I WONDER IF I SHOULD SEND HER A MESSAGE

While searching the Internets after work Saturday night (OK. I was stalking. Leave me alone.), I came across an interesting myspace profile. Female. 25. Slidell. Goes by the name Blondie. You know where this is going yet?

It's Regina with an updated photo! The last time I checked for her on myspace, her profile hadn't been updated since like 2004. This photo is definitely recent, and her last login says 2/28/2009.

According to her status, she was looking for a new house Saturday to go along with her new job. (Then like six exclamation points. Chicks.) New house? Damn. As in: Tired of the old one, I'll go get a new one.

Maybe I should have taken the money after all and just hoped the crazy would go away.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom can't wait for her new treadmill to arrive. In the meantime, she's still using the old one, which she is now thinking about keeping. She used it Saturday. "Didn't really give me any problems for 15 minutes. Then I got down and felt the belt. Fucking on fire."

Feb. 28 was an anniversary for mom. "I've been on a diet for five fucking months." (Let's all give mom a big congratulations. She's lost 40 pounds.)

Mom forgot something Friday. "I accidentally ate meat yesterday. I was eating soup and realized, 'Oh, fuck. There's pieces of chicken in here.' I stopped eating it."

I'm watching wrestling from 1997. Mom is in awe of Hulk Hogan. "Look at those fucking arms. He's got a fucking body on him. ... Look at those fucking arms. He can sure sweep you off your feet. His fucking biceps look like they about to pop."

YO, TYLER! YOU DID IT!

I have been waiting for this day all season long. In fact, I've been obsessed with this record. Late last season, I realized Tyler had a really good chance to break Dickie Hemric's record for most made free throws, which Hemric set at 905 back in 1955. Eh, it's only a 54-year-old record. Whatevs.

When the season started, Tyler was 172 foul shots away from tying Dickie. I figured that Tyler needed to make six free throws per game to catch him. Eventually, I was saying just four per game. For every game early in the season, I would count his foul shots each game, cringing each time he missed. At the end of the game, I would shout out the new total to go. (Even if no one was there to listen.)

Once Tyler got to within 50, I began counting down with each made shot. Every time he made one, I was shouting out the new number. To tell you the truth, I've been so into this record that I actually was worrying more about him getting fouled than I was about the Heels winning. (In close games, I'm yelling at the defense to foul Tyler instead of at the Heels to make a winning play. Except against Duke.)

A few weeks ago, I tabbed the Georgia Tech game as the one in which he would set the new mark. I was right. With his seventh (of eight) foul shot made Saturday, he passed Dickie with his 906th free throw made. Amazing. In classic Tyler fashion, it was a swish. The net made that sweet popping sound.

The bench knew it and gave a standing ovation, thinking the game would be stopped. Except the people running the game were clueless and didn't stop it. I was pissed. But first I stood up with the bench and applauded history. They took a moment during a timeout to acknowledge the never-will-be-broken feat. Of course, I didn't see it because I was watching a Coke Zero commercial. Ugh.

Most people probably don't think too much of this record. But I value it more than the all-time ACC scoring record, which will be a much bigger deal when it happens in the ACC tournament. The idea of getting to the line (and then knocking 'em down) that many times is incredible. Plus, you have to get it done from the beginning of your freshman season to make that many. (Tyler has averaged 6.9 foul shots made in his career.)

This record is a load off my mind. Now, I can focus on more important things. You know, like winning the title.

(To put this record in perspective: Tyler has the four-year mark at 907; Pistol Pete, who was not allowed to play his freshman year, has the three-year record at 893. Consider: For Tyler to surpass Pistol's three-year record, counting his sophomore through senior seasons, Tyler would have to make as many foul shots (174) in his final 10 - or 11 - games as he did in his first 24 this season. That's only 17.4 per game. Piece of cake.)

PARTING SHOTS
I'm missing the words that led into this new phrase, but I think it stands alone. AGG is pissed about something regarding LSU.

AGG (to Jelly on AIM): Suck it until it's purple and gold. (That's what Ted said.)

We're talking about a defensive back who visited the Saints today.

JRap: What do you think the Saints big selling point was?
Derry: Pancho's is reopening.
Me: It is conveniently located between the practice facility and the Dome.
JRap: Yeah. You can get the runs while learning to defend the run.

THE DAILY TOP LIST
My top five moments of February.

5) Tyler breaking the foul shot record.
He is 91 points away from the ACC scoring record. Sorry, Lopes.

4) Mardi Gras.
I'm ashamed I didn't see CP3 and Posey walking Uptown. Terrible.

3) Going to Arabi.
Just waiting on my refund check now.

2) Rubik's Cube party.
The easiest way to solve one is to get one with stickers and just rearrange the stickers accordingly.

1) 3 Doors Down concert.
If only they lived that close.

THAT'S WHAT TED SAID

I'm sure Bob could explain it better and give much more detail. I'm also sure Bob would enjoy explaining it way more than me. But I'll hit you with my best shot.

The catchphrase "That's What Ted Said" has captured the imagination of my Uptown friends. It's all the rage. Everyone is waiting for the right time to insert these words into a conversation. And I think the madness is only beginning.

That's What Ted Said is used 1) as a substitute for "That's what she said" and mainly 2) after someone says something that can be possibly perceived in any way as homosexual.

Here's three examples from the Rubik's Cube party.

1) I see Katie taking pictures with two cameras at the same time.
Me: Ah. I see you're double-fisting.
Katie: That's what Ted said.

2) Bob puts me in a headlock to show friendly affection. Then he squeezes.
Me: Please stop. You're hurting me.
Bob: That's what Ted said.

3) I'm telling someone about the previous example. I want to demonstrate.
Me (to Bob): Want to do it again?
Bob: That's what Ted said.

You get the idea. I bet you're wondering, however, about the background of That's What Ted Said. Well, I'm going to tell you the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Ted worked with us at The Maroon. He was socially awkward and mumbled a lot. His favorite word was um. And oh yeah, he was gay and had a thing for me. (That's what Ted said.) He even sent me a love e-mail. Gross.

Nick and Bob were reminiscing before Brian's bachelor party in January, and the magic of the phrase just sort of happened. They discussed Ted and then had moved onto another topic. Nick said something that could possibly be perceived as homosexual in some way, and Bob responded with the phrase. The light bulb went off for both.

They kept using the phrase throughout the night, eventually convincing me that it was money. They then played a round of golf (balls, holes, etc.) the next day and used the phrase 70 or 80 times, according to Bob. That's when it was cemented as something that would stick around for a while. It grew even more (That's what Ted said) at Gillie and Brian's wedding.

So far, the phrase has been spread to parts of Georgia and a segment of current students at Loyola. Next stop, pop culture. I hope to one day live in a world where "That's What Ted Said" is right up there with "Got milk?"

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

I ask my mom if she read a story in the paper about some people getting arrested for robbing banks in Georgia. "No. But I read about the 22-year-old asshole Harahan cop."

The cop was arrested for stealing about $300 from a prisoner. He's from Chalmette. "He's been there five fucking months. What's a fucking Chalmatian doing as a Harahan cop? You must not have to do shit to pass that test."

