Man Meat Monday #42: Update

Lesson: Writing to your favorite athletes, like a 12-year-old fanboy, might just pay off.

In fear that he'd blow me off, I failed mention that I actually wrote a fan letter to Todd Frazier a couple weeks ago. Really. Hand-written, self-addressed envelope inside, in the mail, the whole deal.

I only told three human beings on planet Earth that I'd written to him (for fear of alienating even more people with my creepiness). After two weeks, I was beginning to lose hope. The Reds had just finished a long homestand and I figured, if he was going to write, he would have done it by now.

Then, on Saturday, this came in the mail.



Swoon.

I'm already deciding who to write to next...

City Living.

Although I've always considered myself to be a city girl at heart, I've never lived anywhere but the suburbs/country. I spent most of my formative years in a town where the high school band played at the grand opening of the new Super Wal-Mart. Some of my most memorable high school nights were spent at places affectionately named 'The Field' and 'Shaw's Bottoms.' I spent my college years in a tiny enclave of privileged white kids surrounded by nothing but cornfields and cow farms.

Needless to say, I've been a bit surprised by the realities of city living.

So, after nearly three full weeks of exploring downtown Indianapolis, here is what I've noticed about living alone in a city:

Walking. I have done more walking in the last three weeks than I've done in the last two years. Sadly, this is not an exaggeration.

Smells. Over the years, I've become quite accustomed to the smell of cow manure and skunks. City smells have these beat by a mile. The gag-inducing smells of human waste wafting from manhole covers or warm urine at the bus stop is something I may never accept.

Things to Do. I'm not saying I don't get bored here. I do. However, there are actual events, things to do, and places to go beyond the Wal-Mart parking lot at 2:00 AM. This, of course, is a very welcome change.

Creeps. I would never suggest there aren't creeps in the country. There are, but these city creeps come at you, no holds barred. A woman not-so-subtly asked me for drugs. I watched a man try to break into a car from my balcony and, when he saw me watching him, he waved.

Mail. I don't get any. I always knew this, but now, I'm more aware of it because I feel self-conscious when someone notices I didn't get any.

Bugs. Don't get me wrong. There are way more bugs in the country, but there are weird, different ones here. Cicadas are all over and I saw my very first centipede on the floor of my apartment. Lovely.

Friends. No, not the show (although I watch it almost every night). Making friends is hard. I think I forgot how to do it. Everyone in my program is really nice and cool, but how do you start hanging out outside of class? We're all in a fantasy football league and had a live draft, but last night, I watched the NFL Kick-Off Game by myself and wished I had someone with me.

SPORTS. I live walking distance from Lucas Oil Stadium (Colts), Bankers Life Fieldhouse (Pacers), Victory Field (minor league team Indianapolis Indians), and the NCAA headquarters. Not bad.

In fact, I went to the Bengals and Colts preseason game last week. Despite the outcome (Colts won, 20-16), it was an awesome time. Lucas Oil Stadium, the site of last year's Super Bowl, is incredible. It was also the perfect excuse for Jenn to visit and spend time with Morgan.

View from inside the stadium.

Awesome view...even from the stratosphere.

Seriously, though...the Colts are lucky that I'm not infatuated with any of their players...yet.

Man Meat Monday #42

It's been far too long since I've delivered some Man-Meaty goodness to you. So, here's some delicious man for you. Yes, he's an athlete, but I think you'll be pleased to know that he's only the second baseball player to ever receive the Man Meat treatment.

Todd Frazier

Claim to Fame: Utility player for the Cincinnati Reds

Birthday: February 12, 1986

As you know, I'm a football and hockey girl. Every summer, however, I make it to more than a few Reds games and I've really grown to love my hometown team. This year, while chipping away at a Lemon Chill at Great American Ballpark, I heard something out of the ordinary that drew my attention as quickly as a foul ball flying directly at my face. The sweet, sensual sound of Frank Sinatra's voice was playing in the stadium. In frenzied excitement, I looked to the jumbotron for an explanation.

Todd Frazier, a player who didn't make the team coming out of spring training, had chosen "Fly Me to the Moon" as his at-bat song. Instantly, I was his forever.

This season, Todd Frazier has been a jack-of-all-trades for the team. He's played in left field, helped out Scott Rolen at third base, and filled in for the injured (former Man Meat honoree) Joey Votto at first base. His offensive output has made him a frontrunner to be named Rookie of the Year.

