Contest time!
In the wake of Craig's and Tim's music contests, we now have Kristin's tournament -- Ultimate Guilty Pleasures, honoring the best of bad music. In other words, honoring stuff I probably like a lot. Go ahead and vote, the contest just started.

At the movies...
I've been meaning to catch more of the summer blockbusters, especially with the way my schedule works out these days, but for reasons that don't even make sense to me, I've only hit The Matrix: The Search for More Money and Charlie's Angels: Even more T&A. Neither was all that impressive, but entertaining enough for a matinee. In fact, it took me about a month to even mention Reloaded.

It took me a few viewings to really get into The Matrix, so maybe that's the way Reloaded could be. Or not. I got numbed by the action sequences and the Zion stuff literally put me to sleep. I think I'd be more entertained by this abridged version.

As for Angels (which I did see today), it was a lot of everything: amazingly hokey action scenes made to look The Matrix, silly jokes, cameos out the wazoo, cool pop music, McG's bright colors, stars in tight or little clothing, Demi Moore overacting (but from the way she looked, she was using her powers for awesome), fluff, etc. Entertaining for sure but nothing else beyond that.

Speaking of retro ...
One of my favorite sites and most lamented victims of the dot-com fallout has been resurrected. Granted, this site serves a smaller niche and needs a lot less resources, but can we see the return of WebVan or Kozmo anytime soon?

Making up for lost time
I think I've finally finished my collection of watching all of VH-1's I Love the '80s this weekend thanks to some double, triple, and quadruple shots the past couple of days. It's one of the most addicting things out there, so obviously the music network that has no idea what it's doing is already jumping into overkill mode by unleashing I Love the '70s later this summer. Unfortunately, I just can't see most of the people they used for the '80s series coming up with as many great barbs for the '70s, given most of them were too young to really connect with much of the decade. I loved Rhino's '70s boxed set a few years back, but turning into a TV series probably won't work. And of course, can I Love the '90s be next? If so, The Onion gives us fair warning.

Double faults
I suppose I would be amiss if I didn't mention some Wimbledon action among the wanna-be Annas in the field. First off, who are the people doing the draws when it comes to Ashley Harkleroad? At the French, she ended up beating the gradually creepy looking Daniela Hantuchova. Now at Wimbledon, she ended up losing in a first-round match with fellow teen starlet Maria Sharapova in a match with enough groaning and grunting that probably would've fit in just fine on Cinemax.

The property of threes has worked out in one of the strangest ways this week. First, there was Maynard Jackson, Atlanta's first black mayor. Then came unabashed segregationist Georgia governor Lester Maddox. And now Strom.

Feeling a draft
This year's NBA Draft had a weird feel to it, partly because ESPN took control of the coverage and partly because I felt I didn't really know as many players out there as before. The international players definitely added something to it, but also the fact that I really only get geeked up for college hoops in March probably means I missed a few diamonds in the rough.

Moving the draft from TNT to ESPN meant losing Craig Sager's wild suits (one of these days, he should just go back out in an old Willie costume). We also don't have Chuckles Barkley making fun comments or Hubie Brown talking about upside. Plus, we get lots of those wild ESPN draft graphics. Michelle Tafoya was fine in Sager's role -- it's hard to extract much out of most of these draft picks. Tom Tolbert played the useful clown role reasonably well. I particularly liked Jay Bilas breaking down players and not being afraid to rip into them, although he does it in such a smooth style that you sometimes don't realize he's ripped guys a new one -- unlike Mel Kiper or Dick Vitale, who was very predictable in his stuff about big-time college players and the HS/underclassmen leaving early and getting drafted late. Jim Grey had plenty of news, but at times he seemed really out of place doing those reports.

One fun thing about the draft this year (and hopefully will last for many years) is the raucous crowd at the Theater at MSG. It seems like some of the Knicks fans were the Jets fans who love to stir up trouble in April. I was half hoping David Stern would announce the Knicks took Blair Thomas from Penn State.

As for the picks themselves, I guess I was surprised by the number of "name" college players (including a bunch of seniors) taken early and before all of the international guys everyone seemed to drool over. I suppose at the top of the draft, you're really looking for players who are supposed to contribute right away, while the bottom of the draft is more for building depth either for now or later -- although you can still get lucky, like Jamaal Tinsley and Tony Parker a couple of years ago.

