Yes, true, August means the summer, which means insane heat around "beautiful" Southern Californhell, and as usual this summer hasn't "disappointed" when it's come to proving insane temperatures (including one lovely afternoon where it was 98 and CLOUDY around 5 pm)... But, summer also means some awesome birthdays, like the Queen and the real Queen Of Country.

No, not Shania, of course... But, Queen Sherrie, who turned 37 today (or yesterday, depending on her point of view). Happy Birthday, Sherrie!

It's hard to believe it's been a little over ten years since her (country) debut album, Words, came out - or 15 years or so since her pop debut came out (which, needless to say, got neither the airplay nor publicity that Erotica got). It's also more than a little sad to think it's now been four years since Sherrie has released an album at all, and there really isn't any word at this point as to when, or if, we'll see more work for her (outside of her writing for other artists - the latest being the song "Bad For Me" that was recently released by Danielle Peck).

Still, I do hope she is having a special day, and that she is happy - though I do miss the hell out of her.


As promised, here are the "questions" to the recent "answers" I posted from that awesome Jeopardy! category, Prime Madonna. To my shock, Elaine only batted .800 and not the 1.000 that I expected, though I do assume she might've misread one of the clues. In fine Jeopardy! tradition (though the only place where I even remotely resemble Ken Jennings is on the PC version of the game), I'll give the responses in the form of a question. :P

"$200: In January 1985 Madonna & this actor had their first date; they'd be married by August". Who is Sean Penn?

"$400: In 1992 Madonna's Mae Mordabito took the field with Geena Davis in this film". What is A League Of Their Own?

"$600: "Don't just stand there, Let's get to it, Strike a pose, There's nothing to it"; come on, it's this hit song". What is "Vogue"?

"$800: Madonna was Breathless (Mahoney) in this 1990 detective flick". What is Dick Tracy?

(Lil' Breathless: I knew that!)

Yeah, I figured she would. And you know what's amazing? You look the same that you did back then! How do you do it?!

So far, so good. But I think Elaine might've misread the $1,000 clue, because this was the one she missed (I think she focused on "scholarship", and not "studio", because while Madge did indeed earn a scholarship to attend the University of Michigan, she did also earn a dance scholarship to a dance school as well...).

"$1,000: In 1977 Madonna won a scholarship to the studio of this alliteratively named N.Y. choreographer". Who is Alvin Ailey?

(And, no.. Had it not been for reading three biographies on The Queen, I would not have known that myself.)

So, now all I can do is sit back and wait for the $3,000 check from Jeopardy! for sweeping the category... Which, I know, will be here any day now, along with the $1,000,000+ check I know they are sending me for winning 40 straight games on the PC version... And, of course, those $1,000,000 checks from winning the PC version of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire...


Speaking of game shows, we originally planned to attend the August 29 taping of The Price Is Right. Due to some things coming up (and some questions), we've decided to postpone. We're likely to be attending an October 25 taping instead.

Even after postponing the plans for tomorrow, I had wanted to do at least one taping this season as a show of respect toward Drew. I had talked the talk, and it's only fair to walk the walk. So, it wasn't a question of if, but when.

Well, I got news recently on golden-road.net that October 25, which will be the last taping in October, is going to mark the second time this year that an era will come to a close at Television City... Because on October 25, Chuck Dukas is going to show up in his snappy red jacket, deliver the rules and regulations in the way that only Chuck can, and fire up 330 people for the last time.

Working as a page at CBS is a paid intern position, where these young people only initially work for twelve months. They can apply for an addition six months, but there is no guarantee to being approved. Well, Chuck has not only used up his initial twelve month period, but at the end of October, he'll also have used up his six month extension.

I still regret not being there to say goodbye to Bob (and had I known for sure that I would've camped out for 24 hours, and gotten in, I would've been there). But it's only fitting that as one of the people who helped create the Legend Of Chuck in the first place that I should be there to send off The Greatest Page Of All-Time in fine style - by leading (at least) one last final, thunderous chant...