Oh yeah - he's a 6'4", 220-pound, former Rutgers star that also won the 1998 Little League World Series.

Random Tidbit: If all of this isn't enough to win you over, Frazier saved someone's life earlier this year. While eating with teammate Ryan Ludwick at a Pittsburgh restaurant, he noticed that a nearby man was choking. Instantly, he rushed over and performed the Heimlich maneuver, dislodging the food from the man's throat and lodging himself even deeper into my heart.

Only downfall?: With Joey Votto's return to the lineup imminent, Frazier's role on the team is questionable. I have an idea: Brittany's new roommate. I even have a Rat Pack poster above my TV.

Kidnapping isn't out the question.

Bonus perk: He has the attractive Jersey accent without the obnoxious guido persona. Feast your ears.



So, readers: It's your turn. Would you fake a choking incident for some life-saving action from Mr. Frazier?

I don't know about the Heimlich so much, but I'm currently planning my Squints-style drowning episode for some CPR. Anyone know where Frazier swims?



...and every game, there he is, swinging and base-running, base-running and swinging...

The Times They are A-Changin'...

Well, it's happening.

School has started and I'm living in downtown Indianapolis. The last five days have been utter chaos, but I really like it here. I miss everyone back home already, but I feel really comfortable in my little studio apartment. My amazing mom has been staying with me to help me get settled in and I like how it has turned out.

Apartment sneak preview.

Still shocked I found a matching tissue box.

My classes seem really interesting, too. Unfortunately, no one here seems to like hockey, either. That's alright - I'll be the resident expert.

I live in a really cool section of town called the Mass Ave District. There are a ton of awesome restaurants and bars within walking distance, including possibly the best burger place I've ever been in my life. It has a bit of a hipster-y vibe to it, but that is a welcome change after the snobby aura of Miami.

I also found an incredible cupcake bakery nearby called The Flying Cupcake. My mom and I split the Red Velvet Elvis and Blueberry Cheesecake cupcakes. Heaven. Seriously. Keep me away from there.

Come visit. I'll buy you a cupcake.

Oh yeah - I have a pretty nice view from my balcony, too.

I'm not above bribing you to come with pretty pictures.

Is it working?

So, come visit.

Oh, hey.

I know. I've been distant, but this time, I have a perfectly good reason.

I move out on Sunday! So, I've been spending time with my family and friends, saying teary goodbyes, packing my life away, doing homework (yeah, I already have some), and shopping at Ikea.

Ikea is Sweden's second-best export. Am I right, ladies?

So much for the meatballs.

You haven't missed much. The Bengals have started the pre-season with a perfect 2-0 record, defeating the Falcons last night and the Jets last Friday. You know who plays for the Jets? That's right, America. Tim Tebow.

Smile for me, Daddy. - "Grillz" by Nelly

Of course I was there.

I begged my dad to take me and, due to some combination of sympathy and genuine love for the Jets (he's from Long Island and a huge Joe Namath fanboy), he did. Everyone around us must have been baffled. Despite my Bengals t-shirt, I wouldn't stop talking about Tim Tebow.

Healing someone on the sideline.

Having Tim Tebow and Mark Sanchez as quarterbacks on the same team shouldn't be allowed...

Yeah, I totally watched the fourth quarter.

...or it should. It really, really should.

Somehow, somewhere, this is happening every single day.

Seriously, if you're looking for any reason to get up in the morning, here it is: Baywatch for girls.



Mama like.

I'll be back with things that matter soon.

Olympic Euphoria.

It has taken me a couple days to digest all the craziness of the Olympics so far.

If you already think I'm crazy, just stop here.

I have been living and breathing Olympic coverage. I turn the TV on and six hours later, I find myself watching Greece battle Croatia in water polo. I track it online for live results, I watch the primetime coverage, I curse the execs at NBC for postponing the footage, I cry at emotional athletes and every other commercial, but mostly, I drool.

Some incredible things have happened in the first week of the games. Swimming world records have fallen, a local girl won the first American gold in judo, the US women's gymnastics team took the first team gold since 1996, the US men's basketball team decimated the single game point record, Gabby Douglas made me cry like a maniac, a 38-year-old American cyclist won her second consecutive gold medal, and Danell Leyva blew my mind by battling back for the bronze in the men's all-around, being so attractive while also being born in 1991 (I'm officially old), and looking exactly like a white/Cuban Drake.

