Sunday, October 05, 2003

Odds & ends:

Wait, wait, wait up! Is Kylie saying "poor fuckers" 0:24 into "Slow"? Could it be?! Now, that's cause for shock and awe.

I was hoping that the return of she-who-would-be-Kylie, Ms. Sophie Ellis-Bextor, would be marked by her raising the bar, essentially throwing some dirty panties in Minogue's face and saying "top this, bitch!" Sadly, while "Mixed Up World" is fine pop-dance with - well, really, with no electro touches, and that's part of the problem. Sophie sounds to be in a holding pattern, when I feel certain she's capable of so much more. But I'll wait to make a final judgement until hearing what surprises may be yet lurking on her forthcoming sophomore LP (as they used to be called).

For the first time in I-don't-know-how-many-years - maybe ever - yesterday, I made a point to watch a baseball game on TV. Generally, I find baseball only slightly more exciting to watch than golf, or childbirth. But when it's the Cubbies in a potentially series-clinching postseason game at Wrigley, well, that changes everything. The bottom of the 9th had everything you could want in such a game: Smoltz pitching for the save, Cubs down 6-4 with a runner on 2nd, Sosa batting with a 3-2 count. Unfortunately, the outcome wasn't what I wanted (Sammy hit it up and straight back, and it was caught for the game-ending out, sending the NLDS back to Atlanta for tonight's deciding game 5), but it was pure hold-your-breath drama, and a fine example of why so many still love "America's pastime" so passionately. I won't be able to watch tonight, but I'll be rooting for the northside sluggers. Go Cubs!

Oh, and in even more important sports news (to me, at least), the Boilers improved to 4-1 with their 43-10 shellacking of Illinois (take that, Ray!). Up next Saturday is a possibly dangerous, very wounded Penn State team. Fortunately, we're at home, and as long as the boys don't start reading their own press, should be alright.

In the self-promotional department, Paul asked me to take part in his new Jukebox Jury this weekend, and the results are up.

Jeffy says he'll update his blog once I shut up about it. So I guess I should shut up now.

I am so fucking sick of Sean Paul. Is he this year's Shaggy, or this year's Wyclef? Or worse yet: this year's Shabba Ranks?

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