Merry Christmas

Mike Luckovich, Genius.

Happy Holidays, everyone.* Keeping with the spirit of the NBA (Shaq vs. Kobe! Kobe vs. Shaq! Kobe said this! Shaq said that!), I plan on feuding with as many people as possible without any actual direct verbal or physical interchange. Translation: I'm gonna scratch and claw on paper like a reject from Mean Girls. 'Tis the season.

As to my prolonged absence from blogging, I'll explain that in more detail later. But thanks for continuing to check up on the site. Actually, I had more visitors when I wasn't writing a thing. I'll choose to ignore that implicit message...bastards. Anyway, it makes me feel a bit like Judi Dench circa 1999 so all is forgiven.

Merry Christmas!!
Love, Courtside

*Note to reader: I can't in good conscience ever ever use the colloquialism "y'all." Too many painful memories of my first - and last - visit to the state of Texas. Except of course if someone wants to gift me with tickets to the All Star game. Floor seats only please. :)

Season's Greetings

Yeeeeeeah!!

-T minus 1 hour til tip-off-

Charles vs. Kenny
Nuggets vs. Spurs
Mavs vs. Suns

I know everyone's been talking about the dress code with an eye on AI as the first dress code violator. I'm leaning more towards Timmy or Steve Nash. Imagine, the two most docile, least likely to rock the boat David Stern posterboys suddenly becoming rebels with a cause -- Timmy starts wearing more bling than Mr. T and Nash starts rocking a wave cap to hold back his ever-growing hair. Can't wait, baby!!

Yay Yuta!

The Clippers signed the Japanese Earl Boykins, aka Yuta Tabuse. This should be fun. Have you seen the clip from "Year of the Yao" where Cuttino Mobley tries to explain soul food to Yao? It'll be interesting to see what pearls of wisdom Cat passes along to Yuta this season. C'mon NBA TV, follow the Year of the Yuta! With Yuta, Cuttino, Sam 'The Mouth' Cassell, and the two crazy Chrises - Kaman and Wilcox - you're talking ratings gold here!

Bravo

Sir Charles got last night's Hurricane Relief Game rolling by declaring, "We can go a day without 10 episodes of Law and Order." Major props to the NBA, TNT, Kenny Smith and everyone involved for doing a hell of a lot more than the people already profiting from Katrina. In addition to the game last night, players and teams have been helping out all week long.

Avery worked the reporters...

while Jeff van Gundy worked the crowd with his bright red hat.

You gotta love Amare's shirt.

Notice the kid's nervous smile. It's nice seeing Ron Ron back in action, but I'd be a little anxious too with his hands that close to my neck.

Charles's best line of the night, on why the Hornets should play in Atlanta: "If they combine the Hornets' fans with the Atlanta fans, maybe they'll get a full crowd one night." Doesn't matter what the situation is, you can always count on the Chuckster to be the Chuckster.

Grant Hill just being Grant Hill.

Good job, boys.
S.O.S.

And the Winner Is...

...Not Mark Cuban.

In a move than can only be classified under the "Let's see who laughs last, bitch" category, Michael Finley decided to sign not only with another Western Conference team, but another team in Texas - the Spurs. In the end, Fin rejected the email advances of suns.com and resisted the lure of Shaq on South Beach and decided to go with the team that sent a one-man contingent -- Pop.

But really, who can say no to this face?

Fin will be reunited with another spurned Mav in Nick Van Exel. Ain't vengeance grand?


Speaking of vengeance, I just saw Oldboy and all I can say is Damn! I guess I didn't fully realize what to expect from a movie promising to be a revenge thriller with live octopi and a Korean Gary Oldman, but it was all that and then some. Definitely recommended.

Ladies' Favorite Dime Piece

Look who's on the cover of the latest Dime. The Man himself, Mr. Dwyane Wade. I'll let you know how the article is once I stop drooling over the pictures.

One thing that bothers the hell out of me - yes, just one thing this time :) - is that once we girls get past the Teen Beat/Big Bopper stage, we're marketed to the same way as men - namely, with images of women. Think about it. Men's magazines like Maxim and FHM have covers of Halle Berry, Jessica Alba, etc. Women's magazines like Vogue and InStyle have covers of, yup, Halle Berry, Jessica Alba, etc. Men's Health and GQ use coverboys, like Tom "I hate my golden boy image so I'm going to pose for GQ and Gap" Brady, but we girls still only get other girls for Self and Elle. And if we pick up a Dime or Slam because that's where one finds gorgeous pictures of 1/4-naked men, we have to sift through all the "Dime pieces" and pictures of 3/4-naked girls. No wonder we get so catty - we're sick of being force fed one another.