Continuing on that theme. "Sue's (our dentist's receptionist) kid wanted to be a New Orleans cop. She prayed for him to fail the test. The Lord works in mysterious ways because he failed the fucking test. It must be easy to pass the fucking Harahan test."

Mom tried to buy new shoes (the same kind as she has now), but they were out. "You know those $10 Wal-Mart shoes I bought? (I nod.) They the most comfortable fucking shoes I've ever worn."

Mom is frustrated. "I don't even know when Easter is this year. I don't have a fucking calendar."

Mom looks at the prices for the Britney Spears concert. $250, $150, $95. "Fucking ridiculous, huh?" (Yup.)

The various shootings on Mardi Gras have mom upset about the New Orleans system of justice. "You can get arrested on some bullshit traffic thing and spend two fucking days in jail. But hold up someone with a gun, and you'll be out the next fucking day."

I decided to try Seither's crawfish today. After all, the T-P did name it one of the 10 best places to eat crawfish in the city. The T-P, of course, was wrong. The seasoning was good. However, they were small and about half a pound was not edible. Zero of them had claws. Last week, I ate some at Bobby's. About 60 percent had claws, and they had good size to them. Seasoning is just as good there, too.

Oh, wait. This is the TCC. Mom looks at the plate. "Oooo, garlic. This is a nice setup. The only problem with it is that it fucking weighs (meaning less crawfish). (She eats a piece of garlic.) Oh, fuck. They're not fucking cooked. Maybe it's just this one. Nope. All of them. Garlic ain't cooked all the way. Somebody ought to tell them. Fuck. Every fucking one of them. ... Son of a bitch. ... Shit. ... Somebody ought to tell them it needs to be cooked more. Got my hopes up. Fuck. Are the crawfish spicy? (I nod.) So is the fucking garlic. Just not cooked enough."

THE GENE POOL DIP (I MEAN TIP) OF THE WEEK

Incorporate "That's what Ted said" into your daily life. Trust me. It's fun. It'll make you feel better on the inside. (Oops.) That's what Ted said. Also, try and spread it (That's what Ted said) amongst your friends.

PARTING SHOT
I spill water all over my lap.

Liam: Ya'll got to come see this.
Brick: He's not as happy as that guy on the plane yesterday is he?
Me: Looks like I'm happier.

THE DAILY TOP LIST
My top five female artists. Feel free to judge.

5) Mariah Carey.
She'll always be my baby.

4) Britney Spears.
Only before the craziness, though.

3) Christina Aguilera.
I am a genie in a bottle.

2) Avril Lavigne.
She's got spunk.

1) Kelly Clarkson.
My life would suck without her.

AND I THOUGHT I'D NEVER SEE ANOTHER CCC LIVE.

With Wednesday's victory over the Pistons, the Hornets are now 6-0 in games that are part of my 10-game package in which Chris Paul does not get injured in the third quarter with a 17-point lead.

I was really excited about Wednesday's game because of the return of "my big fella" Tyson Chandler. I wore my Tyson jersey shirt, but I was disappointed in a) the fans (I saw few Tyson jerseys in the crowd. Where's the support?) and b) the Hornets (Tyson should have been introduced last in the starting lineup.)

I went to the game by myself. My other ticket went to waste. I actually had two commitments as of early Wednesday, but both backed out by the early afternoon. I made several last-minute calls but came up empty. I'm just not that popular. Not that I cared.

Tyson is so out-of-shape from not playing 16 consecutive games, he needs to throw down two cups of Gatorade at a time before the game starts. He probably should have had three at a time because you could tell his conditioning is a little off. It'll come, though. His one Crescent City Connection hookup with CP3 was one of the best ones I've seen because it came out of nowhere.

So, this is what a real starting lineup looks like. Got it. For a while there, I was confused. I thought our starting lineup featured a guy from New Zealand.

The people in my section spent most of the game complaining about West. He didn't play a perfect game, what with the missed defensive assignments and not boxing out. But come on, man. The dude finished with 30 and 10, with three assists (on some nice passes) and two blocks. I wanted to smack these people.

If you look closely at the middle of the picture, you can see Rasheed being escorted out after he was ejected. That sequence alone was worth the price of admission. I thought he had a legitimate beef on both calls he argued. Then, his coach took him out, even though he was the best player on the court for much of the game.

Rasheed is my boy, going back to his days as a Tar Heel. How many other players would just throw their towel to the sixth row out of frustration? And then throw a second towel at the official after being ejected? I love that guy. He should be honored for his entertainment value and not railed on by refs and media folk.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom walks in the house from running errands. "It feels like fucking August out there."

Mom found a product at Wal-Mart for about 1/3 of what she paid for it online. "When I saw that, I felt like a real asshole. At least now I know. I'm just an asshole for buying that shit online. ... I feel like a dick."

Netflix quickly sent a new disc for the bad disc of Six Feet Under. Unfortunately, the disc they sent to replace it counts as one of our two discs, meaning it will take even longer for me to get my next disc. "Well, that's fucked. It's just fucked."

EAST VS. WEST
A look at the crazy differences of these two NBA conferences.

Advantage East.
-- No. of teams in East with more than 40 wins: 3.
No. of teams in West with more than 40 wins: 1.
-- No. of teams in East with 20 or fewer wins: 1.
No. of teams in West with 20 or fewer wins: 6.
-- Games out of playoffs for the No. 14 team in East: 4 1/2.
Games out of playoffs for the No. 10 team in West: 14.

Advantage West.
-- Record for the No. 4 team in East: 32-25.
Record for the No. 9 team in West: 32-25.
-- No. of teams over .500 in East: 5.
No. of teams over .500 in West: 9.
-- Games separating No. 3 from No. 8 in East: 15 1/2.
Games separating No. 3 from No. 8 in West: 3 1/2.

PARTING SHOTS
Marcus is talking about me as if I were a little kid.

Marcus: Gene wore a dazzling. What's the name of those things?
D: A tiara.
Marcus: Yeah. But I was thinking of a onesie.

We're talking about my LSU friend Amy.

Marcus: They on a first-name basis. He calls her Amy, and she says, Who?
Liam: I was gonna say stalker.

THE DAILY TOP LIST
Movies. Movies. Movies.

80) Casablanca. 1942.
This could be the beginning of a beautiful list.

79) Road Trip. 2000.
Josh: I'm invested in this relationship.
E.L.: Invested? Who are you, Charles Schwab?

78) Naked Gun. 1988.
Bunch of bombs in the air.

77) I Robot. 2004.
Once you defeat aliens a couple of times, dangerous robots are yawnable.

76) Witness. 1985.
I've always wanted to raise a barn.

ASHES TO ASHES

For the past few weeks, I've been trying to decide what to give up for Lent. I wanted to give something I've never gave up before. My biggest sacrifices in the past have been soft drinks, popcorn, wrestling (yes, I did this once) and chocolate. 

