that my baseball blog will get in the way of me jumping on the Gaucho bandwagon and getting all crazy about us about to face #3 Arizona in the first round of the NCAA tourney that starts, for UCSB, tomorrow around 8pm.

Baseball Blog 2002 has nothing to do with my lack of attention to my alma mater: The Arizona Wildcats are what’s making me do as Til Tuesday recommended and “hush hush” about the forthcoming onslaught.

My fear is we’re going to be spanked harder than a fat kid caught stealing cookies from his fat mom’s sock drawer.

My fear is we’re going to get our asses handed to us in a way that will make little kids cry and old men scratch their heads.

I’m grateful that they’re in the tourney, and very grateful that ESPN didnt consider this the most lopsided match of the bracket, but it’s pretty close.

For those of you who wish to learn a little more about my beloved Gaucho’s, the David, the Underdog, the Diamondbacks of this tournament, look no further than this breakdown of the Champs of the Big West.

Me, im just doing my best not to get my heart broke.

my ears have finally popped from attending a party hosted at home of one of the finest law professors in all of Los Angeles who lives in a gorgeous home so high in the Hollywood Hills that the stars begin to look like planets.

Glenn Reynolds, the Instapundit, the incredibly friendly and smart and warm-natured law professor from Tennessee was in town to lecture the drunkards at UCLA, and several LA Bloggers were invited to Mr. Volokh’s casa high above the Sunset Strip to hang with him.

May I say that I am so happy to be invited to such bashes. Not only are these people devistatingly smart, but they’re funny as hell and their interests stretch far beyond the silly politics that they write about every day, several times a day.

Conversations I was privvy to: Saudi Arabia vs. Brunei: Friends or Enemies?, Filesharing– is it Theft?, Should Scientology Receive Tax-Exempt Status?, If a Man conducts Beastiality from a Male Animal, is it Gay?, Should You Date People Who Read Your Blog? Can A Guy Get Fired For Legal Things He Does Outside of Work: Like What He Writes On A Blog?, Tractor Punk and Nebraska: Is it The Next Grunge and Seattle?

Okay, those are the ones that I was involved in, I’m sure once I left the circle, everyone laughed and went back to talking about Candy Rice and her chance to be the first female vice president and other smart stuff way over my ‘fro.

It was a delightful event where at first everyone gathered in the kitchen and got an eyeful of the guest of honor, and then split up into little circles of gab. im not sure how many people knew each other, but since everyone had read each other, it was almost like a meeting of old lost pals, i felt as if i had met brethren from my old hometown, the one i cant remember the name of, kindred spirits everywhere, free-flowing thoughts, funny antedotes, polite disagreements, and merryment.

My recollections are blurry because the booze flowed and the host made pizza and cookies and Laura and I ate chips and Guacamole and talked about how horrible the food in Spain was and I thought about opening a chain of Taquerias in Spain, to give back, and Emmannuelle and I discussed porn and I got to meet the totally talented and courageous Charles Johnson, and I even got a lift to the party from UPI’s TV critic Catherine Seipp who had a lovely conversation with Welch on our ride about the trials of freelancing in LA.

Did I tell you I had fun?

I did.

I don’t go out that much, and in reality I’m terribly shy, especially around fascinating strangers. But everyone was just so nice that after a few drinks I was back in my normal obnoxiously ignorant self, defending, of all things, the fact that I didnt vote in the recent elections.

My reasoning made the drunks around me laugh, so I went home happy.

I hope theres another Blog party soon, and I’m sure I’m not the only one with that wish.

Speaking of wishes: TF flowed me a buck to help out on my wish for the Snoop DeVille, gracias, good fella!

i have seen many things in these well-polished xbi halls, but today i have seen it all.

two girl scouts come to the front door, they want to sell us girl scoout cookies. we’re in a location that you would never expect an operation like ours to be in. one little girl has a Radio Flyer red wagon with her cookies. The other little girl has a damn baby stroller. she might look silly, but she’s able to carry way more boxes.

