Monday, February 25, 2008

The Voice

Bobby’s "voice."

It can be soft and caressing as silk, sweet as honey, or hard as nails. It can be filled with compassion or laced with biting sarcasm. It can be "in-your-face" accusatory, filled with humor or outright angry indignation, but any way you slice it…as far as I’m concerned…it is the sexiest part of Detective Robert Goren.

Sometimes I turn on my iPod at work to a LOCI episode, just to have Bobby’s dulcet tones wafting through the air in the background while I go about my work day. Or, there are times at night when I pop in an 8-hour VHS tape of LOCI episodes and let them run. If I happen to doze off and then waken in the middle of the night, it is to the refrains of that velvety mellifluous voice. Ahhhh! Bobby’s voice…it is indeed a very good thing. (I know. I need help...possibly an intervention of some sort, but the fact is...I don’t want one.)

Much ballyhoo – deservedly so – is made of Bobby’s sultry-brown bedroom eyes...his feathery eyelashes...his “sometimes” curly locks...his sensuously full lips...his playful, darting tongue... his handsome, expressive face...his strong hands and long, nimble fingers...his sinewy arms, broad back and splendidly expansive shoulders...his muscular thighs and long legs...his large feet and – ever popular – “groinular” region. (Did I miss anything, Vixens?)

But for me…the thing that sends shivers up and down my spine, knocks me to my knees, and turns my belly to a big bowl of quivering jelly...every single time…is the voice.

Instead of searching through – quite literally – thousands of pictures to depict each of the manly “attributes” mentioned above, I am taking the easy way out and posting a selection of photos from the episode I just screen capped: “Masquerade.”

You know, that "My 64" logo is starting to grow on me. I mean, it could stand for my 6'4" hunka doodle-do Bobby. I just need to figure out what I could substitute for the WSTR. Any suggestions?

Friday, February 22, 2008

Dream Cheatin' With MY Bobby

I have lamented on more than one occasion on this blog as to the sad fact that, despite my all consuming obsession with the intrepid Detective Goren, I almost never, ever dream about him. The same cannot be said, however, of a couple of my friends…friends, mind you…who paid little or no attention to the man until I brought him to their attention.

What follows is an accounting of a dream my friend, Linda, had last week. She could not wait to regale me with the details of her nocturnal adventure a couple of nights ago when I called to wish her a Happy Birthday. So here, in her own words, are the particulars of the happy encounter my dream-cheating friend, Linda, had with MY Detective Bobby.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
There were four of us in the car that lovely spring day: two in the back, me in the front passenger seat beside the handsome police officer who carefully, of course, stayed within the speed limit. The car behind us drove at a respectful distance; it, too, was manned by a handsome officer of the law. We were on our way to a church picnic at a grounds in the country, beside a sparkling stream; most of the other picnickers were already there, and the tables were laden with every kind of delicious food you can imagine. (Nothing like church-women cooking, is there??!!)

I wasn't sure why the two policemen were so intent on being at this picnic, so I asked the soft-spoken guy beside me. It seems they were looking for a suspect in a crime, and expected he may show up at this picnic.

We pulled into the parking area and exited the cars. The officer who had driven my car was dressed in a light blue shirt, dark tie, dark pants, and a dark-colored overcoat...hmm, odd to wear an overcoat on such a warm spring day, but maybe it's his trademark. I offered to fix him and his partner a plate of food, but they declined, stating they were there to work. They scanned the group of us several times, then walked down to the stream to see if their prey was luck.

Next thing I knew, my handsome policeman-driver and I were walking down the road toward the little strip of 3-4 stores that made up a small rural town. I mentioned to him that I had a good friend who really (REALLY REALLY REALLY) admired him and even owned one of his tee-shirts. He smiled and looked down and said, "Oh, you must mean…The Black Tee-Shirt of Hotness…and I, surprised, replied, "Oh, you KNOW about that!!" I think he flushed slightly in embarrassment....or was it just that he was hot (in the sweaty sense of the word...because it was a warm day and we were walking in the sun...not HOT hot....if you get my drift here)? We may never know....

Most of what I noticed about this officer was his very gentle, sexy, soft, warm, sexy, caressing, enticing, sexy voice (got carried away there, sorry). He was such a nice man, very kind, very polite (opened my door for me at the picnic, how often does THAT happen anymore??), rather shy, and did I mention his lovely voice?? Oh, I see that I did...I digress...

Anyway, we arrived at the area where the stores were and got into our car (not sure how it got there from the picnic grounds, but hey, this WAS a dream). Again I was lucky enough to sit beside the yummy cop in the overcoat who really had SUCH a nice, sexy voice (there I go again). I felt so comfortable with him, sitting soooooo close beside him in the intimacy of the car again. Sigh....he smelled nice, too (well, didn't dream that part, but I'm just positive he did).

