August 25, 2009
Please officially update all your links to the real domain: www.crazylilsportslady.com. You’ll see it’s quite nice over there! My new posts won’t be here anymore, only there. Got it? So don’t come here anymore, unless you want to be by yourself. And no one should drink alone.
XOXO and Go Cowboys.
August 12, 2009
Texas brews its beer just as good as its women. Yeah, that's me in UT orange with a Shiner...at a 105-degree party. It's like I never left TX.
Drinking is a funny thing. I realized tonight whilst trying to decide upon a cocktail at dinner that I don’t think I’ve touched (or even sniffed) tequila in over two months. By all means, correct me if I’m wrong…it happens on occasion. Also, if you’ve not visited Texts From Last Night, I HIGHLY suggest you do so (after you finish reading this). It’s chalk full of drunk little ditties. Howev, this is absolutely priceless:
“If it’s vodka, everyone is attractive. Tequila, everyone is dead sexy, single and f*ckable.”
I think tequila and I are on a trial separation. The first fallout I had with alcohol was with red wine after my company Christmas party in 2002. However, looking back it really wasn’t the wine’s fault that I hadn’t eaten all day. That was a knockdown drag out, ass-kicking, physical sort of fight. Death would’ve been better the next day than having to put on a happy face and go to my then boyfriend’s parents’ house and pretend I was a-okay. It took me two years to even smell red wine without wanting to hurl. True story. This fallout with tequila is different, it’s emotional. That’s even worse. But I believe in second chances in most cases, therefore, I have a blind date with what’s supposed to be the best Orange County margarita Saturday after next. We’ll see how it goes. I’m optimistic and will be packing an overnight bag, just in case things go well. *wink*
What?
I’m a firm believer that alcohol and sports are just as much soul mates as chocolate and peanut butter. Or me and Taylor Lautner will be when he’s legal. Seriously, he’s a huge football fan and, AND!!! I even read he’s a Longhorn fan. Hook ‘em.
Anyway, I digress. So my fantasy football draft is the same day as my margarita date. THANKFULLY the draft is hours before things could potentially get messy. Because I have one rule this year: thou shall not be drunk (or still drunk) during thy draft. Last summer was a very messy time for me, I did a LOT of drinking in general, but the night before the draft I hit the WeHo bars pretty hard. Happy hour at 6 p.m. turned into me standing up mid-cocktail around 1 a.m yelling “O.M.G. I have to go, my fantasy football draft is in six hours.” Trust me, THOSE words have never been yelled in West Hollywood before (or since). Although I had my research done and picks sorted weeks prior to the draft, I was not in good shape otherwise. My league runs on Central time. I, obviously, do not. I had to be online at 6:45 a.m. I slept through my first alarm, woke up around 6:55 a.m. and ran circles around my apartment trying to find my laptop (naturally I forgot I’d actually plugged it in by the bed the day before). I got online, tried to focus and make sure everything was in order and answered my friend Eric’s countless text messages with yes, I promise I was alive…but was pretty sure I was still drunk.
It's a strip club, man! I'm here to work!
I had it all under control until about the time we hit the third round. Oh no, what happened then you ask? I totally started puking between picks. Although that wasn’t exactly ladylike, did I ever miss a pick? No, of course not. I’m a firm believer in puke and rally. Billy Bob would’ve been proud.
P.S. The Cowboys, albeit mostly the fifth string they picked up off the street, will be on my TV Thursday night. Word.
July 17, 2009
I caused a stir (not a storm, but a stir) with something I said in my last post and even though I don’t have to clarify, I will for the hell of it. I’m sweet that way. The whole analogy of “my taste in teams is much like my taste in guys…” is NOTHING AGAINST the guys I’ve been in any sort of relationship with. People are who they are. And after all, there were reasons I liked them all in the first place and reasons I can’t get over a few. Aside from my lunacy. Teams and boys can break my heart over and over again and I ridiculously come back for more. Eventually one of my teams will be amazing enough to win me another championship and some guy will be awesome enough to never let me down. So that comment was totally me being hard on myself and my patterns because, trust me, that’s what I do best.
