I had no intentions of returning to Southern California until August. Tis BFF’s birthday and the Cowboys are in Oxnard for training camp then San Diego for a pre-season game. However, three weeks ago BFF calls with the news she’s scored tickets to the Eclipse premiere. I’ve NEVER hid the fact that I’m a Twi-hard, so I’ve no taste for your haterade. Just be thankful the squealing 14 year-old stays contained within. And besides, I promise this is going somewhere.

At the premiere party...check out that mad tan line!

Although my financially-sound, better judgment attempted to be the decision maker on whether or not to fly out, it took all of 18 hours for it to be overpowered by my dominant better half who has a penchant for obsession. Not to mention my entire self needed a getaway before I went bananas in a bad way at work. So a plane ticket was booked, a dress was bought and the Disneyland annual pass was ready to go. It was time to go back, back to Cali, Cali. I must admit mixed feelings ensued. I’ve enjoyed my life in Dallas thus far, despite a work load and temperatures created by the Devil himself. I have a great duplex in a neighborhood I’ve wanted to live in for forevs, a 13-minute commute and access to all my long-term friends and family. The only thing missing right now is football season and the Spanish and/or French lover I’m on the hunt for to tide me over till I finally get my hands on Taylor Lautner (more on that later, duh!). So I knew this trip could have it’s emotional consequences. And it did, more so than I’ll tell anyone in person. I do NOT – let me infinitely repeat, do NOT – miss Los Angeles. The traffic, lack of parking, soul sucking atmosphere and kryptonitic cute Jewish boys…get a sister outta there, stat. However, California (not to be confused with LA, they are NOT one and the same) I miss so much it hurts my heart. I spent quite a bit of time on the beach at Crystal Cove (Newport) and it’s all I could do not to leave LAX in tears on Saturday. Had I possessed a job or a man I loved and gotten the hell out of LA, I don’t think I would have left. In no way do I regret my decision to move back to Dallas, I did what was best for me at that (and this) point. Having said that, there was a moment on Saturday morning, right as the sun broke through the June gloom, with my toes in the sand, that I realized the rest of my life is TBD and I am okay with that…FINALLY.

Breakfast with BFF on the beach...pure perfection!

So the entire trip was as perfect as it could have been. The premiere was fun, although  I DEFINITELY almost went bananas in a terrible, very bad way whilst in the trillion-person line to retrieve our cell phones after the screening. I fell absolutely, positively in love with little Taylor all over again. I still want to put him in my pocket, feed him Reese’s Puffs cereal and let him watch football with me. (If that’s all you think I want to do with/to him…you’re delusional). ANYWAY, pros of the after party were mac-n-cheese, Crumb cupcakes, champagne and I managed to look hot. Cons of the after party were decorations that looked like an illegitimate, deformed child of a  Costco camping display and a really bad prom. Carnations and fake snow do not make an appropriate center piece for most occasions, most of all for a premiere party for the biggest movie of the year. Just saying.

So TO THE POINT…the celebrity guest list for this gig was leaked hours before. It so happened to include Kim Kardashian. You just had an A-HA! moment, right? Let me just say, as far as I know, she wasn’t there. On the off chance she was and I ran into her (i.e. stalked her down after a bottle of Cabernet), I made a solemn public promise to friends and fellow Cowboys fans on Facebook that I would not cause a scene. Although I have tried to stay Team Switzerland on this issue, it appears I must make an official statement on the RUMORED union of Miss Kardashian and Miles Austin.

Let there be no mistake, the day I found out, my intern thought someone had killed one of my dogs and I made multiple threats (in my head) to cancel my Shoe Dazzle account. After sleeping on the issue, I discovered I’m as okay with it as possible. There are many reasons to actually like Kim, other than the fact she’s smoking hot. She has a real figure, talks about her cellulite publicly and started a shoe of the month club. And I gotta give her mad props for moving up in the football player food chain. The only set back in my acceptance of their RUMORED relationship was on Friday during cocktails with my Cowboys group in Santa Monica, I was informed that Kim and Miles were apparently cozied up one night at Casa Vega…my absolute favorite restaurant in my former neighborhood. Not gonna lie, I felt a little violated.