So that's my spiel of the day. But still, definitely check out the latest Dime. It's hot!

The Mouse that Roared

Damon Stoudamire has temporarily, but officially, dethroned his ol' buddy Rasheed of his Best Mouth crown.

When asked what he thought of Pau Gasol during the Grizzlies' press conference, Mighty Mouse said,

"His initials are PG, but I want him to be rated R."

Finally, a reason to watch the Grizzlies - no offense, Shane. Aside from the potential of Pau morphing into the tongue-wagging, towel-throwing Dirk that emerged during this year's playoffs, the Grizz also got one of the most likable players in the league - Mr. Bobby Jackson.

Can't wait for the season to start!

T'Wolves on the Prowl in Vegas

Am I the only who doesn't think this is a good idea? A bunch of men - very, very rich men - going to Vegas together to "bond." No one else hears the warning bells going off? Going for the summer league is one thing - at least then you're under the auspices of playing and watching basketball.

However, going strictly for the purpose of bonding...

With Kandi-man on your roster...
(Remember the cops playing taser tag with him? The cops won.)

Lawyers, on your mark, get set...

Who knows? Maybe Dwane Casey figures having a little blackmail on all his guys is another way to get them to play together. Maybe I'm just thinking too much like a girl...or as the future wife of Andre Iguodala.

Speaking of Dwane Casey though, let's think of how many more ways we can spell Dwyane!

Day 5: Coffee

But I only had 6 ounces - that's not even a full cup. (I'm sure some of you are scratching your heads right now so here's the lesson of the day from NBA's Finest: 1 cup = 8 ounces.) I couldn't help it. I was starting to look like Jeff Van Gundy, especially around the eyes.

But it wasn't just for vanity's sake that I broke my vow; it was for my sanity as well. Case in point - I needed a yoga mat so I went to the very spiritual, very we-accept-all-people Center for Yoga. I took off my shoes (rules of the center), picked out a mat, and went to pay. That's when things got a little testy. Basically, I nearly impaled the girl at the register with a pack of incense sticks because I thought she was trying to charge me $50 for a $20 yoga mat, when in fact she was charging me $50 for a $50 yoga mat. (It's hard to see with Jeff Van Gundy eyes.) That's not the insane part though. Sadly for me, almost impaling someone and accidentally calling them a "bloodsucking yogi" is all part of my daily, no-coffee routine. The insane part was that I actually bought the $50 mat. $50 for an all natural, earth-friendly, but in the end, piece of rubber. See, this would never have happened if I were in my right mind. In trying to save $3-5 a day, I ended up blowing $50. So that's when I caved and bought my 6 oz of coffee. I figured I better have some before I had to buy anything else out of guilt...or legal action.

That was Sunday. I went all Monday without a single cup, or ounce, or incident. We'll see what tomorrow holds.

Day 4 of No Coffee

So I decided to give up coffee after realizing that the amount I spent on coffee in the past 6 weeks could have bought:

• Floor seats to a Clippers game. Actually a couple Clippers games. Maybe even a Clipper.
  
• A digital camera.
• Half a pair of Manolos.
  

It hasn't been that bad so far...Although I can't say for sure since I have yet to make it through a full day without passing out at my desk (hence, the lack of posts the last 4 days). Starbucks isn't that hard to give up since all I have to do is think of Ray Allen and Danny Fortson, but Coffee Bean's more of a challenge. We'll see how long this lasts.

What About Spoon?

In addition to Michael Finley, Doug Christie, and Brian Grant, another player waived under the NBA's Mariah Carey plan was Clarence Weatherspoon. Ol' Clarence may have only averaged 13.1 minutes, 3.1 points, and 3.1 rebounds, but I'm still gonna miss him on the Rockets. I thought he fit perfectly -- he looked like Clutch, the mascot.

Both are sort of cute and rotund and more for entertainment than actual basketball. But I guess you can't feel too bad for a man being paid $6,353,200 to not do anything. May we all be lucky enough to be that mediocre (or in Mariah's case, that crazy) that people will pay us not to come into work.

Digital Camera Dilemma

So after a summer of being told by a bunch of 10-year-olds that my camera sucks (or more accurately, "Haha teacher. My camera's better than yours!"), I've finally decided to invest in a digital camera. But here's the problem: What the hell do I buy?? Help!