OHHHHH, I haven't mentioned his name yet, have I??? I'm so it is, such a vital part of the story, silly me, how could I leave that out.....


And the almost-as-handsome (I SAID ALMOST!!!!) officer driving the other car???? His name was Detective Chris Noth!!!!! (Don't know his real "detective" name.)

Sigh....such a lovely dream, I do so wish everyone who is a fan of the sexy-voiced Detective Goren could have been there.....well.....or NOT.

Eat your heart out, BobbyG.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
So, there you have it…in her own words…from my dream-cheatin’ friend. I fancy my sweet Bobby may have looked something like this in Linda's dream. I know this is how he would look in my dream…if I ever had one.

Weighing In

How To Weigh Yourself
Silly me, I've been doing it wrong all these years. I believe I would much prefer the results of this method.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Baseball Springs Eternal

As I've mentioned before, I grew up in a house full of men. There was me and my mom, then my dad and my three older brothers. I grew up around baseball. It's in my blood. So, when Super Bowl Sunday heralds the conclusion of the professional football season, that is when I officially start counting down the hours until that first pitch on Opening Day.

Pitchers and catchers reported to spring training last Saturday and position players reported today. Hazzah! The Reds first regular season game is March 31st. What that means for me in the interim movies galore. I dug out -- no pun intended -- my DVD collection of baseball movies on Saturday. Now, I just have to find time to watch them all before the swish of that first pitch, the first crack of the bat, the first "steee...rike" called by the home plate ump, and the first ball park dog of the season.! It's a very good thing.

What follows is a list of the baseball movies I presently have in my collection. So, “For Love of the Game,” here are a few “Major League” quotes from these “timeless” baseball “classics.”

A League of Their Own - 1992

Tom Hanks as team manager Jimmy Dugan: “There’s no crying in baseball. Rogers Hornsby was my manager, and he called me a talking pile of pig---. And that was when my parents drove all the way down from Michigan to see me play the game. And did I cry. No. And do you know why? Because there’s no crying in baseball. There’s no crying in baseball.”

Major League - 1989

Bob Uecker as Harry Doyle, radio announcer:
“JUST a bit outside.”

“Heywood leads the league in most offensive categories, including nose hair. When this guy sneezes, he looks like a party favor.”

“This guy threw at his own son in a father-son game.”

For Love of the Game – 1999

Vin Scully announcing the game: “The cathedral that is Yankee Stadium belongs to a Chapel.”

Kevin Costner as pitcher Billy Chapel: “Clear the mechanism.”

“God, I always said I would never bother you about baseball, lord knows you have bigger things to worry about. But if you could make this pain in my shoulder stop for ten minutes, I would really appreciate it.”

The Natural – 1984

Robert Redford as Roy Hobbs
: “I coulda been better. I coulda broke every record in the book. And then when I walked down the street, people would've looked, and they would've said, there goes Roy Hobbs, the best there ever was in this game.”

Fever Pitch – 2005

Jimmy Fallon as Ben Wrightman, Red Sox fan: “You know what's really great about baseball? You can't fake it. You know, anything else in life you don't have to be great in - business, music, art - I mean you can get lucky. Yeah, you can fool everyone for awhile, you know? It's like - not - not baseball. You can either hit a curveball or you can't. That's the way it works...”

The Rookie – 2002

Dennis Quaid as Jimmy Morris: “You know what we get to do today, Brooks? We get to play baseball.”

Baseball Scout to Jimmy: “I've been a scout for a long time, and the number one rule is, arms slow down when they get old. Now, if I call the office and tell 'em I got a guy here almost twice these kids' age, I'm gonna get laughed at. But, if I don't call in a 98-mile-an-hour fastball, I'm gonna get fired! I'm just saying there's a chance you might get a call on this.”

Field of Dreams – 1989

The Voice
: “If you build it, he will come.”

James Earl Jones as Terrence Mann: “Ray, people will come, Ray. They'll come to Iowa for reasons they can't even fathom. They'll turn up your driveway not knowing for sure why they're doing it. They'll arrive at your door as innocent as children, longing for the past. Of course, we won't mind if you look around, you'll say. It's only $20 per person. They'll pass over the money without even thinking about it: for it is money they have and peace they lack. And they'll walk out to the bleachers; sit in shirtsleeves on a perfect afternoon. They'll find they have reserved seats somewhere along one of the baselines, where they sat when they were children and cheered their heroes. And they'll watch the game and it'll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they'll have to brush them away from their faces. People will come Ray. The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it's a part of our past, Ray. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again. Oh... people will come Ray. People will most definitely come.”

