Articles about Enemy List
What to do for Post-World Series Depression
Dear San Francisco Giants,
Take your ugly bearded mugs and go home. You broke my heart—you are pros at stealing hearts. However, there is one special moment you can’t touch. Sweetest moment of the year.
The Gloves Are Off, San Francisco (Not Necessarily a Vlad Guerrero Dig)
I mean, come on. Jerks. (Photo by Tom Allen)
Krys Boyd Totally Blues the Air of D Magazine HQ
Every so often we invite someone we’re curious about to come talk to us during the lunch hour in our capacious main conference room. Today, we played host to the lovely and talented Krys Boyd, she of KERA fame. Not long before she told us which local media person she’s not real fond of, she stipulated that everything she said had to be off the record. So I’m not going to tell you who that local media person is. But I will tell you the following: Krys told us that sometimes when she’s nervous and not on the air, when she’s trying to impress someone she thinks is cooler than she is, she’ll use salty language. Then she demonstrated how she uses this crutch, uttering a hypothetical cool-sounding sentence. WOW. You know what? That [redacted] woman can curse. So hot.
If You Fall Down in Central Market Because the Store Neglects To Clean Up a Spill, Do Not Expect an Apology
Last Friday afternoon, I walked into Central Market on Lovers Lane for possibly the last time. And, in retrospect, I feel lucky I was able to walk out.
After picking up a few items, including a thoughtfully selected group of ingredients from the salad bar, I was making the circle around the prepared-foods case when suddenly I found myself on the ground. I had fallen forward, my left knee slamming into the floor. The basket I was carrying also flew forward, propelling salad in all directions. Confused and embarrassed, I picked myself up and told the fellow shopper who had to come to my aid that I was okay. When I turned around, I was still embarrassed but no longer confused. Behind me was a puddle — and I do mean puddle — of spilled oil. My left foot had hit the oil patch and flung me forward.
Eventually, embarrassment would turn to disappointment.
Could You Cheer For Dwyane Wade, Dallas Maverick?
The likelihood of Dwyane Wade, noted 2006 NBA Finals Dream Crusher, ending up playing for Your Dallas Mavericks is probably slim, roughly the same longshot odds of LeBron James doing same. Ira Winderman of the South Florida Sun-Sentinel says Wade will at least talk to the Mavs, so that’s something. For a moment, let’s pretend it actually happens.
For one thing, heretical as it is to say, Wade actually probably fills a bigger need for the Mavs than James does. He’s a shooting guard (haven’t had one of those since Mike Finley left in 2005), gets to the rim (with or without the aid of Bennett GD Salvatore), and is a proven winner. For another: I hate him with the fire of 1,000 suns. I had a chance to meet him while on a freelance assignment, and I can report that he is a nice fella, and has cute (if irritating) kids. Still: I hate him. He is a world-class flopper, treats every scrape like a gunshot wound, relies on refs and their superstar calls, and, not least, he tore the Mavs’ hearts out using all of these things four years ago. If I had three wishes, the first two would remove both his ACLs, and with the last I’d probably, I don’t know, get a grizzly bear as a pet. Haven’t gotten that far.
But if he were on the Mavericks, would I cheer for him? Heck and yes. Rob Mahoney from The Two Man Game goes deeper on the subject right … here.
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