CHUCK! CHUCK! CHUCK! CHUCK! CHUCK!

First Bob, and now Chuck... After October, Television City will truly never be the same.

But, we'll always have 8/31/*6... And 5/17/07... And, who knows? Twice now, when The Maddy and The Chuck have gotten together, great things have happened. Maybe 10/25/07 will lead to one last moment of magic.


Speaking of The Drew Is Right, if you haven't been watching Power Of 10, shame on you. Great show, and Drew does a great job hosting it. Wednesdays at 8 pm on CBS... Be there!

Labels: Chuck, Madge Worship, Stone Cold Sherrie Austin, The Drew Is Right, The Stormin' Mormon

Yes, that's right... Her Madgesty is no longer the world's hottest, most amazing 48-year-old. I'm sorry, Madge.

...That's because she's now the world's hottest, most amazing 49-year-old.

While all the hype yesterday was over the fact it was the 30th anniversary of Elvis' death, the first thing I thought when I woke up yesterday morning to go grocery shopping (to avoid the insane heat) was "Holy crap, she's 49 now!", followed by "...You mean she's 366 days away from turning 50?!"

So, yes, a slightly late Happy Birthday to The Queen, who hopefully had a very special birthday... And who needs to invite her twin from a parallel universe to one of her parties one of these days. :P

Besides, I seriously want what she's having... I want to look like that when I'm 49. Hell, I want to look like that at 32!

I also promised to include the answers from the last post in this post. I'm going to hold off until the next one. Why? Because I want Elaine to prove me right by correctly answering all five as well. :P

Labels: Madge Worship

Between the last post, and last Tuesday, I definitely need some giggles. How about the rest of you?

Last Tuesday, of course, not only did the nail get put in baseball's coffin (amazingly, the head on it looks like an asterisk), I got into a major war with my sister (the one I WAS on good terms with). It's a long story, and I'm not going to get into it here, but I'll say this: We're not likely to speak again until she has a personality transplant.

That said, onto some lighter fare...

I finally got around to reading Ken Jennings' book, Brianiac. Very enjoyable read that not only took a look at his run through game show history (including his thoughts on how he knew it was over before the Final Jeopardy! music ended during game #75), but a look at the history of trivia.

Not only was Ken his usual witty self, but the book was even full of trivia questions (Most of the chapters had ten questions scattered through them, with answers at the end of the chapter).

The only thing is, I must penalize Ken for 15 yards for piling on... Why, you ask?

Ken was discussing how much more intellectual and obsessed with trivia people are in England, then cited a number of examples. The last one was "When Madonna decided she wanted to sound smarter, what phony accent did she adopt? Exactly."

*blows her whistle and throws a yellow flag* "Personal foul, piling on! #74, Jeopardy!. 15 yard penalty, first down!"

Sorry, but sometimes I get a little irked that "The Accent" (which doesn't stand out to me as much as it does with others) has replaced The Boobs as people's favorite thing to blast Madge over...

(Lil' Maddy: Just wait until I get my hands on him! I'll give him a Daily Double!)

Uhh, Ken? There's a 10 inch doll on my desk who'd like to have a word with you...

Moving on, and speaking of Jeopardy!, I was going through the archives over at J! Archive, and was tickled pink when I saw the board for the first round for the 2/27/07 show... The categories were...

Potent Potables.
Condiments
(Burt Reynolds: I'll take that condom thing for eight thou!)

An Album Cover
(Sean Connery: I'll take anal bum cover for $7,000!)

A Petit Dejouner
(Burt Reynolds: Yeah.. Uhh.. Why don't you give me ape tit for $400!)

Famous Titles
(Sean Connery: The day is mine! I'll take famous titties for $800!)

Japan US Relations
(Sean Connery: I'll take jap anus relations for $200!)
(Alex Trebek: That's Japan US Relations. That's just awful and you know it!)

