I admit it...

[Tonker]

...if the Cubs officially make Ryne Sandberg a Cubs Ambassador, I really want to rent out a suite for a game for Desipiots. Just because I'd love to see how disgusted he'd be at having to glad-hand us.

My guess is he'd neither know nor care who we are.

He'd probably be mostly annoyed at me acting like a dumber, and possibly fatter, Chris Farley when talking to my childhood hero.

"Remember that game where you hit those home runs? That was awesome."

I was once handed a telephone, without warning, on the other end of which was Matt Le Tissier - who for fans of Southampton FC is like Ryno, Santo and Kerry Wood all rolled into one.  Helpfully, I told him his name - "You're Matt Le Tiss!" - and then found myself completely stumped for words.  After a moment or two of excruciating silence, my mate took pity on me, removed the phone from my hand, had a brief and very pleasant chat ("Your mate doesn't say much, does he?") with MLT, and hung up.

I've since had to get my arse-cheeks surgically unclenched.

[Slaky]

...if the Cubs officially make Ryne Sandberg a Cubs Ambassador, I really want to rent out a suite for a game for Desipiots. Just because I'd love to see how disgusted he'd be at having to glad-hand us.

My guess is he'd neither know nor care who we are.

He'd probably be mostly annoyed at me acting like a dumber, and possibly fatter, Chris Farley when talking to my childhood hero.

"Remember that game where you hit those home runs? That was awesome."

I was once handed a telephone, without warning, on the other end of which was Matt Le Tissier - who for fans of Southampton FC is like Ryno, Santo and Kerry Wood all rolled into one.  Helpfully, I told him his name - "You're Matt Le Tiss!" - and then found myself completely stumped for words.  After a moment or two of excruciating silence, my mate took pity on me, removed the phone from my hand, had a brief and very pleasant chat ("Your mate doesn't say much, does he?") with MLT, and hung up.

I've since had to get my arse-cheeks surgically unclenched.

I'm the only other person who knows who that is.

[SKO]

...if the Cubs officially make Ryne Sandberg a Cubs Ambassador, I really want to rent out a suite for a game for Desipiots. Just because I'd love to see how disgusted he'd be at having to glad-hand us.

My guess is he'd neither know nor care who we are.

He'd probably be mostly annoyed at me acting like a dumber, and possibly fatter, Chris Farley when talking to my childhood hero.

"Remember that game where you hit those home runs? That was awesome."

I was once handed a telephone, without warning, on the other end of which was Matt Le Tissier - who for fans of Southampton FC is like Ryno, Santo and Kerry Wood all rolled into one.  Helpfully, I told him his name - "You're Matt Le Tiss!" - and then found myself completely stumped for words.  After a moment or two of excruciating silence, my mate took pity on me, removed the phone from my hand, had a brief and very pleasant chat ("Your mate doesn't say much, does he?") with MLT, and hung up.

I've since had to get my arse-cheeks surgically unclenched.

Same thing happened to me when I first met Ernie Banks, but then that dude just did all of the talking for me. The ball I had him sign was already signed by Fergie Jenkins and I was able to spit out "yes" when he asked if that was Fergie's signature, and then he just started talking to me about Fergie until I was able to talk like a real human being. If I met Sandberg there's no fucking way I'd tease him about corncob dresses or the Phillies. Fuck that. I'd just want him to sign the goddamn baseball, and then I'd tell everyone about my best friend Ryne Sandberg.

[SKO]

...if the Cubs officially make Ryne Sandberg a Cubs Ambassador, I really want to rent out a suite for a game for Desipiots. Just because I'd love to see how disgusted he'd be at having to glad-hand us.

My guess is he'd neither know nor care who we are.

He'd probably be mostly annoyed at me acting like a dumber, and possibly fatter, Chris Farley when talking to my childhood hero.

"Remember that game where you hit those home runs? That was awesome."

I was once handed a telephone, without warning, on the other end of which was Matt Le Tissier - who for fans of Southampton FC is like Ryno, Santo and Kerry Wood all rolled into one.  Helpfully, I told him his name - "You're Matt Le Tiss!" - and then found myself completely stumped for words.  After a moment or two of excruciating silence, my mate took pity on me, removed the phone from my hand, had a brief and very pleasant chat ("Your mate doesn't say much, does he?") with MLT, and hung up.