The rejected ideas for 2009 included pizza (how would I eat dinner on Saturday night?), gambling (I've cut back on that enough) and not recording a Tina Cursing Corner (I'd rather not lose my readership). 

By the time Ash Wednesday rolled around, I still hadn't put my finger on what to delete from my life. As soon as I sat down in Church, it came to me. I'm giving up fried shrimp for Lent. It's so easy to give up meat on Fridays here because of the seafood. Now, it will be a little more difficult.

To put this in perspective, I've eaten fried shrimp on Friday about 90 percent of the time in the past couple of years. I try not to eat meat on any Friday, which usually results in a fried shrimp plate every Friday. 

Oh, fried shrimp. I'll miss you. See you in mid-April. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

Breaking news! My mom bought a treadmill today from Sears. She tried to load it in her car and bring it home. As she began driving, however, she realized she wouldn't make it home. "Fucking thing was likely to fall out the back on the drive." 

So, it will be delivered. When she was unloading the treadmill back to Sears, mom jammed her middle finger on her left hand, leaving a bruise. "Look at that. I damaged my fucking finger." 

Mom is not putting the old treadmill out in front of the house. She doesn't want anyone coming and taking it. As in, if she can't have that treadmill, no one can. "Tom's likely to come fix the fucking thing, and boom he's got a new treadmill. I'd rather give it to the service people." 

Mom is watching an episode of Nip/Tuck. I have no idea what's going on in the show. "What the fuck? ... He's going to fuck it. Yup. ... Oh, no. Don't tell me he's going to fuck the chair too." 

Mom can't stop talking about the crazy woman with 14 kids now. "Well, she's got what she wants. She's on every fucking news show, talk show, everything." 

I tell mom a little about work. "This country is so fucking messed up."

Mom is upset about her diet. "It's never taken me this long to lose weight. It's been five fucking months."

Jelly, Tina enjoyed the Sharon-Billy sex angle. "It's going to come back to bite her in the ass, that's for sure." (She's also looking forward to Sharon getting pregnant.)  

FOUR CORNERS

A closer look at The Gene Pool World.

-- I've been using three catchphrases recently. 

1) Get some facts and come back and see me. 

That's from UConn Coach Jim Calhoun to a news reporter asking him to justify his lofty salary. It became a classic press conference when he started saying this over and over. 

2) That's what Ted said. 

Full explanation coming soon, maybe even Friday. 

3) Who lives here? 

From Dave the Douchebag. 

-- On Monday, Chuck's girlfriend Laura (backed by several others) theorized that Big Cheez-Its don't taste as good as the regular Cheez-Its. I had to taste for myself. 

I think that they taste the same but at the same time aren't as good as regular Cheez-Its. To me, the Big Cheez-Its are just too big. You really need two bites, and that snack is meant to enter your mouth in one bite (that's what Ted said). I have a call in to cancel Big Cheez-Its. 

 

-- The morons in the promotional department at WWE are calling this year's WrestleMania the 25th anniversary. Well, it's the 25th edition, but it's not the 25th anniversary. It's the 24th anniversary. I tell Paul this. He says it's OK because that's the way most people view it. Uh. 

Me: So, because most people say it wrong, then it's OK to just get it wrong? 

Paul: It's the accepted way. 

Me: Uh, no. I think a lot of people understand that you don't count the first one as the first anniversary.  

Paul: Well, the 25th anniversary way is how's it's done for everything. Look at weddings. 

Me: What? You think the wedding day is counted as the first anniversary?

Paul: No. 

Me: Exactly. The next year is the first anniversary. Just like the year of the second WrestleMania is the first anniversary. 

Paul: The way they are doing it is fine. 

-- I have six peeps moving this weekend. SIX. I feel so left out that I'm thinking about moving my bed into my other room. Brian and Gillie are moving to the West Coast on Friday, and Bob is moving into Chuck's place like it was 2005 all over again. 

Little Joe is making his triumphant return to the Big Easy. Can you believe he survived for four years in Arkansas? Give that man a medal. Jenna and Joe are moving Uptown, and Kaila is moving closer to work. Jenna and Kaila have been roommates for seven years. 

Jenna made my year by quoting (and I don't think on purpose) Monica: "She's moving out, and I have to live with a boy." 

PARTING SHOT

Last week at dinner I explain to JRap the Tina theory of Dick Day. 

JRap: So what did the girls do on Dick Day?

Phil: Probably had the same day. 

THE DAILY TOP LIST

My five favorite couples. Hopefully, this doesn't cause offense. I've decided to leave out my sappy feelings about them. 

5) JRap and Marion. 

He makes Saturday night food runs. She makes the world's best brownies. And their daughter loves me. 

4) Kelli and Stephen. 

I've been pretty much everywhere in the city with them. 

3) Gillie and Brian. 

Please don't go. 

2) Bert and Kelly. 

Their on-again, off-again relationship is worthy of the Young & the Restless, but you know they'll make it in the end. 

1) Little Joe and Jenna. 

The only couple where I was friends with both members beforehand. 

WELL, THEY EVEN INQUIRED ABOUT YOU

For the second consecutive year, the only parade I went to was Mardi Gras. And for the second consecutive year, the only person I went with was Paul. This year, however, we hit up New Orleans. I love Mardi Gras. Why do you think Tuesday's color is purple? 

We parked at Chuck's house and arrived at Napolean and St. Charles just in time for the passing of King Rex, that fraud. I yelled to him that JRap was the true king, but I don't think he heard me over the noise and such. He just kept smiling. 

I'm kidding about the fraud, of course. We then proceeded to walk several blocks down St. Charles until we found a cozy spot. I think we actually saw the King pass four times. 

You never know what you'll see at the Mardi Gras. I mean come on, man. Completely blue shoes? Are you kidding me? You might as well have gone barefooted. 

JRap was at the back end of No. 18 in Rex. I was afraid I wouldn't recognize him to yell his name because of the mask. No need to worry, though. I think he sensed I was near because he found me. As I was searching for him, I saw a pack of beads come flying directly at me. 

Me: Hey!

JRap (to the masses): Read The Gene Pool! Read The Gene Pool! 

Me: Do you have any Rex cows? 

JRap: Oh yeah. (He gets two.)

When JRap noticed me about to take his picture for the blog, he threw down that pose. Well played, sir. Well played. 

On the non-parade side of St. Charles, the party was in full force outside one of the big houses. Most of these people were part of the party. They were getting down to some hip-hop, yo. 

Paul and I had just come from McDonald's, where they had the bathroom out of service and were letting people use a port-o-let with a receipt. We were sitting at the table that leads to the bathroom and had fun watching people's reactions to the out-of-service bathroom sign. 

My favorite was a group of five kids, ages about 5 to 8, who ducked under the chain that blocked the entrance to the short hallway leading to the bathroom. They soon realized the door was locked, and a worker mumbled to them that the bathroom was closed. Obviously, they didn't read any of the signs posted. 

The oldest one (as he ducks back under the chain): "That's gay, dawg."

We then went about a half block down Napolean and watched the trucks. About five minutes after sitting down on the sidewalk, Mrs. Lambrano, left, comes over and sits down with us. Her family just happened to have a big setup at that spot. 

