Pink Locker Room

Welcome to the Pink Locker Room, where the Ladies have tickle fights, eat lots of bacon and talk college football. In the midst of all the NFLy goodness, we still had a fun day of football on Saturday. Let’s check in with our Ladies’ teams…..

: WOO! RU won Friday night! It wasn’t a terribly pretty win, but I’ll take it. The Scarlet Knights scored 41, and the game was never really close, but seeing so many penalties was a little dismaying. I don’t want to imagine what a better team would do with all those mistakes. And dammit – I have to wait a week to see another game? (RU vs. Norfolk, 9/15/07) . Hottie Mike Teel pictured below:

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Ladies Fantasy Quarterback Draft – Stand By Your Man

The quarterback. The team leader. The play maker. The American symbol of all that is intelligent, strong, and virile. And as such, the quarterback is the ultimate fantasy position for the Ladies.

We thought we’d mix up the usual fantasy football draft this year and select just the hottest quarterbacks in the league. QB’s we can cheer for all season, not based on what they do for our team stats, but what they do to stir our passions both on and off the field.

Oh sure, we will have the rest of the team to think about too, but we are only really concerned with our football boyfriends. Our boys will play head-to-head in a two-division league, 14 week season with a three week playoff. Each Lady will select her main squeeze and the man she keeps on the side.

Serpentine draft order: Texas Gal, TheStarterWife, Andrea, Clare, Metschick, Holly, GordonShumway, and SA.

Texas Gal – On the clock –
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The Pink Locker Room

COLLEGE FOOTBALL IS HERE! Welcome to a new weekly feature here at Ladies: thoughts on our homer teams from the previous weekend. We’ve got 8 Ladies and 8 colleges, though that is because G-shum wants two and TSW just putters around the Ladies Batcave muttering about Yinzers and some Lawrence Fishburn-lookalike. Lots of great college football this past weekend, so let’s check in with all the Ladies after their teams’ first fall outings….. Continue reading

Good Morning Baltimore

Brady AndersonWhen I was in the eighth grade, my family took a trip to Baltimore which I was, honestly, not looking forward to. It was one of those vacations disguised as a learning experience which, when you’re a kid, is the only thing more disappointing than watching a cartoon and realizing that there is a thinly-veiled religious message and that the talking zucchini may, in fact, be Jesus. My parents selected Baltimore as our destination because it is a city rich in American history, literature, and homicide. Actually, the latter was less a selling point and more an excuse to make me wear one of those child leashes in the rare case that there was an unhinged individual in our Fort McHenry tour group who would’ve flown into a rage at the sight of my crimped hair and pleated Duckhead shorts.

The early highlight of the trip was when the waiter at one restaurant gave me a theatrical wink and handed me a brochure for the aquarium. He’d written his name and phone number in black Sharpie on the shell of a sea turtle, undaunted by the fact that I was thirteen and on a leash. (Note to self: Start wearing leash again). On the last day, perhaps tired of stepping over chalk outlines or trying to delicately explain why I couldn’t have an “I Got Crabs in Maryland” t-shirt, my dad suggested that we go to an Orioles game.

I was totally unprepared for the hotness roamingBrady Anderson Again the outfield that year, the hotness that was Brady Anderson. Those sideburns. Those biceps. The lack of tuberculosis (which made him infinitely more attractive than my previous Baltimore crush–Edgar Allen Poe–who admittedly should’ve been less desirable since he potentially had rabies. Oh, and was dead). Anyway, that day I fell hard for Brady, a man so hot he made my braces sweat. After the game, I immediately bought a #9 t-shirt and couldn’t wait to write “Dr. & Mrs. Brady Anderson” on my Trapper Keeper, because I was sure that he would attend classes at night and eventually become the best-hitting neurosurgeon in his practice group. Continue reading

We’re This Many!!

Friends, we can hardly believe it ourselves:
Ladies… celebrates its six month anniversary today.

(Artwork, as ever, courtesy of our incomparable Lady J-Money)

And what a ride. We’ve traveled into enemy territory, back to our alma maters, cross country to spring training, back home for Opening Day, seen legendary parks up close and raced to the bottom of too many pint glasses.

We’ve nursed all manner of inexplicable crushes in hilarious fashion.

We’ve taken to the streets and done a little spokesmodeling (step aside, Danbury Mint, and move over, Milano).

We’ve brought in guest stars from time to time, made ourselves at home elsewhere, and even gotten our parents in on the action.