Potpourri
And, finally... Therapists
(Sean Connery: Looks like this is my lucky day. Let's try the rapists for $200!)

Just kidding, of course.. No, the real categories were Historic Americans, Brand Names, Political Science, Who Says, Also a Three-Letter Tree (nothing real impressive yet, I know), and.... Prime Madonna.

(Lil' Maddy - with Wondie's lasso around her: Woo hoo! I'll take Prime Madonna for $200!)

Wondie, what did she do now?

(Lil' Wondie: She was trying to take over the world again, so I stopped her. Honestly, I think she does this on purpose. I think she wants me to use my lasso on her.)
(Lil' Breathless stands there singing "Hanky Panky")

Probably...

Anyway, I think it goes without saying what this category was about... I swept the category myself (What a shock, huh? It'd be like putting a category up there called The Price Is Right, or John Grisham, or Thigh-High Boots, or Insane Barbie Dolls That Stand On My Desk).

But, for the rest of you reading, here were the clues. Feel free to play along at home (and, yes, I get the feeling at least one person reading along will have no trouble with this category, either) - just be sure to answer in the form of a question!

$200: In January 1985 Madonna & this actor had their first date; they'd be married by August

$400: In 1992 Madonna's Mae Mordabito took the field with Geena Davis in this film

$600: "Don't just stand there, Let's get to it, Strike a pose, There's nothing to it"; come on, it's this hit song

$800: Madonna was Breathless (Mahoney) in this 1990 detective flick
(Lil' Breathless: Ohh! I know! I know!)

I would HOPE that you would know that one, dear!

$1,000: In 1977 Madonna won a scholarship to the studio of this alliteratively named N.Y. choreographer

Answers will be in the next post, though I'd imagine even casual fans should know at least three of the five easily... And, yeah, I even knew the $1,000 clue - the benefits of reading three different biographies on The Queen...

In the second round, in the sixth column, we got Prima Donna. Not quite as entertaining, since it involved Donnas and not Madonna.

Lastly, in yet another example of the unstoppable influence of Queen Madonna, imagine my shock last week when I was looking over CNN's sports page, and saw a rather familiar face in an unusual place. Yes, next to the link for "Extra Mustard" (Kind of SI's sports mixed with entertainment coverage), there was a picture of Her Madgesty, from the Confessions Tour.

Needless to say, I had to click on that link... It led to a brief piece (and link) to a blog post about entrance music for baseball players. And the reason that Madge's picture was on a sports site was because Matt Holliday of the Colorado Rockies steps up to the plate to a song that he shares his name with:



Baseball may be dead, but Matt Holliday is good and wise.

(Lil' Wondie: What were you doing in THAT picture?)
(Lil' Maddy: Striking a pose?)
(Lil' Wondie: Uh huh...)

Labels: Boot Worship, Lil' Maddy, Lil' Wondie, Madge Worship, Mi Vida Loca, The Stormin' Mormon

(I know. I started a seperate sports-related blog for shit like this. That said, I haven't posted there in years, and probably won't again. Nor am I likely to have much to say about sports - especially baseball - here or anywhere else in the future again.

That said, read on.)

Back in the 1960's, of course, we got the "Paul is dead" hoax concerning Paul McCartney. We know of course this isn't true. Paul is alive and well, still performing (sadly, though, he does have that dreaded deal with Starfucks). And, a couple years ago, he even got to help life imitate art, as the man who once sang "When I'm 64" made it to his 64th birthday.

That's more than you can say about the national farce. Yes, the worst nightmare for real baseball fans became a reality last night, around 8:00 pm PDT in San Diego.

BALCO Bonds sent home run 755* over the left field fence, "tying" the real record set by Hank Aaron.

