We might need a medic.

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting the same result.

I noticed something today.

When Brett Favre is under pressure and a sack seems iminent, he usually does the same thing.
He starts by taking quick, baby like steps in any direction, all while swiveling his head looking for a teammate. This is all done whilst pleading quietly to whichever diety it is that he believes in for guidance and liberation.

Watch Mangini's face.
It's true.

He is then grabbed by a member of the opposing team, (this all happens in quick succession) and he cocks his arm, looks up to the open sky, and fires a missle straight up.
This heat-seeking missile (as mentioned a few posts below) will, undoubteldy, find a player.
That player is never a Jet.
I've seen it three times (specifically once today against the Seahawks in the 2nd Quarter).

I'm frightened.

Seahawks' head coach Mike Holmgren just seems angry.

(He looked like the Abominable Snowman during today's game.)

10 outta 10 alright.

This past Wednesday I had the pleasure of attending the Oasis concert at Madison Square Garden. This having been my first real rock concert, I wasn't exactly prepared for what I was about to experience.
Madison Square Garden (as my boyfriend excitedly explained to me as we reached section 90 after taking 6 elevator rides) has been described as the premier venue to hold such events.
Seeing as I'm a self-proclaimed Opera Nerd, I half expected there to be thousands of hand painted cherubs across the ceilings, leaving space in their simulated wonderland only for the occasional Swarovski chandelier, which would hang daintily among them, as if not to disturb their splendor.

I think I've been spending too much time at the Met.

As soon as I swallowed the idea of a giant stadium filled with maroon and teal seats and what I hoped to be a cloud of fake smoke, I couldn't wait.

The first two opening acts finally over, we sat in anticipation, waiting...and waiting…and waiting.
When the lights finally went down, we laughed as “Fuckin’ in the Bushes” rang out, loud as hell, across the stadium.
I half expected them to run out across the stage waving their arms.
But no. They just walked out like they were looking for broccoli at the grocery store like the cool mother fuckers they are.

They played songs from "Dig out Your Soul," as well as those from the album I'm most familiar with, "What's the Story (Morning Glory)."

Not only did they play their most famous songs (Wonderwall, Don't Look Back in Anger, etc.), but they did a cover of The Beatles' "I Am The Walrus" that made me feel like I wasn't just experiencing contact high.

If you know what I mean.

Not quite familiar with Oasis?

Being, basically, the “Oasis Virgin” that I am, I present to you:

Oasis For Dummies

Liam Gallagher

Wears silly glasses, sings in a nasal voice, and demands respect.

He also has HUGE feet, which were in quite nice leather shoes.

During instrumental breaks, he would stand with his feet spread wide apart, hands holding his tambourine behind his back, and his eyes scanning the audience with nary a smile on his lips.

In conclusion:

He is badass.

Noel Gallagher

Noel writes all the songs. He sings backup and plays guitar - amazingly.

In my opinion, he's got a better voice than Liam. He generally sings the ballads, but don't get me wrong - he's a rock and roll god.

During solos, he does not move.

At all.

He just stand there and rocks out. Even when he's singing. Just stands there. Doesn't move.

In Conclusion:

He is a badass.

The rest of the band

It could be these guys.

Honestly, no one cares.

Blog Whores

My boyfriend says that the best way to gain readership is by writing consistently about interesting topics, and, every once in a while, allowing a guest writer to take a crack at it.
So, here's this:

so alyssa is going to write the blog. this is alyssa

so i'm in the room, chilaxin with a weird girl who thinks she has a jew fro. she doesn't, she just does a lot of crack! we're watching judge judy right now with girls named asia and china. i swear this country is going down the tubes. pretty soon, there will be girls named taliban. good times. hopefully, those girls will not be the daughter of the writer of this blog. i'd have to have a serious talk with her, the back of my hand may intervene! i'm done with this blog, have a pleasant tomorrow!!!
yours truly!

atmc


Is anybody reading yet?

Update:
Judge Judy just rebuked the Plaintiff, saying, "Let us not play with each other, ok?"

Trust Issues

Recently I've been disturbed by something even more startling than Favre's inability to complete a pass to a member of his own team:

His Creepy Flesh Colored Beard.

Why does he keep it?

It can't possibly be keeping his chin warm - it's a bit patchy, to be honest.
I don't know how I can trust a team with a QB that can barely grow a full beard.
That, and I'm sure Mrs. Favre doesn't approve of the scratchyness.

But, hey. At least it's not as bad as this:

If ice cream cones are scary, then how does he feel about the questionable tactics of Brian Schottenheimer?

It's a 50 yard pass ... intercepted.

I have come to the conclusion that Brett Favre is like a heat-seeking missile.
He always throws to a person (even though that person is sometimes on the opposing team) and he is always accurate. His inability to avoid interceptions, however, may lead one to believe that he can not differentiate between members of his team and the other team.
He's not color blind (I googled it)*.
Therefore, I believe that his vision is actually a sensitive heat sensor, and he will fire towards any warm-looking blob.

*Saying you "googled it" makes the statement accurate automatically.


Update:
Former Jets QB Vinny Testaverde is colorblind.
Fancy that.