I've since had to get my arse-cheeks surgically unclenched.

I'm the only other person who knows who that is.

We all know who that is. Tonk met Joey from Friends and lost his mind. Good for him.

[Quality Start Machine]

...if the Cubs officially make Ryne Sandberg a Cubs Ambassador, I really want to rent out a suite for a game for Desipiots. Just because I'd love to see how disgusted he'd be at having to glad-hand us.

My guess is he'd neither know nor care who we are.

He'd probably be mostly annoyed at me acting like a dumber, and possibly fatter, Chris Farley when talking to my childhood hero.

"Remember that game where you hit those home runs? That was awesome."

I was once handed a telephone, without warning, on the other end of which was Matt Le Tissier - who for fans of Southampton FC is like Ryno, Santo and Kerry Wood all rolled into one.  Helpfully, I told him his name - "You're Matt Le Tiss!" - and then found myself completely stumped for words.  After a moment or two of excruciating silence, my mate took pity on me, removed the phone from my hand, had a brief and very pleasant chat ("Your mate doesn't say much, does he?") with MLT, and hung up.

I've since had to get my arse-cheeks surgically unclenched.

For better or worse, I don't have the Starstuck Gene. One time I saw Stan Mikita walking, and I walked up and stuck my hand out and said, "Hiya, Stosh!" and he looked like I held a turd under his nose. Maybe I should be more reverent.

[Tony]

...if the Cubs officially make Ryne Sandberg a Cubs Ambassador, I really want to rent out a suite for a game for Desipiots. Just because I'd love to see how disgusted he'd be at having to glad-hand us.

My guess is he'd neither know nor care who we are.

He'd probably be mostly annoyed at me acting like a dumber, and possibly fatter, Chris Farley when talking to my childhood hero.

"Remember that game where you hit those home runs? That was awesome."

I was once handed a telephone, without warning, on the other end of which was Matt Le Tissier - who for fans of Southampton FC is like Ryno, Santo and Kerry Wood all rolled into one.  Helpfully, I told him his name - "You're Matt Le Tiss!" - and then found myself completely stumped for words.  After a moment or two of excruciating silence, my mate took pity on me, removed the phone from my hand, had a brief and very pleasant chat ("Your mate doesn't say much, does he?") with MLT, and hung up.

I've since had to get my arse-cheeks surgically unclenched.

Same thing happened to me when I first met Ernie Banks, but then that dude just did all of the talking for me. The ball I had him sign was already signed by Fergie Jenkins and I was able to spit out "yes" when he asked if that was Fergie's signature, and then he just started talking to me about Fergie until I was able to talk like a real human being. If I met Sandberg there's no fucking way I'd tease him about corncob dresses or the Phillies. Fuck that. I'd just want him to sign the goddamn baseball, and then I'd tell everyone about my best friend Ryne Sandberg.

I was star struck when I met Doug Dascenzo at a Cubs Caravan once. I mumbled something stupid and he looked at me like I was an idiot while signing his autograph. I can't imagine how bad I'd be if I met a good player.

[Chuck to Chuck]

...if the Cubs officially make Ryne Sandberg a Cubs Ambassador, I really want to rent out a suite for a game for Desipiots. Just because I'd love to see how disgusted he'd be at having to glad-hand us.

My guess is he'd neither know nor care who we are.

He'd probably be mostly annoyed at me acting like a dumber, and possibly fatter, Chris Farley when talking to my childhood hero.

"Remember that game where you hit those home runs? That was awesome."

I was once handed a telephone, without warning, on the other end of which was Matt Le Tissier - who for fans of Southampton FC is like Ryno, Santo and Kerry Wood all rolled into one.  Helpfully, I told him his name - "You're Matt Le Tiss!" - and then found myself completely stumped for words.  After a moment or two of excruciating silence, my mate took pity on me, removed the phone from my hand, had a brief and very pleasant chat ("Your mate doesn't say much, does he?") with MLT, and hung up.

I've since had to get my arse-cheeks surgically unclenched.