Mrs. Lambrano was one of my favorite Rummel faculty members. She was the librarian, and she loved me. You know from all the time I spent in there studying and doing homework. On Tuesday, Mrs. Lambrano sat with us for 30 solid minutes to catch up with our lives and talk about Rummel. And she gave us cokes. 

On the current state of my alma mater: "It's different. It's a new regime. It's not necessarily bad. It's just (pause) different." 

On a complaint I had with their way of doing things: "You need to call and complain to them. I agree with you. But we're not allowed to give any constructive criticism. They take it all the wrong way. Any comment is seen as negative." 

On me visiting her soon: "No. You don't need a pass to come see me. They started that after some other school shooting. You can only visit teachers with a pass and when they know the teacher is on break. But I'm always on break. They don't know when I'm with a class." 

Here's everything I caught at the Mardi Gras. I tried to shape those top Rex beads into an "M" for Mardi Gras. Tried being the key word. 

On top of the Rex cow is a superball. I always make sure to get one at Mardi Gras because they're fun to bounce on the parade route. Especially when it goes really high. Usually, I end up losing it before the day is over. Not in 2009, however. 

There's also the chili pepper with New Orleans written on it. OK. Paul caught that, but he gave it to me. Plus, the traditional green, purple and gold beads and my 37th small football. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom sees me put a pen and pad in my pocket early Fat Tuesday. "You gonna be carrying that around writing shit all day?" 

Mom is making biscuits. The jelly won't come out the bottle. "Fuuuckkk!" 

On 24 (spoiler alert)

-- I'm figuring out when the finale will be by counting on my figures and mumbling dates and numbers. "What the fuck are you doing?" 

-- On the female FBI agent: "She's in the wrong fucking business." 

-- On the female leak in the FBI: "She's only (with the bad guys) because she was fucking him, and she wants to keep fucking him." 

Mom is pissed because I have a sweater in the living room and one in my room. "Learn to put things away! There's a fucking coat closet right when you walk in." 

The rest of today's entry took place when I returned from the Mardi Gras.

Mom tells me that the father of the octuplets (sp.) was on Oprah to explain some things. (I told you she wouldn't care until Oprah did an episode about it.) "Can you believe that? Fourteen fucking kids." 

We're watching Talk Soup. 

-- Joel shows several hilarious clips from the Hills. "What the fuck kind of show is that?" 

-- Joel shows a clip of a chick from the Rock of Love bus. "Look at those fucking tits. So fucking fake. They just fucking sitting there." 

We're watching House. (no spoiler alert)

-- The opening scene shows a kid hesitating to shoot the basketball. "Shoot the fucking ball." 

-- House is nice to someone. "What the fuck?"

-- A commercial is shown for Hell's Kitchen. Mom extends her middle finger at the TV. "Fuck you." 

-- A girl leaves House's apartment. "Who the fuck is that?" 

Mom can't find her remote for the TV in the dining room. "What the fuck I did with it?" (I found it on the ground next to the chair.)

HORNETS THOUGHTS IV: A NEW HOPE

1) On Tuesday night, I quit the team. I was done with them after the Tyson trade. If they want to worry more about saving some rich old dude's money than winning, then I don't need to invest my emotions in them. On Wednesday, I was back on board and ready for the stretch. 

2) He wasn't great in his first game back, but did you see the four alley-oops Tyson threw down against the Kings? Especially that one late in the fourth quarter when he reached all the way back in mid-air and threw it down one-handed. 

3) I'm perfectly fine with the Wasps finishing sixth in the West. They would get the Nuggets, who will probably lose to whoever they play, even though they'll be the home team. Then, the Hornets get the Spurs in the second round, and we're right back where we were last season. Except for that whole home-court advantage thing. 

4) Posey and West seem to be rid of their long slumps. I was starting to wonder before the All-Star break if they'd ever make another jump shot again. I think maybe West's back was still bothering him his first few games back. This team needs Posey to hit many big 3s in the playoffs. 

5) The Hornets ad people are quick and slow to react. The Tyson trade was last Tuesday, and the organization began spewing all this bullshit about the move helping the team. Some people believed 'em, so I guess it worked. The ad people by Wednesday had taken Tyson out of the CST commercials for games and replaced him with Posey. Like Tyson never played here. 

The trade was rescinded (love that word) last Wednesday, yet the CST commercial Tuesday for Wednesday's Detroit game (that's six days later) still had Posey instead of Tyson. Can't we change this back really quickly and easily? Or do we still want to keep saying that Tyson doesn't help the team? 

PARTING SHOTS

We're briefly discussing The Gene Pool on Monday night. 

Gillie: "Being on The Gene Pool is an honor, not a privilege." (Amen.)

A bunch of us are eating Chinese and watching Obama's address on Tuesday. 

Kaila: "I swear Nancy has a spring in her butt." (Probably.) 

On the way back from the Mardi Gras, I tell Paul that a previous comment was a very Yat thing to say. 

Paul: "What's a Yat?" (Whistle.) 

THE DAILY TOP LIST

My top five parade memories. 

5) The Gene Pool's first Mardi Gras. 

Remember when I wrote about the 2009 Mardi Gras? 

4) The rain parade. 

In 2004, we went to a parade in the rain. When we were walking from campus, it began drizzling. We went anyway. We came back in pouring rain. That was a long walk back. 

3) Being a kid. 

My parents, cousin and grandmother would go to the Mardi Gras on Vets every year. We had a big setup. My cousin and I would see who could drink the most cokes through the course of the day (he usually won). David's family was in the vicinity, and we threw the football around. Plus, back then I could get stuffed animals. Now I feel like a dick knocking over little kids for them. 

2) The birthday sign. 

At last year's Mardi Gras, there was a sign taped against one of the truck floats: Happy Birthday, Danielle. Well, Paul and I had the natural reaction. We found a piece of paper, wrote the same message and ran down the float, waving the sign like a couple of maniacs. Lots of beads came our way. Victory!

1) The boobies. 

At Endymion senior year of high school, Paul, Minkus and I were at Lee's Circle. All of a sudden, Paul gets really excited: "Did you guys see that?" 

Minkus and I: "No. What?" 

Paul (pointing): "That older woman across the street there just flashed the float for like 20 seconds, pulled down her shirt and then flashed again. How could ya'll not see that?" 

Minkus and I: "Sorry. Didn't see it." 

Paul made several more references to the woman and how he couldn't believe we didn't see it, adding: "Really? There's little kids all around, and then boom the old lady shows her boobs." 

On the way to a parade the next year, I broke the news to Paul: "Paul, I have a confession to make."

Paul: "What?"

Me: "I saw the boobies last year at Endymion."

Paul: "Are you serious?" 

Me: "Yup. Been waiting a whole year to tell you. Thought it'd be funny."

Paul: "You son of a ... I almost thought I imagined them." 

Me: "Oh, no. And it was awesome because that old hag even shook them back and forth."