We’ve seen grandiose plans exceed our highest expectations (this happened, right?) and crash in flames (let us never speak of this again).

And we’ve made it our mission to showcase the finest in baseball ass (and forearms!) from across the land, and to see that excellence is duly rewarded.

If you’re feeling indulgent (and who wouldn’t, after that cupcake?), join us after the jump for a highlight reel:

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Friday Hit & Run:Whatcha Whatcha Whatcha Want

There are eleven McDonald’s within a ten mile radius of my apartment, all of which have identical hours. They all open at 5 a.m. and close at 2 a.m. which means that every day, I have twenty-one hours and almost a dozen options for getting a Big Mac (and perhaps some Apple Dippers). This also means that the only time I ever want a Big Mac is approximately 3:28 a.m. For my entire life, I’ve noticed that I only ever really want the things that I can’t have, which explains why I’ve always developed irrational crushes on married celebrities (Good morning, Hugh Laurie!), why I blow out the candles on each birthday cake while silently wishing I would grow a tail (for myriad reasons, all to be explained upon request), and why every time I lose a 10-K (which is every time I run a 10-K), I long to be a born-again Kenyan.

Today’s Hit and Run is filled with athletes who all want stuff that they aren’t going to get either, and you readers probably all want transitions that aren’t quite as lazy as that one.

StormTake, for example, the round one leader of the PGA Tournament, Graeme Storm, he of the most spell-checked name in the field (although phonetically, it’s pretty sweet and by “pretty sweet”, I mean “sounds like he may have starred in Orgy Party 6“). He’d just like to get through the rest of the weekend without soiling his pants, being mistaken for a Harry Potter character, or have every mention of his name followed by the word “Who?” I’d like to see Greaeaeameae to at least make the cut…he could probably use his winnings to buy an extra consonant or two. Continue reading

Love, Sports, and Dating – A peek into the minds of the Ladies

On any given day, we send each other between 50 and 200 emails. (70% sports, 15% website chatter, 7% pillow fighting and baby oil discussion, 4% on how our lives are going, 4% on how much we hate other blogs that shall remain nameless.)

So in the spirit of the CHEEZE DOODLE BACON PANTS post, here is the thread that took place this week in response to Chris Mottram’s post on Mr. Irrelevant about dating women who like the NFL. The conversation runs from dating guys who didn’t like sports, bar fights, holding your tongue as not to show up your sweetie in front of his crew, and eventually to my new favorite word, “douchesnozzle”.

Leading up to this point, we had been talking about Metschick’s new boyfriend… Continue reading

Friday Hit and Run: All Beckham Edition

Well tomorrow’s the big day. If you’re like me, you’ve already made a t-shirt, bought plenty of pudding, and cannot wait for 8 p.m. to get here so you can finally watch what you’ve waited months for: the American premiere of Ghost Cat on Animal Planet.

I kid! I kid! Unless you fell down a well, have been kidnapped and bound by Kathy Bates or are my mother, you know that on Saturday David Beckham will won’t will make his MLS debut. But he won’t be starting and his playing time may be minimal, so you can enjoy the synchronicity that comes from knowing that you and Becks are watching the same game at the same time! Stars are just like us! Except he’d probably be less likely to skip his Rooms-to-Go payment this month.

So here’s your wrap of all-things Golden Balls… Continue reading

Rocking The Plate

You’re standing in the on-deck circle, taking a few practice cuts and watching your teammate at the plate out of the corner of your eye.

Strike three.
Inhale. Grip tightens. Exhale.

You’re up.

36,000 of your closest friends are on hand to watch. Couple million more at home. And you haven’t made the highlight reel all week.

And there it is – that perfect song is blaring out over the loudspeakers.

Now you’re ready to do battle.

Let’s imagine for a moment that all of the Ladies… are major league baseball players. Yes, I know this would present a difficult quandary regarding whether we would ogle our own asses, forearms and eyeblack on this site (maybe we could spin off a “Gentlemen…” blog?). But the more important question is: What song would each of the Ladies… use as her at-bat music?

This is not a simple question- picking just one track to use as your theme music every single time you step up to the plate is tough. Do you go Classic Rock? Hip-Hop? Metal? I’m sure there are some pretty rockin’ hillbilly beats from Tennessee that Holly could use. (Holly’s note: Oh, you want hillbilly beats? I got your hillbilly beats RIGHT DAMN HERE.)