But, let's be real. I'm here to talk about swimmers.

My boy (yes, MY boy), Michael Phelps, has become the most-decorated Olympian of all-time...and then some. Tonight, he placed first in the 200m IM, beating his fellow countryman and America's new golden boy, Ryan Lochte, and earning him his 20th Olympic medal (and 16th gold). Sweet, sweet victory.

I could not be happier for him. I keep hoping he'll get bored and come back for Rio in 2016, but he sounds pretty certain in his retirement. So, I'll cherish these two final events and save the crying for later.

The good news? The world of US swimming has plenty of candidates for new favorites. I decided on Nathan Adrian LONG ago. Check out my Man Meat Monday on him and his response to it.

Yes, America. I told Nathan Adrian that I wanted to lick honey off of him and he thanked me for it. Classy girls - 0. Blogger creeps - 1.

Nathan just won his first individual gold medal by beating world record holder Cesar Cielo and pre-race favorite James Magnussen in the 100m free. So, I'd like to cordially invite all the Olympic bandwagon fans to the Nathan Adrian love-train I've been conducting for a couple years now. Join me! There's plenty of room.

Seriously, I think I custom ordered Nathan Adrian. He's huge, incredibly smart, funny, athletic, humble, professional, and well-spoken. I might press charges against him for aiding and abetting in the creation of my unrealistic expectations for men. No single human being should possess so many positive qualities. Good thing he's so hideous - he can't have it all. Right?

My god. I laugh to keep from crying, folks.

Olympic Preview: Part 2

While watching the incredible Opening Ceremony tonight, I remembered that I was supposed to expose my obsession love for Michael Phelps. So, despite the serious risk of alienating all my friends with my creepiness, I'll try my best.

By now, you know I love celebrities. Understatement of the century. You've probably also noticed that these infatuations come and go. One week, I love Jonathan Toews. The next, I'm obsessing over Michael Buble. This comes in handy when I need inspiration for Man Meat Monday. However, there is one celebrity that I've loved consistently since 2000. That celebrity, of course, is Michael Phelps.

As I've already mentioned, the Olympics are a big deal in my house. During the Sydney Olympics in 2000, an attractive young swimmer caught my sixth-grade eye. He placed fifth in the 200m butterfly, I learned his name was Michael Phelps, and I was intrigued.

Throughout my entire childhood, my dad competed in marathons, triathlons, and even a couple Iron Man competitions. As a result, my living room television was tuned into international swimming every summer. In 2002, that meant the Pan-Pacs in Yokohama. As intrigued by sports as ever, I sat down and noticed, yet again, Michael Phelps. Only this time, he didn't finish his race in fifth place. During those Pan-Pacs, he won three gold and two silver medals while placing his name front and center in the world of swimming. I was hooked.

Ten years and sixteen Olympic medals later (14 gold, 2 bronze), I'm still as enamored with Phelps as I was back then. I'm way too ashamed to take a picture of the stack of magazines with him on the cover that I've saved over the years. I remember screaming like a maniac when he barely edged out Serbia's Milorad Cavic by one-hundredth of a second. I have his dimensions, calorie intake, medal count, and facial expressions memorized. I've defended him with fierce tenacity against those who criticized his marijuana incident and lack of training in 2009. With a level of devotion not unlike that of a loving wife, I follow him every summer...and, in the case of one summer, I mean that in a literal sense.

A couple summers ago, I actually traveled to Baltimore to see the place where his path to Olympic superstardom began: Meadowbrook swimming facility. I walked around the pool, taking pictures like a paparazzo for TMZ and imagining him in a heated discussion with Coach Bob Bowman about projected times.

I absolutely did not cry when Phelps announced that 2012 would be his final Olympic games...*cough* Yes, I did *cough* I begged my parents like Veruca Salt in Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory to take me to London for his swan song performance. The answer, of course, was a resounding "NO" because we aren't multi-millionaires. So, I settled with watching him swim in the Indianapolis Grand Prix in March.