Speaking of relationship nonsense, I’ve been asked to guest blog over at Excuse My Nonsense. This site is owned and operated by one of my best friends and examines the lives and insanity of single ladies knocking on the door 0f 30. It’s like a younger Sex and the City, but takes place in New York, Dallas and Los Angeles, with too many pet dogs, no designer shoes and not enough sleeping around. My first post can be found here, When I grow up.
Moving on…back in December I discovered how entertaining the search terms that lead people to this blog are in Turn me inside out and learn me. Since I took a stupidly long hiatus, I have some catching up to do. Oh, but it’s been worth the wait…
1. The Top 5 search terms: Jamie Langenbrunner, hockey room, Miles Austin, trying to find my way back home and Petr Buzek.
Jamie Langenbrunner I get. Hockey room I kinda get. Miles Austin is the obvious all time search term leader at CLSL. This will come as a surprise to absolutely no one. Not even a noob. “Miles Austin girlfried” is actually in the top 20. Ladies, I have no idea if he has a girlfriend and I don’t care as long as he keeps catching the ball and doesn’t change his eye color. “Trying to find my way back home” are idiots looking for song lyrics, why they click on a sports blog I have no idea. But the one that leaves me absolutely dumbfounded is Petr Buzek. If you’re Googling Petr Buzek, dude, introduce yourself. I refuse to believe anyone outside of Kalamazoo and myself remember and give a crap who he is. Unless…he’s Googling himself. In that case, well, that’s another discussion all together.
PB
Funny enough, I just did a Google image search for Petr and two pictures of me came up. Huh. He just thought he could get away from me by moving back to the Czech Republic and retiring!
(edit: also whilst searching for a picture to use in this post, I came across a video interview with him from last year. This is the first thing I’ve seen with him for over six years. If I miss 14 typos before I post this…you now know why, as the 18 y ear-old in me died a little and I am ruined).
2. Burbank sports bar, The Office Bar and Grill, sports bars in LA, etc.
Several searches for sports bars lead people here. In case you pop upon this post first, I reviewed several Los Angeles area sports bars here in She don’t mean nothing – she’s just having fun. I’m kinda slacking in this department. But have no fear, football season starts in less than two months. So my alocholism and hot wing addictions are sure to kick back in.
3. ” hot girl cowboys game”
I don’t even know where to begin. First of all, this doesn’t make sense grammatically. Second of all, this just doesn’t make COMMON SENSE. Hey that hot girl who sat down the row from me at the Bengals game, or that hot girl I saw on TV during the Ravens game…I bet I can Google her!
No. You can’t.
4. “jamie langenbrunner nude”
This came up (no pun intended) in the first search term post as well and it doesn’t seem to be stopping. Which, ew. For the record I never mention Langenbrunner nude EVER.
5. “sport bars in los angeles for cowboy fan”
Yankee Doodles on Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica. Every game. We are the cat’s pyjamas.
6. “how to dress like Tim Riggins”
This is probably my favorite search term EVER. Absolutely fabulous. I even tweeted about it. Here’s my question, do
Oh, Timmy Riggins
you actually watch Friday Night Lights? (If you don’t, YOU SHOULD) Because if you do, you’d know to just crawl out of bed looking all morning after tussled and hot, throw on week old jeans and a flannel shirt half buttoned and you’re good to go. Instant chick manget, that 33.
And brace yourself for not so lucky number seven…
7. “gay men hockey players s**king d**k in locker room”
Um…
Yeah.
July 8, 2009
I blame a lot on Patron right now. I’m on a strict no Patron policy for the foreseeable future until I can trust myself again. Regardless, I’m back. Possibly because I’m tired of people asking me why I’m not writing anymore. Possibly because I know I have to do something other than read the Twilight books, eat Chinese food, bake cupcakes, hang out with gay guys and Feng Shui my apartment. See what happens to me when I’m going through football and hockey withdrawals AND dealing with a broken heart? Ridiculousness ensues. Having said that, I’m still cranky. So I’d like to complain about all the things I find wrong with sports during the summer months (including the two months we just lived through):
1. The Lakers. Ugh. Their fans ANNOY ME. Most of all, and I’ve mentioned this before, the traffic they cause during playoffs is the bane of my existence in Los Angeles for however many weeks it takes them to end their season…I pray to God for early elimination. Oh but that’s right, they’re not the Mavericks. Anyway, I know LA traffic sucks balls every other day of the year. But game day traffic makes my commute home even more unbearable than it already is. Because all these rich ass h0les who live up in the valley are the epitome of fair weather fans and only go to games when 90% of ticket prices are in the triple digits. Between the income loss of the writers’ strike and the cost of the Lakers parade and now the Michael Jackson Memorial…I think I saw the Mayor of Los Angeles selling cherries on a street corner. Every penny counts these days, I hear.