After some solo deliberation (using whatever criteria she chose), each Lady… submitted to me the piece of music that should play over the P.A. speakers when she stepped out of the on-deck circle and into the batter’s box. The other Ladies… haven’t even seen these yet. Take a gander at the lineup after the jump – and try and tell me this wouldn’t be an intimidating bunch to square off against at the plate.

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Becksiest Man Alive: The Ladies… Endorse:

“I’d be honored if I were Ladies… endorsed. That’s the gold seal of approval these days.”

Deadspin commenter, musician and all-around funny guy TattooedMess(iah) is our choice for Becksiest Man Alive. TattooedMess is a 19 year-old hunk of burning love hailing from the great state of Florida. His ultimate goal is to be a recording artist and to own his own record label. He has a great blog going on and he also writes his own music. Here at Ladies, we appreciate a good sense of humor, ambition, and nicely defined V muscles, so we’d like to endorse him in the Deadspin Becksiest Man Alive Contest. Continue reading

Baseballs. Bats. Berman. Liveblogging the Home Run Derby

What’s more fun than a meaningless Home Run Derby that drags on for 3 hours, broadcast by a Baker-Berman tagteam (and assisted by Kenny Mayne… in a kayak), chockfull of 1,000 player’s kids plus lameass interviews of both Bonds AND ARod? That same Home Run Derby… when liveblogged by the Ladies…!

Ryan Howard doesn’t have time for ballcaps- he’s got HRs to hit!

Each of the Ladies… claimed one of the 8 Derby participants for her very own– and then we all gathered together to revel in the inanity, discuss the intricacies of the hot butts on display, and make fun of ARod. Play along with us after the jump…

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MLB All-Star Game Excitement B-I-N-G-O Style

Download Full Page American League Bingo Card PDF Here

Need a little bit more excitement and entertainment for your All-Star game party?

Well we here at Ladies believe that even the most casual of fan should be able to have some fun watching the Midsummer Classic, so we’ve whipped up some All-Star Bingo Cards! No need to try to keep track of pitching changes when you can look for Big Papi to point to the sky, Alyssa Milano in the stands, and players adjusting their junk instead. We’ve got your American League, National League, and Interleague Bingo all here! Continue reading

How To Make Love To A ______ Fan: The Boston Red Sox

Wrapping up (for now) our joint series on bangin’ the baller fans in your lives…it’s been a hell of a ride, y’all. We’d like to thank the incomparable Orson Swindle of Every Day Should Be Saturday for heading up this little operation; it’s been a filthy privilege, sir. Finally, inevitably, we give you Texas Gal at EDSBS with How To Make Love To A Texas Longhorns Fan, and below, we’re proud to present the Ladies… closer: J-Money in the house, lighting the way to the naughty bits of the Boston faithful.

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Hit and Run: Friday Edition

Morning, kids! I hope you’re all taking advantage of National Bike to Work Day
to get some exercise, get some fresh air (check local listings), and to get tested for steroids as soon as you walk in the door. You can’t be too careful with those cyclists… that’s why I sometimes bump them with my car. Share the road, my ass.

On to the hotness…

d wrightLadies’ favorite David Wright came in as a pinch-hitter and left with an RBI during the Met’s amazin’ 5-run ninth inning as they beat the Cubs 6-5. Chicago manager Lou Piniella was immediately wrapped in a blanket, shoved to the ground, and doused liberally with water to prevent him from combusting. Remember kids, only you can prevent forest fires.

The Mets enter this weekend’s Subway Series against the struggling Yankees, whose only recent highlight is catcher Jorge Posada’s 12-game hitting streak. To celebrate, his father Papa Mouskewitz gave him a new hat. And not just any new hat. A new hat that has been in the family for three generations. Don’t worry, Jorge. You’ll grow into it.


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Mother’s Day Potpourri – GordonShumway

DSC01206I know my mother’s favorite athlete without even asking. Unfortunately, she bleeds Carolina Blue and said athlete is Tyler Hansbrough, which makes me feel like eating oven cleaner. To her, Psycho T is the most adorable boy ever. She thinks his big eyes make him look like a Precious Moments figurine, while I think they make him look like a cow. Potato, potahto.

The ‘rents were in town this weekend so I thought I’d take the time to ask her about her all-time favorites, mainly because that gave us something to talk about other than my unemployment…

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Hit and Run: Friday Edition

Bad Maverick
Do you see that? Danny Tanner is laughing at you.

From Oakland to Sacktown, the Bay Area and back down, Cali is where they put they Mavs down. The eighth seeded Golden State Warriors beat the shit out of the Dallas Mavericks last night, 111-86, and won the series in six games. Let’s all just agree that I didn’t paraphrase 2pac, k?

