Winning it All: The Baltimore Ravens are World Champs

joe-flacco-super-bowlIt’s been awhile since one of my favorite teams won it all, and I’ve missed the feeling. I’ve been on a high since the Ravens beat Denver last month thanks to Jacoby Jones’ “Mile High Miracle,” and I’m not about to come down. The momentum from that game carried the Ravens into Foxborough, 9 point underdogs for the second week in a row. The Patriots did not stand a chance.

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FINALLY! Buffalo has a WIN!

OH YEAH!

Trust me, it’s not like I’m bragging by any means – I’m actually pretty glad that I couldn’t actually watch the action, given that it went from 14-3 to 14-12 in the last few seconds, in true Buffalo fashion.  But after 3 weeks in a row of losing by 3 points, a win by 2 is still a win!  More celebrating, reflecting, whining, and rambling after the jump…

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It’s MILLER TIME!!

USA! USA!

Apologies to our own Lady Bee in advance, but we’re not just talkin’ country pride here. We’re talkin’ hometown pride. That’s right – the Buffalo Sabres’ own RYAN MILLER is a force to be reckoned with, and that means you, Canada! 45 shots on goal is impressive and all, but Ry’s stopping 42 of them and helping Team USA on to a 5-3 win over Canada this past Sunday is even more impressive in my book. More after the jump on the, well, crap that my hometown hero had to go through leading up to that kick ass night.

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Friday Foodie: Hot Reuben Dip, Spicy Micheladas and Oh Yeah… Yankee Lovin!

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So that happened… my boys in pinstripes won the World Series, Godzilla took home the MVP and all is right with the world.  It’s a bitter sweet feeling, harassing Sox fans since just hasn’t had the same feel.  Is it spring training yet???

But not to worry, I hopped in the kitchen, thought about football and got right back in the swing of things.

So today I bring you another delectable treat, perfect for your tail-gaiting and football spreads!

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Congratulations, Division Champs — Oh, Wait.

So, we got that exciting September baseball after all, huh?  It’s been a while since I followed a baseball game that didn’t involve the Cardinals during my work day, but I was definitely keeping tabs on the first half of that doubleheader.  In between actual work, of course.

In fact, with the Dodgers’ stubborn refusal to clinch their division title and the Braves’ surprising surge against the Rockies, all of a sudden we’re entering the final weekend of the regular season with a few playoff spots not quite settled.  Still, let’s take a minute to congratulate those teams who have already clinched their division — because if there’s anything we here at Ladies… like better than pictures of athletes, it’s pictures of athletes celebrating.

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Confessions of a Frustrated Fan

Two Baltimore Heroes: Eddie & Cal

Two Baltimore Heroes: Eddie & Cal

When it comes to being a sports fan, I have ridden the roller coaster of emotions. I have been privileged to experience the ultimate highs and humbled to have experienced the extreme lows.  Recently, I’ve been forced to take inventory of my sports emotions, so to speak.

As most of you already know, I was born and raised in Baltimore in the early 80s.  My first sports love was the Baltimore Orioles.  When I was a little over 1-year-old, my O’s won the World Series.  That was the last time my beloved franchise was blessed with a title.  Of course, I don’t remember the sweet taste of victory, but I did experience it.  My mom-mom packed up my little self, hopped on a bus and took me downtown for the victory parade.  I have a photo of me in my little stroller, waving my World Series pennant with the parade passing in the background.  What I wouldn’t give to recreate that moment.  Let’s just hope I don’t have to wait until that stroller turns into a wheelchair!

Let’s not forget that until I was a sophomore in college, I had never seen a baseball game that didn’t have Cal Ripken, Jr. playing in it.  I wouldn’t say that the Orioles spoiled me, though.  We were good during my formative sports fan years, but all good things must come to an end.  Personally, I don’t think we’ll ever win until someone finally exacts revenge on that Jeffrey Maier kid. Hate him. While I have come to expect disappointment from the Orioles, I’m having a harder time coming to terms with my other teams.

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March Madness with the KSK Mafia: What a lovely party.

pillowfight.jpeg Well, that happened.

Thanks to everyone who came out today to watch the carnage unfold at Kissing Suzy Kolber. Thanks also to our mostly gracious hosts, who, it can truly be said, took their defeat like men. We’re particularly obliged to Monday Morning Punter for his part in the plotting of this whole ordeal, and most especially to flubby, who maintained uncanny patience today when dealing with Holly and her incompatible stylesheet-manglings. Boys, you truly put the bop in the bop-shoo-bop-shoo-bop…or, should we say, the ram in the rama-lama-ding-dong?

For our part, it’s been a blast. Hope y’all enjoyed the show as much as we loved putting it on.

March Madness with the KSK Mafia: The calm before the takedown.

id4.gif Once upon a time, we made a friendly little wager with the lads of KSK. We stumbled, sobbed incoherently, giggled hysterically, and bit our nails in a most unattractive manner for three weeks. In a juju Hail Mary, we even aligned our fortunes with Buckeye Nation.

And Basketball Jesus (there’s a separate one for basketball), in his infinite wisdom, bestowed victory on the worthier party.

And there was much rejoicing.

[I'm going to try my best to get through the rest of this post without referencing Bill Pullman's speech to the pilots in the American cinema classic Independence Day, but it is absolutely killing me. --Ed.]

Tomorrow is zero hour, where “zero” implies “vajayjay”. As agreed, the Ladies… will have the run of Kissing Suzy Kolber for one glorious day. A day of bunnies. A day of Bedazzlers. A day of kittens and puppies and rainbow sunsets and unicorns fucking in grassy fields. The KSK Mafia are doing their best to put on brave faces. Fear not, boyos. Our mission statement promises we don’t kiss nice, but we won’t leave any marks on your back that aren’t purely recreational.