But you can take it to the presses that CLSL is officially, albeit maybe a little begrudgingly, okay with Miles Austin dating Kim Kardashian. But probably only till the Taylor Lautner high wears off. Let’s be honest.

You know you’ve been away too long when you come back to find the ads pop up for you as Overstock.com and some political campaign. Someone needs to get her priorities straight. Having said that, I have every intention of getting back into the swing of things. If I don’t die of mosquito bite poisoning. For those of you keeping score at home -  Mosquitoes: 26; Nikki: 0. Welcome back to Texas.

So this is what actually happened while you thought I was dead and look! I have pictures to prove it!:

1. The Cowboys beat the Eagles in the last game of the regular season to secure home field advantage in the Wild Card game. Yes, we’re going back that far. Because I can and life was good. Vindication for that bitch slap of a game we went through at the end of the previous year.

My last regular season game with the Cowboys group, sad!

2. The Cowboys ALSO beat the Eagles in the Wild Card game. 100 words could not describe how I felt that night. If God himself came down to Santa Monica and took me away I would’ve offered him a tequila shot and gladly gone with a smile on my face and “Such a Night” playing in my heart. Instead, I was left to my own drunken devices here on Earth. Too much Patron + Cowboys playoff victory that also marked the pillaging of the Eagles THREE TIMES in one season + random encounter with a cute Dallas boy who was also on a victory high = very questionable judgment.

It’s almost a blessing to my emotional state (and reputation) that we didn’t go any further in the playoffs.

I always ended up in the middle of these pictures. But look at that face! It was like my birthday and Christmas and possibly Valentine's Day all ended up on the same day!

...and I never stopped smiling.

Sorry just had to post one more. Best night ever. We waited a LONG time for this. And Mike looks like a pimp in this picture.

3. The Longhorns made it to the National Championship. And that’s about all I have to say to that. Not only did Colt McCoy and Jordan Shipley have to go through the most terrible “what the f**k was that sh*t?!” championship game, um, EVER…they both were rewarded with one-way tickets to careers in Ohio. Insult to injury, much?

They did not hook 'em...

Trust me, there is more…

..Continue reading..

You probs know by now, I work in the entertainment industry, have for over 13 years and every once in awhile it kinda RULES. Before I moved to Los Angeles and still worked for a movie theatre company, I handled trailer placement, so I constantly had studios kissing my ass. The average movie goer has NO idea what goes into and the politics behind the previews you see before each and every movie. So because of said ass kissing, I met a slew of movie stars, attended premieres here and in New York and even went to the NBC Universal/Focus Features/Cartier Golden Globes party in 2007. Where I won a watch I treasure almost as much as my dogs and told Adrian Grenier I loved him. In my defense, I’d had nothing but Cartier’s own reserve champagne to drink for four hours. (Side note, I’ve no doubt I will never taste another champy that can compare to it for the rest of my life).

Aside from the NFL, also kicking off this week is Paley Fest, which showcases new fall television shows for the major networks. I went Wednesday night for FOX (and will attend CW night Monday). Fox highlighted “Glee”, “Family Guy” spin-off “The Cleveland Show” and “Brothers”, starring Michael Strahan.

Like most of America, I’ve turned into a complete Gleek. Any show that has a goody-goody germophobe joke about eating disorders and oral sex in the same breath gets a thumbs up from this gal right here. “The Cleveland Show” isn’t just as bad as you think it’s going to be…it’s much, much worse. Words can’t do justice to how much worse this show is than you already expect. But maybe my objectiveness was tarnished  due to how disturbed I was to find out Cleveland is voiced by an old, balding white guy. Anyway, kicking off the night was the aforementioned Strahan starrer, “Brothers”.

Strahan was there, he’s of course a gigantor compared to me, but the man sure can pull off the color pink. I would’ve (and should’ve) taken my pic with him, but A) he was a Giant, B) a Giant that knocked us out of the playoffs and C) I don’t deal well with, what are they called…people. At least people in that sort of situation. I’d rather just partake of free food (which, kid you not, was provided by Nutrisystem), free booze and watch the crazyspices.