I've been looking at camera websites for 2 days and I have no idea what's what anymore. Apparently, unless you have the mental and physical discipline of a British guard at Buckingham Palace, you're doomed to wind up with a blurry picture all fringed in purple.

I just want a pretty camera to take pretty pictures. Is that too much to ask? Here are some of the choices I've narrowed down to. If you know something about one of the cameras - like you take a picture of Dwyane Wade and it comes out looking like Calvin Booth - please tell me. I would really appreciate any and all feedback.

Sony Cybershot DSCT7 and DSCT5


5.1 MP, 3x Optical Zoom

These two are both so pretty and sleek, but I think the person has to be standing 2 feet in front of you in order for the picture to come out. And anything more than 3 people and the camera may explode. But it looks sooo nice. This is my problem - if I had a choice between Naturalizers (those ugly librarian-looking heels that are comfortable as hell) and 4-inch Christian Louboutins, I'm unquestionably going for the Louboutins. Nevermind that I would be crying out in pain after 5 minutes. I have a feeling the Sonys here are more style than substance, but damn, are they stylish.

Casio Exilim EX-S500

5 MP, 3x Anti Shake Optical Zoom

This is the dark horse candidate. I told my best friend I was looking at a Casio camera and her response was,

"Casios just remind me of those toy tape recorders with the microphone attached to them. Remember those? I used to scream tlc songs and another bad creation into those. Anyway yeah casio reminds me of technology for 5 year olds."

That's what I thought at first, too, but people kept telling me Casio was like Canon, but with more bang for your buck.

Canon SD500

7 MP, 3x Optical Zoom

I was originally leaning towards this or the SD400 or SD300, but I kept reading that the LCD screen cracks and the pictures aren't as clear.

Bottom line, I want something that takes good pictures but is sturdy (and pretty) enough to carry in my purse. Any suggestions?

Vegas Sports Books

Another reason to kidnap a Maloof: The sports book at the Palms sucks!

When I was in Vegas for my girlfriend's wedding, I went on a mission to find the best sports book to watch the game. I figure the combination of big screens and free drinks makes Vegas the pre-eminent venue for any sports fan. I have to say I was really disappointed. Nevertheless, here's my guide for anyone looking to watch a game in Vegas.

Top 3:

1. Caesar's - Situated next to Pure, the Caesar's sports book boasts large flat screen TVs on the walls as well as individual flat screens at the tables. Each table is designed to comfortably sit 4 people. I didn't watch the game here; I just passed by it while going to Pure, but I think it had the best and largest setup by far.
2. Bellagio - I ended up watching the game here because the seats looked the most comfortable and it's my favorite hotel. However, let me warn you. The seats are those large, leather armchairs more commonly found in libraries. As such, the seating area is pretty small and you may be stuck next to a chain-smoking, loafers-and-socks wearing jackass more comfortable in a library but trying to look cool by showing up at a sports book. The idiot next to me spent the whole game calling Danny Crawford "Joey" and saying how Joey always call this and Joey always calls that. He then made fun of Bruce Bowen's alcoholic parents during the halftime piece as he washed down his 5 beers with 5 more beers. Utterly hateful bastard. I almost beat him with his fanny pack.
3. The Palms - But only because there's a Coffee Bean in there, too. Considering you get about 4 hours of sleep the entire time you're in Vegas, Coffee Bean is like Valhalla.
   

The Rest:

• The Wynn was just disappointing overall. There was so much hype when it opened, but inside, it's really not that different from the Bellagio. I think the Bellagio raised the bar when it opened, but it also made luxury more commonplace. Therefore, the Wynn just seems like more of the same. The two main attractions of the Wynn: Ferrari and Manolo Blahnik. The sports book is really small.
• New York, New York - This whole hotel just gives me the creeps. I don't know whether it's intentional or not, but there's a seedy vibe to the hotel and even more so at the sports book. Lots of lonely old men. Yuck.
  
• MGM Grand - Very similar vibe as New York, New York. And they keep lions in a glass case. Enough said.
• Monte Carlo - I expected this place to be a lot nicer than it actually was. It's actually really cheesy and smells of urine in parts. Sports book is nothing special.
• Paris Hotel - I don't really remember the sports book but the food is really good here. I had bananas foster...yum.

Calling Kyle Korver

So as you know, I'm not really one to mock people. But there are times when the situation just calls for it.

I recently enabled the option that notifies me whenever anyone leaves a comment. Not that I didn't care what people had to say before now, but I didn't realize people were leaving comments on posts that I'd written months ago. So anyway, I was checking my email and there were 5 comments within a 9 minute span on a Kyle Korver post I'd written back in January. Check it out here.