It's bad enough that Bonds is a major league asshole, who cares only about himself, and is a blatant racist (refusing to sign autographs for white people, openly saying he wants to break white records like Babe Ruth's and Mark McLiar's). In other words, Bonds is the ant-Aaron.

But, then of course, we get to Barry's favorite hobby in recent years: Experimenting with steroids. The cream, the clear, THG, insulin, female fertility drugs, you name it. In 20 years, baseball players who want to juice up won't need to find steroids. They can just inject Bonds' blood into them. His blood by now has to be the most potent performance-enhancing drug ever created - just like how Keith Richards' blood can probably give someone the biggest high ever!

Anyone who paid an ounce of attention, and who exists in a state of reality, has known Bonds has been cheating for years. We didn't need Game Of Shadows or Love Me, Hate Me or Jose Canseco or the Mitchell "Investigation" - though it's just added to the evidence. Nobody in their mid to late 30's packs on 45 pounds of pure muscle. Nobody grows several hat sizes closing in on middle age (I know Bonds' ego is big, but even his ego isn't big enough to do that!). And nobody starts performing better in their late 30's than they did in their "prime".

For years, the Bonds defenders and ESPN parrots have tried to tell us we're full of shit, because steroids don't improve hand-eye coordination, and Bonds is doing this solely thanks to that. Wrong. Yes, you need hand-eye coordination to hit a baseball. But steroids make help make people stronger, which means using that hand-eye coordination and steroids to hit the ball even FURTHER, leading to more home runs.

There is a person (I am drawing a blank on his name) who is basically a home run research junkie. He watches games, he documents the distance of home runs, and keeps all this information. He pointed out the fact that Bonds had only hit a handful of home runs over 450 feet from 1986-1998, and then began to routinely hit them beyond that distance come 1999 (when Bonds became a walking chemistry set). Coincidence?

As for the ones who defend Bonds, even if he is juiced, claiming pitchers were on the shit, too? I don't care if before an at bat, Bonds and Jason Grimsley shot themselves full of shit in plain view of everyone, then Bonds hit a 650 home run. Not only is Bonds not in the right just because Grimsley cheated two (what the fuck ever happened to two wrongs don't make a right?!), but last time I checked, Bonds passed a lot of people on the all-time home run list who weren't cheating (Ernie Banks, Ted Williams, Mike Schmidt, Reggie Jackson, Frank Robinson, Babe Ruth and Hank Aaron, to name a few). Therefore, regardless of whether he was hitting them off juiced pitchers, he was passing players who WEREN'T juiced.

Hence, tainted history.

There are those who try to defend Bonds by claiming "he never failed a steroid test" and "innocent until proven guilty!". First off, the point of taking a undetectable steroid is SO THAT IT DOESN'T COME UP IN TESTS! Of course he hasn't failed a steroid test. As far as innocent until proven guilty? That applies to a court of law, not the court of public opinion. That said, there is far more evidence that Bonds turned himself into the Incredible Hulk on the strength of THG, HGH and various other performance-enhancing drugs than there is evidence that BALCO Barry did this on the strength of healthy eating, exercise and "flaxseed oil".

And, of course, unlike football or cycling, Major League Baseball DESTROYED all the old samples taken for past drug tests, meaning once the truth came out about BALCO's latest creations, it was impossible to re-test them for these designer, hi-tech steroids...

Besides, does anyone really think for a second that just because BALCO has been destroyed that Bonds is now clean, anyway? How long do you think it took him to find a new lab and a new undetectable steroid to continue his tainted run for "history" and "glory"? A week, maybe?

And, we sure can't overlook the allegations made in Game Of Shadows that Bonds was notified weeks in advance whenever MLB planned on testing him for steroids, can we? We know goddamned good and well that baseball allowed this to happen, and had no real intention to get steroids out of baseball. Why? Money. Money for the players, but more importantly, money for the owners and Bud $elig himself. And money makes the baseball go 'round...