Burt Lancaster as Dr. Archibald “Moonlight” Graham: “Well, you know I... I never got to bat in the major leagues. I would have liked to have had that chance. Just once. To stare down a big league pitcher. To stare him down, and just as he goes into his windup, wink. Make him think you know something he doesn't. That's what I wish for. Chance to squint at a sky so blue that it hurts your eyes just to look at it. To feel the tingling in your arm as you connect with the ball. To run the bases - stretch a double into a triple, and flop face-first into third, wrap your arms around the bag. That's my wish, Ray Kinsella. That's my wish. And is there enough magic out there in the moonlight to make this dream come true?”

Bull Durham – 1988

Susan Sarandon as Annie Savoy: “I believe in the Church of Baseball. I've tried all the major religions, and most of the minor ones. I know things. For instance, there are 108 beads in a Catholic rosary and there are 108 stitches in a baseball. When I heard that, I gave Jesus a chance. But it just didn't work out between us. The Lord laid too much guilt on me. I prefer metaphysics to theology. You see, there's no guilt in baseball, and it's never boring... which makes it like sex. There's never been a ballplayer slept with me who didn't have the best year of his career. Making love is like hitting a baseball: you just gotta relax and concentrate. Besides, I'd never sleep with a player hitting under .250... not unless he had a lot of RBIs and was a great glove man up the middle. I've tried 'em all, I really have, and the only church that truly feeds the soul, day in, day out, is the Church of Baseball.”

The Manager: “You guys. You lollygag the ball around the infield. You lollygag your way down to first. You lollygag in and out of the dugout. You know what that makes you?” “Lollygaggers!”

Tim Robbins as Ebby Calvin Laloosh: "This is a very simple game. You throw the ball, you catch the ball, you hit the ball. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes… it rains."

Kevin Costner as Crash Davis: “Well, I believe in the soul, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days.”

Susan Sarandon as Annie Savoy: “Walt Whitman once said, "I see great things in baseball. It's our game, the American game. It will repair our losses and be a blessing to us. You could look it up.”

All photos found via Google at IMDB. (Disclaimer: Not a Kevin Costner fan, but he does make really good baseball movies.)

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Why I Hate Valentine's Day

In case I haven’t mentioned it before, the main reason I started my blog was to give me a place to record some of the happenings – some positive, others…not so much – of My Big Fat Freakin’ Life. I consider it to be more of a journal…a place where I can “warehouse” the recent and not so recent events that have helped mold me into the person I am today...warts and all.

This is one of those events.

Now, my parents were married on Valentine’s Day…eloped…in fact, so one might think such a “romantic” occasion would bring a special tug to my heart-strings or cause me to reflect whimsically on this day, but it doesn’t. I mean, don’t get me wrong, my folks had a good, solid marriage. They had been married 55 years when my mom died, and then my dad literally grieved himself to death, passing away the following year.

No, as you may well have guessed by now, my distaste of this day that has been set aside exclusively for “couples” stems from a purely visceral source…a man. Not just a man…I thought he was “the” man.

It’s been thirty years now and while I have long since “gotten over” him, I’ll never forget the heartless, thoughtless, GUTLESS way in which he decided to culminate our relationship. He lived in Nashville, Tennessee and I lived in Southern Ohio, so it was one of those long distance relationships, and that was "back in day" before such things as email, and cell phones, and texting, and unlimited long distance. We actually wrote "honest to God" letters to one another and ran up enormous phone bills.

His name was Pete. He was the one who started talking about marriage and kids and stuff, but when Pete got cold feet – and he had big ones – did he confront me in person? Did he call me on the phone? Did I get a "Dear Joan" letter? Did he "say it" with flowers, or send a candy-gram? Did he send the news via carrier pigeon, do an interpretive dance, or hire a sky-writer?

The answer to all of those questions is a resounding NO! Not only did the spineless weasel send his SISTER -- my friend -- to deliver his wretched message, but he chose to do it on...Valentine’s Day. So, my friends, once you’ve been dumped on – what is touted to be – the most romantic of all days, it tends to turn one sour toward this "sweetest" day henceforth. Need I say more?

For those of you who have more pleasant memories of the day, or who have an intimate evening planned with your special someone...that's super. This, however, is what I think about Valentine's Day and that cute, little, rosy-cheeked, chubby cherub now...and forever more.

Tuesday, February 5, 2008


...All my troubles seemed so far away.
Now it looks as though they're here to stay.
Oh, I believe in..."Yesterday."

Yesterday, today, any day is a good day for Bobby.

Here are a few photos I especially liked from this episode. The close-ups...OMG...the close-ups. I wonder if the man stands in front of the mirror and practices facial expressions; he has the most wonderfully expressive face.

Anybody have any of these mechanical pencils? I do.

"Tsk, Tsk...looky no touchy."