2. Stupid playoff songs. I mean, really? The birthday sex song is painfully lame enough as is, inserting a team name and additional mentally challenged verses into it isn’t going to make it better. Just saying.
3. The NHL playoffs. It never fails that whoever wins the Stanley Cup, I lose. I need to just give up thinking there will be a team in the playoffs that I can cheer for through all four rounds. My taste in teams is much like my taste in guys. They’re amazing during the regular season when it’s all fun, games, drinking and screwing around…but when it comes to playoffs and the time to get serious and committed? Forget about it. It’s just MUCH easier for them to watch it all go down from a distance or on the golf course. Apparently the Stanley Cup and I aren’t worth extra effort. But on a lighter note, we both love champagne!
Now having said that, what was a loss for me was actually quite a gain for the NHL (and a total wet dream come true for Gary Bettman). The Detroit Red Wings playing The Second Coming of Jesus (and oh yeah the rest of the Penguins) in a game 7 on a Friday night on network television. I’d love to know how many times Bettman had to dry an eye or change his pants.
4. OTAs. More like WTFs. It’s like weeks of hot and heavy foreplay knowing you’re not getting any real action for THREE MORE MONTHS. It’s excruciating. Cock teases, much? And what’s that you say? Roy Williams had a few good catches today? GREAT, he’s good at a little over the shirt action, but talk to me again when the clothes come off. Don’t even get me started on the Cowboys draft this year. The sexual analogies I can make with that aren’t very ladylike. And my parents might be reading this. (Mom, Dad…sorry, it’s just my writing).
5. Baseball. I tried it. Turns out I just don’t care. And what’s the point of even trying to care before the all-star break? SERIOUSLY? I’ll go to a Dodger game any day of the week (or a Rangers game if I was home), drink too much beer and have a hot dog…but don’t make me watch on TV and for the love of all that’s holy, don’t make me log into my fantasy team. Cause I stopped doing that almost two months ago. Trying to figure out why no one has asked to trade for my good players yet, actually.
6. The Stars losing their collective minds…again. Since I looked at the Kings two seasons before this last one and thought to myself “hey, THERE is the type of coach I want on my team!”
Ah, I feel better now.
April 23, 2009
This is not the type of workday I need to be distracted. However, the following good (nay, SPECTACULAR) news came to me via a tweet from Martellus Bennett of all people. Which is bananas. And something tells me you’d be nothing less than disappointed should I not say something.
Readers, this round of dirty martinis is on me.
Dallas signs Austin, Coleman, Hannah
Cowboys re-sign wide receiver Miles Austin
No idea who those other two fools are, but it’s whatever, the more the merrier. Maybe this will help me sleep better, something needs to. Cause I’m about to hurt someone.
April 15, 2009
A few weeks ago I was at dinner with a large-ish group of friends. The conversation was all over the place, which is fine, as my head follows nothing less than random. At some point, we started discussing what our various quirks are. That convo took place late on a Thursday night, by Friday afternoon the only thing I could come up with was I think I look retarded in overly girly earrings and I refuse to eat veal and lamb. LAME.
Somewhere around the same time, a reader posted a comment that started out with “Miles Austin? Really?!” So that got me thinking – and not about Miles Austin, ass holes…
Lucky charms
Sports quirks. Quirks of the sports fan. (By the way, I’ve reached the point where I’ve typed quirk so much it looks like the weirdest word EVER). We all have rituals and superstitions, as all die hard fans do. Because I’m mentally challenged, there were two songs I listened to every time I headed to Santa Monica to watch a game with the Cowboys group – “Gimme More” by Brit Brit and “A Milli” by Lil Wayne. True story, cause why exactly would I make that up? In addition, I have a necklace with The Star on it, the first game I forgot to wear it? We not only took our first loss, we lost to the Redskins. Ew. But superstitions aren’t really quirks, they’re more like examples of our retardedness and how we’ve convinced ourselves a team’s ability to win or lose is dependent upon what color of underwear we wear (or whether we wear underwear at all…wait, what?).