Jamie at the front door doesnt want to let them in, but as soon as the word gets out that theres girl scout cookies everyone runs to the door and yells at him to let them in.

But before he does it he takes the metal detector wand to the sweet little uniformed angels, makes them lift their arms out and passes the wand around them!

of course it goes off and of course they have a variety of things that they have to leave behind: safety pins, a pocket knife, and an Exacto blade!

when Jamie asked the sweet little one why she had the blade, she said, crying, as if she had done something wrong, “I saw it on the street and I didnt want anyone walking barefoot to step on it.”

And then he continued to pass the wand over her!

Artie’s shirt is now up to $275.

dont miss your chance to get your hands on this amazing shirt worn in the fine film “Dirty Work,” starring Norm MacDonald and Howard Stern’s own Artie Lange. In fact Artie’s shirt from the film is on auction and as of 4:12 PST it’s up to $82.

Not bad for a dirty sweaty stinky polo shirt with horizontal stripes, best suited for a fat dude like Artie (who is much trimmer now).

I can’t imagine why anyone would want such a rag, but I have plenty of worthless items in my home that I paid much more than $82 for, like my two DVD players that showed me about 5 movies each.

Anyhow, bid away, and whoever wins the auction, I really hope they dont plan on wearing that thing.

P.S. The Bidding History is always fun to look at for odd auctions like this one.

is that the truth is so crazier. and my truths are crazier than most but last night i saw that 9/11 documentary by those two french dudes and i was pretty rivited, i must say.

there’s very little that will take me out of my computer closet, the sanctuary where i write this blog each morning. six months ago i was in that closet when i saw the second tower go down. to have a film crew not only in the tower that day but recording the movements of the fire department closest to the towers was mighty unbelieveable.

for so long we’ve been focusing on those two buildings and the firemen and new york and new yorkers, but to see them Right There was fascinating. it made me leave my closet and sit on my couch.

i didnt want to see it. i was taping it for Chris who didnt want to be bummed out on such a nice Spring evening.

i kept wanting to retreat to my computer but i couldnt, i kept thinking, how did these guys get out? how did they survive?

and of course i had thought about the Jumpers. how couldnt you? utter desperation and panic, and so many times i tired to rationalize them by thinking that they wanted to take control of their lives up until the last moment. but seeing how much noise they made and how powerful their bodies were slamming on cars and trucks and other people — they seemed like bombs or meteors. they prevented the people trying to escape the building from certain exists. so im now convinced not to jump.

but ultimately, the fact that every single firefighter from that station came back alive was a total miracle. and i love miracles. theres a lot of tragedy in this story but many miracles.

the 9/11 story that they showed on tv wasnt something that was really comfortable to watch the entire way through, but this morning im really gald that i saw.

and im glad i taped it.

and im glad i have this web site.

sometimes im sad that i dont use this page to really document what really happens to me in my life. but i respect people’s privacy, especially my good friends who’s secrets would be revealed if i told the truth. anyway, at about 2am on 9/11 before i went to sleep, i read a little article that said that Michael Jordan was going to come back to the NBA, so right before i fell asleep i wrote the truth about a part of my day, the day of 9/10. when i woke up and saw what was happening in nyc, i took the jordan page down. it just didnt seem right to have up there that day.

it seems pretty amazing, to me, at least, to see now.

i hope you feel the same way.

major shout outs to JC who flowed me today, the 14th day in the row! and to my pal Noah who got me and my chauffer drunk as hell after the Gorillaz show Saturday night.

in these Britney days where performers unapologetically lip-sync, use pre-recorded music, and rely on video to entertain their live crowd, the British pop group Gorillaz have added a new dimension to this miserable trend by refusing to show themselves at all.

Cowering behind a dirty sheet where a variety of art school images are projected from the front, the band’s colorfully lit shadows and silhouettes are barely seen from the rear. Almost acknowledging that this isnt enough eye candy, a video screen above the stage attempts to dazzle the crowd with animated bits from the group’s singles, as well as a miss-mosh of computer generated “art” and graphics.