Girlfriend's got the hots for Kyle! Philly grl, I hate to burst your bubble but I don't know Kyle. If I ever met him, I think after a couple minutes of awkward silence, I'd say, "So, uh, is Andre around? How about Allen? Any AI will do." But if anyone does know Kyle, please send this girl's messages along so she can finally fulfill her dream of having him walk past her! I think that's when you officially move into heart-throb territory - when your mere presence is enough to make a girl's dream come true. On the other hand, maybe that's just when a girl moves from fan to stalker. Either way, good luck to you, philly grl. May your future plans not be hindered by girlfriends or restraining orders. :)

It Takes a Village...To Build-A-Bear

...And other things I learned during the past 6 weeks.

First, I learned that schooling doesn't necessarily beat experience. For example, I'm sure academically trained teachers and psychologists would have handled a kid calling another kid "a gorilla and a lesbian" a specific way. I, however, having been raised by my mother - a woman who, to my brother's and my everlasting chagrin, had mall security called on her on at least two occassions during our childhood - chose to draw on his face and embarrass the hell out of him. This led to my second lesson.

Second, it's not very hard to make a kid cry.

Third, I learned Mike Newell is a prophet. After being chosen to direct the latest Harry Potter movie, Newell said, "I [am] very anxious to break the franchise out of this goody-two-shoes feel. It's my view that children are violent, dirty, corrupt anarchists. Just adults-in-waiting basically."

Fourth, I learned that the reason why it takes a village to raise a child is essentially because kids are really fucking dumb.

One of the last outings for these kids was a trip to the mall. The other tutor who was supposed to go with me couldn't make it because of a doctor's appointment. Right. Anyway, this left me alone with five 7- to 10-year-olds...in a mall...for 5 hours.

After breaking a couple displays at Kay-Bee and being glared at by 5 different Kay-Bee employees, I rounded up the kids and took them to the very kid-friendly Build-A-Bear Workshop. I figured that would be a good way to kill an hour or two. One flaw in my plan - of the 5 kids, only 2 of them were girls. Two of the boys really had no interest in building a bear or anything else in the store. Then, there was the last boy - Mark.

Mark is a special boy. He's sort of like a mini-Larry David in that things just sort of happen to him. He also likes to talk, a lot, and he likes to touch you when he talks - so much so that by the end of the day, I was slapping his hand away every time he grabbed my arm. Anyway, Mark's quest that day was to buy something for his parents. When we went into Build-A-Bear, I told him, "Mark, I'm going to help the girls make their bears. After we finish, we'll go find something for your Mom and Dad, okay?" Okay, things are going well, I thought. I helped the girls pick out a cute lil bear and we were waiting in line to get them stuffed. While we were in line, the girls were picking out sounds they wanted to put in their bears.

Then, I felt a grubby little hand on my arm. "Teacher! I want to buy this for my Mom. I know she'll really like it." I look down and Mark is holding a sound box. Now, I don't know if you've ever been to Build-A-Bear, but the whole point of the store is to buy things to either put in or on a bear. That's it. So I see Mark holding the sound box that's supposed to go inside the bear and I say, "Mark, that's supposed to go inside a bear. Are you buying a bear?"

"No."

"Okay, then nothing in this store is really for you. Just wait a little bit and we'll go find something for your parents."

A minute later. Another hand on my arm.

I look down and this time Mark is holding two sound boxes.

"Teacher, I want to buy this for my Mom and Dad. I know they'll really like it."

Kill me now. "Mark, I just told you that those are for the bears. Do you think your parents would really want a sound of Elmo laughing? Just put them down and play with Danny. We'll be done soon."

The girls and I had meanwhile inched closer to the front of the line. At the front, they have hearts that you can put inside your bear. I saw Mark reaching for one and said, "Don't even think about it. Those are for the bears. Your mom wouldn't want one." He looked surprised that I knew what he was thinking and he walked away. I thought I'd finally gotten through and turned my attention back toward the girls who were just about to have their bears stuffed.

After the first girl had stuffed her bear, I hear "Teacher, teacher!" I turn around and see Mark barreling towards me with a huge grin on his face. He's holding a pair of pink bear slippers. "Teacher! I want to buy this. My Mom would really really like it. I know she would really like it."