Per my response to the aforementioned reader’s comment, I realized I have a Crazy Little Sports Quirk(ish). Ready for this? I don’t favoritize (did I just make that word up?) players that everyone else does. Meaning, I will move on to my next favorite player once one becomes too popular. Hence the constant question of “Miles Austin? Really?!” I became a Marion Barber fan three years ago when he fell onto my first fantasy team. I bought my white Barber jersey two years ago, my blue Barber jersey last year. Then I went to a game in Dallas. It was like the number 24 had staged an attack on Texas Stadium. I can’t be having that. I’d already taken a liking to young Miles during Hard Knocks and was keeping an eye on his performance (dirty). So I thought, well, WHY NOT?! So I ordered my custom Austin jersey and as of right now, I’m going to take a guess that there aren’t TOO many out there. I have a suspicion that won’t last long, however. Blurgh. Anyhow, I’ve always been this way, I was even worse with hockey. I worshiped the ground Mike Modano walked on, until he blew the f*ck up, became Mr. Dallas and I was like, okay, not cool anymore – we’re done. I went onto Jamie Langenbrunner. Same thing happened, had to break up with him as well (and then he went and got himself traded to the Devils, he was so heartbroken). Then I picked an absolutely not really known outside of the fans of the teams he played for player in Petr Buzek. I OWNED that number one fan spot and almost ran with it right into the loony bin (or into a restraining order).
This leads me to admit that some may question my reasoning behind picking favorite players. I don’t pick players for why a lot of people probably THINK I do. I look for potential and I look for heart. I like ‘em when they still play for the love of the game…when they’re still up and coming. So, you can have your mass produced Romo and Witten jerseys. Make fun of me all you want, fools, I’m okay being a crazy with an Austin jersey.
April 9, 2009
I was determined to remain somewhat silent on this topic. However, I’m getting bombarded and a good 60-70% of my
What's the greater risk?
traffic is driven by those who google Miles Austin. And you might have noticed…I’M A FAN. Anyhow, Dallas media is abuzz right now regarding Austin’s visit to the Jets. After selectively discussing this, I realized this is my blog and I might as well say what I want and think. So here’s my actually credible, intelligent opinion on the situation, as opposed to whining like a 6 year-old who might lose her favorite toy.
This is all about leverage. Jerry Jones cannot keep his mouth closed – Dallas learned that before he officially bought the damn team. If he’d not sent verbal I heart Miles Austin love notes throughout the media and gabbed that he wouldn’t have let T.O. go if we didn’t have Austin – we’d not be talking about this. I’d still just be bitching about his “unsigned” status. However, Austin’s agent is doing what agents do best – being a dick. You know he read that crud Jerry said and saw dollar signs. Jerry announced Miles’s potential value to the world, therefore, the agent thinks Jerry should prove it and put out. We’ve seen this game a trillion times.
After reading everything my eyes could get a hold of, Cowboy country seems to be split on the subject. Some say let him go and take the 2nd round pick, some say Miles is worth the money. I’m not retarded, I know they’d be taking a chance either way. If they let him go, they’d almost HAVE to take a wideout. Right now they’re sitting in a position to just take the best player available (even though I think we have specific needs). History has shown great receivers can come from the 2nd round, however, IN MY OPINION, that’s taking a bigger risk than fighting for a player you’ve nurtured for three years. A player who has showed great potential, finally has the chance to prove himself since there isn’t a diva holding his position down and as one commenter on DMN put it best, a player who (last season) turned out to be “our most productive WR in relation to opportunities given”
You can argue the knee injury all you want. But Miles is the complete athlete. I’ve no doubt he’ll live in a hyperbaric chamber if it means being the Cowboys 2nd receiver.
April 8, 2009
Parmesan cheesy...GET IT?
I am introducing a new category to CLSL Ludacrisly called “On top of books”. Obviously, there are a plethora of sports related books out there, from fact to fiction, and from time to time I pick one up. I’m currently in the midst of reading “Boys Will Be Boys” as you know. However, towards the end of 2008 I picked up “Playing for Pizza” by John Grisham heading out of LAX. My grandfather died on Veteran’s Day, from the time I found out, to booking my flight, to getting on the plane was less than 24 hours. I was a bit of a wreck, as it was my first grandparent to pass away. So naturally, I frantically skizzed to the airport sans reading material. I hopped over to the used section at the bookstore in my terminal and came across this book, when really I was actually looking for a trashy romance novel (which I never read…however, one of my besties told me there’s a trashy romance novelist out there who pens books including football and hockey players…STAY TUNED, FOLKS).
