July 31, 2001 - The Bitter Anguish of RSN
• The Red Sox, regardless of how much longer they go sans world championship, will always be a special team. Tonight's 4-3 loss to the Anaheim, don't call us California or Disney's Bitches, Angels, is a prime example.

Normal team would have just lost, never really giving any hope of pulling it out and capitalizing on an all-to-rare Yankees loss. But noooooo, not the Sox! Fall behind 2-0 early, then get home runs from Brian "Streaky" Daubach and Doug "Insufficient Replacement" Mirabelli to tie the score.

Troy Glaus' HR, helpful in fantasy terms but killer to Red Sox Nation, makes it 4-2. Then comes the clawing. The eke-ing it to 4-3, bases loaded, two outs, Nomar on deck, Hatteberg fly ball going back, to the track, to the wall...


Let me just say, Jerry and Joe could make a Devil Rays game exciting. Radio baseball may get no better.
July 30, 2001 - Clusterfuck is Underused, I Think
• All the golf I played this weekend can be summed up in three letters: M-E-H. That's not all that good, if you're scoring at home.

In my rush to get out of my house on Sunday morning, I left a large majority of my laundry and my hair brush at my house all those miles away. So now I have to hack it til the weekend wearing hats and fixing my hair with a fork. Only me. Only me.

I've decided a few things on the cold N.H. night. First off, this is shaping up to be the finest BUCB season in my memory - we're going to have a quality team both in playing ability and coolness factor. Who'd have thought?! I've decided that when all is said and done, in just over two weeks, I'm going to miss Nashua. After all my bitching, all my screaming about ATM's that charge and rednecks, this little city has grown on me. Won't miss the ghetto or the disgusting roomies, but I could easily see myself getting an actual apartment and living and working on the Massachusetts border when I grow up. Way off in the distance. Yeah, IN 11 MONTHS.

I've also decided clusterfuck is underused, but you smarties already knew that.
July 25-28, 2001 - BIG Weekend
• In more ways than one, as four days is usually double the normal weekend. But you knew that.

In brief, since I'm going to be late for work...

1. Golf - Tomorrow is the tournament at Franconia, followed by nine with Dad and his league up in Holyoke. 27 holes in one day. Heavenly, provided I don't collapse or make ass out of self. Over the real weekend, I head down to Boston/Brookline to play lovely Putterham with Hypho and friends. I owe him $25. Hopefully I can whittle that down some more.

2. Sneezes - I just made a couple. Since I've forgotten what I was going to say, I'll just put that in instead.

It's my mother's birthday Sunday, so send a card you jerks! :)
July 24, 2001 - Bad Omen, Good Pizza
• Get it, it's like Bad Andy, Good Pizza... shut up, jackass.

Went golfing with the boss today, up at Passaconaway in Litchfield. The course reminded me a lot of Oak Ridge, I'm not really sure why. I loved it though, conditions were great. I would have loved it more had I not shot a 98.

In my own defense, a number of factors - not including the fact that I suck - contributed to the bad play. I lipped out 13 putts, which is amazing since not a one of them fell in the hole. For the first 12 holes, I had a complete inability to hit a tee shot remotely straight. Once I cured that, things came back a little.

I suppose it being upwards of 95 degrees couldn't have helped either. All I kept thinking was Matt was going to think I was a jackass, since I had spoken like I knew what a golf club was and how to operate it.

Still, I took some positives from what should be the last round I play before the big show Thursday at Franconia. Closing birdie, par, par will always help one's mood, as will being able to hit a 3-wood 300 yards.

I predict I shoot 84. You heard it here first. I also predict I will win the 'Golden Stylebook' at the Copy Desk Open. Boo yah.
July 23, 2001 - Murkynessitude
• No, that's not a word. That's why I like it.

I'm truly mixed about Nashua right now. I'm having a good time up here, living like this. Yet, I know I wouldn't be happy if this was my everyday life. Then again, I wouldn't be paying rent by the week if this was my everyday life - then I could get a legitimate apartment with a legitimate lease. I know I'll have fun back in Boston, but I'll miss it here. Thus the murkynessitude, a gibberish word I think I'm going to add to my vocabulary, along with eleventeen and aminals.

