Of Yankees and Poo Monkeys

I've got waaaay too many things to write about and not nearly enough time to write them. (Who the heck knew I could actually get busy at work?)

So, In no particular order, a sampler of the Idiot's musings:

1) Didja see that frickin' Patriots Game yesterday?
Adam Vinatieri calmly and cooly stumbled onto the field, with the clock running and no time-outs, and kicked a game winning 43 yard field goal that went through with one second left on the clock. Not ten seconds, not four seconds, ONE SECOND. Unbelievable. The game ran long so I missed almost fifteen minutes of Matlock, but it was totally worth it. As a Pats fan who goes bac to when they really were awful, it's a very strange feeling to have them be that good.



1) The Red Sox are TIED for first place with the Yankees.
Holy Crap!
A week left in the season and we're tied, and the last three games of the year are at home against the Yanks. People might say "It doesn't get any better than this," but I gotta disagree. I would find it far better for the Red Sox to have already clinched the AL East and be playing little league teams all week. I mean, I'm getting enough stress from other aspects of life, let's win it by a lot some year, eh? Did I mention that the Pats won yesterday with ONE SECOND LEFT?

1) The Younger Child has a "Boy of her Dreams"
The other day, The Younger Child told us that she'd had a dream about teen idol Jesse McCartney. Being prying parents, we bugged her until we got details.
They talked about Poptarts. Jesse's favorite, according to the dream, is Hot Fudge Sundae, which The Younger Child agreed is good, but not as good as Strawberry frosted. Despite the disagreement, she and Jesse parted on good terms.


1) Sugarloaf is too cold for Poo Monkeys.
A friend of mine told me about golfing in Brazil, on a course near the rain forest. They had guides guiding them, and the golfers were under strict orders not to go into the woods after lost balls. Apparently, there are monkeys in those woods who attack golfers by flinging poo at them.
The poo-monkeys, as I quickly dubbed them, were only supposed to be an interesting detail in my pal's story, but, being an idiot, I had to stop and find out more. "Where do they get the poo?" I asked. "Do they produce it when they see a golfer? Is it made fresh for each new flingee or do they have a community pile that they all run to when some unfortunate fellow comes looking for his ball?" This is why my friends don't tell me stories much any more. I'm pretty sure we didn't ever get to the end of the golfing in Brazil story, but you have to admit that it's kind of interesting if these little monkeys can let fly at any moment. I mean, why aren't the makers of Ex-lax rounding up a herd of these little dudes for some serious testing?
But I digress.
This weekend I was fortunate enough to be able to play golf at the Sugarloaf Golf Club in Maine. It is by far the most beautiful golf course I've ever played. It is also quite narrow and is now home to many many golf balls that used to call my golf bag home. As I made trip after trip into the woods looking for my errant shots, I had plenty of time to thank the lord for sparing us the dreaded Poo Monkeys.

Next weekend the Yankees come to town..... hmmmm, anyone know where I can get a monkey?