Don't call me mighty
Ryan, did you really quack at the principal?

The Anaheim Ducks moved on to the Western Conference finals by beating the Vancouver Canucks 2-1 in double overtime. Ducks, Canucks…there’s a dirty limerick in there somewhere. Former coach Gordon Bombay could not be reached for comment. Continue reading

Draft Day, Baby!

Thank Football Jesus (there’s a separate one for football), IT’S HERE.

As Draft Day dawns in America (be sure to check the actual picks against our wildly inaccurate but funnier ones over at Awful Announcing’s mock draft), the Ladies… would like to take this moment to kick back and fantasize about whom we’d like to see roaming our sidelines next season. (Of our teams. We meant the sidelines of our teams. Like, on the field where they play football. Naughty.) Join us, won’t you?

Indianapolis Colts – Holly
Dallas Cowboys – Texas Gal
Pittsburgh Steelers – TheStarterWife
New York Jets – Metschick
Philadelphia Eagles – Clare
Carolina Panthers – SA
Chicago Bears – Lady Andrea
St. Louis Rams – J-Money

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Hit and Run: Friday Edition

The Headband is a Bit MuchFrom the “Hot Body, Goofy Head” File: Spaniard Rafael Nadal extended his winning streak on clay courts to 70 games by defeating Italy’s Potito Starace and advancing to the semifinals of the Barcelona Open.

I can’t say I find Rafa (his official nickname, perhaps to avoid confusion with Raffi and to minimize in-game interruptions caused by persistent requests for “Baby Beluga”) that attractive. His haircut’s a bit too Jungle Book for me and there is no reason for a man to wear capri pants unless he survived a shipwreck. That said, I’m a sucker for a guy with nice arms.

And apparently it runs in the family.

Mother Nadal

Seriously, Mrs. Nadal. I think his hair looks awesome. Mowgli was always overlooked as a sex symbol and yes, I’d love a piece of cake but please, ma’am, please don’t hit me again. Continue reading

Bringing the Heat: Los Angeles Dodgers

OK, I don’t have a clever introduction. I went to a Widespread Panic concert over the weekend and since then I’ve done nothing but lay facedown on the sofa, trying to force my red eyes to focus on another “Press Your Luck” rerun on the Game Show Network. Yeah. I admit it. Halfway through “Disco”, a man named Pegasus gave me what I’d been trying to score all night: some fucking Claritin. After dancing around in a field for five hours, I left the show with wicked allergies, an Oxfam sticker, and a newfound loathing for songs that last longer than most of my relationships.

That said, today we’re studying the Dodgers who may lead the majors in wins, but aren’t exactly frontrunners in hotness. I went deep into the archives trying to find the tastiest treats to wear Dodger blue. Here goes. No whammies, no whammies.

Steve Garvey
First base, 1969-1982

Steve Garvey

You can purchase this and other Steve Garvey pictures from a company called Mounted Memories. I believe there are several women who already have Steve’s Mounted Memories. They’re called children.

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I Did It: The Half Marathon

My running partner says that doing a half-marathon is like having sex because it’s always over too soon and you wonder when you’re going to get to do it again. My running partner is full of shit. I’ve never had a sexual experience that ended with shinsplints, an IV and a handful of Aleve. Well, there was that one time on Spring Break but I’m pretty sure I took Tylenol then.

Mmmm. Metal.Last weekend I pinned a number to my shirt and ran the Charlotte Racefest Half-Marathon with 2,400 other idiots who decided it was a fair trade to run thirteen miles in exchange for arthritis and a hideous t-shirt that will look awesome on a rack at Goodwill. Thirty minutes before the start, we began filing into place behind the elite competitors, the singlet-clad 83-pound runners who shun iPods in favor of keeping pace with the rhythm of their own breathing. That, and the fact that the added weight of a Nano could tear one of their tiny arms out of the sockets.

I found myself standing beside two women who were each complimenting the other’s pale pink sportswear. One gestured to the race’s major sponsor, the sporting goods store whose parking lot served as our temporary corral and announced “I got it in there. I love Dick’s! I can’t stay away from Dick’s” I of course snickered and said “Who can? HAHAHAHA!” The women both shot me a nasty look and my smirk faded when I noticed that the delicate script on Dick Lover’s pastel hat said “Fuck You, Fuckball”.

The starter began the countdown, I turned on my iPod, and every one of us undoubtedly said the same silent prayer that we would make it across the finish line without chafing, without cramping, and without grimacing in any of the pictures being taken along the way. Huh. So maybe it is like sex.