It felt like the glorious culmination of a dream to finally watch him swim in person. Everyone in the crowd scooted to the edge of their seats and cameras started to flash as he shed his warm-up robe. The anticipation was palpable as he set up on the starting blocks, stretching and flapping his arms in his usual pre-swim routine. I held my breath as he dove into the pool for the first lap of the 400m IM.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. My eyes started to water as he shot ahead of the field in his signature stroke, the butterfly. I watched with a bit of trepidation as competitor Tyler Clary passed him during the backstroke. However, Phelps regained the lead with a strong breaststroke and just barely edged him out for first after the freestyle. That is my camera flashing at the finish.



As he stood on the medals podium, the water slowly made its way down the ridges of his carefully-chiseled abs. His body, glistening with a combination of water, sweat, and stadium lighting, took my breath away. On TV (even HD TV), his ridiculous body almost seems fake, something enhanced with the help of special effects. In person, however, his 6'4" frame became painfully real, something tangible and something very, very close. He looked like a masterpiece crafted after hours of painstaking work from a slab of marble. One hand rested on his hip as the other slid haphazardly through his dripping hair. He inhaled sharply, working to catch his breath, and, in my seat thirty feet away, I did the same.

This just became 50 Shades of Michael Phelps. Sorry I'm not sorry. I'm just passionate about him. This week, I will continue to cheer for him in his quest to become the most decorated Olympian of all-time. I will defend his honor against critics if GOD FORBID he leaves London with a medal that isn't gold. Mostly, however, I will cherish these last precious moments of watching him compete. I have watched Michael Phelps swim for half of my lifetime. It was an absolute privilege to watch him work his way into the history books. So, with a smile on my face and drool on my chin, I'll watch as my favorite athlete, one of the greatest athletes in history, ends his glorious career by making just a little more.

Best Blogger Meet-Up Ever.

Last Friday, I had the incredible opportunity to finally meet my favorite blog friend, Julie at The Smitten Mintons. After a failed attempt to meet last summer, I was more than a little upset. So, when Julie told me she'd be in Cincinnati for a family reunion, I was beyond excited. She was also meeting another Cincinnati blogger, Allison at Nestful of Love, and my blog and real life friend, Emma at Legally Lovely. So, we decided to go to the Reds game.

Everything about the night was perfect.

Julie was exactly how I imagined - incredibly sweet, funny, and welcoming. You know the feeling you get every once in a rare while when you meet someone you know was meant to be your friend? That's exactly how I felt with her, like we'd been friends for ten years.

We couldn't have asked for a better game either. The weather was perfect, the Reds beat the Brewers, 3-1, Chapman closed beautifully, and the fireworks were awesome as always. I spent the whole game talking to Julie's awesome husband and sports encyclopedia, Doug. Allison and her husband, Drew, were great and I loved bragging about our city with them! As always, it was wonderful to spend time with Emma and finally meet her boyfriend, Alex.

After the game, we headed to Fountain Square for some delicious Graeter's. It was the perfect end to the perfect night.

Saturday, I went down to Great American for another Reds vs. Brewers game. This time, I was joined by CJ, Eric, TJ, Spazz, and Emily. CJ and Eric were in town for a wedding and I'm so happy we were able to see each other. The Reds trounced the Brewers, 6-2, and after the game, we met Jenn and headed to Rock Bottom Brewery. Luckily, Julie and Doug met us there and we spent the night talking and laughing until we got kicked out of the bar.

When I first started blogging, I had absolutely no expectation that anyone would read my blog. I simply wanted to record my memories and express my feelings in the most cathartic way I knew how. Little did I know that my blog would introduce me (or bring me closer) to some of the greatest people I've ever met.

Do it. Start a blog. You know you're tempted...

Man Meat (Pretend It's) Monday #41

I have a really awesome blogger meet-up to tell you about and I promise I will soon. However, I figure if I'm actually feeling inspired, I should do what I do best - which is talk about male celebrities, of course.

Thomas Sadoski

I promise he doesn't always cross his arms.

Claim to Fame: Actor (The Newsroom, 30 Beats, Broadway and Off-Broadway)

Birthday: July 1, 1976

There are few things in this life that I love more than HBO. Over the years, it has provided me with some of my favorite shows, including Entourage, Real Time with Bill Maher, Hard Knocks, 24/7, Boardwalk Empire, and True Blood. Most recently, it introduced me to my newest TV addiction, The Newsroom.