I broke down and cleaned the bathroom today. I felt better to get that mysterious black stain out of the tub.

If any doctors or smart people are reading this, I'd appreciate an explanation to how a person can get a chapped lip IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SUMMER. Time to watch Raw!
July 20-22, 2001 - The Growling Results From Missing Dinner
• It makes me smile to sit back and think about what it will be like this fall. I'll go back to Boston, work my 20-odd hours at the mail room like always. But when I get that first paycheck, I'm just going to sit back and look at it, thinking, "You know how much of this has to go to pay rent? NONE." :)

I golfed twice over the weekend, neither all that spectacular. Friday at Agawam I was +6 for 11 holes, Saturday at St. Anne I was +7 for 10 holes. I actually played much better than I scored; triple bogey on the 4th at Agawam and the 5th at St. A's. Hell, Saturday I had four pars and a birdie out of those 10 holes. None of that will matter Thursday though; I just hope nerves don't get the best of me again.

Going to bed at 4 a.m. makes waking up at 8 a.m. to watch the British Open impossible. I was conscious at 10, and was happy to see David Duval get his major - though not as happy as I could have been, as I almost put a little cash down on his winning in the wee hours of Sunday.

I'll save my discussion of the squallor the apartment bathroom is in til tomorrow. I gotta go eat something.
July 19, 2001 - Wrestling
• I dare say I am becoming a fan of professional wrestling again. I've started taping Raw and Smackdown again, and am now actually excited that I have a tape full of sports entertainment to watch after I write this. I doubt I'll ever return to the carefree days of my youth, when I would actually buy the pay-per-view specials, but I'm still following it again. I'm sorry, but I'm a purist. I'm from a time where you had four pay-per-views a year: Royal Rumble in January, WrestleMania in April, SummerSlam in August and Survivor Series in November. The Rumble was the best, because you had a thirty man battle royal and it was just insanity. Survivor Series always blew, because who wants to see eight- or ten-man tag matches. The other two fell somewhere in between. Now that I've scared all of you...

Tomorrow, I'm forcing myself to get a haircut and play golf. The haircut is overdue, and since I am trying to qualify for the Mass. State Public Links on Thursday, now would be a good time to get my ass in gear. This is my third try to make the finals, and I have less hope to do it this time around than I did the first two. And you can quote me on that.

I really better call Justin too.
July 18, 2001 - New Home Come September
• I now know what it's like to witness a newsroom basketball game almost come to blows. And I thought I was overly competitive...

BU's Summer Room Swap came through, sort of... I got a new place. 98 Mountfort Street in South Campus, the apartment next door to Mark Coen's old one. Kitchen, bathroom, no guard booth, everything I ever wanted - except for the whole cable thing. Only problem is I am the only one who got it. As I feared might happen, I lost Justin as a roomie to get out of the triple.

It really pisses me off, because Justin was just the kind of guy I get along great with. I really was looking forward to another year of Domino's Pizzas, MTV Latino, hockey and Playstation 2 He restored my faith in the lottery, which I've now thrown myself back into. If only we were smart, we would have just stayed in Danielsen...

Five years ago today, I took my first steps in the U.K. To the long distant Wales crew - which is down to Aled in Ecuador, Lleucu in Liverpool and Catrin somewhere, none of whom will probably ever read this - I give a big hello. Maybe my four years in the works Spring Break trip will bring me over for a visit. You never can tell.
July 17, 2001 - The Truth
• Five years ago today, 230 people died when a missile tore through the TWA airplane they were flying in on the way to Paris. They crashed into the Atlantic Ocean, and they died. There are few things worldly that I believe with such conviction.

Because I flew out of JFK airport the very day after the crash of TWA Flight 800, also going to Europe, also following a flight pattern that skirted southern Long Island, I've always felt cheaply connected to the disaster. I was in the airport the day after, felt the tension of everyone there, added to my own since I had never flown before. I've followed the story closer than I do most news events. I can't be bothered to follow most news events. That's just me.