THE BEASTIE BOYS WOULD BE PROUD

On Friday night after work, I went over to the BADASS house to hang out. I knew there was a party there Saturday. I didn't realize there was one there on Friday as well. Heck, they pretty much were carousing all Mardi Gras long. 

Brian is making a boat here for a Pirates party on Sunday. He's making a boat. I can't even draw a boat. Traditionally, there's a BADASS Pirates party every January. But this year there was something else going on that weekend. Like a wedding or something. 

Uh, Bob. That's not helping your campaign. 

You happy, Laura? That's two pictures in a row. I hope I'm not dead to you anymore. 

Don't they look cute together? Laura says they are BFF. Well, first Bob has to make her brother have premarital sex with Alexis. Laura's words. Not mine. 

At some ungodly hour at Friday night's party when it seemed like it was dying, Brian decided that it wasn't. He poured glasses of whiskey for anyone who wanted one (I partook) and gave a detailed story about the brand of whiskey. (I forgot what it was. Gold something. It was strong.) 

Brian contemplates the moment of drinking the whiskey. Darren seems to be deciding whether he should take Brian's glass. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom is all about the Oscars. "Those two fucking Indian kids. They the talk of the town." Later in the day, mom has her purse on the counter. 

Me: Where you going?

Mom: To see Slumdog Millionaire. It fucking won everything. 

I was in my room, and mom was in the living room. I don't know the context. "I've been fucking cut off. Son of a bitch. ... Son of a bitch. ... Son of a bitch. ... Son of a bitch." 

Mom is in the market for a new treadmill. "I went to Sports Authority. No one waited on me. (Puts up her middle finger.) They just lost a sale. That's bullshit." 

In two weeks, mom and I will be watching five shows combined at 8 p.m. I tell her that she might have to watch Dancing with the Stars live. "I can't watch that live. With all those fucking commercials."

(Here's the plan: one show on my VCR, two on the DVR  and two on mom's TV because she has two VCRs hooked up to that one.) 

DID YOU KNOW?

Did you know that Mardi Gras is tomorrow? Did you know that the Tyson Chandler trade to OKC was rescinded? (I don't think I had heard that word five times in my life. Last week, I heard or read it about 100.) Did you know that the economy is in the tank? 

PARTING SHOT

I tell JRap he should have been King. 

Me: I'm going to the parade with a sign that says: JRap for King of Rex. 

JRap: I don't think my cousin will get a kick out of that.

Me: Well, I don't want to stomp on his (pause for dramatics) parade. 

THE DAILY TOP LIST

Let's go to the movies. 

85) Mrs. Doubtfire. 1993.

We're his goddamn kids, too. 

84) Not Another Teen Movie. 2001.

According to wikipedia, 29 teen movies are parodied. 

83) Saw. 2004.

Tina and I used to do jigsaw puzzles. 

82) Jerry Maguire. 1996.

Greatest receiver in Arizona history: Tidwell or Fitzgerald? 

81) Little Miss Sunshine. 2004.

Fuuuuuuucccccccckkkkkk!

WHAT'S GREEN, BLUE, ORANGE, RED, YELLOW AND WHITE ALL OVER?

Answer: Chuck's house on Saturday night for the Rubik's Cube party, a multi-level celebration of Bob's birthday, Mardi Gras, Gillie and Brian departing and our group fascination with colors. 

Traditionally, I don't get much into these themed parties. My excuse usually being that I show up three hours into the festivities having just come from work. But Saturday I played along for the most part. All my colors stemmed from sports teams: D-West shirt for yellow; Rockets headband for red; UNC sweatshirt for blue; Dolphins hat for green and orange. 

To add a little something extra, I took green, blue, red and yellow electrical tape and wrapped a piece of each around my fingers on my left hand (no thumb). I think a basketball player can hit it big with this idea. Wear tape of all six Rubik's Cube colors on his fingers. 

People will take notice and start to ask questions. That's when the player (preferably young and stylish) tells the reporter that his nickname is The Cube and he reps all the colors. Boom. He's got the hottest nickname this side of The Black Mamba. He makes commercials. Etc. 

Bob's not much for celebrating his birthday, which is Feb. 22. I wasn't even sure at first if his birthday was Saturday or Sunday. He wouldn't give me a straight answer whenever I axed him. In fact, he told me earlier in the week that he wasn't going to the party because he doesn't celebrate his birthday. 

Me (at the party): I thought you weren't coming. 

Bob: Yeah. I'm going to leave before midnight. 

This shot was taken at midnight, with Bob still at the party. And if I'm not mistaken, he's smiling. Everybody had just finished singing Happy Birthday. I think he enjoyed it. 

Brian and Gillie may be leaving soon, but they had one more awesome party left in them. I was telling Gillie that it was another successful themed party when I came up with a name for them. Usually, these things are hosted and/or concocted by Brian, Chuck and/or Gillie. Using their last names in that order, these parties are BAD. As in BADASS. 

You happy, Alexis? You made it. This is your one shining moment (but not necessarily your last). Soak it in. Thank the Academy. Thank all the wonderful people that made it happen. But most of all thank yourself for performing this incredible dance move on Chuck's kitchen floor. It's called The Backstroke. Do it at your next party. Go ahead. Do it. 

Nobody, and The Gene Pool means nobody, celebrates Mardi Gras like Jenna and Katie. Well, maybe the people in the krewes and such. 

The idea of the Rubik's Cube party is to end up wearing only one color. I didn't play that game, but Katie did. Three times. At this point, she's all in green, capped off by my Dolphins hat. 

The mug that Jenna is holding lights up. And it holds a lot of take-to-the-parade liquor. 

Also, I've noticed recently that people love to take pictures of me taking blog pictures. Makes sense. They are recording history. 

Eventually, the party broke down into a wild mess of crazy dancing in the kitchen. To get it started, the lights were turned out. Chuck, right, yelled "Anarchy" and then got down to business.   

Please see today's top list for the most talked about issue at the Rubik's Cube party. Strangely enough, it wasn't the constant exchanging of clothing going on all night. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom still is upset about the bad disc from Netflix. "It's a fucked disc. It gets to a certain point, and you can't do anything. Can't fast forward. Can't eject. Can't stop. It just keeps making this noise." 

I flip through the TV guide for the week to discover that many of my shows are re-runs. I groan. "Make up your fucking mind. You complain when everything comes on, and you complain when everything's a re-run." (This is true. When everything comes on, I complain because I have to find the time to watch it all. When everything's a re-run, I complain because I want to see more episodes of shows I like. It's a vicious cycle.) 

Mom is anticipating the Oscars. "Poor Benjamin Button. Came out in the wrong year. Ain't gonna win shit."

I say something to mom about Mardi Gras. "No shit." 

I tell mom that Jenna and Little Joe are moving Uptown next week. "They love that fucking Uptown." 

TV WEEK IN REVIEW

24. (Spoiler alert). The FBI leak was revealed to be the dude analyst. I thought he was too obvious to even consider as the mysterious leak. I had guessed the chick he was nailing on the side. That would have been a better twist. 

