THOUGHTS WHILE WONDERING IF REGGIE HAMMOND STILL HANGS OUT AT VROMAN'S ...
Any time you see Hawaiian shirts on a movie poster, it's never a good sign.
What's the chain of events that leads someone to decide, "I think I'll spend $300 on an O.J. Simpson throwback jersey"?
You know I suddenly have way too much time on my hands when it's 3:00 in the afternoon, it's 80 degrees outside, and I'm inside getting choked up during Thurman Munson's "Yankeeography."
When Rasheed Wallace finally snaps during a playoff game -- and you know it's happening at some point -- it's going to be like the prom scene in "Carrie" all over again.
Just think, if that triple-OT game between the Nets and Pistons kept chugging along, and enough Pistons had fouled out ... I mean, the similarities between Darko and Ollie from "Hoosiers" would have been startling, right? Imagine Darko standing at the foul line as Chauncey Billups screams in his ear, "One more, Darko! One more and we're going all the way!" Would it have killed the Hoops Gods to make this happen?
Only the NHL would decide one day, "Hey, let's switch it around, we'll have the home teams wear dark uniforms. This won't be confusing at all."
All right, I'll say it: Ashley is much cuter than Mary-Kate.
Part of me can't wait for "The Sopranos" to wrap up, just so the kid who plays A.J. Soprano can finally go off the deep end and become the next Adam Rich.
There isn't a better tradition in baseball than the "Nobody in the dugout acknowledges the rookie who just hit his first homer" tradition.
Seriously, am I the only one who can't tell the difference between Natalie Portman and Keira Knightley?
Is there anything more jarring than a pregnant celeb who suddenly can't chainsmoke or dye their roots? Every Us Weekly photo of Kate Hudson in the past 12 months should have come with a warning label.
(And yes, I read Us Weekly. I'm not ashamed to admit it. My favorite section is the "Stars: They're just like us!" section, when they show people getting coffee and pulling parking tickets out of their cars. Look, there's Alec Baldwin carrying a bag of groceries and an X-rated movie rental ... he's just like us! That kills me. I better shut up now.)
Rule No. 345 that this country should enforce: Nobody can pay with credit cards at video stores, coffee houses or convenience stores. Or else.
If Edgar Martinez were a rock band, he'd be playing in a "FreeView" concert on Direc-TV right now.
Maybe KG isn't in the Pantheon yet, but at least Wednesday night's 32-21-5-5-4 forced the committee to Fed Ex an application to his house.
Speaking of KG, here's another theory on the Peeler elbow espoused by some of my readers: KG took two steps back because Peeler clocked him with that elbow. In fact, if you watch one of the 900 replays they had, KG's knees actually buckle a little bit about two seconds after the elbow. Trust me, this will change the way you watch the replay forever. It's like hearing "Don't Fear the Reaper" in the post-Bruce Dickinson Era.
If the acting in Dr. J's sex tape was even half as good as his performance in "The Fish That Saved Pittsburgh," I'm in for $20.
Let's face it: By Day 39, Rupert's B.O. must have been off the charts. He must have smelled like Vlade Divac after a triple-OT game, combined with the odor coming from Jeffrey Dahmer's apartment that caused all the neighbors to complain. We're talking atomic B.O. I can't even imagine.
The most shocking knockouts of my lifetime: 1) Douglas-Tyson; 2) Foreman-Moorer; 3) Lang-Balboa; 4) Tarver-Jones Jr.; 5) Mrs. Richie-Lionel Richie.
In all seriousness, Aamer Haleem has a chance to become the best Indian VH1 host ever.
It's too bad you could never coordinate this with 40,000 people, but the next time Barry Bonds comes up, if everyone at SBC Park cheered all at once, and then someone in the right-field stands threw a ball into the bay so all those losers in the boats would dive in for the ball ... and then this happened like five or six times ... I mean, that would be kinda fun, right?
My buddy Gus is the kind of guy who calls me just to ask things like, "Hey, if you tape that James Caan show on NBC, does that mean you TiVo "Las Vegas"?"
I wish I could buy stock in things like "There will be a 100-car pileup on an L.A. freeway that starts when a guy looking for a song on his iPod veers into the lane of a guy sending an e-mail on his Blackberry."
Here's my theory: Jessica Simpson was watching "Three's Company" re-runs one night and decided, "Screw it, my career's going nowhere, maybe I'll just do a Chrissy Snow imitation and see what happens." And the rest was history.
Covering the Summer Olympics in Greece sounds interesting and all, but ... well ... I think I'll stay here. If you don't mind. No, really. I'm good. Thanks again.
If the guy who filed the restraining order against Keyshawn really wanted to be safe, he should have just hung out in the end zone.
(Wait for it.)
(Wait for it.)
I'll be honest: If Rob Ryder mentions his work on "The Warriors" one more time, it's going to start affecting my feelings for the movie.
