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.