That said, if I were Barry Bonds, and I wasn't a walking syringe, and two books came out claiming I was a steroid freak, I would sue their asses off. Sure, Bonds filed a lawsuit over Game Of Shadows. However, that suit was intended to have the book pulled because the authors were "profiting off leaked grand jury testimony" - nowhere in the suit were the words "slander", "libel" or "defamation of character" present. Gee, why's that, Barry? Could it be that you know goddamned good and well it's the truth, and that if you tried to sue for libel that it'd backfire on you?

Speaking of "innocent" people with skeletons (and BALCO's goodies) in their closet, how's Greg Anderson doing, Barry? Does he need another coat of Gorilla Glue on those lips? How sweet of him, to sit in a cell for obstruction of justice because he would rather protect his "innocent" friend than sit on a witness stand in front of a grand jury...

After all, you hear all the time about how friends refuse to testify in court because they don't want to spill all the innocent details about their innocent friends.

But what's more sickening than your cheating is the reasoning behind it - jealousy and racism. You blew a gasket because Mark McLiar overshadowed you in 1998 by hitting 70* home runs. You were pissed that a white man was getting more pres than you. So, you figured that if you can't beat them, join them - and you decided to get on the shit and cheat, just like McLiar did.

Jealousy? You were already in the midst of a Hall Of Fame career, you idiot. If I had any say in the voting, you would've gotten my vote before 1998, even though I hated your guts even then. Why? Because you would've deserved it. But now? Fuck that noise. If they won't let Pete Rose in, your cheating ass sure doesn't belong in.

But the racism angle... That's the one that really burns me. As someone who admires Jesse Owens, Jackie Robinson, Larry Doby, Hank Aaron, Ernie Banks, Satchel Paige and countless other black athletes who made a REAL difference - not only in sports, but in society - your "Fuck Whitey" attitude makes me want to vomit. Juicing up to pass McLiar and Shammy Sammy "Corky" Sosa is one thing. But juicing up to pass a genuine hero like Hank Aaron? You not only pissed all over the game, but you pissed all over one of the most honorable men to EVER play the game.

And for that, I'll never forgive you - even if some clean ballplayer comes along and shatters your "record" by hitting 1,000 home runs.

On that topic, I'd also like to address the people who are doing more to harm race relations in America than help them, by playing the race card when it comes to BALCO Big-Head. People who cheer against Bonds are racist? Really?

So, I'm racist because I don't want Bonds to break Hank Aaron's record?

So, I'm racist because I was disgusted that Bonds planned on wearing Jackie Robinson's #42 on the 60th anniversary of Robinson's debut, because Bonds has taken everything Jackie ever stood for and pissed all over it?

So, I'm racist when I bash ALL these cheaters (and the ones I strongly suspect), which includes Mark McLiar and Roger Clemens - who are both quite white, last time I checked? And let's not forget my head-shaking over Wally Joyner - WALLY JOYNER! - experimenting with steroids for a week or so back in 1998, because he was beginning to feel like that was the only way to compete anymore.

And, on McLiar... Shit. Anyone who has known me for years knew I used to be one of the biggest McLiar fans around. I'd been a fan of him since he was a rookie, for crying out loud! But, several years ago, when digging for evidence to prove Bonds was a cheater, I not only found evidence to prove my point with Bonds - I found evidence that opened my ears to McLiar, too - years before You-Know-Who's ex-boyfriend wrote his book that shattered the illusion on him. I didn't sit there reading this, thinking "Fuck Bonds. McLiar rules!". The fact that I was a McLiar fan and a Bonds hater was irrelevant - and, the fact one is white and one is black was even less relevant. No, my immediate reaction was "Fuck you, Barry. And fuck you too, Mark!"

At that point, I not only swore that I'd never show Bonds an ounce of respect again, but that my respect for McLiar went down the toilet as well.