Poor Eddie Jones. I mean ... wow. That was Aron Garcia-esque.
When the NHL lockout happens this summer, shouldn't we cryogenically freeze Barry Melrose like the British did with Austin Powers?
If the "Queer Eye" guys ever rank their favorite sports celebrations, Vlade Divac's "hands behind the back" hug of Magic in the '91 Finals would have been a lock for No. 1 ... right up until the Arizona catcher started celebrating Randy Johnson's perfect game.
Wait a second ... isn't Fallujah one of Bruce and Demi's kids?
Can't you see Mark Cuban walking around the Mavs locker room after a game, asking different guys, "So, where are we going tonight?" and everyone hems and haws, and then Michael Finley finally says, "Um, I don't think we're going out, we're all pretty tired," and then Cuban says, "Well, if you change your mind, will you call me on my cell," and then Antoine Walker nods and says, "Yeah, we'll definitely call you," so Cuban says, "Cool" and leaves ... and then everyone cracks up when he leaves the room? This happens, right? Right?
You know, it just dawned on me like three weeks ago that Larry Legend runs the Pacers and I should be rooting for them.
Other than the DH and Robert Wuhl, my least favorite invention of the past 35 years is that automatic blackjack card spitter, the one every casino in Vegas uses now. Whoever invented those should have the same overwhelming feelings of guilt that haunted the creator of the H-Bomb. We all hate you. Seriously.
I don't want to jinx it, but this Lindsay Lohan-Hilary Duff feud has Biggie-2Pac potential.
When they put me in charge of ESPN6 some day, I hope they have an upfront in New York City for me -- like the ones for NBC, ABC and everyone else this week -- just so I can see the look on everyone's face when I introduce shows like "Stoned Scrabble" and "Gymkata: The Series."
I don't care if Cousin Geri is involved ... I'm still not watching "Deadwood."
Speaking of TV series, it's been 10 years ... why hasn't "The Wolf" from "Pulp Fiction" been spun off into his own series yet? Would anyone have been against this? Has there ever been a character with more potential who received less screen time, with the possible exception of coach Fenstock? Even the title of the show would have been cool: "The Wolf." I don't get it.
I'm still coming to grips with the Corey Dillon trade, if only because it's the first time the Pats made a trade that I had actually already made in "Madden." Let's just say that there's a lot at stake here. For everyone. By the way, I graduated from college 12 years ago.
Looking back, who did a worse job this season -- Don Nelson, Michael Olowokandi, Playoff Peja or Vin Baker's AA sponsor?
The WNBA is like that one relative everyone dreads seeing at Thanksgiving every year -- you know they're showing up, you know you have to talk to them, and you know there's nothing you can do about it.
Burning questions: If winning a championship ring is such a big deal, why doesn't anyone ever actually wear one? What happened to SNL re-runs on Comedy Central? Shouldn't Billy Joel be involved in "Fast and the Furious 3"? Have they found Mike Hall's body yet? Did you ever think Roger Clemens would outlast Jimmy Fallon? Doesn't Roy Horn seem like a mortal lock for "Comeback Magician of the Year"? Where was Dwyane Wade in the final 10 seconds? When Adam Vinatieri makes the Hall of Fame, will Ricky Proehl be introducing him? And looking back, shouldn't we have known something was terribly wrong with Michael Jackson after the "Rock With You" video?
Whoops, one more: Does anything top the fact that Calvin Murphy's nickname during his playing days was "The Pocket Rocket"?
Put it this way: If Freddy Adu is 14, and LeBron James is 19, then I'm 25.
For the love of God, how can a "SportsCentury" episode about Richmond Flowers not include footage of his son singing with Chad Hutchinson?
When Tommy John meets somebody and they say, "Hey, you're the surgery guy!", do you think he ever wants to grab them by the collar, push them against a wall and start screaming, "I won 288 f------ games! Two hundred and eighty-eight! I pitched in three World Series! You got that, moron?!?!?! Two hundred and eighty-eight wins!"
If the Yanks end up trading for Beltran or the Big Unit, I'm going on a three-state killing spree that will rival Mark Harmon's work in "The Deliberate Stranger."
Couldn't the government force Johnny Ruiz to pay reparations to cable customers for his pay-per-views? Like $100 a person or something?
I just keep seeing Robert Horry quietly slipping into Jerry Buss' office this week, as Buss hands him a whopping check and says, "You did good, you did real good."
Was Jesse Palmer just sitting around thinking, "What's the most drastic thing I could do that will make it pretty much impossible for people to take me seriously as a QB for the rest of eternity? How can I throw away my entire career in one fell swoop? There's must be something I can do. Hey ... wait a second ..."
Finally, happy birthday to my Mom, who lives 3,000 miles away but always manages to make me feel like she's right down the street. Hopefully that makes sense.
Bill Simmons is a columnist for Page 2 and ESPN The Magazine