The music seemed identical to the cd, which is a big mistake when you’re playing “live” but can not be seen.

People will think the whole thing is a rip off.

They will say things like, “rip-off, you ripped me off of $35.”

People will leave the place and think, “I just paid $35 to look at a sheet while they showed videos and played their cd.”

The scalpers outside, before the show were begging people to buy their extra tickets a reduced price, and now you know why.

The singer of Blur is behind this nonsense and that doesn’t surprise me, the Brits have been doing their best to ruin rock music ever since the Beatles, so what else is new? What’s next, an Oasis/Spice Girls supergroup with no microphones? Sign me up.

I’m just kidding, though, some of my favorite bands are from Britan. No, really.

I swear.

Anyways, the show blew. It was an interesting concept poorly produced leaving the public deciding that they actually do want to see the band, after all. No one thinks that the cartoon wrote the songs. Del the Funkyhomosapian raps on the single, for Pete sake. The whole thing is the worst kept secret in popular music, so keep the upper screen, but lose the gimmick. It’s bogus.

I did buy a longsleeve tshirt from a bootlegger in the parking lot for ten bucks, though.

it’s nice.

i will have a baseball blog. sheesh.

i hadnt gotten that many emails since i first posted pictures of my haggard mug and people wrote in pleading for me to take them down.

if what i am reading is true, there seems to be a huge lack of decent blogs about anything that is not (1)about this so-called war (2)about people’s so-called life (3)about the media or (4)about bloggers writing about other bloggers.

so yes, i will do it, it will be badass, it will be comprehensive and funny and indepth and wonderful and colorful and nerdy. what i need from you, is to help it be the finest baseball blog in history. all you have to do is link it like mad and tell all your friends who love baseball and especially fantasy baseball about it.

and who knows, maybe the hot chicks who think i have a life will change their minds and find me dateable. but dont hold your breath.

Clipper Girl is working on her Masters and has been busy, and several of you wrote in this week asking about her quadracep that she popped during the LA marathon on Sunday. I’m sure she appreciates your concern, but when she checked in on me this afternoon via email she said that she spent last night drinking at the Rainbow Room till 4am. I know they’re not open that late, but when you’re Clipper Girl the rules get bent.

“i just remember jaeger shots, coronas and being carried down sunset boulevard. as i write you, my mind is spinning and my soul is beaten down….”

im sure there were celebs present but she left out those details because she knows that i would be green with envy, and those ommissions are true signs of friendship.

bottoms up, babies.

which is ashame because we were having fun in the chat room.

Max Power, the former Los Angelino who won my “I Will Link You” auction was there, that auction is slowly becoming the most famous of all time. JC, who has flowed me now for the 12th day in a row was there. Some old buddies from my dot com years were there. And best of all, I drafted a mighty good team considering that there are 20 teams in this league. Who’s on my team? Oh, glad you asked: Sosa, Kent, Tejada, Chavez, Erstad, Casey, Tyner, and Ibanez. Ashby, Bere, Carpenter, Eaton, and Schoenwiess are my starters, but my bullpen is solid with Anderson, Wickman, Hawkins, Fassero, Remlinger, and Grimsley.

I’m a nerd. I admit it.

My former love, Chris made the journey to the eassssside to watch Survivor with me and eat pizza but the draft lasted over 2.5 hours and she had to watch me bounce off the walls and swear and pray and laugh, which I suppose is entertainment to some, but apparently last night’s Survivor was a particularilly good one. I owe her a nice night out as an apology.

I’m seriously considering making a Baseball Blog so i dont have to bore those of you who have no interest in this, but my social life barely lets me keep this thing going. And it was nice to go to sleep at midnight for the first time in a long time, dozing off while watching Letterman like a normal American, instead of yanking myself away from the terminal at 3:AM like I’ve grown accustom. Anyhow, i’m glad to see that some of the people who read this site have excellent baseball minds and it will be fun to crush them with my scary fantasy skillz.