I don't care what color the person's skin is. The ones that played the game the right way get my respect. The cheaters get scorn and mockery. I don't care if they're white (McLiar, Clemens), black (Bonds), Dominican (Shammy Sammy), Cuban (Rafael Palmeiroids, Jose Canseco), or from another planet. You cheat, and you can go to hell.

That said about Bonds, Bonds isn't the sole problem here. He isn't the lone cheater (though he may be the most high-profiled and appalling case of it, thanks to what he did), nor is he the lone reason baseball is now dead to me...

Baseball knew there was a problem for years. Right after the 1994 strike, when players returned from the layoff looking like the East German women's Olympic swim team, Cal Ripken and Tony Gwynn both went to "Commisioner" $elig, expressing their concerns that a number of players were on steroids.

Bud "Do nothing unless it brings me more money" $elig, the used-car salesman himself, handled it the only way he knew how: He did nothing. He ignored two legitimate players, two future Hall of Famers who played the game the right way.

He ignored the evidence on McLiar, Sosa, Bonds and countless others.

He, along with "acting commisioner" Donald Fehr (the so-called head of the players' union) put together a paper-thin, PR-motivated "steroid policy" in ***2 that had no teeth and no real purpose. It was there solely to try to fool fans into believing baseball was now "tough" on steroids, and that the time had come to clean up the sport - when in reality, you had no intention of doing EITHER.

Hell, if it hadn't been for your asses being dragged in front of Congress a couple years ago, you'd still be doing nothing (instead of what you're doing now, which is almost nothing). Why would you care? "Chicks dig the long ball!", you trumpeted. Who cares if the home runs are legitimate, just as long as they're happening - and making everyone a shitload of money...

You allowed the game of baseball and its history to be tainted forever in the name of money. You sold the game's show, dignity and integrity so we could get the Summer of Mark and Sammy, so we could get 73*, and now 755*.

As Martin Vail once told Roy Shaughnessy in Reign In Hell (the third book of William Diehl's Primal Fear trilogy): "You know what they say, Roy. When you shake hands with the devil, you're already halfway to Hell."

Well, as far as I'm concerned, the game is now all the way to Hell.

Never again will I be able to respect a game where a known cheater can claim the records for home runs in a season, and in a career. Bonds could've, and SHOULD'VE, been stopped years ago. But $elig, Fehr and the other Powers That Be blindfolded themselves with dollar bills as Bonds and his horde of chemically-enhanced, pharmacutically-created crooks assaulted the record books and the game's history.

Never again will I be able to watch a baseball game, see an amazing feat, and not wonder if it's real, or the result of wonder drugs. 500 foot home runs, overpowering strikeouts, amazing defensive plays. Talented, or tainted? Natural, or artificial? Desire, or drugs?

Baseball is now dead to me. 756* will put the nail in the coffin.

I'll always love the game's real history. I'll always look back fondly on the days of old. I'll have my happy memories of players I watched who played the game right - the George Bretts and the Kirk Gibsons, the Alan Trammels and the Bobby Griches, the Orel Hershisers and the Fernando Valenzuelas. I'll have my memories of those colorful managers, like Lasorda and Martin and Weaver, and those teams that played hard but played clean. I'll always have 1981 and 1988 and ***2. I'll have those fond thoughts of the game of old, when men like Ruth and Gehrig, Williams and DiMaggio, Mantle and Snider, Banks and Koufax ruled the game.

But the modern game? It's all a farce. A lie. A disgrace to what the game was supposed to stand for. The players today are a disgrace to the men who paved the way in the past.

Major League Baseball 1876-August 4, 2007. Rest in hell, baseball.

Have you ever been sittin' at home watchin' television
and suddenly Bonds comes on the TV and you say to yourself,
"Hey, how come my life ain't like that?"
Or maybe you're sittin' lookin' in a magazine,
you see McGwire in some advertising, you says,
"Man, I must really suck because my life sure ain't like that."
Did you ever feel that way? Yeah...
Well, you wanna know why your life isn't like what you see on TV
and ESPN, in magazines and such, you wanna know why?
'Cause it's all bullshit! That's right...
Don't you go believing TV and magazines and newspapers and all that crap, come on, I mean...
All that is is chemist's steroid fantasy, you know what I'm sayin' to you?
In fact, all they are is really more like a "Grand Illusion."