Confession: I'm a political science nerd. I'm sure it would bore most people even more than hockey, so I try not to blog about it often. However, I was a political science major in college, am extremely passionate about our country's democratic institutions, and spend an embarrassing amount of time reading the 'Politics' section of CNN. I took a number of Media & Politics classes at school and I'm enthusiastic about an informed citizenry. (But seriously, can we please put a limit on the endless campaign commercials? I'm going to pull out my hair.) Combine political topics and current events with The Social Network's Aaron Sorkin and I'm hooked.

Then, HBO decided to add Thomas Sadoski to the mix.

In fact, with actors like Dev Patel and John Gallagher Jr., the entire male cast is practically a deli of Man Meat. Thomas Sadoski, however, is my favorite. His brilliant portrayal of News Night's former executive producer, Don Keefer, perfectly straddles the line between utterly unlikeable and strangely relatable. He plays the show's "antagonist" with a finesse that almost leaves you rooting for him.

Also, THOSE LIPS.



Random Tidbit: He was once Mark Ruffalo's understudy in an Off-Broadway production of This is Our Youth.

Only downfall?: Still searching. I'll get back to you.

Today, I told him how much I appreciate his acting prowess on Twitter. He responded. *swoon*



I'm taking it as a compliment that I got more than a simple, "Thank you!"

So, readers: It's your turn. Could you focus with those lips telling you how Citizens United has changed the political landscape?

Me either...and I actually find it interesting.

The Dark Night...

Last night, I was about halfway done writing my review of The Dark Knight Rises when I heard about the shooting in Aurora, Colorado. Like so many other Batman-crazed fans, I fought the costumed crowds to see the movie at midnight. It was worth every second. I left the theater smiling, discussing various plot points with Jenn and making plans to see it again.

Then, a mere two hours later, as I sat, extolling Christopher Nolan's brilliant juxtaposition of privilege and poverty, truth and lies, and order and anarchy, everything changed. The haunting chaos and destruction that Nolan and his fictional villains so vividly brought to life in the Batman movies had truly come to life in an unsuspecting suburb of Denver.

This horrific crime, this senseless, scary crime, was committed almost in a demented tribute to the film franchise so many of us love, a deeply disturbed fan's attempt to actualize something so appalling that it only seemed possible in the movies. How chilling that that's exactly where it happened.

So, I sat in my living room, my heart breaking for these strangers that were just like me, for their families and friends whose lives will never be the same. My heart broke for the cast and crew of the movie, who worked so hard to create such a fantastic film that will forever be associated with something so unthinkable.

But mostly, it made me realize how lucky I am to have today. There is no real reason why this deeply troubled man happened to live in Aurora, Colorado. This could just as easily have happened in any suburb of any city across America, in any sold-out showing of any crowded auditorium in the country.

In fact, one of the victims, Jessica Ghawi, was a 24-year-old aspiring sportscaster, a devoted hockey fan, and an intern for the You Can Play Project, a campaign started in honor of my late Miami classmate Brendan Burke to eliminate homophobia in sports. Her second-to-last blog post, entitled "I Like My Hockey How I Like My Men," compared various NHL teams to the different types of guys available for dating. It's sobering, and beyond upsetting, that a complete stranger, living a life so eerily similar to mine, met her tragic and untimely end at the same movie I saw last night, both of us in Auditorium 9.

Sometimes, it takes something this awful, this shocking to open our eyes to the fragility of life. If nothing else, this tragedy serves as a reminder to cherish every moment. As cliche as it sounds, every single day is a gift. Nothing is promised to us.

So now, as we prepare for weeks of character analysis, debates on gun rights and the treatment of mental health, condemnations of violent movies and video games, and attacks on our media-crazed culture, I'm sure many of us will be afraid. Afraid of copy-cat killers and terrified that members of our society are capable of committing such atrocities. I hope that we don't feed into the frenzy that James Holmes wanted to create. We can't give him the satisfaction of knowing that he harnessed the same power as fictional terrorists, like Bane or the Joker.

At a time like this, it's hard not to dwell on everything that's wrong with the world. The only way to move on, however, is to remember the good, remain positive, and stand up for what's right, not unlike Bruce Wayne himself. I know that, with time, the people of Aurora, Colorado will prevail. They will show James Holmes, and others like him, that the horrific actions of a few will not change the mentality of the whole, that although they will never forget, they can forge ahead, and that good does, in fact, triumph over evil.

They will rise in their own way above that dark night and I wish them all the best.

The 411.