My Name is Earl. Danny Glover was the guest star. I spent most of the episode wondering if he would say, "I'm getting too old for this shit." Unfortunately, when he did say it, they didn't put a bleep in there. Instead, he said, "I'm getting too old for this crap." Letdown. 

The Office and House. I've been aggravated with these two concerning their intros for some time. House still lists the old staff as the main characters instead of the new staff. The old staff is hardly in the show. Why do they still get billing in the theme song? And The Office still shows scenes from the first season in their theme. How about a little update.

Psych. OK. This section isn't all negative. I loved, absolutely loved, the finale of Psych on Friday. It was so good. The riddle aspect kicked ass. Gus' antics were hilarious. "You're on fire. You're using props." And the drama and sexual tension of the last scene was off the charts. Tears were involved. 

PARTING SHOT

Phil says something negative about A-Rod. 

Me: You don't like A-Rod?

Phil: He's dirty. He's soiled.

Me: No. That's just from Madonna. 

THE DAILY TOP LIST

Many times when you have parties, you end up with friends of friends coming over. Usually, it's all good. But not this weekend at Chuck's house. Nope. We were all introduced to Dave the Douche Bag (as I call him). These are the top 7 douche bag things he did from Friday night's party to Saturday afternoon. 

Darren, who is staying over at the BADASS house this weekend, had this to say to summarize how we all feel about Dave: "He personally offended everybody he came across. I hate him. I mean I really hate him." 

7) The Limes. 

He left limes all over the carpet in the living room at the party Friday (more on that one tomorrow). Didn't bother to pick them up. Nah. Just left them there for Brian, Chuck and Gillie to pick up. Why? Because he's a douche bag. 

6) The Wandering. 

Dave ventured into Chuck's room without Chuck's permission at the party Friday night. What was he doing? Just looking around and observing. Keep in mind he doesn't know Chuck. Why did he go into a stranger's room without asking? Because he's a douche bag. 

5) The Cigarette. 

Bob (paraphrasing): "Let's just say you smoked cigarettes. And let's say you were in someone else's car that wasn't moving. Now let's say you wanted to smoke one of these cigarettes. What would you do?" 

Several people: Get out the car and smoke. / Roll the window down and blow out. 

Bob: "But see. Dave doesn't think like you and me. No. He sat there and smoked it in my car. He cracked the window just a little bit. My grandmother owned that car before me, and she smoked. I just got the cigarette smell out of my car like last week." 

Why did Dave smoke in Bob's car instead of getting out of it first? Because he's a douche bag.

4) The Apology. 

Dave was sitting outside on the porch Saturday afternoon after doing No. 3. Darren was leaving and saw him there. He told Dave to apologize to Brian and Gillie about the lime incident. He expressed sorrow to Darren and said that he would apologize. But did he when he saw the couple? No. And why? Because he's a douche bag. 

3) The Bathroom. 

There was a knock on the door early Saturday afternoon. Gillie answered it. It was Dave. 

Dave: "Hey, I'm Dave. Bob's friend. Can I use your bathroom? Thanks." 

First of all, he's not Bob's friend. He's a friend of Bob's friend. I'm not sure the reason Dave was in the neighborhood in the first place, but he doesn't know anybody that lives there. Why did he needle his way into their bathroom? Because he's a douche bag. 

2) The Recycling. 

Toward the end of Friday's extravaganza, most of us were in the kitchen. Dave enters from the hallway with an empty 2-liter. Dave: "Do you guys recycle?" Brian points across the room to where the recycling is kept.

Does Dave go over and put the empty bottle in the bag? Nope. Dave lofts the bottle across the room, and the bottle lands on the floor near the corner of the room, several feet from the recycling. 

Does Dave walk over there and pick it up? Nope. He says something about keeping the party going, something about Tulane and leaves the room. Why? Say it with me. Because he's a douche bag. 

1) The Entrance. 

The top spot is reserved for when Dave first met the group Friday night, long before I arrived from work. 

He entered the kitchen and yelled: "Who lives here? I need shot glasses. We got the party going in there. Where are the shot glasses? Who lives here?" Nice way to introduce yourself, asshole. This, I assume, led to the lime incident. 

At least we got a new catchphrase out of it. All party Saturday, we kept shouting, "Who lives here? I need shot glasses." Tons of fun. Next time you go to a party and you don't know the host, try Dave's little number out. Head to the kitchen and yell, "Who lives here?" 

Oh, I almost forgot. Why did Dave make such an entrance? Because he's a douche bag. 

FOR THE LOVE OF CARNIVAL. NO MORE.

Don't get me wrong. I love king cake season. Anticipate it more than my birthday or opening day in baseball. But I couldn't be happier that it's over. The mere site of king cake at this point makes me a little nauseous.

When did I get my first king cake of the season? Opening day, of course. My last king cake? A couple days ago. I thought about going for one more before the season ended, but I just can't eat anymore. I'm out. Let's take a look at my breakdown.

Plain: 5.
Apple: 2.
Strawberry: 1.

All eight king cakes were medium, small goes to quick and large is too much for one person. Tina didn't eat a single piece of king cake. Once when Paul was over, he ate one piece. On one of the apples, it kind of went bad at the end, and I threw out the final two pieces. Other than that, I ate all eight king cakes (and even more than that when you count what I ate at work) by myself. Yawzer.

Speaking of opening day of baseball, I lined up my eight babies (shocking that I got them all) in the form of a baseball team, with two outfielders. The ninth one that I couldn't stomach would have provided a Fukudome in right. It's not like the Japanese are celebrating this week anyway. I pretended for this exercise that DeRosa was at second base. World Series, here we come.

My house wasn't the only place where king cake mania was running rampant. No. My house was small potatoes. The big dog was the T-P sports department, which went totally king cake crazy this season. Call it our stimulus package. (Damn it. That was lame. Stimulus references stopped being funny like before the first one was made. They should have added that into the package. Please don't use the word stimulus as an attempt at humor or to sound current with a promotion. It's just pathetic.)

D brought in this king cake Saturday from Antoine's. It's caramel topping with apple filling. If it was the beginning of king cake season, I might have had like three pieces. Instead, I took a tiny sliver. When D brought in this cake the first time, it was one of the most popular ones brought in for the season. Others included Mary's homemade strawberry and something Brick brought to kick off the madness one Saturday in January.

All told, the T-P sports department registered 15 king cakes this season. That's a lot of sugar. It might not sound like that much until you consider only 20 people ever work here at night. And several of those aren't here too often. Also add in that in the past three years, we maybe went through two king cakes total.

Overall, I was proud of both my effort in eating eight king cakes (no more sweets for a while) and the department's effort. We really honored the shit out of this particular tradition, except those folks who didn't claim the baby those three or four times.

Next thing you know we'll have a Super Bowl pool in 2010.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom is trying to recall when she bought the last king cake. She got it when she went to the dentist. "Tuesday. Wednesday. I can't remember. I go to the dentist every fucking day." Mom then explains what happened on that visit. "I went there last week, and he did some bullshit. Now, it hurts again, and it's not fucking right. I got to go back Monday."