This is a dream. This cannot be real. "Mark, is your Mom a doll? Is she the same size as these bears??" Pause. I see him pondering the question in his mind. "No, Mark, she's not! These shoes are for these toy bears. Your mom is not a toy, and she's not a bear. These shoes are not for her." I see he's still struggling with the question in his mind. "Just don't touch anything. Don't buy anything, don't touch anything. We're leaving soon."

So, after 6 weeks of Mark, Carl, and the Gang, I've realized something. Parents aren't incredibly patient, loving people. They're all just suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. How do I know this? Because I consider myself a rational person, and yet, despite what logic and rationality should dictate, I miss these kids like crazy. Even Tommy, the kid I made cry...twice, said to me before he left, "Teacher, you're going to write to me, right? Don't forget me." That sumamabitch (© Bernie Mac, Kings of Comedy) almost had me in tears.

So anyway, that's the story of my Stockholm summer. I hope everyone had a nice summer and enjoy what's left. I plan on capping mine off with a trip to Vegas. Did I tell you I saw Damon "the Butler" Jones there last time? He was sitting at a blackjack table right before Game 2 of Spurs-Pistons. He looked then like he looked throughout the Heat-Pistons series: lost and completely outplayed. During my next visit, I may have to kidnap a Maloof or two as retribution for Bobby Jackson.

Where Basketball Without Borders Should Go Next

While we're on the subject of David Beckham and his influence on young boys, I just read the ESPN the magazine cover story on him. In the article, he says,

"I wouldn't have minded being a basketball player. I think they are the best athletes in the world. My wife always jokes that she wishes I could bounce a ball."

That got me thinking, why aren't there any British players in the NBA? And Steve Nash doesn't count...Canada's already claimed him. And then I thought, well people who are really gifted in one sport often just have a tremendous natural ability that makes them great all-around athletes. (I was thinking of Steve and his header to Amare during the Dunk Contest, and people like AI and T.O.) What does he mean he can't even bounce a ball. That's probably just false English modesty.

Nope. This is what he means:

I haven't seen a dribble that high since elementary school!

I know David Stern wants the NBA to reach the furthest spans of the world, but damn, let's send a little love and assistance across the pond. Round up Steve and Dikembe for some international flavor and Kyle Korver for his pretty boy looks the Brits seem to favor and let's get this rolling. Next stop for BWB: the UK!

Tomorrow's David Beckham

The grand experiment where I am placed in charge of kids comes to an end this week. Like any last week of school, there are lots of tests. Today, I had the pleasure of grading the writing comprehension tests...for 2 hours. Luckily, I had another tutor (G) there to share in the pain.

Anyway, we were comparing scores - basically, trying to outdo one another as to who had the stupider kid - when G goes, "Okay, what's your lowest score?" I proudly hold up a 29, thinking what can possibly beat a kid who spells garden with an "n-e," when G says, "I have an 8."

Me: You mean a kid only got 8 questions right?

G: No, I mean he got an 8. Percent.

Me: Please don't let it be Carl, please don't let it be Carl.

G: No, it was Kevin.

Me: That dumbass. I believe it. I swear the boy doesn't even know his own name. I was calling him the other night and he just walked on by like he didn't have a thought in the world.

G: I know, he’s in my class. I asked everybody what they wanted to be when they grew up and Kevin said he wanted to be a professional soccer player.

Me: Shit, that may be the smartest thing he's ever said. Let me see his test. (Pause while I look at Mensa Boy’s test.) Motherfucker spelled flower f-o-l-w-e-r. Forget books. His parents need to invest in good cleats and a coach.

After grading the rest of the tests, G and I went to the gym where the kids were playing dodgeball. They get an hour in the gym every night after tutoring. Anyway, I had previously recommended to all the kids that they read Harry Potter or whatever book caught their fancy. I saw Kevin demolishing all the other kids in dodgeball and said, “JR, get over here, boy!” No response. “Okay, fine, Kevin, get over here.” Still no response. “Kevin! KEVIN! KEVIN!” Finally, contact. He trotted over and I told him, “Boy, forget Harry Potter. That’s only going to confuse you. Stick with a book called Harold and the Purple Crayon, okay? And stay in the gym for another hour today. Keep kicking the ball and practicing, okay?”

Kevin: Huh? We’re playing dodgeball, not soccer.

Me: Yup, that’s pretty much 8%. Okay, go back to the game, Kevin. Good luck…in life.