There is a decent sitcom plot lurking under the surface of “Brothers”, don’t get me wrong. But…oof. It’s pretty painful. After stomaching Strahan on Fox NFL Sunday week after week, I went into the show with negative expectations of his acting abilities. Despite the fact all the other cast members are seasoned actors, Strahan is surprisingly the most believable and well played of the bunch. I shit you not. Although the amount of jokes they crack about the father having what is apparently beginning stages of dementia is completely uncalled for, the jokes about Strahan’s gap-tooth-ness are damn funny. Perhaps that’s just my leftover bitterness? Who knows.

I didn’t hate it, but I wouldn’t watch it. It’s loads better than TO’s appearance on that atrocious Flavor Flav show. But just like that show, I don’t expect it to last. Which, color no one surprised.

One thing I’ve been adamant about regarding this blog is that it’s not your typical “come here for up-to-the-minute information and I’m just writing to hear myself talk expert analysis” site. There are plenty of those. Although half the time I DO know what I’m talking about, it’s more a bar hop through the crazy land of being a sports fan-ette. We’re out there, you  just have to dig to find the good ones. It’s like picking out good avocados. The mushy ones are useless and the unripened ones require too much patience.

I had some sports related encounters of the third and fourth kind this weekend. I made the comment a few weeks ago (don’t remember to whom, for all I remember it could’ve been to myself) that I feel like football season is going to be rather interesting. Not only in general and for the Boys, but for me, personally. For serious, had I known shit was actually going to happen I would’ve put something bigger out into the universe. Like, “I feel like Chris Evans is going to come knocking at my door…and my apartment will actually be clean at the time.”

A couple of weeks ago the LA Cowboys group I’m a part of posted a Facebook page. The first couple of days it was live I perused member profiles to seek out anyone I knew from last season. I clicked on this one dude, didn’t remember him from last year at first. When I jumped over to his profile, I  noticed he was friends with someone I sorta kinda knew back in Texas. Strange, but you’ve got my attention. So he pops in this past Friday night while we were all at Yankee Doodle’s for the last pre-season game and I bring it up. He says he went to high school with that one guy. Trust me, this isn’t a good thing, what could make it worse is if graduated in 2000.

Oh but he did.

Somewhat longer story short, this guy in MY Cowboys group (mine, all mine) played baseball and graduated with The Dreaded Ex. AND I actually knew him, as well, but didn’t remember him at first. I move 1,200 miles away from home to a city with over 4 million people and I run into someone like that. I call major shenanigans. It’s like my past is chasing me wielding a leather whip (and not in a good way).

U-C-ELLLLLLE-A

What makes it EVEN funnier (trust me, I’m not really laughing) is this past Saturday, as I’m heading to the UCLA game the person I’m meeting emails me and says there’s a guy in the group tailgating next to us who is a ginormous Cowboys fan and can’t wait to meet me. Excellent I say, just picked up my requisite bottle of Malibu (shouldn’t they be sponsoring this blog by now?) and am a few minutes away. I get to the Rose Bowl, have a few drinks, have some amazing grilled scrimp and over comes the Cowboys fan. Fingers crossed he’s cute, single and employed! And straight!

Swear to god, it’s another guy from the group.

Once we got the OH HOW FUNNY IS THIS outta the way and he went back to his peeps, I looked at my friend and was like okay that’s enough, where are the cameras? I don’t like being on this show anymore. Cause who was next? The guy from the high school hockey team (that I started) who I was redonkulously in love with for years, but I wasn’t good enough for, so he ruined my self-image for a good 10 years? No thanks, man. So then I started in on how true Cowboys fans must have internal magnets and we always attract one another no matter where we go. Trust me, it was a rather intriguing and well thought out theory at the time. Much like Carl’s Jr. chili cheese fries are at 3 a.m. under the same amount of influence.

Speaking of drinks, another virtual round to the Ladies… for the most excellent shout out.

One of my other favorite lady-ran sports blogs is Ladies… They’re on my blogroll (well, will be on it when it have it up and running again) and I follow them on Twitter. Today they had a post regarding pro athletes use of Twitter and the recent social networking crackdown from the NFL. They asked what we think, I almost commented…but realized that my comment was turning into an entire ramble that was more fitting for, well, here.