Mom likes my CP3 sweatshirt. She didn't like my previous sweater. "I bought it to replace that old worn out fucking thing."

Mom is making grits. "I was watching some of My Cousin Vinny the other day. They say it takes 20 minutes to make grits. That's bullshit. More like 30." Mom also is making biscuits. "Oh, no. Did I burn them? Yup. Motherfuck."

Mom had a scary moment Friday when she almost lost her most expensive earring. "I'd like to fucking die. It could be anywhere. I just finished cleaning the whole house. The tears are starting to come. I sit on the couch, and I see it on the floor. How lucky is that? I don't know how the fuck it came off. It's not suppose to come off."

Mom wants to clean out my closet. "We need to get rid of some of this shit. You wear the same shirts over and over. The rest of the shit needs to go. I'm getting rid of mine, too. Come May, it's either keep, give away or throw away the shit."

I don't know what she was referring to because I was in the other room. "No, I didn't. Did I just fucking do that?"

Randomly: "Do you give a shit about anyone but yourself?"

TV.
1) Lost. Final episode of Season 1. "I wouldn't get on the boat. Ain't nothing but fucking water."
2)The new disc of Six Feet Under from Netflix doesn't work. "I can't miss this disc. It's the second-to-last disc ever. All kind of shit is happening."

PARTING SHOT
D and Marcus are chatting it up.

Marcus: I think I might run. You think I have a shot?
D: At jogging?
Marcus: No. Run for office.
D: Oh. You might have a shot at that.

THE DAILY TOP LIST
Hello. And welcome to Movie Phone.

90) Se7en. 1995.
Just because the fucker's got a library card doesn't make him Yoda.

89) Jumanji. 1995.
Never play a board game that doesn't come from the store.

88) Miss Congeniality. 2000.
I like April 25th, too.

87) Life. 1999.
You gon' eat yo' cornbread?

86) Die Hard: With a Vengeance. 1995.
Love the riddle with the water jugs.

THE DAILY TOP LIST

A couple of months ago, I did an item on googling a person's name in google images. I featured a first grader's drawing of JRap. I promised to put up more, but I never did. Until today. I googled every body's name in The Gene Pool Nation and picked a top five random photos accompanying a member's name. It was fun.

5) Lisa.
The photo is called bloody hands.

I dare you to come over to Tina's house and pull this stunt.

4) Chuck.
Under the title: County Road sign.

This is in Arkansas. I wonder if Chuck were to visit there, if they would make him a king.

3) Greg and Kevin.
From their roommate days at Southeastern.

My goal was to find random pictures and not of the specific people, but I couldn't resist this one. Look how cute they look together in their new dorm room. A little too happy if you ask me.

2) Lopes.
From a chick boot camp, I think.

There's Lopes' namesake shouting instructions at some worn-out girls. Ease up, Lopes. Geez. Is this how you conduct your basketball practices? Poor kids.

1) Jelly.
I call this the Hot Damn shot.

Looks like Jelly has a secret supermodeling career on the side. Can I get a whistle?

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

From Tuesday's trip to Arabi. On the way home, we approach the St. Claude Bridge. "What a fucking contraption." We have to wait for a boat to pass under. "That's a fucking contraption."

I tell my mom that I'm working on a comparison of Heroes and Lost. I say they are similar shows. "No. They're not. One's on a fucking island. One's with superpowers."

Mom and I are watching one of the final episodes of Season 1 of Lost. She likes Sawyer. "He's got so many fucking nicknames (for people)."

THE GENE POOL DIP (I MEAN TIP) OF THE WEEK

If you're in a public bathroom, don't answer your cell phone. Please. Especially if you're on the toilet. It's just plain rude. And disgusting.

On Friday when I walked in there to take a leak, the dude in the big stall was having a full conversation on his phone. Loudly, too. Bathroom dude: "I'm almost finished in here. When I'm done, I'll meet you on the route."

Gross. Gross. Gross. I don't know who he is, but I hope I never ask to borrow his phone.

PARTING SHOTS
At the beginning of the shift, JRap is curious.

JRap: What's the word?
Brick: The bird.
JRap: Still?
Me: Yeah. Haven't you heard?
Marcus: You want me to show you the bird?

We're talking about Elvis.

Gamby: Elvis died on a treadmill.
About 20 minutes later, Marcus asks Brick to do something work related.
Brick: I'm trying to trim Ted down right now.
Marcus: Good luck. ... Speaking of treadmills.

AGG can't believe a fake headline you typed onto a front page for Fat Tuesday. She didn't realize it until it was printed. Below the pictures of the king and queen of carnival, her headline read: SOME ROYAL HEAD.

Liam: It's good to be the king.
Me: That's what his mugline should say. What's it say under the queen?
Marcus: We Are the Champions.

SKITTLE MARINK. A DINK A DINK. SKITTLE MARINK. A DO.

When I returned to work Wednesday, I prepared for the worst and hoped for the best. Long before I got downstairs in the cafeteria, I knew I had to be ready to let the five-cent Skittles go if I really loved them. If it was meant to be, they would come back.

After a deep breath, I approached the vending machine. It was back in complete working order. I typed in F4, pausing for dramatics in between buttons. The message said it all: .05. Victory is ours!

There was only one way to celebrate: I bought a bag. This wasn't the first scare in the greatness that is cheap candy, and it certainly won't be the last. That machine seems to break down quite often and strike fear into us all Eventually, the magic will run out. Until then, the rainbow of fruit flavor reigns supreme.

Though I just bought the last bag, and there are Zero bars now in that slot. Boo!

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

Before I went to bed Thursday morning, my mom was watching American Idol. One dude chosen for the final 12 is singing his clinching song. "He's a real man. Works on a fucking oil rig. He's good. He just picked the wrong fucking song."

Another contestant is announced as making the final 12. "I got it right. Fucking America got it right."

Mom is not happy with one of the contestants not chosen. "Fucking Tatianna. She's crying. Not even clapping for the winners."

Mom began cleaning the house Thursday. "I'm going to fucking die doing this bullshit."

As every time she cleans up, mom is pissed at me. "Do you know where anything goes? Or do you just like to make piles in your room? (She storms away from me.) He just doesn't give a fuck."

Another pissed off one while I'm in my room.
Mom: Can you open this (glass door for the stereo) without leaving your fingerprints all over it? (I couldn't make out the next part, but it had a "fucking" in there somewhere.)
Me (coming into the living room): What did you say?
Mom: Nothing. Just talking to my fucking self.

FOUR CORNERS
A closer look at The Gene Pool World.

-- My new goal for the blog is to make it a whole year blogging every day. Once I got to 200, I thought I was done worrying about the streak. But about a week ago, I said in a private speech to myself: 'You can do it. Go for it. Connect Four!' I can already see July 1 on the horizon.

-- I changed my archive title from 'Blog Archive' (totally lame) to 'Gene Pool Backwash' (totally awesome).

-- The Internet at my house stopped working in the driveway this week. Phooey. I connected to post Monday and Tuesday's blog by parking on the curb toward the end of our street. I don't think I should keep doing this. Might cause a call to the police. Paying for the Internet is coming closer to becoming a reality for me.

