth Jazz USA" playlist (nine hours, 80+ songs), and every time it comes on, I sit back, take a listen, and sigh.  Wonderful song.    

[Have a good weekend and a happy cinco de mayo, Kentucky Derby, and Mayweather-de la Hoya fight.]