I’m absolutely fascinated by the tweets of all these football players. Martellus Bennett is on the Cowboys so I love him, but he is batshit crazy. But as long as he catches the ball, fool can be all sorts of crazy. TO’s bible verses were, what’s the right word, uncomfortable? Completely random? I’ll just go with odd. Pics of his recent mani/pedi were kinda like a train wreck, you just had to keep looking (much like the entire TO Show). Chris Cooley is a douche, but he’s on my fantasy team so I have to grin and bear it. OchoCinco…is self explanatory. But like the Ladies pointed out, it’s the little things I find interesting: what a player thought about a movie he just watched…or what song(s) he’s listening to get pumped up for a game. That part is no different than me saying “ugh, stuck in bloody traffic on the 101 AGAIN, but hey I’ve got Bob Schneider to keep me company” They’re multimillion dollar pro athletes, but they’re also varying forms of normal, just like us.

[Let's pause whilst I think about what it would be like to really have Bob to keep me company...]

I can look at this whole sitch as two different versions of me. The Nikki from over 10 years ago and the Nikki of today. Nikki from today is (on paper) mature, grown up, only internet stalks guys she’s actually involved with on some level (or was), is a huge football and hockey fan still, but is all about being a fan instead of going googly for a player. OKAY, aside from that whole Miles Austin thing, which is why I hope blue eyes NEVER gets a damn Twitter. But for the big pros who do have Twitters, Facebooks or official pages, I think it’s absolutely wonderful and in the age of the deteriorating player image, it’s the best thing that could’ve happen. Especially for poor hockey.

If the Twitter bird can make the playoffs in goal, the Stars should sign him

However, high school/college Nikki was bananas for hockey players. More on that can be found here, here and here. I think about what it would’ve been like if Twitter and Facebook existed THEN and my brain partially strokes out. (My college roommate is totes going to have a major *facepalm* moment when she reads that). I would have been absolutely uncontrollable. I already knew enough, I already made a big enough fool out of myself and I already put myself in plenty of a precarious situations. I’m not even talking about the biggies like Mike Modano and Jamie Langenbrunner. I’m talking about the pups, the rookies, the ones who were already way too accessible to me. Sweet Jesus I loved those boys. Petr could’ve been like “boozer25: going to play game now” and I woulda been all “nikkihearts25: @boozer25 OMG I LOVE YOU AND WILL HAVE 10,000 OF YOUR BABIES.” Now given, I’m overestimating Petr’s use of the English language at the time and underestimating what ability I did actually have to control myself and the words that came out of my mouth. But you get my point.

I was a good girl little girl with stars in my eyes (no pun intended) though, despite what it sounds like, and although I was a basket case over at least two players over the years, I handled myself well most of the time. But for every one of me? There were a dozen crazyspices out there who didn’t quite have my boundaries. I knew a few and although I turned in my Official Player Stalking Club card years ago, I’m assuming they still exist in minor league arenas all throughout the country. THAT is why Twitter worries me. For all these little manchildren playing in the minors out there, oy vey for them.

Can’t lie, now my brain is working on would’ve been tweets for some of the other guys. At least the ones it wouldn’t have completely dumbfounded. *cough*Jon*cough*

Update: the blogroll is back. I know you were worried.

Fantasy draft in 14 hours! My shit’s all in order just in case I’m only half coherent in the morning. I’m nervous though…I told someone today it’s like the first day of school, you just want to get there, get it over with and find out who is your damn class. You’re all please don’t let me be stuck next to guy who smells like baked beans all year. You know what I mean, Vern? Anyhow, I’m not sure which I want more: to win my league (finally) or to beat my friend Ray.  I’m gonna be greed city and go with both.

Obviously I visit loads of sports sites on a daily (hourly?) basis. I only comment on a few sites/forums just because I’m too lazy to get into it with people. I rarely have patience for morons, which is odd because I comment at KSK the most.  I find that talking about sports, especially football, ranks up there with religion and politics. The only difference for me personally is I can keep my mouth shut when it comes to the last two. However, that doesn’t mean I don’t try to keep up on current affairs and am open-minded about other choices and opinions that differ from my own. And I believe, if you fancy yourself a true fan or connoisseur of a sport, you should attempt to do the same.