In other news, I am applying for my dream job, and if I dont get it I will put in an application to be a bus driver because i have come to the realization that the bus drivers in LA are Godawful and I am one not to complain. I like to do something about it. And at $50k a year and a four day work week, I could finally get that X box that I’ve been dreaming of.

Have a great weekend.

in the opening round in Indian Hills today, right outside of Palm Springs, 6-1, 6-4. Plagued with poor serves and 44 unforced errors, it was obvious that the 20 year old Russian had other things on her mind than tennis.

“Why did you go back to the blue top?” I asked. She called me at work.

“Shut up.”

“You know that shirt’s bad luck.”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” she said very quietly. She was driving a rented car to the Palm Springs Outlet Center with her mom.

“You’re the only girl who calls me up and insists she doesnt want to hear what I have to say.”

“Can’t you just say something sweet and nice?” she whispered.

“With one more opening day loss, your rank will drop and you just might hit #69 in the world,” i said.

I laughed. I crack myself up.

“Hello. Hello?” i said.

Somehow we were disconnected. Probably the cell phone she was on. Mountains or something.

every once in a while i am met with the uncomfortable situation where i have to somehow convince a sweet young girl that i am not the man that the ghostwriters have built me up to be.

if you’ve ever seen the Kubrick classic “Full Metal Jacket,” perhaps you’ll remember the scene where the soldiers are being propositioned by a beautiful asian working girl who eyes up the soldiers and offers them some sweet love for fifteen dolla. When my man, “Glitter” star Dorian Harewood, reaches into his pocket for his $15, the young lady suddenly reserves the right to refuse service complaining that “soul brother too beaucoup, too beaucoup,” because we are, after all, hung like the ancient redwoods.

“8-Ball,” Harewood’s character, has to diminish the myth to the headstrong hunny, and explain that although he is quite proud of what the Lord gave him, it’s nothing to be afraid of. An unusual situation, indeed, since men can oftentimes be boastful about themselves and their majestic manliness. Luckilly 8-Ball has Stanley Kubrick writing his words.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Now what we have here little sister, is a magnificent specimen of pure Alabama blacksnake, but ain’t too goddamn beaucoup,” and with that he shows her and all is well again in Vietnam.

If only my problems were so simply solved as that. Could you imagine? Unzip, display, and all a girls troubles go away?

Recently I mustered up the courage to ask a hotter-than-most chick out. Unfortunately the discerning damsel had read this very page and replied back with a polite “no” claiming that she is sure that I ask out way too many other young women – suggesting that either she is not as special as I would imply, or that there is somehow something deficiant in me.

“Some chick thinks you go out too much?” Ashley said.

“Yep.”

“She really doesn’t know you at all, does she?”

“Nope,” i said. “That’s one reason I want to go out with her.”

“Well she doesnt know what she’s missing, and if you went out so much, you probably wouldnt have to lie so much in your writing.”

Ashley’s just 20, but she’s sharp as a tack.

“Well, I hope she didn’t really mean that, and she just didn’t like me.” I said.

And Ashley said, “ok, enough talk about her, let’s talk about me.”

My problem is I’m lazy. And I like the idea of love at first feel– I mean sight. Sure I like the playful dance of advance and retreat and yesses and no’s and how-about-this and okay’s, but i wont chase a girl forever cuz i just dont have forever any more. and there is just soooo much on the other side.

Sonny says it’s like an analyst trying to rent a car. They’ll go to Hertz and Avis and Dollar and spend all day comparing prices and features and trying to establish trust with the counterperson, and they might even take another day to go to Alamo and Budget and some independent ones, when the fool who hopped into the car that he liked actually got to drive up the coast and explore, and tan, and eat, and sleep. But what does Sonny know?

Me, I have crime to fight. Beaucoup crime to fight. And I must give thanks to JC, for coming through on the Eleventh consecutive day. Now that, is a beaucoup Soul Brother.