Same thing happened to me when I first met Ernie Banks, but then that dude just did all of the talking for me. The ball I had him sign was already signed by Fergie Jenkins and I was able to spit out "yes" when he asked if that was Fergie's signature, and then he just started talking to me about Fergie until I was able to talk like a real human being. If I met Sandberg there's no fucking way I'd tease him about corncob dresses or the Phillies. Fuck that. I'd just want him to sign the goddamn baseball, and then I'd tell everyone about my best friend Ryne Sandberg.

I was star struck when I met Doug Dascenzo at a Cubs Caravan once. I mumbled something stupid and he looked at me like I was an idiot while signing his autograph. I can't imagine how bad I'd be if I met a good player.

I was once taking a piss at Baja Beach Club and realized Calvin Schiraldi was pissing next to me.

And he wasn't even standing on a mound.

[PenFoe]

...if the Cubs officially make Ryne Sandberg a Cubs Ambassador, I really want to rent out a suite for a game for Desipiots. Just because I'd love to see how disgusted he'd be at having to glad-hand us.

My guess is he'd neither know nor care who we are.

He'd probably be mostly annoyed at me acting like a dumber, and possibly fatter, Chris Farley when talking to my childhood hero.

"Remember that game where you hit those home runs? That was awesome."

I was once handed a telephone, without warning, on the other end of which was Matt Le Tissier - who for fans of Southampton FC is like Ryno, Santo and Kerry Wood all rolled into one.  Helpfully, I told him his name - "You're Matt Le Tiss!" - and then found myself completely stumped for words.  After a moment or two of excruciating silence, my mate took pity on me, removed the phone from my hand, had a brief and very pleasant chat ("Your mate doesn't say much, does he?") with MLT, and hung up.

I've since had to get my arse-cheeks surgically unclenched.

Same thing happened to me when I first met Ernie Banks, but then that dude just did all of the talking for me. The ball I had him sign was already signed by Fergie Jenkins and I was able to spit out "yes" when he asked if that was Fergie's signature, and then he just started talking to me about Fergie until I was able to talk like a real human being. If I met Sandberg there's no fucking way I'd tease him about corncob dresses or the Phillies. Fuck that. I'd just want him to sign the goddamn baseball, and then I'd tell everyone about my best friend Ryne Sandberg.

I was star struck when I met Doug Dascenzo at a Cubs Caravan once. I mumbled something stupid and he looked at me like I was an idiot while signing his autograph. I can't imagine how bad I'd be if I met a good player.

I was once taking a piss at Baja Beach Club and realized Calvin Schiraldi was pissing next to me.

And he wasn't even standing on a mound.

I once pissed next to Mark Grace at a bar in Scottsdale. I really wanted to sing "Me and my RC" but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

[Tony]

...if the Cubs officially make Ryne Sandberg a Cubs Ambassador, I really want to rent out a suite for a game for Desipiots. Just because I'd love to see how disgusted he'd be at having to glad-hand us.

My guess is he'd neither know nor care who we are.

He'd probably be mostly annoyed at me acting like a dumber, and possibly fatter, Chris Farley when talking to my childhood hero.

"Remember that game where you hit those home runs? That was awesome."

I was once handed a telephone, without warning, on the other end of which was Matt Le Tissier - who for fans of Southampton FC is like Ryno, Santo and Kerry Wood all rolled into one.  Helpfully, I told him his name - "You're Matt Le Tiss!" - and then found myself completely stumped for words.  After a moment or two of excruciating silence, my mate took pity on me, removed the phone from my hand, had a brief and very pleasant chat ("Your mate doesn't say much, does he?") with MLT, and hung up.

I've since had to get my arse-cheeks surgically unclenched.

Same thing happened to me when I first met Ernie Banks, but then that dude just did all of the talking for me. The ball I had him sign was already signed by Fergie Jenkins and I was able to spit out "yes" when he asked if that was Fergie's signature, and then he just started talking to me about Fergie until I was able to talk like a real human being. If I met Sandberg there's no fucking way I'd tease him about corncob dresses or the Phillies. Fuck that. I'd just want him to sign the goddamn baseball, and then I'd tell everyone about my best friend Ryne Sandberg.

I was star struck when I met Doug Dascenzo at a Cubs Caravan once. I mumbled something stupid and he looked at me like I was an idiot while signing his autograph. I can't imagine how bad I'd be if I met a good player.