One thing that seems to be glossed over is the fact that many international players can be held for a few years, continue to play overseas without being held against a team's salary cap, and come over when they're ready. This is the type of "minor league" people have been clamoring for stateside. There really isn't as much risk with these players, especially if you take them at the end of the first round or in the second round. (It's much like the NHL with its international players). For teams with salary cap troubles, it's a smart move to make. I think this sort of protection is more of a reason that international players are taken in larger numbers these days. Just imagine if you could do this type of "stashing away" with college players -- that would change the face of the draft today.

At the same time, I do wonder what scouts in the NBA are thinking by making these international players so coveted despite not seeing them play (or not playing much for their team overseas). I think scouts in some of these sports want to show off how much they think they know by showcasing unknown players as great things. Maybe familiarity breeds contempt, especially with college seniors. We've seen them so much that we know their flaws. We haven't seen much of these other guys, so the mystery makes them all the more valuable.

Jason Kapono, taken with the second pick of the second round after a serviceable but unspectacular career at UCLA, probably summed it up best: "I just know that I should have left (UCLA) after my freshman year, played in Croatia, grew a beard and changed my name to Vladimir Kaponovich," he said jokingly. "Then I would have been perfect."

But as in many sports, it's hardly about what's going on now as what the future holds. Cards of rookies are often more valuable than those of established stars. Many college football fans care more about who's being recruited rather than who's on the field now. Upside is the most popular word during the draft. Sometimes I wonder if we shouldn't just put a crystal ball out on the field and leave it at that.

Lessons learned
I had a relatively productive business trip up to Chicago earlier this week, even though I didn't really have the time to see the usual suspects while in town. One bonus of the trip was doing the whole Wrigley Field experience Tuesday, including stops here and here before and after the game. Surprisingly, I didn't hit as many of the bars around the park during my multiple trips there when I was at school.

I really missed Wrigley. It feels a lot cozier now after going to Turner Field all the time, and the seats we had, which were directly behind the camera well above home plate and just below the press box were probably similar to club level seats in Atlanta. The game was neat, despite the power surge in the first inning that delayed the game for about 15 minutes. I did discover a cool little balcony-type hangout in the upper deck behind home plate, but I've now learned that you'd better have good access to the game either via TVs or looking out onto the field when doing that type of schmoozing because our group missed four Cubs homers -- Sammy Sosa's 520-foot blast plus three in a row.

I also realized how screwed up my thinking of Chicago geography is while driving (or, in this case, navigating). I got turned around more than a few times, and some of these east-west roads that I thought would be easy enough to get from the O'Hare area to either Evanston or the North Side became arduous adventures. Just exactly how are the lights timed on Irving Park Road?

Finally, the strangest nugget of the whole trip: Our two days there happened to be the first two 90-degree days in Chicago this year, meaning it hit 90 there before it hit that mark here in Atlanta.

The Duke-New Jersey-point guard curse
Considering he was my high school's highest-profile athletic alumnus, it would be very sad if Jay Williams' career is done after breaking his leg in a motorcycle accident. What he was doing with a motorcycle, I'm not sure, especially since Ron Gant and Jeff Kent suffered similar injuries, and they were in supposed violations of their contracts. If I were a Duke point guard with NBA ambitions, I'd be afraid of all motor vehicles. Remember that Bobby Hurley's NBA career was never the same after a near-fatal car accident. But extend it further, and maybe it's just Duke point guards who came from New Jersey Catholic schools. I guess Coach K will be staying from St. Joe's, St. Anthony's, St. Patrick's, Immaculata, Christian Brothers, etc. for the time being.

Short attention span theater
When did whole music videos become too much for viewers to digest? I've been mildly disappointed while watching VH-1's countdown of the 100 greatest songs of the past 25 years. I have some quibbles with what's on there (no surprise there), but I'm more upset that the shows have offered little more than token video clips and bits and pieces of the song. Instead, each entry features a bunch of talking heads yammering about how great/influential/whatever the song is. The nostalgic interview nuggets work for the addictive I Love the '80s, but I want something more substantial if you're going to be counting down the "greatest" songs.

There is a saving grace to the countdown, thanks to VH-1 Classic's accompanying show that shows all of the videos in their entirety right after the regular VH-1 show ends. It's both fun and a little jarring to see Missy Elliott's "Work It" followed immediately by "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)," or the great 1-2-3 combo of "Tempted", "Hot in Herre" and "My Sharona", but then again, a random shuffle of my MP3s would yield the same results. The only thing missing to VH-1 Classic's coverage was a number attached to the start of the video, but that's what the Internet is for (or at least taking notes during the actual countdown.)