Welcome to the grand illusion
Drink on up and see what's happenin'
Pay the price come and check out the freak show
He's at the plate, camera's are flashin'
Suddenly your heart is pounding
You're wishing secretly you were a star

But don't be fooled by Mike Krukow
The paper or ESPN
They'll show you photographs
Of how baseball should be
But they're just Victor Conte's fantasies

So if you think the game is complete confusion
'Cause someone doused Aaron's flame
Just remember Bonds is a grand illusion
And deep inside he's goddamned lame
He's goddamned lame

So if you think the game is complete confusion
'Cause BALCO Barry's got it made
Just remember Bonds is a grand illusion
Deep inside he's goddamned lame

America spells competition
Barry gave in to blind ambition
Got himself some designer steroids
But no one out there needs to ponder
What the hell spell this game is under
Now there's no longer need to wonder
What the fuck they are

Here, Barry. Here's your new logo. I hope you get used to seeing it:
*

Labels: A world gone mad, BALCO Barry, Baseball is dead, Cheaters, Corporate Assholes, Sports

Well, I have survived Blogathon. And, once again, a huge thank you to everyone!

After sleeping for 15 hours on Sunday, I've been busy playing catch-up, as well as taking care of the usual first of the month fun. But, the bills are paid, the kitchen is stocked up, and I don't have to worry about that fun for another month now.

Speaking of fun. Hey, girls...

(Lil' Maddy: Yes?)

Your new friend is here.

(Lil' Breathless: That's okay. We'll pass. There's only room for us two on this desk.)

Uh huh. We'll see about that...

*Maddy spends half an hour fussing with the box, carefully removing her new addition, grumbling about how Houdini couldn't get out of this*

(?: You'd think I'd be used to this by now.)

What, you mean being stuck in this box for eight years?

(?: No. I mean being bound. This must've been Charles Moulton's idea.)

*fusses around some more, grumbling about how I should be a certified surgeon after this* There. You're freed at last.

(?: Thank you.)
(Lil' Maddy: Ohhh. Her. I've seen her somewhere before...)
(Lil' Breathless: Me too... She... Oh, shit! It's her! We're busted! Run for it, Maddy!)
(?: Show's over, girls.)
(Lil' Breathless: You know, that cape would look nice with my dress...)
(Lil' Maddy: That tiara would look cute with my nice, gold outfit...)
(Lil' Breathless: Nice bracelets...)
(Lil' Maddy: Ohh, a rope! Kinky! Can I borrow it?)
(Lil' Wondie: No. I need that for catching bad guys. Besides, we know what you'd do with it.)
(Lil' Breathless: Bad guys? But, we're the only people here...)
(Lil' Wondie: Exactly my point.)
(Lil' Maddy: Uh oh...)

She should keep those two busy for awhile...

Anyway, why call this post never say never? Well... Let's take a little walk down memory lane...

November 16, ***5: Maddy takes her first trip to Game Show Mecca, experiencing TPIR live and in person for the first time - complete with "The price is right, bitch!" and Jeanette's unforgetable Showcase win.

August 31, ***6: Maddy takes her fourth trip, encountering Chuck (CHUCK! CHUCK! CHUCK!) for the first time, and helps kick off season 35 in person - not only Bob's last season, but Vickyann's historic day.

April 17, 2007: Trip #6 to Mecca, this time to help celebrate Bob's 50 years on television - with yet another big Showcase win, as well as seeing Triple Play and 1/2 Off won.