Up until the Stars moved to Dallas and my whole world became hockey and I decided I was going to be a sports journalist, I actually wanted to be a lawyer. Therefore, there’s not many older Grisham novels I’ve not read or movies I’ve not seen. When I saw “Playing for Pizza” on the store shelf, I was like, well this doesn’t look lawyery…and turns out? IT WAS ABOUT THE FOOTBALL. Specifically about an American football league in Italy.
This is an excerpt from Publisher Weekly’s synopsis via Amazon:
Third-string Cleveland Browns quarterback Rick Dockery becomes the greatest goat ever by throwing three interceptions in the closing minutes of the AFC championship game. Fleeing vengeful fans, he finds refuge in the grungiest corner of professional football, the Italian National Football League as quarterback of the inept but full-of-heart Parma Panthers. What ensues is a winsome football fable, replete with team bonding and character-building as the underdog Panthers challenge the powerhouse Bergamo Lions for a shot at the Italian Superbowl.
And yes, Browns + AFC Championship gave me pause as well. Quickly followed by “ohhhh, right…FICTION.” However, let’s face it…Cowboys + NFC Championship = FICTION as well.
This book sounds cheesy (Parmesan cheesy…HA!) and TRUST ME, it is. But it’s like a grown up version of Little Giants with lots of wine and ridiculously delicious sounding Italian food. And my imagination casted Josh Duhamel as Rick, which was rather nice and quite acceptable. And actually, turns out Phoenix Pictures has picked it up, so hey…Phoenix Pictures, you’re welcome for the suggestion. Anyhow, at the end of the week, this quick little read was a refreshing escape from what I was going through. All the wine and tequila I consumed MIGHT have helped as well.
April 7, 2009
As I sit here staring at my fantasy baseball team, I can’t help but think – damn, was I THIS lost and ridiculously confused when I started fantasy football? Imma go with NO, not so much. Being raised in Texas is synonymous with being raised on football. So even though I had a lot of learning to do when it came to playing fantasy (and there’s still plenty of room for improvement, but I’m already a mid-level rock star at it, if I do say so), I wasn’t absolutely clueless in the beginning.
Like I am now. With baseball. Basically I feel like…a girl. And I need to make it stop. Right now, it’s a bunch of numbers and letters on a
She's hot, I know
webpage…I know that I’m currently winning 5-4, but that means jack monkey. It’s been nine very long years since I took a French class and I can still speak it better than I can fantasy baseball (however, French was my minor…) I’ve challenged myself to crack this. I love a good puzzle…that’s why I like playing (more like co-piloting) the Resident Evil and Silent Hill games, cause there are PUZZLES. I don’t like when I can’t make things work. And work well. Don’t put it past me to show up at the gym each morning with a print out of my roster so I can compare it to what’s being discussed on SportsCenter.
Other than a brief period of thinking I was a Yankees fan in college (don’t hate, I didn’t know any better…and I did get to go to a game in Yankee Stadium, which is more than a lot of you can say!) I’ve really never been into the baseball. In fact, I think we need to take a vote on what our national pastime is…cause it’s now called FOOTBALL. But whatever. I’ll make this work.
Speaking of SportsCenter in the morning – is it just me or do all the female anchors have porn star names? Hannah Storm? Sage Steele? Seriously? On that note, one of these days, I’ll have to discuss my love/hate relationship with the women today in sports journalism.
Congratulations to UNC, since no one saw that coming.
March 18, 2009
Did you notice the new header? If you haven’t…you should. It’s just a small change, the rest? The rest is coming. Please to be bookmarking http://www.crazylilsportslady.com for your future reference and visits.
CLSL, she’s growing up. *tear* As Bob Schneider would say…it’s the little things separate the good from the great.
P.S. Welcome to day 19 (almost 20) of waiting for the Cowboys to sign Miles Austin. THAT’S RIGHT, I’m still counting!