I won’t go into specifics, but the other day someone on a Cowboys “forum” I frequent posted an update about Brett Favre’s inability to gel in the Vikings locker room. I read it, thought it was interesting (but didn’t really find it surprising, nor should anyone). Someone responded along the lines of he didn’t care about Favre or the Vikings, he only cared about the Cowboys. My first response was “crimeny, what a typical American ass-hole.” A bit of an unfair statement? Perhaps. A little true? Seriously. That’s a minor example of why Cowboys fans have such a bad rep.

I’m not saying you should be interested in every single team in the league and know every player’s dog’s name. Just saying you should probably look around. Playing fantasy you obviously HAVE to. However, being up-to-speed on what’s going on in the league, your conference and DEFINITELY your division doesn’t hurt. You don’t who you could face in the playoffs, the conference championship or the Super Bowl. No matter how asinine it is, the Vikings are picked to get far this year, if not all the way (lame), by a lot of talking heads; they’re in the NFC and we play them the last pre-season game. So in a lot of ways, it does have to do with the Cowboys. Maybe I’m just being a nerd, I don’t know. OR maybe I don’t like sounding like a retard.

I have to admit though, as open-minded as I am about religions and politics, some things I won’t budge on…like my opinion (the FACT!) that all Eagles fans are dicks.

So CLSL is official. The beginning of our new layout is up and running. It’s far from finished, but we’ll get there. I absolutely love it so far. Anyhow…let’s talk pre-season.

There are those who don’t give two thoughts about pre-season and have no patience for it, those who follow it lightly…then there are those, like me, who think it’s one of the best times of a season. September was the most important month of my life in high school and most of college due to hockey pre-season. I skipped the occassional morning class in college for training camp and arranged my work schedule around pre-season games. That’s about as rebellious as I got until I started drinking. And trust me, there was a good reason why my hockey player stalking days were well before my drinking days.

For me and hockey, training camp meant the young guys were in town. But once they started getting younger than me, that just got a little creepy! (So says the girl who previously stated she’s waiting for Taylor Lautner to turn 18…) For any sport though, it’s predominantly a very exciting part of the season. It’s the one time a year that every player on the field is working his ass off for something: getting over that previous season ending injury, dusting off the off-season cobwebs, moving up a spot, grabbing a position on the starting line-up, landing a new or bigger contract or most importantly, just making the team. The possibilities are endless…I mean who would’ve thought this time last year the Cardinals would’ve ended their season in the Super Bowl? During pre-season everything is still bright and shiny. It’s after Thanksgiving when things start getting dark, fuzzy and depressing once you realize your QB is going to go stupid on you yet again.

Although pre-season is indeed the epitome of possibility, it’s pretty ridiculous to leverage a season worth of potential on ONE DROPPED PASS. Or, perhaps, a pass that couldn’t even be caught? John Kitna sent a soaring pass clear over Miles Austin’s head last Friday against the Titans. Romo did the same thing against the Raiders. A couple of days later I searched Miles’s name on Twitter. Huge mistake. People are morons. Shortly after someone properly reported Kitna overthrowing the pass to Austin, several idiots tweeted comments like “Austin you had your chance, you’re out”. Wait, seriously? The man has has a 43″ vertical, yes, but where exactly was he supposed to catch that pass? Two rows up in the stands? Everyone fancies themselves a head coach right now and it’s grating. I’m not retarded, I know Crayton more than likely has a hold on the 2nd spot. But he’s YET to prove he can consistently hold on to the ball. None of us have seen every hour of training camp. And it’s damn ridiculous for anyone, especially a knowledgeable, professional journalist to judge his long-term capability on having three chances, including the two that were overthrown, in two games. For example, from the JJT over at the DMN:

Miles Austin has been OK, but hasn’t showed he can be a legitimate speed threat.

First of all, we already know he’s fast. Second of all, it would be kinda ludicrous for him to blaze a flipping trail down the field WITHOUT THE BALL. Just saying. At least MILES agrees with me:

But Austin isn’t worried about his lack of preseason production. He’s still confident that he’ll play a significant role in the passing game this season.