The link I threw up here yesterday goes to what is essentially a conspiracy theorist website. I am hardly one who buys into most of that crap - after all, I am a heartless Republican in training - but putting together all the facts, I think the whole fuel tank scheme is a snow job.

That's my rant.

Tonight I both bought plane tickets and received an offer for a room swap. More tomorrow. You just stay on the edge of your seats!!
July 16, 2001 - Fame In The Hometown
Park World Magazine has named Agawam's own Superman - Ride of Steel best roller coaster in the world for the second year in a row. Guess what copy intern at The Telegraph made sure it got a 10 inch picture on the Amusement page. When something that says Agawam comes across the Wire, I'm on it like my neighbors on a thirty pack.

Thursday night I was driving home when a dark colored tabby cat ran in front of my car. Somehow, I was able to swerve and slam on the brakes, missing him. Tonight, I saw the same cat. Someone else had hit him. It was not exactly the uplifting item that I was looking for after work.

Tomorrow is a very important day in the history of this country. I will have much to say tomorrow evening, but as a hint, refresh yourself with what happened on July 17, 1996, off the coast of Long Island, N.Y., the day before I left on my first flight, from JFK to the U.K.
July 14-15, 2001 - Dunk Tank Master
• I can not remember a day where I felt as shitty physically as I do today. My left elbow is purple, my head hurts, my limbs are just exhuasted, and everything just kind of drags. Yesterday's party was just that good

The Bastille Day Bash was by far the finest affair thrown by yours truly, if I can indeed take credit for it. Though most of my invitees ended up being unable to come - thanks a lot! ;) - those who did, I dare say, had a grand old time. Special thanks to Sunny for the bounce house AND the surprise dunk tank, and everyone who came, had fun, brought food, you name it.

For those of you who missed it, consider yourself forewarned and invited... AUGUST 11th. There will be much to celebrate, be it at Hampton Beach, the Couture compound or somewhere new.

Today may have been my worst day at work yet, combining the fatigue with the fact I suddenly became the office's bitch for the night. I suppose that is my role though.
July 13, 2001 - For Once, We Celebrate The French
• Is it just me or does the thought of Adam Corolla watching scrambled porn and enjoying strippers seem jilted and fake? I mean, he did the whole 'Loveline' thing, but I swear he strikes me as asexual. Course maybe it's just being next to Jimmy Kimmel, who's based his career on being crass. Bless him for it.

As I was on my walk today, I thought to myself, "I bet if I asked 25 people in this, um, questionable neighborhood, when or what Bastille Day was, I'd get about 3 people who knew what the hell I was talking about." Yet tomorrow, a smaller than hoped for number of the Cooch posse will swarm my house while we celebrate and make complete asses out of ourselves playing pool baseball and jumping around like idiots. Bless my friends.

There will be photos, and given my current dial-up situation, look for them here eventually.

Little Cooch is in France for the holiday. May it be glorious weather, bro!
July 12, 2001 - Treat Yourself Today!
• I just got home from work a few minutes ago, and I thought to myself, "Jon, you've had another long, successful work week. Five days grinding it out as an intern. You deserve only the best." So I splurged a little. I know, I probably shouldn't, but I like to enjoy the finer things in life. I made a turkey bagel sandwich, and in it, I put three pieces of turkey instead of the customary two. I'm almost embarassed I live so well.

I was in a rush today, to get to the grocery store and buy the aforementioned "lot of bagels" - three bags was the end result and yes, I forgot to buy the Fruit and Juice Bars - so naturally I became stuck behind old people walking into the store. This story is different though.

First, you have a very old woman pushing a shopping cart very slowly to the entrance. Behind her, another older woman, walking slowly behind cart lady. Behind both of them is me, glancing at watch to see I'm gonna be late for work. Cart woman finally gets through the door, and stops about two feet after it. Other older woman goes to walk around cart lady, and proceeds to slip in a puddle, fall, and whack her head on the shopping cart. She was quite adamant she slipped in a puddle, though later inspection showed the floor was dry as my wit.