I know, I know. I always vow to be a better blogger and I always seem to be lying. I'm definitely going to write a Michael Phelps creepfest post soon. Prepare yourselves accordingly.

In the meantime, a lot of my favorite blogs have partaken in this link up created by From Mrs. to Mama. It looked fun to me and I'm a lazy blogger, so I'm doing it, too.

1. How long have you been blogging? And what got you started on blogging? Has your blog changed?

I started my first blog, Brought to You by the Letters B and J, in 2004. In complete honesty, I'm not even sure why I started blogging, but I'm extremely glad I did. My blog has changed quite a bit since I started. It used to be focused almost exclusively on what I did every day. I also used to do a ton of movie reviews. Now, I just review men. Ha.

2. Did you go to college? If so where, and what did you study?


I spent four glorious years at Miami University. I loved every second of it and still miss it more than I should. I received degrees in political science and Spanish. I'm starting graduate school next month at IUPUI and going for my master's in sports journalism!

3. Where have you traveled?

Oh man. I've been so lucky with travel - both continental and international. I've seen Old Faithful erupt, gambled in Las Vegas, walked on the beaches of Florida, California, and the Carolinas, admired the view from the Empire State Building, ridden the Navy Pier ferris wheel, laughed at flashers on Bourbon Street, topped the Space Needle and St. Louis Arch, toured Graceland and Fort McHenry, picked peaches in Virginia, and marveled at the national monuments in DC.


I've snorkeled in the Virgin Islands, watched the Arenal Volcano erupt from a natural hot spring in Costa Rica, explored Mayan ruins in Belize, been whale watching in Vancouver, admired Niagara Falls, watched the sunrise at Machu Picchu, dragged my family to Platform 9-3/4 in London, saw Paris from the Eiffel Tower, explored the streets of Venice, eaten dinner on a cruise of the Panama Canal, posed with the Leaning Tower of Pisa and Colosseum, stared in awe at Iguazu Falls, took secretive pictures of the Sistine Chapel ceiling, traversed the markets of Montevideo and Santiago, and watched the sunset from the Ponte Vecchio in Florence.


...and the craziest thing? There is still so much more I want to do.

4. If you won the lottery, what would be the first thing you would buy?

Cincinnati Bengals season tickets.

5. What are your 3 biggest pet peeves?

Intolerance/Bigotry. Horrible grammar. Loud chewing noises.

6. What is your favorite movie?

The Sandlot. Don't watch it with me unless you want to hear every line before it happens.

7. What is your drink of choice; wine, beer, or liquor. Or Water, Soda, Tea?

Soda. All. Day. If you don't know my relationship with Dr. Pepper, then you don't know me very well.

Check out the shirt.

8. What is something you enjoy to do when you have me time?

Blog, read, or play piano.

9. If you could have a $10,000 shopping spree to one store, which store would it be?

Target. Don't judge me.

10. Share with us an embarrassing moment of your past? Or present.

Here's a good one: In 8th grade, I allowed Jenn to drag me to an Aaron Carter concert, in hopes that her husband Nick Carter would be there (friend loyalty at its best). At this stage in my life, the last place I wanted to be was an Aaron Carter concert and somehow, we managed to snag fifth row tickets. I brought a book to read and stood there, pouting with my arms crossed. About halfway through the concert, much to my embarrassment and dismay, Aaron Carter actually spotted me. In a sea of dancing, smiling teeny boppers, I looked like someone in line at the BMV. He stood there on stage, and in front of thousands of teenage girls, he crossed his arms and made a pouty face, openly mocking me. So now, I suppose my claim to fame is that I've been made fun of by Aaron Carter.

11. What day would you love to relive again?

I take it as a good sign that I'm struggling to choose just one day. Either the day I spent with Jenn meeting the Penguins in Pittsburgh, a day I spent tubing with my family in Virginia, or Jenn's 23rd birthday.

12. If your life was turned into a movie... what actor would play you?

I have no idea. No actresses look like me, but I act exactly like a female Jason Segel. So, maybe him as a crossdresser? Maybe Tina Fey?

13. What are the jobs you had in high school/college/the early years?

Funny story. I've never had a real job. I've done work for my parents' businesses, but I don't count those.

14. Show us a picture from high school or college.


A high school football game with some of my best friends.


Trying to spell 'Miami' during a college bar crawl.