“I’d rather do it in the season when it really counts and matters,” said Austin, who split time with Sam Hurd in three-receiver sets against the Titans. “I’m making sure I’m at my spot, making sure I’m at my depth and trying to get open. If they throw me that ball, that’s fine. If they don’t, as long as we’re winning …”

And YES…I’m completely biased. I’m not ashamed. (Have I mentioned at least 80% of my visitors are searching Miles Austin?)

BTW, fantasy draft is now this weekend. And I have a birthday party in Hollywood to go to the night before. Rules were meant to be broken I suppose.

Texas brews its beer just as good as its women. Yeah, that's me in UT orange with a Shiner at a 105-degree party. It's like I never left TX.

Drinking is a funny thing. I realized tonight whilst trying to decide upon a cocktail at dinner that I don’t think I’ve touched (or even sniffed) tequila in over two months. By all means, correct me if I’m wrong…it happens on occasion. Also, if you’ve not visited Texts From Last Night, I HIGHLY suggest you do so (after you finish reading this). It’s chalk full of drunk little ditties. Howev, this is absolutely priceless:

“If it’s vodka, everyone is attractive. Tequila, everyone is dead sexy, single and f*ckable.”

I think tequila and I are on a trial separation. The first fallout I had with alcohol was with red wine after my company Christmas party in 2002. However, looking back it really wasn’t the wine’s fault that I hadn’t eaten all day. That was a knockdown drag out, ass-kicking, physical sort of fight. Death would’ve been better the next day than having to put on a happy face and go to my then boyfriend’s parents’ house and pretend I was a-okay. It took me two years to even smell red wine without wanting to hurl. True story. This fallout with tequila is different, it’s emotional. That’s even worse. But I believe in second chances in most cases, therefore, I have a blind date with what’s supposed to be the best Orange County margarita Saturday after next. We’ll see how it goes. I’m optimistic and will be packing an overnight bag, just in case things go well. *wink*

I’m a firm believer that alcohol and sports are just as much soul mates as chocolate and peanut butter. Or me and Taylor Lautner will be when he’s legal. Seriously, he’s a huge football fan and, AND!!! I even read he’s a Longhorn fan. Hook ‘em.

Anyway, I digress. So my fantasy football draft is the same day as my margarita date. THANKFULLY the draft is hours before things could potentially get messy. Because I have one rule this year: thou shall not be drunk (or still drunk) during thy draft. Last summer was a very messy time for me, I did a LOT of drinking in general, but the night before the draft I hit the WeHo bars pretty hard. Happy hour at 6 p.m. turned into me standing up mid-cocktail around 1 a.m yelling “O.M.G. I have to go, my fantasy football draft is in six hours.”  Trust me, THOSE words have never been yelled in West Hollywood before (or since). Although I had my research done and picks sorted weeks prior to the draft, I was not in good shape otherwise. My league runs on Central time. I, obviously, do not. I had to be online at 6:45 a.m. I slept through my first alarm, woke up around 6:55 a.m. and ran circles around my apartment trying to find my laptop (naturally I forgot I’d actually plugged it in by the bed the day before). I got online, tried to focus and make sure everything was in order and answered my friend Eric’s countless text messages with yes, I promise I was alive…but was pretty sure I was still drunk.

It's a strip club, man! I'm here to work!

I had it all under control until about the time we hit the third round. Oh no, what happened then you ask? I totally started puking between picks. Although that wasn’t exactly ladylike, did I ever miss a pick? No, of course not. I’m a firm believer in puke and rally. Billy Bob would’ve been proud.

P.S. The Cowboys, albeit mostly the fifth string they picked up off the street, will be on my TV Thursday night. Word.

A few weeks ago I was at dinner with a large-ish group of friends. The  conversation was all over the place, which is fine, as my head follows nothing less than random. At some point, we started discussing what our various quirks are. That convo took place late on a Thursday night, by Friday afternoon the only thing I could come up with was I think I look retarded in overly girly earrings and I refuse to eat veal and lamb. LAME.

