This is a photograph of Cousin Todd. Cousin Todd came to the house tonight to watch Giants-49ers. He was wearing this strange New York Giants Mexican robe, purchased by one of his brothers as a gift south of the border. Todd is my kind of guy. Funny, sharp, opinionated. However,
As many readers know, I’m a big fan of guest bloggers here at jeffpearlman.com. Hence, after having a mimi-Twitter war with some Wildcat faithful last week, I asked Tim Riley—Kentucky grad—to come and offer his perspective … It’s December 2011. At a bar in Louisville Kentucky. In a span of
She was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer, but decided her life would be better served by blogging, not crying. The results are magical—and uplifting.
So, in the aftermath of yesterday’s Twitter explosion, I’ve been asked, oh, 60 times by Kentucky basketball fans to explain why I wouldn’t want my kids to play for John Calipari. Here I go … John Calipari wins basketball games. And if winning basketball games, and only winning basketball games,
Today’s marks my 10th wedding anniversary with my astonishingly amazing wife, Catherine. Yet to me, Catherine is rarely Catherine. And to Catherine, I am rarely Jeff. We are Earl. She is Earl. I am Earl. We call each other Earl always. Like, all the time. I never use her name,
In the course of my little war with Kentucky basketball fans from earlier today, a common insult was “I’ve never even heard of you.” The translation is, “You’re so nobody, I don’t even know your name.” The translation is, “If you’re in the media and you’re not a household name,
Back in the infancy of this blog, i used to enjoy running an e-mail of the day—sometimes upbeat, sometimes nasty, sometimes just making a good point. Then, for some unknown reason, the practice escaped me. Today, it’s returned. In case you don’t follow me on Twitter (@jeffpearlman), today was an
So today I went through my Comments and found several from a person named “Jimbo Jones.” People like “Jimbo Jones” always use fake names and fake e-mail addresses. Then they throw out accusations—you paid sources, you ignored crucial information, you did this and you did that (all related to Sweetness).
So we went skiiing/snowboarding today, and my friend Brant had some blisters on the back of his lower leg. He wanted to keep skiiing, but didn’t relish the idea of enduring the pain. What to do? What to do? What to do? Band-Aids? None in the house? Medical tape? Nope.
This morning I went to my local New York Sports Club for a workout. Afterward, I decided to shower in the men’s locker room, just to get the day going quickly. Then I remembered something: I loathe the men’s locker room. All men’s locker rooms. I was probably first scarred