So that pretty much sums up my life as a teacher. I’m rather shocked that more teachers don’t end up killing themselves. Imagine if Kevin makes it as a professional soccer player – which means nothing here in the US, but luckily for Kevin, he’s from what the Bush administration likes to call “the rest of the world.” Provided he follows the David Beckham model, and he’s already well on his way – for the talent show, he and his friends dressed up as girls and put on a little fashion show…what’s more Becks than that – he stands to make bank, or at least a hell of a lot more than those people for whom “flower” is not a trick question.

Actually, I was watching Letterman tonight and one of the guests was Drew Rosenhaus. Dave brought up the T.O. contract situation and when Rosenhaus said that T.O. was underpaid, Dave started in on a holier-than-thou tirade about how teachers, not T.O., are underpaid. This coming from the man getting paid over $100 million to sit on his ass and give us another reason not to watch CBS. Out of all the arguments about how athletes are overpaid, I hate the teacher one the most. Do I think teachers are underpaid? Very much so. Do I think athletes are overpaid? Yes, but not when considering how much they bring in. Then Dave went on about how an athlete demanding more money means the fans are the ones who have to pay, blah, blah, blah. Once again, this coming from the man who inflicted Ed and that creepy ass Paul Schaffer on us. Worst of all, he had me defending that douchebag Rosenhaus. But really, I can’t stand it when uninformed people try to get in the sports salary debate and use the “what about the poor teachers” line. You really can’t compare the two. People don’t pay 100 bucks to watch a teacher in the classroom. Networks don’t pay hundreds of millions of dollars for the rights to televise classes. If they did, teachers would be getting million dollar contracts, too. And it's not like athletes' getting paid is what prevents teachers from getting a raise. You can’t even compare football to basketball or baseball. In a sport like football, which is more physically demanding and damaging than basketball, baseball, or Dave’s go-karts, and in which your contract can be cancelled for any reason whatsoever, I think players like T.O. have every reason to holdout when they feel they’re not getting market price for their services. Doesn’t mean I think T.O. deserves all that money, but I don’t think Jeff Lurie deserves $833 million either. And you better believe if I thought I was a main reason why Lurie and the Eagles were in the Superbowl and made all that green last year, I’d be demanding a bigger check, too.

Ahh, aren’t you glad to have me back? Be careful what you wish for!

The More You Know...A PSA

Yippee skippy - New episode of NBA Rookies on tonight at midnight on Spike TV, the channel that doesn't realize midnight signifies the start of a new day. Sadly, this episode is titled "Post season" so I doubt there will be any JR Smith anecdotes to share tomorrow.

Sorry it's been awhile since my last post, but I am fucking tired. I just started tutoring 10- to 13-year-olds in English and them bastards are trying to break me down. I've told them my name at least 20 times but they insist on calling me "teacher," or rather "TEACHER!" And since they repeat everything I say, except of course my name, I've taken to swearing in Spanish and French, with the occasional "schiessen." I started calling one of the boys "Rasheed" because he has a mouth that just won't quit. They're cute little buggers, though, especially the one that looks at me after everything I say and just says, "Yes?"

Carl, do you know what a synonym is?
Yes?
Okay, what's a synonym?
Yes?
No, what is a synonym?
Yes?
Carl, do you understand what I'm saying?
Yes?
Okay, so what's a synonym?
Yes.
Aight, good boy, Carl.

Rasheed usually comes over at this point and says, "Carl doesn't know what you're saying." Yes, Rasheed, I realize he doesn't understand. "Okay, I'm just telling you he doesn't understand." Thank you, Rasheed. "You see, he didn't know what you were saying." I've decided that teachers deserve a tenfold pay raise. Immediately.

If I don't pass out after watching Rookies, I'll finally put up my post on Linda Shanklin and Big Earl Smith. Until then, use a condom! Children ain't a joke!

More Fun from China

Tony Parker in classic Asian tourist pose.

So you think Kyle's happy to be there?

Sam D. and a really excited Chinese guy.

Tony: "C'est chouette.
Je vais après, Sam."

Three things that will survive no matter what happens in the world:


the rat, Ryan O'Reily, and Ronald McDonald.

And Bostjan Nochbar, Too

I almost forgot...Bostjan Nochbar was there, too. I felt I should rectify my omission since I may never have a chance to mention Bostjan Nachbar again, unless it's "JR Smith introduces Bostjan Nachbar to Harold and the Purple Crayon" or "JR Smith fights Bostjan Nachbar for last piece of Spongebob cake."

Tony Parker and Eva Longoria Go to China

I once called Eva the short, slutty, Mexican Yao Ming - and not in a bad way either. Well Ms. Thang proved me quite prophetic as she, along with Tony Parker, Yao Ming, Samuel Dalembert, and Kyle Korver, went to Beijing for Basketball Without Borders.