The whole process made me nostalgic for days when countdown shows actually showed the whole video with little adornment other than the place on the chart. VH-1's Top 20 Countdown, usually buried early Sunday mornings now, goes in and out of songs quickly, especially those not in the top 10. TRL is even worse, inserting insipid comments from its viewers and cutting much of the videos short to boot. I could be wrong, but didn't those kids vote to see all three or four minutes of a video? I guess that's what the digital-tier channels like MTV Hits are for now. In an ever-expanding cable/satellite universe, I guess the "mother" channel is just a gateway for full or niche coverage on other channels. I guess it's a matter of time before ESPN Outdoors becomes a full channel. No wonder no channel or show will get a big rating anymore.

In praise of crap
Not surprisingly, JD has his review of some of Game Show Network's newest offerings. Funny Money was OK, but nothing spectacular. Take a few pop-culture questions, mix in some half-rate stand-up comics and Kathy Griffin (who must be contractually obligated to work every game or reality show featuring celebrities), and you've got this fine mess of a show. It could get interesting if they add in more curiosities as stand-up acts like the guy who replaced Anne Robinson.

Thanks to GSN, I can also inflict this song either in trash questions or a future audio round. The show needs a lot of work, but for some reason I found it mildly compelling. OK, so his grown daughters are pretty cute, that's a plus. As for not including Scrabble in the show, I'd imagine it was a rights issue since it's not in the current rotation. So there was much creative history being written.

In support of Brandon Inge
This is what you get when you let me take the reins of something substantial when someone is on vacation. It's always been my pet project when I have a bunch of All-Star ballots in front of me, it just helps to have a wide outlet to inflict it on the general public.

Goodbye, Poopsie
It was sad to hear about the recent passing of Dick Schwarzlose, one of my favorite professors at Medill. He combined the best aspects of a career newspaperman and a seasoned lecturer -- a perfect blend for someone teaching a class on the history of journalism. Schwarzlose always had very interesting lectures and was an excellent storyteller. He was also able to get students involved without forcing anyone into the discussion. The ideas just seemed to flow both from him and the students, which made him one of the most popular professors in the school.

One other interesting bit about him was that he cared about both the professional and academic aspects of journalism and journalism school. That's a difficult combination to find in any school, especially one that is likened to a upscale trade school. I'm glad I got one last chance to hear one of his lectures last fall as part of homecoming/reunion festivities. Other than being in a souped-up new building, it was classic Schwarzlose discussin recent war coverage -- definitely well-thought out, but not reeking of the ivory tower. He was a legend and he will be missed.

Fox and Mensa, perfect together?
While I was more concerned about this game as well as trying to snag some cash at the weekly trivia outing, I missed the chance to watch Fox's national IQ test. I thought it was a silly concept, especially considering the groups they had taking the test at the same time (blondes, construction workers, scientists, D-list celebrities). But I just now took the test and it is pretty challenging, although I scored a 121, which I guess is pretty good.

I know the local morning radio shows were comparing scores (like Detroit averaging a 97, yeesh), but if anyone has more info from what happened on the show, please share. And I would be interested in comparing each other's scores.

When child stars get desperate
Thanks to a late dinner and a rainout at Turner Field, we actually went through on our threat to see Screech (or Screach according to the program) do stand-up. He knows he's fallen way off the face of the map compared to most of his other Saved by the Bell mates that he's doing this, Celebrity Boxing and StarDates. But anything to get paid, even playing a lower-scale entertainment complex up in the suburbs known to me for being the only place in the Atlanta area to show the highlight of John Rocker's acting career.

Actually, Rocker could've given a better performance than Screech if you looked at his famous outbursts as an act. Screech was mildly funny when he ripped into Saved by the Bell, his brushes with fame and the fact that he's working backward on the road to success (TV star first, then becoming a crappy comic). Besides that, it was a poor excuse to swear, steal different comics' bits (for instance, the multiple uses of "dude") and just show off how bitter he really was. In fact, some of the amusement and entertainment from the act was from realizing, "He just said [insert raunchy word here]!" Still, it was something we just had to see, and at least it provides a baseline for watching "real" stand-up comics. I'm still trying to figure out if $13.50 plus a two-drink minimum in the suburbs was a ripoff, when you consider Jerry Seinfeld was playing in town this weekend at a nice theater with tickets in the $45-75 range.

One of these days, someone should put together the double bill of Screech and Skippy for the ultimate in ironic stand-up entertainment.