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Hump Day Hottie: Wall-to-Wall

Just another Wednesday? I don’t think so- not when the Ladies… tag team to bring you an onslaught of hotties. In celebration of… not much of anything, just because we can- we bring you the finest buffet of hotties known to womankind. Mankind, too, for that matter. Wanna know who each of the Ladies… consider to be the hottest man alive? Now you know. TGIW, y’all.

Holly: What’s a day at Ladies… without hate sex?

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Hit and Run: One Hitter Edition

This is going to be quick because I’m sitting in my car in front of an Embassy Suites, stealing their wireless and hoping that the guy with the Hokies dufflebag hits my car with his luggage cart again.

Confidential to the Guy with the Hokies Dufflebag: Why can’t you just carry the damn thing? Also, when people refer to “matching luggage”, they do not mean that you and your suitcase should both be clad in the same garish orange and maroon combination, although that is one classy windsuit. 

I’m visiting my parents’ new place in South Carolina, and getting here involved driving past a number of houses I recognized from the covers of Nancy Drew books, past a combination Bojangles/Pharmacy (Come for the chicken! Stay for the Lipitor!)  and eventually stopped for dinner at a place that encouraged you to place your scraps in a giant receptacle in the parking lot that was marked “Food for Cats”.  They also sold gas.

But the most distressing part of the weekend is that certified tastycakes Andy Roddick and James Blake are in my hometown! staying within digital zoom range of my house! playing for the United States in the Davis Cup! and I’m here, in a place where the hotties to Hermit Crab ratio is approximately 1 : 9,400. 

Blake Me Off A Piece

Oh James, I would’ve invited you over for dinner and pudding. 

OK, apparently Hokies guy is also a tattletale because there’s a guy with a green nametag coming toward my car.  Guess I’m leaving…and I didn’t even get to try their complimentary breakfast. 

The Masters – Hottie Skins Style

With all the hotties on the PGA Tour, there was no way we were going to let the Masters slip by unnoticed. But we’re not going to bring you dry leaderboard recitations, or boring capsule summaries- which would put you to sleep faster than listening to Jim Nantz talk in hushed tones on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Instead we’re doing the Masters… hottie skins style.

Each of the Ladies… picked one hottie golfer to back in the tournament. We’re pitting our hotties against each other on the course, but instead of just giving the highest finishing hottie the win, we thought- let’s make it more interesting. Why go the simple route? So we’ll be scoring our PGA hotties in a modified skins-style format. Each hole equals one skin- and the hottie who shoots the best score on a hole (over the course of the whole tournament) will win that hole, and that skin. So it’s to each hottie’s advantage to make the cut, because that means he’ll get more shots at a better score on each hole. In the event of a tie, we will use any arbitrary means at our disposal to break the tie. Them’s the breaks.

Some Ladies… selected based on looks alone, some based on a little sentiment, some based on skills, some based on spitting accuracy. But combined, we’ve put together the hottest Leaderboard around.

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Hottie Hit and Run- Friday Edition

Since my office blocks WordPress, I have to make these posts at Panera or other establishments that offer free wi-fi (with food or beverage purchase). Ducking out to write today’s Hit-and-Run means that I have to miss the Sales & Marketing luncheon. Actually, I would’ve skipped it on principle because I refuse to take part in any office activity that is promoted by an email full of clip art. I fail to be enticed by a giant bitmap of a smiling fork.

On with the hotness…

It’s already Friday night in Australia, which means Michael Phelps has set yet another world record, this time with the help of other hot, hairless swimmers in the 800m relay. Phelps has won five gold medals and set four world records at the World Championships, which means he breaks records faster than I break hearts. OK, that’s a lie, but it sounds better than the truth…”faster than I break yet another damn IKEA shelf by putting a potted Aloe Vera plant on it”. Even though this article doesn’t say so, Michael Phelps shaves his entire body. I just know it.

Hot and Hairless
Click me for the full size.

Congratulations to the West Virginia Mountaineers who won the Mastercard NIT Mastercard Tournament brought to you by Mastercard by beating the Clemson Tigers 78-73. Hopefully, Mastercard’s ad wizards will create some sort of commemorative commercial with poignant lines like “Value of college scholarship= $112,000; Plane tickets to New York for family members= $867; Hoping WVU can afford color pictures next year= Priceless.” Mountaineers silence critics, prove they’re #66!


