The word on the street.

Mike Piazza is leaving his loyal Mets fan to play for the Padres. Just remember: it's not because he doesn't love us. The Padres are giving him more room to roam. They'll even let him play first base! (And they've offered $2 million, all the shampoo that his little heart desires, and a better swinger scene.) For those interested, I'm starting a support group (athletic supporters!) for those whose life cannot continue without Mike.

Also in the news today (or, um, three days ago), DC has declared January 27th Placido Domingo Day. I read this in El Tiempo Latino so I may be off a bit but they'll be displaying a friggin huge painting of him along Virginia and New Hampshire Avenues. In their "twenty questions" section, the newspaper asked Mr Placido, "¿Como le gustarria morir?" to which our operatic hero responded, "Lo mas tarde posible. En paz y tranquilidad. En el sueno..." A lovely sentiment, but who asks such a fucked up question in an interview? So Placido, you're 65 now. Happy Birthday! How do you want to die? I wonder if Placido Flamingo will get similar props on Sesame Street.

In personal news, not much happened. I finally cleaned my room. I changed a lot of light bulbs and I accompanied Meg to Hot Nuts' bowling tournie. My bowling skill is inversely proportional to my alcohol intake.