I must say, I'm quite impressed. You don't go to China and ride a camel if you're only in it for some courtside seats.

Tony and Manu, on the other hand, seem to be booking for Commissioner's Pet(s) of the Year honors. I'm not hating though because I think BWB is a great idea. Anything that puts Dikembe Mutombo and a microphone together in any way is gravy, baby. And how else would you get white boys from Iowa to go to China? (The bigger question here, though, may be how the hell did you get a white boy from Iowa in the NBA?!)

Brilliant, Commissioner, just brilliant.

More ESPY Coverage from the Cheap Seats, ie. In Front of My Computer

Andy Roddick

Andy, you are not that cool. One Open does not a superstar make. Especially when said Open was in 2003. Give me Marat Safin and his crazy ass anyday.

Donovan and Wilma McNabb

Ahh Donovan. I love him. And Wilma's Chunky Soup commercials crack me up. Let me hear your battle cry! AHHHH! So how come when I see this picture all I can think of is Kenan Thompson's impression of her on SNL?

ESPYs, Dwyane Wade Style

Look at Flash burgeoning into a superstar, on and off the court, right before our eyes. I think his association with Sean John will prove to be mutually beneficial. Not that he looked bad before, as evidenced below in a picture from last year ESPYs, but he looks more polished now, like he doesn't have to try as hard. And standing next to him of course is everyone's favorite sidekick, Damon "the Butler" Jones. Nice shades, superstar.

The Best Show on TV

Have you been watching NBA Rookies?

It is laugh out loud, fall off the chair, and pee in your pants hilarious.*

In last week's episode, "All Star Weekend," we got to ride along with the rooks (Andre Iguodala, Emeka Okafor, JR Smith, and Devin Harris) to the Rookie-Sophomore Challenge, but more importantly, we were privy to their pre-game conversation. Here are some of my favorite nuggets:

• The boys were talking about their seasons up to the All Star break. Andre says, "We [Sixers] are shooting for first in our division." JR Smith looks at him and says, "We're shooting for 20 games." Guess what team JR is talking about. Yup, the Hornets.
• Speaking of the Hornets, Devin Harris started the conversation about guys getting 50, referring to the Dirk Nowitzki-Tracy McGrady shootout. Then someone asked, "Who'd Stoudemire have 50 on?"
  JR says, "Us," and then for good measure adds "I never guarded him."
  Andre asks him, "Who'd you guard?"
  "Van Exel."
  Pause. Andre's thinking and then remembers, "Van Exel had 36 that game, too!"
  Everyone starts cracking up and JR looks away and mumbles, "Yeah."
  
• They also talked about dunks - who they dunked on and who dunked on them (there's also a little montage to Chris Andersen's anti-performance in the Dunk Contest the night before). Emeka was the first to answer the question of whether he got dunked on. In this little voice, he says, "Turkoglu." (I'd whisper that shit, too! Freakin' Hedo!) He was like, "They put him on Sportscenter. Number four."
• The subject of books comes up. Emeka says he's reading Digital Fortress, a Dan Brown book, and asks if anyone read The Da Vinci Code. Andre and Devin pipe up and say they've read it and Andre says he's reading Angels and Demons now. JR, who's been uncharacteristically quiet up to this point, finally jumps in with, "Anybody read Spongebob yet?" (I'm not even going to italicize that. That ain't a book!) Then after Devin asks if they've read the "Laker book," JR says, "I read Harold and the Purple Crayon, dawg." I love JR Smith, but thank God he can ball because otherwise he'd be a very very poor man.
• And as promised, an Avery reference. The boys talk about coaches and assistants, and Devin, not realizing the Little General would soon become his permanent head coach, does a spot on Avery imitation saying, "I used to play so hard it was illegal." Poor poor Devin. At least Erick Dampier now has a permanent roommate in Avery's doghouse.
  

The show has made me absolutely fall in love with Andre Iguodala and JR Smith -- and not because of their basketball prowess either, but because they have the two coolest parents on the planet: Linda (Iguodala) Shanklin and Big Earl Smith. And that leads me to my next post...

* By the way, if you're under the impression that "laughing out loud, falling off a chair, and peeing in your pants" is just another of my many clever expressions, you are mistaken (this time, at least). It actually refers to my roommate sophomore year who did all of the above when racked with laughter...or booze. Why would any baller want to miss priceless memories like that to make millions of dollars?