Some believe you can shave 5-10 minutes off the times of baseball games by eliminating entrance music for hitters. However, it's one of the most entertaining parts of the game, in a very surreal way. Going to Braves games somewhat regularly for parts of the past eight season (geez, has it been that long), I've gotten to get a decent read on players' music. Some players hang their hats on one song for years, like Chipper Jones with "Crazy Train" Others have basic themes, like Rafael Furcal and his Latin music. Most others are just there; some classics, some recent hits, some sentimental favorites, even some pro wrestling tunes. However, I've discovered something stranger than Javy Lopez coming out to "Limelight." How about Marcus Giles coming out to this song? Unfortunately I wasn't paying too close attention to the lyrics at the game.

Because I got low (on cash)
How do you become a one-hit wonder? First, make a silly but catchy song, preferably for a movie soundtrack or stealing a huge part of it from an established hit. Second, make all other potential singles much like the first one. Third, discover the Lord and atone for all the steps you took toward success. Just ask this guy.

It ain't cheating until you get caught, McMahon
I am trying to figure out which is worse: Sammy Sosa getting caught with a corked bat or ESPN's Say It Ain't Sosa mid-afternoon program, which is in the middle of hour two. It's turning into The Naked Gun, where the only "expert" not to have chimed in yet is Dr. Joyce Brothers. The funniest part of the special was the sports memorabilia marketing firm cutting open one of his bats live to show there was no cork. It had the feel of the Al Capone vault opening, except with the added bonus that one of those guys could've sawed a hand or finger off.

I find it hard to believe that he'd get a batting practice bat confused with a regular bat. As Tom Verducci notes, many players put tape or some type of mark on their bats. And besides, why do you need a corked bat to put on a show during batting practice? And why do you need it in a game against the Devil Rays?

However, I doubt Sosa's legacy will be really tarnished because of this. Besides, we're still waiting on those steroids test, right, Dr. Rick Reilly? I'm not sure it will affect his Hall of Fame status, either, unless he bet on when he would get caught.

This news is sad, and it's sadder to think that the Classy one is among the few involved in pro wrestling that could live into his 80s. There have been some recent stories of "old-timers" passing on like Wahoo McDaniel and Lou Thesz. Unfortunately, there are way more memorable stories about wrestlers passing on in their 20s, 30s and 40s -- Miss Elizabeth and Mr. Perfect this year, for instance. I have this fear with the brutal schedule, the workload, and yes, the substances being taken, there will be few "old-timers" doing the goodwill stuff like Blassie in their 60s, 70s and 80s because no one will be left.

Another thing interesting about Blassie's passing is that he had been on WWE shows during the past three or four years, showing a little reverence for the past. He may not have been a bad guy anymore, but he provided of nostalgia for people like me. While the WWE's target audience wasn't born yet when I saw my first wrestling show (The Iron Sheik, managed by Blassie no less, upsetting Bob Backlund for the WWF title at Madison Square Garden), it is good to see the powers that be acknowledging the past. Until the internet turned many fans into alleged insiders and definitely "smarks," it was verboten to mention the past or history of wrestlers, storylines, etc. It would become comical when you'd see a guy with a new name/gimmick/whatever and the fans knowing who he is, but the announcers consciously ignoring it all.

More NIFL fallout
Craig and Mark have started the flood of reflections from the Stingrays game. I totally forgot about the appearance of Sam Wyche at the start. It's just too bad we couldn't get him as a guest moderator for the high school tournament. Of course, my mind is still reeling from the array of one-liners and observations from the game so things are bound to fall through the cracks.

A few more things not covered so far: There was a pie-eating contest during the game, and the dance team tried to recruit one of our group to join in. We decided not to, but we probably could've been a force there. Consider that in the groups I was in over the weekend, I was often one of the smaller people. After the game, we did head to the "official" post-game headquarters -- I think it was just a coincidence. We were looking for a place that still served food late that was within walking distance of the hotel. One of the cheerleaders was dressed for a night on the town, ready to search the city for "real" fun as opposed to a bunch of guys who enjoyed indoor football ironically or not. The others had that look of "How long is it until we can go home?" Same went for the players, who seemed chummy with the dancers (guess there's no rule in the sticks about player-cheerleader relations).

Finally, given some of the sorry names and places for these teams, I think that future expansion must include a team called either the Strong Bads or Trogdor the Burninators.