15. If you could travel anywhere in the world, all expenses paid, where would you go?

Where wouldn't I go? Right now, I'd choose either Ireland, Russia, or Greece. If all expenses are paid, why not all three?

16. Show us the most current picture of you or you, or your family, or anything of meaning to you.


Picture taken at my friend Zach's wedding earlier this month.

17. Where do you see your life 5 years from now?

I want to be in love, happy, and healthy. If I'm being greedy, I'd love to have a job related to sports journalism, too.

Man. What a feel good post.

Olympic Preview: Part 1

Guys, I'm excited. Really excited. Squeal-like-a-young-child-while-jumping-up-and-down excited. Why? Because the Olympics begin soon.

As the ridiculous sports fanatic I am, I eagerly await this event with even more anticipation than the next Dave Matthews Band CD. Despite my unhealthy obsessions with football and NHL hockey, I truly believe there is no better contest in sports than the Olympic games. Every four years, the games provide accomplished American athletes with the toughest competition the globe has to offer. With the eyes of the world focused on the events, the stakes could not be higher and what results is often inspirational and heartbreaking, dramatic and controversial, tragic and awe-inspiring.

My torrid love affair with the Olympics began with the 1996 Games in Atlanta. Although I was only eight at the time, I vividly remember the emotional opening ceremony, which ended with Muhammad Ali lighting the Olympic torch. I remember the horror, drama, and fear surrounding the Centennial Park bombing. I remember watching Michael Johnson cross the finish line in record time. Mostly, however, I remember the Magnificent 7, the U.S. Women's Gymnastics team.



Every night of the competition, I would sit glued to the TV, watching these girls, some only twice my age, flip, jump, and twirl across the screen. I desperately wished I could do a balance beam routine like Shannon Miller, but deep-down, I knew the closest I'd ever get was a crooked somersault. So, I lived vicariously through them, memorized their names and biographies, and cheered for them alongside the rest of the country. Although I recall multiple performances from these Games, it was one moment in particular that changed my life forever.

After closely watching the team competition for hours, the U.S. was just within reach of the gold medal. It all came down to one last gymnast: Kerri Strug. On her first vault, her ankle was severely injured when she under-rotated the landing. However, despite the excruciating pain and unsure of her team's standing, Strug heroically attempted a second vault. I remember watching with bated breath as she limped to the runway, more nervous and excited for an athletic event than I'd ever been before. I will never forget the feeling I had when she stuck the landing, giving the U.S. its first Olympic Gymnastics Team Gold. Immediately, she hopped to her good foot before collapsing to her knees in tears. Watching Coach Bela Karolyi carry her to the medals podium filled me with unmistakable feelings of national pride and overwhelming joy. It was my first taste of the emotional roller coaster experienced while watching sports. For the first time, I was aware of the excitement, the anxiety, the heart-rending reality of injury, the triumph of victory, and the intense emotional spectrum endured by sports fans. I've been addicted to it ever since.


Chills. All. Day.

Following the Olympic games, I wrote letters to the gymnasts, thanking them on behalf of the country as eloquently as an 8-year-old possibly could. In return, I got a couple of their autographs, and, in a strange foreshadowing of my future fanaticism over athletes, I traveled to gymnastics competitions (with my dad as chauffeur) to watch them compete in person.

Yes, folks. I started early with the athlete stalking. Just wait for my Michael Phelps stories...

Farewells of all kinds.

Well, the verdict is in: I've been accepted into IUPUI's sports journalism master's program. I've also signed a one-year lease for a studio apartment in downtown Indianapolis. Although I'm nervous about leaving my family and friends, I'm so beyond excited. After two years of feeling frozen in place, I am ready to get a fresh start. I'm ready to learn, exercise my mind beyond these blog posts, and be on my own again. I can't wait to get started on the next chapter of my life and be one step closer to my dreams.

However, whenever something good happens, the universe keeps me in check by throwing a proverbial wrench into my happiness. Without the bad, you wouldn't recognize the good, right? It's the sweet up and down.

The bad in this case deals with my beloved Penguins. On Friday, general manager Ray Shero cleared some cap space and traded two Penguins: Zbynek Michalek (to Phoenix) and, one of my personal favorites, Jordan Staal (to Carolina).

I would be lying if I said I didn't cry. Not only was Jordan one of the league's best defensive forwards and a force to be reckoned with on the penalty kill, he was also a fan favorite. He played a significant role in the '09 Cup run and melted hearts everywhere with his blue eyes, cleft chin, and sod-farming physique. No one will ever forget his patented goal roar or his blonde Amish playoff beard.