Ignoring my offer to help her up, both women held their position, effectively blocking the entry way. FOR TEN MINUTES. So for ten minutes, I stood trapped between a closed automatic door and old women waiting for the store manager.

Which did make editing the Telegraph's Saturday religion page seem much less like work.
July 11, 2001 - Trading Places
Jaromir Jagr would be the stupidest man in professional sports today, were it not for Fred McGriff. Fred McGriff plays for Tampa Bay, a team with no history and no hope. He'd been offered a trade to the Cubs, where he could, if everything plays out right, become a hero who breaks a team's 90-odd year World Series jinx. Hey Fred, I like the Rays uniforms too... but please remove your head from your ass any time now.

With 75 to play, the Sox are a game and a half behind the Yankees. And Nomar and Pedro are going to be fresh in a few weeks...

Maybe this isn't the year. All I know is that the Yankees reign is over. O-V-E-R.

By the way, today was good. Tomorrow, I'm gonna buy a lot of bagels. Why? Because I can.
July 10, 2001 - Someone Had A Party!
• Living with two other guys that, essentially, I still am yet to meet does have its advantages. Sharing a bathroom, a bathroom that neither of them will ever clean - and I'll be damned if I'm gonna put my hand on a toilet seat they touched -, is not one of them. This, however, is.

I walk in the apartment tonight after work, and notice three things.

1. It's really damn hot.
2. There is an empty box of 120 Farm Rich Pizza Bites in the trash. Since a box this size couldn't fit in the freezer with the stuff in there, I believe they were all eaten tonight.
3. On the kitchen table, there is a 60 oz. vat of Miracle Whip.

When I think about what I eat in a day now, the thought of someone eating 120 pizza bites in one sitting makes me want to cry. There's no doubt I could do it if motivated, but that's not the point. The point is, AT WHAT POINT IN A HUMAN'S PSYCHE DOES THE MIXING OF MIRACLE WHIP AND PIZZA BITES OCCUR?!

Somehow, the bagel I just ate seems much more appetizing. Now that I think about it, I haven't had even a bite of pizza in 5 weeks. That is a record, and a dubious one at that. Where's Justin, Schulte, Ryan and all the Domino's calls when I need them?! :)
July 9, 2001 - Groceries
• In the end, the Wimbledon final was great, and the outcome was great. If Pete couldn't win, and Andre couldn't win, and Time couldn't win, I'm glad Goran did. And I'm glad my landlord woke me up telling me to move my car, because it meant I got to see the final live.

You know you're squeezed for cash when a 2 for $4 sale on Frosted Cheerios makes it feel like it's Christmas.

I should buy some popsicles. Some Dole Fruit and Juice Bars. Those truly are the food of the gods, if the gods are in fact me.

I'm tired, so I don't have a whole lot to say. But I taped Monday Night RAW, The Simpsons and Letterman so I've got some watching to do. Watching, then sleeping. Or something like that.
July 6-8, 2001 - Bitter
• My weekend is not going to be the topic of this entry, because while good things happened during it, it's not at the top of my thoughts right now. Nevermind that I made the Hudson to Springfield drive in 82 minutes, or that I saw Shrek and thoroughly enjoyed it. Or even the fact that Tim Henman proved himself to be a choker on the big stage just like me.

I had a horrific day today, to the point where I'm now in one of those moods where I rant to myself in the car and would bite the head off anyone I came in contact with. Why? I'll keep it brief as I can:

1. The Party - Nobody's coming. Don't get me wrong, my guy friends are awesome and are an excellent bunch to hang out with. But I look at the guest list that's forming and find myself severly disappointed. As usual, the past (a.k.a. last year's Extravaganza) is better than the future.

2. My Job - Besides the fact that I get into work and within 5 minutes am being berated for "screwing up somebody's e-mail" and "causing the world to fall off its axis," besides my having no dinner because I didn't get to go shopping, I must ask is it really hard for the entire newsroom to acknowledge my existence? I've been up here going on six weeks, and I still don't feel like I belong as part of anything. I don't really want to be in school, since my room is going to suck, and I don't really want to be here, since coming home to find some fuckwad parked in my space is not my idea of company. Dilemma.