I got a fever, and the prescription is more gobstoppers
No one has original ideas anymore, so why not remake Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory? It'll probably be lame, unless we can cast Christopher Walken as Willy.

A case of the NIFLs – Rashomon-style
The highlight of the trip for many of us was going to the National Indoor Football League game between the Myrtle Beach Stingrays and the Houma Bayou Bucks. Who won and lost is so immaterial in this discussion, it’s ridiculous. Instead, it was one of the craziest times I’ve had at any sporting event that stunningly had no alcohol involved.

The craziness of the game wasn’t so much what happened on the field. Remember, this is the minor leagues of minor-league football, so the quality of play and the quality of the uniforms are far from top-notch. It was from the mass of people from the tournament (many of whom are on blog list already) all cracking wise throughout the game. Think MST3K at a football game, but with about 15 people firing away.

The field was at the Convention Center where the tournament was. A few of us caught a glimpse of the field and the seats Friday because the door was open to the hall where games are held. The goal posts hanging from the ceiling was bizarre. (Unlike Arena Football, there is no net to the sides of the posts.) And it look very bush league with a set of seats/bleachers on one side of the hall and a smaller seating section on the other side. There were also faux hockey-boards to establish the boundaries of the field, which was a carpet that seemed to be a cross of the Vet’s Astro-Turf and the stuff I had in my kindergarten classroom (only the hopscotch and Chinese checkers were missing). Plus, some of the matches were overlooking the field, and for a while, there were even matches in the ticket office. Yes, one person did show up during a match looking for tickets for NIFL action.

Concessions were strange. There were your basic hot dog, nachos, sodas, ice cream. But there was also a Hurricane bar, as well as a cash buffet – the same one (hopefully not the same food) set up in the afternoon that provided lunch for most of the competitors.

Speaking of tickets, we even got discounts for the game for being part of the tournament, just another added perk. We got seats at the 25-yard line, in the top level of bleachers, which worked well for us, because I think we scared most of the other fans around us who actually took the game seriously. I do wonder what the assistant coach sitting a few rows above us in the next section thought as he was doing his scouting from above.

The game itself was pretty bad. Myrtle Beach didn’t score in the second half and lost by six, which has to be a huge shock in this type of game. Then again, there wasn’t as much passing as you might see at an Arena game. The running plays definitely don’t look as good on the small field, compared to the NFL or major college football. The kicking game was atrocious, and maybe the team did live up to their promise that if a randomly chosen fan hit a 40-yard field goal, he’d be the starting kicker next week. Somewhat related to the game was the atrocious performance of the team song by some “up and coming” rappers wearing Stingrays jerseys (which threw us off when we saw them in the crowd to begin with).

Like Arena Football, fans can keep footballs that go into the stands. That made for some interesting scrambles behind the goal U’s after field goals. Craig and Byko kept running down from our seats to get a chance at a ball. It was comical at first, then got silly because Craig had a couple of good chances but got nothing out of it other than short of breath. However, Chris did get a ball, and he wasn’t even actively looking for it. It just bounced his way while getting some food. Amusingly, the team owner (or so we think) told Chris that they may have to switch out balls with an autographed one after the game if they happened to run out (you wonder if the AFL folks keep that in mind?). It didn’t happen, so we came away happy there.

Things got surreal after halftime as they asked for people to move the chains. We thought this may have been a promotion, but we’re excited enough, so Mike went down to the job. We’re pretty sure it wasn’t a promotion, though, as they also asked for someone to run the down marker. We sent down Byko. It was almost to the point where they could’ve asked a couple more of us play offensive line (we have guys in our group that could’ve done so well). We thought we’d just make fun of the game. I doubt any of us thought we’d actually be in the game.

Still, despite all the fun, it’s hard for a lot of people to realize the ridiculousness of everything. Emily Moore may have put it best as to why she left at halftime: “I could only take so much ironic football.”

The trip into irony
I just got back from a fun and often wacky weekend in Myrtle Beach for the NAQT High School National Championship Tournament. I usually try to avoid high school competitions primarily because there’s a lot more tension during game play, usually coming from coaches, and I’d rather not deal with that if possible. But it was hard to pass up a free trip to Myrtle Beach and a chance to hang out with a bunch of my friends.

No, they weren’t used as floatation devices
The trip gave me a good excuse to fly Hooters Air. Its price was competitive with AirTran and Delta, so that helped seal the deal.