May 17, 2007: Trip #7 - and one that I felt would be the last. I finally met The Dob, I got to experience Chuck (CHUCK! CHUCK! CHUCK!) again. And, of course, the handshake I'd waited 28 years for.

What an incredible 18 months of fun. And, if May 17 was my last trip into the Bob Barker Studio, what a way to go. I still have no regrets.

Chekov: Guess who's coming to dinner...

But, if there is one thing I know all too well, it's that things don't always go as you expect them to in life...

Captain Murphy: Ohh, it's you again, huh Dolphin Boy?

As Romeo Void said it so well in the early 80's, never say never...

Steve Trevor: Huh? Wonder Woman? Here? Now?

Because, on August 29, 2007, at 1:15 pm... From the Bob Barker Studio at CBS in Hollywood...

Weeeeeeeeeeeeee'rrrrrrrrrreeeeee baaaaaaaaaaaaaack.

Stan Blits: Oh shit! It's them! We're busted! Run for it, Drew!

That's right. I'm putting my money where my mouth is. I openly campaigned for Drew to get the job. I'd been telling friends for over a month before Drew's name was publicly dragged into the Great Host Search that I felt he'd be perfect. I talked the talk, so I'm going to walk the walk - and watch The Price Is Right with Drew Carey, live and in person - before his first show even hits the airwaves on CBS.

That said, for the first time since November ***5, I take this trip not knowing what to expect. How am I going to feel? What's going to feel right?

Yes, it's going to feel damned funny watching that big door open and watching Drew Carey walk through it - not because he's Drew Carey, but because it's not Bob Barker. And, talk about a baptism by fire - to have the first time I watch DREW walk out that door be in person, and not through the safety of television.

As much as I will be thrilled for Drew, I do expect my heart to hurt, at least a little.

And, what's going to feel right as far as greeting him without making myself feel like "Ohh, that's nice, bitch. Go apeshit already. How quickly you've erased Bob."? Applause? Sure, that's fair. A standing ovation? Maybe. We're not worthy? No way. Not yet, at least... Again, not that I don't like Drew, but it took Bob decades to finally get that out of me. I kinda feel like giving him a "We're not worthy" would come across like "Hey, Drew's been here for two weeks (his first taping will be August 15), and he's here to give away money and cars and refrigerators, so fuck it! Bob, Drew, what's the difference?!"

Maybe I can just stand there, pumping my fists and chanting "Cleveland rocks! Cleveland rocks! Cleveland rocks!" (Which would mean he'd have to finish that up by shouting "O-HIO! IO! IO!", right?) when he makes his entrance? It would be a way of giving props to Drew without me feeling like I'd be giving him Bob's greeting without a second thought. Hmmm...

That said, it'll be great to see Rich, and Dob, and Fingers, and Stan, and Marty, and hopefully either Chuck (CHUCK! CHUCK! CHUCK!) or Mark The Singing Page (MARK! MARK! MARK!) in a few weeks.

I expect it'll be fun. I just know it's all going to feel very different. Maybe I'll need to put something besides Arizona iced tea into that Arizona iced tea bottle for this one.

(Lil' Breathless: Can we come along?)

And where would I put you?

(Lil' Maddy: They'd pick me, for sure. Don't they know who I am?!)

And, what? How are you going to spin the big wheel?

(Lil' Breathless: I'm sure she's strong enough to *points at Lil' Wondie*)
(Lil' Maddy: Yeah. Can I borrow your belt?!)
(Lil' Wondie: No way! I'd be powerless without it. I got enough of that during the first season of the TV show. Those Nazis couldn't seem to leave my belt or bracelets alone!)
(Lil' Maddy: Yeah, but you sure found yourself tied up a lot!)
(Lil' Wondie: Yeah. And unlike some people here, I didn't enjoy it...)

Labels: Barker Worship, Blogathon 2007, Camp Barker, Chuck, Lil' Maddy, Lil' Wondie, Mi Vida Loca, The Drew Is Right, You're A Wonder