In cricket news, Anil “Jumbo” Kumble has announced that he’s retiring from one-day cricket. Kumble is India’s most successful bowler, having taken 500 wickets, put another two or three goo-goos on the blinky, gone ’round the widget and Bob’s yer uncle. Whatever the hell that means… dude’s still hot. And his nickname’s “Jumbo”, which you don’t get by by being a poor leg-spinner, you know? Sometimes, cricket terminology sounds dirty.

Wickety Goodness

Finally, the Ladies… give props to Ria Cortesio, professional baseball’s only female umpire, who had a “flawless” afternoon working the Cubs 7-4 exhibition win over the Diamondbacks yesterday. She has worked in AA ball for 5 years, where one manager once commented “If you didn’t see that ponytail, you wouldn’t know she was a woman out there”. Um, and that’s a compliment, I guess. She says that best-case scenario, she’ll be getting cursed by fans in the Majors by 2009.

Happy Friday. Anyone know if I can expense this Cinnamon Crunch bagel?

1-2-3-4, Get Your Booty on the Dancefloor

Who among us is immune to that damn “Jane Fonda”song? Musically, it’s somewhere between “Barbie Girl” and the Teletubbies theme song but if you’ve heard it, I’ve just guaranteed that it’ll be pingponging around your head while you try to watch House.

We’re down to our Final Four hotties here, so enjoy this week’s bracket. And yeah, sorry about having to create a Jonathan Mitchell-Gator hybrid. You try finding any other pictures of him online.


We Ladies try to be objective (save for our undying desire to cover Bryce Taylor in syrup and devour him like a Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruity), but if the Bruins could prevent this from ever happening again, we would certainly appreciate it.

Nightmare Fuel

Now. Work it out. Shake it, little mama. Let me see you do the Jane Fonda.

Would you…listen to what she’s saying Part IV: Suzy Kolber and Rachel Nichols

As we noted earlier in our “Would you do Chris Berman” post, over at The Big Picture they’re having a nice little bracket seeding the female broadcasters against each other in a “Would you…” tourney. Their “Would you…” usually ends with comments that would make Red Buttons Andrew Dice ClayBob Saget blush. Now while we Ladies are far from shrinking violets, we were better off not knowing what “DSL” meant.

So for the rest of “Would you…” tournament, we’re going to give you the reasons why we like these women. Today we’ll see J-Money profile Suzy Kolber and Holly take on (oh, behave) Rachel Nichols. Join us, won’t you?

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You’re 16, You’re Beautiful, and You’re Mine

OK, so the tournament’s two rounds deep and by now your bracket’s a bigger mess than Kirsten Dunst’s smile. Not to worry, little Badgers…the Ladies have a quick fix. Behold our Sweet (Ass) Sixteen, a work of art more timeless than anything ever released by the Franklin Mint (including all 3,500 Princess Diana plates, except for the Magic Eye one), classier than the collectibles from the back page of Parade magazine, and perfect for making out with before you leave for work.

Sweet Ass 16

Click here to download the full-PDF verison.


I have already stapled mine to the front door of my refrigerator and oh yeah, I’m taking those Lunchables out of the package one cracker at a time, just so I can prolong my face time with Brian Ligon. And Jamaal Tatum. And you, guy from A&M who never takes your warmups off…except in my head.

Now. Don’t you feel better about being 4% accurate? About being last in your Facebook pool? About eating a tiny slice of ham and tongue kissing a piece of paper? I thought so. Who loves you, baby?

I Was There: North Carolina-Michigan State

Beads OK, first, I didn’t go to Michigan State. But I would rather eat a bag of aquarium gravel than cheer for UNC, so yesterday I was all “Go Green! Go White!” all the time, even though my entire family was decked out in a shade of blue that they call “Carolina ” while I defer to J.Crew’s description of “Rich Peri” in a sad attempt to feel better about the tees I just ordered.

MaskThere were about 10,000 other unique snowflakes rocking the light blue, since the game was in Winston-Salem which is only about five Cracker Barrels away from Chapel Hill. From all the seersucker, the Topsiders, and men named Worthington Fenimore Tartarcontrol “Whitey” Textilemill, it was obviously a Tarheel crowd.

We got to our seats right when Carolina was warming up and Tyler “They Call Me Psycho T Because I’m Real Psycho and T is my Favorite Color” Hansbrough was alternately taking jumpers and fidgeting with his mask. I tried to get chants of “Cher’s Your Mom” and “Eric Stoltz” started but they didn’t catch on. I like to think that maybe it was just too early. Continue reading