I was once taking a piss at Baja Beach Club and realized Calvin Schiraldi was pissing next to me.

And he wasn't even standing on a mound.

I once pissed next to Mark Grace at a bar in Scottsdale. I really wanted to sing "Me and my RC" but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

I once let Will I Am into a bathroom at a sushi place in Seattle. It had a keypad lock on the door, and he was knocking while I pissed. He rushed in when I left. I assume he had diarrhea.

[Quality Start Machine]

...if the Cubs officially make Ryne Sandberg a Cubs Ambassador, I really want to rent out a suite for a game for Desipiots. Just because I'd love to see how disgusted he'd be at having to glad-hand us.

My guess is he'd neither know nor care who we are.

He'd probably be mostly annoyed at me acting like a dumber, and possibly fatter, Chris Farley when talking to my childhood hero.

"Remember that game where you hit those home runs? That was awesome."

I was once handed a telephone, without warning, on the other end of which was Matt Le Tissier - who for fans of Southampton FC is like Ryno, Santo and Kerry Wood all rolled into one.  Helpfully, I told him his name - "You're Matt Le Tiss!" - and then found myself completely stumped for words.  After a moment or two of excruciating silence, my mate took pity on me, removed the phone from my hand, had a brief and very pleasant chat ("Your mate doesn't say much, does he?") with MLT, and hung up.

I've since had to get my arse-cheeks surgically unclenched.

Same thing happened to me when I first met Ernie Banks, but then that dude just did all of the talking for me. The ball I had him sign was already signed by Fergie Jenkins and I was able to spit out "yes" when he asked if that was Fergie's signature, and then he just started talking to me about Fergie until I was able to talk like a real human being. If I met Sandberg there's no fucking way I'd tease him about corncob dresses or the Phillies. Fuck that. I'd just want him to sign the goddamn baseball, and then I'd tell everyone about my best friend Ryne Sandberg.

I was star struck when I met Doug Dascenzo at a Cubs Caravan once. I mumbled something stupid and he looked at me like I was an idiot while signing his autograph. I can't imagine how bad I'd be if I met a good player.

I was once taking a piss at Baja Beach Club and realized Calvin Schiraldi was pissing next to me.

And he wasn't even standing on a mound.

I once pissed next to Mark Grace at a bar in Scottsdale. I really wanted to sing "Me and my RC" but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Harry Caray came stumbling out of the head of his restaurant and damn near fell into me and my friend Wolfie with a "Hey, fellas, how ya doin?" Shook his hand, which I'm pretty sure hadn't been washed. Bought him a beer in his own place, got a half hour of Stan Musial stories.

It fucking ruled.

[CBStew]

...if the Cubs officially make Ryne Sandberg a Cubs Ambassador, I really want to rent out a suite for a game for Desipiots. Just because I'd love to see how disgusted he'd be at having to glad-hand us.

My guess is he'd neither know nor care who we are.

He'd probably be mostly annoyed at me acting like a dumber, and possibly fatter, Chris Farley when talking to my childhood hero.

"Remember that game where you hit those home runs? That was awesome."

I was once handed a telephone, without warning, on the other end of which was Matt Le Tissier - who for fans of Southampton FC is like Ryno, Santo and Kerry Wood all rolled into one.  Helpfully, I told him his name - "You're Matt Le Tiss!" - and then found myself completely stumped for words.  After a moment or two of excruciating silence, my mate took pity on me, removed the phone from my hand, had a brief and very pleasant chat ("Your mate doesn't say much, does he?") with MLT, and hung up.

I've since had to get my arse-cheeks surgically unclenched.

Same thing happened to me when I first met Ernie Banks, but then that dude just did all of the talking for me. The ball I had him sign was already signed by Fergie Jenkins and I was able to spit out "yes" when he asked if that was Fergie's signature, and then he just started talking to me about Fergie until I was able to talk like a real human being. If I met Sandberg there's no fucking way I'd tease him about corncob dresses or the Phillies. Fuck that. I'd just want him to sign the goddamn baseball, and then I'd tell everyone about my best friend Ryne Sandberg.