The Human Highlight Film

It's here! It's here! I feel like a little girl on Christmas morning. Some benevolent, wonderful (and anonymous) soul found me the link to the Shawn Bradley bodyslam.

And now for your viewing pleasure: The Human Highlight Film.

What, No Nookie from Cookie?

This is a bit belated since the BET Awards were 2 weeks ago, but just look at Magic's face! That is the face of a man who has NOT seen some skin in a looooooong time. Poor Magic.

Kremlin Addendum

124 diamonds, 4.94 carats, 4.06 ounces. Hot damn. If you had a chance to add this to your own personal collection, wouldn't you jack it, too?

On a sidenote, I am sad to report that I would end up in a Siberian gulag because I couldn't even swipe a PSP from a Birkenstock wearing, peace loving, vegetarian hippie like my friend Dave. There's a reason why the phrase is "like taking candy from a baby," and not "like taking candy from a much-stronger-than-he-seems 100 pound, 6'2 hippie."

Itsy Bitsy Spider My Ass

During our childhood, we're indoctrinated with this notion that spiders are little, harmless creatures. We sing Itsy Bitsy Spider and bastardize the rain because it felled the poor helpless spider. We read Charlotte's Web and thank God that smarty-pants Charlotte was around to save Wilbur. Well let me tell you, like Santa and the Tooth Fairy, that is a damn lie. These arachnids are vengeful little fuckers. A couple of nights ago, I killed a spider that was chilling on the wall in front of my computer. And since I'm a girl, the thought of actually scraping it up grossed me out so I just left it squashed there against the wall. Well two nights later, I'm on the computer again and I lean back in my chair and I suddenly feel this sharp pain in my ear. Kind of like a bee sting...Although I've never actually been stung by bee before so I don't really know what it feels like...But I imagine it's quite painful. Anyway, I was like "What the fuck!" and turned around. There, sitting on the top of my chair, was this spider, this vindictive asshole of a Kobe spider. Then it got up, flipped me off, and disappeared. Meanwhile, the tip of my left ear turned bright red and started swelling up. Three days and a crapload of Neosporin later, the redness and swelling have finally gone down.

Lesson of the day: If you kill a spider, remember to properly dispose of its venomous little body.

Tomorrow I'll discuss how stars aren't actually twinkling little diamonds in the sky but giant balls of flaming dust.

The Kings Legacy

Who the Kings have now,
minus C-Webb...

...And who they were looking at this summer.
Mike Bibby once X'ed, Punk'd, whatever Gavin Maloof on the Jamie Kennedy Experiment. Do you think this is Gavin's way of getting revenge?

London

I'm not someone really prone to public outbursts of emotion. I don't cry during movies except, inexplicably, Cool Runnings and Pocahontas. I think the lowest depth of depravity is people and/or organizations, whether they be terrorist or political, who use senseless tragedies for their personal advancement. That being said, I wanted to acknowledge the situation in London because I felt it would be completely disingenuous not to considering my last 4 or 5 posts have directly or indirectly referenced London in some way. It makes me sick that a day that should have been so jubilant and festive for Londoners instead turned into a bloodbath. It makes me sad that the headline underneath the one announcing the bombings was "British Muslims advised to stay home." In supporting London's bid for the 2012 Olympics, Nelson Mandela said, "There is no city like London. It is a wonderfully diverse and open city providing a home to hundreds of different nationalities from all over the world. I can't think of a better place than London to hold an event that unites the world." I agree. But why wait until 2012? Now seems like a good a time as any to get that event started.

Meanwhile, On the Other Side of the World...

Manu was doing some schmoozing of his own. Here he is presenting a basketball to Argentine President Néstor Carlos Kirchner.

Manu along with compatriots Carlos Delfino and Andres Nocioni and the omnipresent Dikembe Mutombo were down in Buenos Aires to promote Basketball Without Borders. Manu even got Pop to show up and yell at the kids.

But seriously, between hobnobbing with presidents and kissing babies and housewives, would you be surprised if Manu and/or Tony ended up being the mayor of San Antonio, Paris, or Bahia Blanca?

They both have an aptitude for gladhandling and diplomacy unheard of in Texas. And with Robert Horry signing a new 3-year deal with the Spurs, their team may have just gotten started. If they keep winning, who knows what else the future will hold for these two.

And if that's not enough for you, they've also managed to bring back the flag as national symbol and clothing accessory, all wrapped up in one sacrilegious package.

MJ, eat your heart out.