I understand why Shero had to trade Staal. After Jordan rejected a 10-year, $60 million offer, I knew he wouldn't be re-signed. Jordan deserves more ice time and credit than he has received in Pittsburgh behind two of the world's greatest players, Crosby and Malkin. Shero's hand was forced to trade Staal when the return was at its greatest. That was now. Unfortunately for Staal, "now" also happened to be his wedding day. So, he learned of the trade during his own wedding reception, surrounded by eleven of his now-former teammates. Yikes.

The Penguins walked away from the deal with two-way center Brandon Sutter, a first-round draft pick, and a defensive prospect. Although I reminded myself that Jordan had a choice and will now be playing alongside his big brother Eric, I walked away from the deal with wet cheeks, a body pillow, and a gallon of cookie dough ice cream.

So, farewell, Jordan. I wish you all the best in Carolina and thanks for the incredible memories, especially this one.



The fact that this post had more to do with a hockey trade than a monumental moment in my life proves to me that I'm choosing the right career path.

Dreams do come true.

Well, it's over.

No, I'm not talking about the NBA season (although I'm relieved that's finally over, too). Every piece of my grad school application has been submitted, so now it's time to wait for the verdict.

I've had a few good things to distract me in the mean time. My brother came home yesterday and will be home for ten days! Home finally feels like home again.



I finished 16th out of 707 people in my fantasy hockey pool. Not too shabby. It kills me, however, that I was only four points from $100.

The NHL awards were Wednesday night and Geno cleaned up. I don't mean appearance-wise - he opted with no tie and an open collar. He finished the night with the Hart Trophy (League MVP), the Ted Lindsay award (best player as voted by the players), and the Art Ross (most points in the regular season). It was the perfect ending to the almost perfect season for him.



No, my eyes didn't water...that would be weird. Really though, if his acceptance speeches don't melt your heart, seek help.

Sometimes, by some stroke of genius or pure luck, my worlds collide. That happened at the NHL awards. Geno's first award was presented by Cory Monteith (Finn from Glee). Then, of all the celebrities in the entire world, who did fate choose to present Geno with the Hart Trophy? Vince Vaughn. For one brief moment, America cautiously peered into my ultimate fantasy. Beware.



Actually, I imagined Vince would pronounce Geno's name right. Then, Geno would strip down to his boxer-briefs before they launched into a chill-inducing, two-part harmony that would serve as a personal invitation for me to attend their intimate afterparty held in a suite overlooking the Bellagio fountains. So, I guess it wasn't my ultimate fantasy.

Close enough.

Man Meat Monday #40

If Fifty Shades of Grey is "Mommy porn," then True Blood is porn for the 20-something-year-old girl. So, this week, I present to you True Blood's newest slice of Man Meat...

Scott Foley

Claim to Fame: Actor (Scream 3, Felicity, Grey's Anatomy)

Birthday: July 15, 1972

I can't find much information on Mr. Foley, but luckily, with a face like that, I don't need any. Ever since Scream 3, I've had a serious weakness for Scott Foley. So, when he suddenly appeared in the Season 4 finale of True Blood, I felt like the heavens opened up to rain even more manly goodness on me.

Random Tidbit: He speaks Japanese fluently.

Only downfall?: He's not in anything. Guest appearances on random TV shows aren't even close to satisfying my craving.

Although I'm not sure how I feel about his sketchy character on True Blood yet, I am sure of one thing: Congratulations on your face, Mr. Foley.

So, readers: It's your turn. Can the cast of True Blood get any more attractive?



Really, they are one Channing Tatum away from being the Magic Mike re-cast of my dreams.

Friends with Benefits?

I know it's Man Meat Monday, but I have a pressing question:

Which guy from Friends does it for you?



I absolutely love Friends. In college, I even lived in a house called Central Perk (which was conveniently located on Central Avenue). Probably to no one's surprise, I've been a lifelong Chandler enthusiast, but lately, I find myself liking Ross more and more.

So, I'm curious. Do you find Joey's clueless naivety and shameless flirting endearing? Does your heart melt with every sarcastic quip from Chandler? Am I the only one that finds Ross attractive?



I have a feeling the answer to the last question is yes.