Somewhere around the same time, a reader posted a comment that started out with “Miles Austin? Really?!” So that got me thinking – and not about Miles Austin, ass holes…

Lucky charms

Sports quirks. Quirks of the sports fan. (By the way, I’ve reached the point where I’ve typed quirk so much it looks like the weirdest word EVER). We all have rituals and superstitions, as all die hard fans do. Because I’m mentally challenged, there were two songs I listened to every time I headed to Santa Monica to watch a game with the Cowboys group – “Gimme More” by Brit Brit and “A Milli” by Lil Wayne. True story, cause why exactly would I make that up? In addition, I have a necklace with The Star on it, the first game I forgot to wear it? We not only took our first loss, we lost to the Redskins. Ew. But superstitions aren’t really quirks, they’re more like examples of our retardedness and how we’ve convinced ourselves a team’s ability to win or lose is dependent upon what color of underwear we wear (or whether we wear underwear at all…wait, what?).

Per my response to the aforementioned reader’s comment, I realized I have a Crazy Little Sports Quirk(ish). Ready for this? I don’t favoritize (did I just make that word up?) players that everyone else does. Meaning, I will move on to my next favorite player once one becomes too popular. Hence the constant question of “Miles Austin? Really?!” I became a Marion Barber fan three years ago when he fell onto my first fantasy team. I bought my white Barber jersey two years ago, my blue Barber jersey last year. Then I went to a game in Dallas. It was like the number 24 had staged an attack on Texas Stadium.  I can’t be having that. I’d already taken a liking to young Miles during Hard Knocks and was keeping an eye on his performance (dirty). So I thought, well, WHY NOT?! So I ordered my custom Austin jersey and as of right now, I’m going to take a guess that there aren’t TOO many out there. I have a suspicion that won’t last long, however. Blurgh. Anyhow, I’ve always been this way, I was even worse with hockey. I worshiped the ground Mike Modano walked on, until he blew the f*ck up, became Mr. Dallas and I was like, okay, not cool anymore – we’re done. I went onto Jamie Langenbrunner. Same thing happened, had to break up with him as well (and then he went and got himself traded to the Devils, he was so heartbroken). Then I picked an absolutely not really known outside of the fans of the teams he played for player in Petr Buzek. I OWNED that number one fan spot and almost ran with it right  into the loony bin (or into a restraining order).

This leads me to admit that some may question my reasoning behind picking favorite players. I don’t pick players for why a lot of people probably THINK I do. I look for potential and I look for heart. I like ‘em when they still play for the love of the game…when they’re still up and coming. So, you can have your mass produced Romo and Witten jerseys. Make fun of me all you want, fools, I’m okay being a crazy with an Austin jersey.

I heart birthdays

Sunday begins my birthweek. YES, I get a whole week because 1) I am a girl and we get what we want, 2) I call shenanigans on only celebrating one day and 3) I am THAT awesome. Therefore, let’s talk PRESENTS.

1. Thank you to the NHL for sending the Dallas Stars to Los Angeles next Thursday, the day after my birthday. That was generous of you on several levels – not only picking my week of birth, but also avoiding my actual night of birth so I can go drink.

2. Thank you to the NHL Network for hosting a free preview next week. Seriously, you’re spoiling me. You’re already sending me the Stars, but now I get to watch all the hockey games I want for five whole days?! That’s amazing…because not only will I be ABLE to watch hockey on the television set, I might actually do so. Crazy!

3. NFL free agency started today. Being the selfless individual I am, I would actually like to give Terrell Owens away for my birthday. Some might call that too generous…I say no, no it’s the LEAST I can do.

4. As a present to myself, I am going to Tony Parker’s wife’s (I love her) restaurant for my birthday dinner. There will be much tequila, tacos, guacamole and get this – sweet potato tater tots! Can. Not. Wait. I’ve been trying to go there since it damn well opened.

A must have for every Cowboys fangirl

5. My birthday is obviously and unfortunately (or fortunately?!) close to the recently celebrated Valentine’s Day. Most girls love flowers, candy and all of the stereotypical gifts of choice. But we’ve more than established by now I’m not most girls. So someone finally figured out how to woo me properly and got me BOYS WILL BE BOYS for Valentine’s.  Raise your hand if your wife/girlfriend would’ve killed you. Tis a damn shame there’s only one of me to go around, I know.