3. Morality - Allow me to judge society and play moral cop for a minute. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ALL OF YOU?!

Sorry, I had to. :)
July 5, 2001 - Computers
• I like to think I know a good amount about computers, and I do. I can solve some rudimentary problems, plus design some kick-ass websites like this one and this other one. But it's at a time like this that I realize I'm utterly clueless...

My lovely Dell Pentium III 600 has never given me a bit of trouble since I got it around Christmas of '99. Til today. I was playing a refreshing game of Golden Tee Golf when the mouse freezes up. OK, I'm calm. I use the keyboard to shut down, restart. Now, it's telling me I don't have a mouse installed.

I proceed to smash said mouse against desk. That's a whole other story.

Basically when I left for work, the system was locking up withing 10 seconds of my entering Windows, and showing "Kernel32," whatever that is, crashing before the system imploded. Here I am, eight hours later, and the thing works like nothing was wrong in the first place. I don't get it.

If nothing else, the smashing was the excuse I needed to finally buy the optical mouse I've been putting off getting. I must say, it kicks ass. Plus it was an excuse to go to Best Buy, which also kicks ass.

Red Sox are no hit for six innings by Cleveland, then proceed to score 1-2-2 to win game 5-4. This team is blessed. AND NOMAR TOOK LIVE BP TODAY!
July 4, 2001 - Independence and Mosquitoes
• I know the question on all of your minds is: How did Cooch spend his Fourth of July? Well, let's just say I ended up on the roof of the Telegraph, where apparently all the mosquitoes in the metro Nashua area live.

If there weren't any trees around, we would have seen about six different displays, but instead the one at Holman Stadium was all. It was OK, though the thing lasted about 25 minutes. Apparently firework displays have to be longer, to give the illusion that there are things to do. :)

The air up here smelled like hot dogs on the holiday. I swear. To compensate, I cooked pork.
July 3, 2001 - Talk Radio
• Today, I caught a piece of Jay Severin's show on 96.9 FM Talk. Normally I wouldn't listen to it, but this caught my ear. He was discussing a newly released study on the Florida election controversy as reported in the Globe. 4% of the Florida voters voted incorrectly in the presidential election. 54% of the errors were made blacks. Blacks make up 11% of Florida's population. 54% of the errors, from 11% of the population. Black leaders are now claiming that the ballot was biased against blacks.

How in the hell can punching a hole in a card with a stick be made biased against anyone?! First, the SAT is biased against blacks. Now voting is. What's next?

You know, I voted for Bush. And I meant it. Maybe if they spent more time reading instructions and less time bitching we wouldn't be having this problem.


The Red Sox were in first place from May 31 to July 3. May their absence from the lead be short.
June 29 to July 2, 2001 - GHO Weekend
• First, let me just inform the unaware. PHIL MICKELSON WON THE GHO. Not only am I reveling in the fact my all-time favorite golfer - it's the whole lefty thing - won my favorite regular Tour event, but that now he's almost obligated to come back next year and defend his title. Oh yeah. :)

Matt got 23 autographs for the week. On a slower news day, I'll chronicle them.

Friday morning I left the office in Hudson, N.H., at 12:40 a.m. I got off the Mass Turnpike in Springfield at 2:03 a.m. That's over 110 miles in 83 minutes. Go ahead, laught at the Tempo now, bitches. Hit 121,000 miles in the River Highlands parking lot, and it can still, um, go on its own power.

Friday I watched golf all day. Saturday I did nothing all day. Sunday I watched golf all day. Today I saw Pete Sampras lost his first match at Wimbledon in five years, drove a lot and am off to work again. I almost forgot how lonely Nashua is. :) My latest project to kill time is to fully redesign the BUCB site. I have it all planned out in my mind, where it will probably stay given my talent level.

May the AP Photo wire have some nice shots of Phil and his new trophy. Time to go make minimum wage!
2001: [06] - [05]