First off, the company will struggle to make money for a while if my flight was any indication. There was no one sitting behind me on the flight. I was in row 11. There are 20 rows on the 737. And the flight overall had to be about 30-40% full, not a good sign since there’s just one flight from Atlanta to Myrtle Beach and vice versa. Also, at Hartsfield, the airline used a Delta gate and other Delta employees, so it’s a bit hard to find.

The passengers were the standard mix of people you might expect on this route: a bunch of golfers, people of all ages going to the beach, etc. However, I did see a couple of women who might’ve been scouting their chances at getting that treasured role as the flight’s Hooters Girls.

Yes, there are two of them on the flight. They were exactly what you might think they were: blonde, young and vapid. However, they didn’t have the restaurant gear on; instead, they were wearing bright orange jogging suits that could’ve come from the Al Sharpton collection. They made their presence known at takeoff and then again toward the end of the flight, asking a couple of trivia questions and collecting surveys, plus giving away gift cards. That was the real Hooters presence on board. Otherwise, there were a bunch of real flight attendants on board (too many considering how few passengers there were) , including a one who put the Hooters girls to shame.

As for other basics, there is just one class of service, but all of the seats were leather seats, and there was a little extra leg room. Also surprising for an hour-long flight was getting actual hot food, albeit just a sausage and cheese biscuit, but it’s more than what you’d get on other similar flights. However, there were no wings or wood paneling inside the plane. All in all, Hooters Air was a decent experience, but not anything over the top.

Still missing the cut
Good news, I shot an 81 over 18 holes when I got into town. Bad news, it was a par-3 course. Still, it was fun to play and get it out of my system.

It must be an Arby’s night
One half of minor-league sports weekend involved watching this game between the Myrtle Beach Pelicans and the Frederick Keys. The game itself was pretty sloppy – we left after the 10th inning when the Pelicans couldn’t score a run despite having the bases loaded and no outs.

It was fun soaking up the atmosphere of the park, which was just down the street from our hotel. It was a cozy park, with all of the nice amenities/goofiness of a minor-league park. There was a crab race, like Milwaukee’s sausage race. There were cutesy team mascots. There were silly contests like crawling blindfolded to get money and human hamster balls. But the stuff that caught my attention was tying player performances to free food.

One promotion had fans winning a free Arby’s roast beef sandwich if a designated Pelicans player got an RBI. Thankfully, they picked out Andy Marte, one of the Braves’ top prospects. He can hit the ball, but he’s amazingly slow. He came through with his RBIs and thus free Arby’s, which became lunch Saturday.

On the other hand, there was also a K-man promotion, where fans got free cheese fries at a local bar if a designated guy on the other team struck out. I felt really sorry for the kid because you know he’s probably scuffling and holding out hopes of making it to the majors some day. Instead, you’ve got the crowd cheering not just for a strikeout but chanting “Cheese Fries” when he gets two strikes. Alas, no cheese fries.

Oh yeah, matches
I was impressed by how good many of these players were this weekend, but it made sense since this is a national tournament. Plus, I can also read these questions and have a small sense of knowing what I’m reading. It was interesting having a couple of competitors remember me when I read at Emory’s HS tournament last fall. I also ran into a guy who interviewed with me for admission into Northwestern.

I think I read pretty well, and my rookie scorekeeper got the hang of it over time, even though our game room was pretty much a closet – I called it a phone booth, another team called it Milton’s office. The tournament needed to use every possible room for matches. That included the empty office that was my room, a handful of boxes overlooking giant exhibition halls, the exhibition halls themselves, a pantry and even the ticket office.

I’m not a big fan of power matching the way it was done this weekend, because it seemed to slow up things a bit too much. But whatever works for them. And the fire alarm before the last round of the day was also amusing, but just added to much of our aggravation. Still, I think things were run reasonably well. Thankfully, it didn’t cut too much into NIFL time (which will be detailed in another post).

I ended up not reading any playoffs, which may have been a good thing since I wouldn’t have to deal with even more tension from players and coaches. Then again, some of the other readers were solid as well. Byko easily emptied out a packet with time remaining and was both loud and clear.

Hamburger -- $6.95
Cheeseburger -- $7.50
Nothing and like it -- $5.95
Brian and I made a trip to the second branch of the Murray Bros. Caddyshack restaurant. The food was decent, but otherwise, it was just a golf theme restaurant. There was a display case of Caddyshack stuff, but that was about it for the movie. I was hoping the menu would’ve included more lines/references to the movie. Alas, nothing gopher-related, nor any Baby Ruth-based deserts.