-- Something went terribly wrong in my life in 2008. Unfortunately, there's no going back and fixing it. I have to live with this mistake for the rest of my life. I've come to except it. Hopefully, I come out stronger on the other end. All you can do with a grave error like this is learn from it so as not repeat it.

I am, of course, talking about going all of 2008 without watching My Cousin Vinny. Sure, I quoted it 17,352 times. But I didn't take two hours out of my year to take in another viewing. That won't happen in 2009. I watched the comedy in all its glory Tuesday.

As part of my penance from 2008, I'll probably watch it again before the year is out. I did find two plot holes this time. That wasn't cool. Tina popped in to watch a few minutes toward the beginning. "How the fuck he pass the bar?"

PARTING SHOTS
We're talking about the craziness of the Tyson no-trade breaking Wednesday night.

Brick: What do you think will break tonight?
Jelly: Our proofer.

There's a discussion of me writing a book.

Marcus: He's writing Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus Part II.
Brick: Oh, good. A sci-fi book.

During a lull in the evening.

Marcus: What you doing with that extra $13 a week?
JRap: You don't want to know.

THE DAILY TOP LIST
Another batch of movies.

95) The Whole Nine Yards. 2000.
And Amanda Peet. Ah, Amanda Peet.

94) Speed. 1994.
I try not to drive below 50 mph as well.

93) Bedazzled. 2000.
Damn the devil! Damn the devil to hell!

92) Lethal Weapon 4. 1998.
Looks like Japan's version of the Marx Brothers. Let's see we got Groucho, Harpo, Chico, and uh, Fucko.

91) Cinderella Man. 2005.
One more boxing movie to go. Bet you can guess what it is?

I STILL WANT TO SEE THOSE PICTURES.

To get into the carnival spirit, we went to Fat Harry's on Tuesday for the February 2009 edition of the Yat-Together. For the first time since July, I didn't arrive late for the meeting. Nope. In fact, I was 18 minutes early. Roll call for February: Me, Amanda, Kelli, Stephen and Greg.


Let's take a look at the Yat-Together attendance rankings since the monthly inception in August 2006. There have been 29 (to 24 places) such gatherings.

Me: 29.
Kelli: 25.
Kevin: 21.
Stephen: 21.
Greg: 20.
Christina: 18.
Amanda: 13.
Bode: 6.
Random other people: 4.

Amanda may be trailing in attendance at the Yat-Togethers, but she has promised to make a run at becoming the No. 1 commenter on The Gene Pool. She dares you to stand in her way. Go ahead. Try.

I had a cheeseburger and cheese fries. It was yummy. The best burger from a bar I've had in the city. The cheese fries are good as well, though they could put more cheese on them. They got nothing on Bruno's in that department.

While Kelli was chatting on the phone outside, Amanda told the rest of the group that she had some pictures at home of some Honeybees, err, Whorenets naked while sunbathing on a cruise. We chastised Amanda for not bringing them with her. What a jip. (The pictures aren't that recent, and Amanda isn't sure if they are currently Whorenets.)

Some time later in the meeting, the topic is brought back up. Kelli is confused.

Kelli: You can't look at the Honeybees on the Web site?
Stephen: Not the pictures I want to see.

As we were leaving, a lovely young patron enters the bar and says hello to some people in there. "Look at this fucktard right here. ... Hey, bitch." We did not stay and hang.

See you next month when we mix it up with some Japanese. I mean the food. We're not getting into a fight.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom is in the process of waking up Wednesday morning. "I don't feel like getting up anymore. Fucking drained."

Later Wednesday, I'm in the process of waking up when I hear from the living room: "I don't know why they (FedEx) didn't just leave the fucking package yesterday. I knew he had to fucking order something." (It was my WrestleMania tickets and the such.)

Mom wasn't too impressed with the American Idol contestants Tuesday night. "Eight out of 12 people picked the wrong fucking song. Don't they watch the show? One fucking chance. Cutest girl is going home. She was awful. I had to turn it down. She tried to sing the fucking Police."

Mom has about had it with her treadmill. "I got to do something about my fucking treadmill. It's so fucking loud, and then I start slipping. I can't get on there anymore."

TRIFECTA OF TERROR

My sports world wasn't in the best shape Tuesday. By the end of it, I thought I needed to be put on suicide watch. It was then that Bob called to say: Don't kill yourself. The bad news came in stages.

1) Early afternoon. I'm watching ESPN when I see that the Saints released Deuce on the ticker. I wrote about that yesterday, but I posted before the rest of the news unfolded.

2) Dinner. We're eating dinner at Fat's when I noticed that Tyson had been traded to the Thunder. I had watched almost the whole first half before realizing this. I was devastated. I love Tyson. I think he was just starting to hit his stride for the season when he went down.

Sure, he didn't play as well as he did last season. But my reasons for keeping him are these:
a) He can play Tim Duncan and Pau Gasol straight up. Without him, those guys kill us in the playoffs.

b) The CCC. Who doesn't love this play? It basically disappears without him. I can't count how many times since Tyson's injury that Paul has come off a pick-and-roll and looked like he wanted to throw the lob only to realize that Tyson wasn't soaring to the basket. Paul then has to force a tough shot.

c) CP3, West and Tyson are what we call a young nucleus. What you do is you build around a nucleus. You don't break that shit up. I was proud of West for coming out and being critical of the move.

d) So what if we're over the luxury tax. What's more important: Winning or Shinn's precious $6 million?

Of course, all this became sort of pointless once Tyson failed his physical Wednesday. Which I'm convinced he somehow did on purpose. Welcome back, Tyson. We missed you.

3) Late night. After dinner, I headed down to Harrah's for my first casino visit in February. I look up at the screen after folding a hand and see breaking news on ESPN: T-Mac out for season. Uffa. Though I'm confident the Rockets can win in the first round without him. They still got a solid eight-man rotation.

None of these three surprised me, but I was sorting of hoping none of them would come true. At least I knew after the T-Mac news that nothing more would go wrong. After all, these things happen in threes. Actually, I decided after seeing the T-Mac news that I was going to have a big night at the table because a fourth thing couldn't go wrong. That's the rules. And I was right.

PARTING SHOTS
We're talking about the rescinding of the Tyson trade.

Me (to Brick): They just Haitianed it.
Brick: Yeah. Pretty much.
Liam and Bake: What? Haitianed it?
Me: That's why I addressed just Brick. OK, Liam. I'll address you. They flashy-thinged it.
Bake: OK. Don't address me, Gene.

At dinner.

Max: Tina said the guy who does her nails is a fucking pro.
JRap: Some call that a porn star.

THE DAILY TOP LIST
My favorite five bands of the 1980s.

5) Foreigner.
It was urgent they make the list.

4) U2.
When I think of U2, I think of the Ross and Rachel romance.

3) Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.
I won't back down from this pick.

2) Bon Jovi.
You Give Love a Bad Name is a good start for any mix.

1) Journey.
I do have the song lyrics from their greatest hits hanging above my bed.