I was star struck when I met Doug Dascenzo at a Cubs Caravan once. I mumbled something stupid and he looked at me like I was an idiot while signing his autograph. I can't imagine how bad I'd be if I met a good player.

I was once taking a piss at Baja Beach Club and realized Calvin Schiraldi was pissing next to me.

And he wasn't even standing on a mound.

I once pissed next to Mark Grace at a bar in Scottsdale. I really wanted to sing "Me and my RC" but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Harry Caray came stumbling out of the head of his restaurant and damn near fell into me and my friend Wolfie with a "Hey, fellas, how ya doin?" Shook his hand, which I'm pretty sure hadn't been washed. Bought him a beer in his own place, got a half hour of Stan Musial stories.

It fucking ruled.

Los Angeleans are mostly immune to celebrity sightings.  Movie and TV actors (for the most part) are like regular working people with ordinary lives away from the studio.   They go to supermarkets, diners and even to movies.  So folks give them their space, except for tourists like me who tend to stare and wonder "Why does that person look familiar?" 

[Quality Start Machine]

...if the Cubs officially make Ryne Sandberg a Cubs Ambassador, I really want to rent out a suite for a game for Desipiots. Just because I'd love to see how disgusted he'd be at having to glad-hand us.

My guess is he'd neither know nor care who we are.

He'd probably be mostly annoyed at me acting like a dumber, and possibly fatter, Chris Farley when talking to my childhood hero.

"Remember that game where you hit those home runs? That was awesome."

I was once handed a telephone, without warning, on the other end of which was Matt Le Tissier - who for fans of Southampton FC is like Ryno, Santo and Kerry Wood all rolled into one.  Helpfully, I told him his name - "You're Matt Le Tiss!" - and then found myself completely stumped for words.  After a moment or two of excruciating silence, my mate took pity on me, removed the phone from my hand, had a brief and very pleasant chat ("Your mate doesn't say much, does he?") with MLT, and hung up.

I've since had to get my arse-cheeks surgically unclenched.

Same thing happened to me when I first met Ernie Banks, but then that dude just did all of the talking for me. The ball I had him sign was already signed by Fergie Jenkins and I was able to spit out "yes" when he asked if that was Fergie's signature, and then he just started talking to me about Fergie until I was able to talk like a real human being. If I met Sandberg there's no fucking way I'd tease him about corncob dresses or the Phillies. Fuck that. I'd just want him to sign the goddamn baseball, and then I'd tell everyone about my best friend Ryne Sandberg.

I was star struck when I met Doug Dascenzo at a Cubs Caravan once. I mumbled something stupid and he looked at me like I was an idiot while signing his autograph. I can't imagine how bad I'd be if I met a good player.

I was once taking a piss at Baja Beach Club and realized Calvin Schiraldi was pissing next to me.

And he wasn't even standing on a mound.

I once pissed next to Mark Grace at a bar in Scottsdale. I really wanted to sing "Me and my RC" but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Harry Caray came stumbling out of the head of his restaurant and damn near fell into me and my friend Wolfie with a "Hey, fellas, how ya doin?" Shook his hand, which I'm pretty sure hadn't been washed. Bought him a beer in his own place, got a half hour of Stan Musial stories.

It fucking ruled.

Los Angeleans are mostly immune to celebrity sightings.  Movie and TV actors (for the most part) are like regular working people with ordinary lives away from the studio.   They go to supermarkets, diners and even to movies.  So folks give them their space, except for tourists like me who tend to stare and wonder "Why does that person look familiar?" 

In NY it's more detached aloofness. Nobody wants to be so uncool as to acknowledge anybody.

I just always figured they're just people with cooler jobs and more talent than I have.

[Saul Goodman]

...if the Cubs officially make Ryne Sandberg a Cubs Ambassador, I really want to rent out a suite for a game for Desipiots. Just because I'd love to see how disgusted he'd be at having to glad-hand us.

My guess is he'd neither know nor care who we are.

He'd probably be mostly annoyed at me acting like a dumber, and possibly fatter, Chris Farley when talking to my childhood hero.

"Remember that game where you hit those home runs? That was awesome."

I was once handed a telephone, without warning, on the other end of which was Matt Le Tissier - who for fans of Southampton FC is like Ryno, Santo and Kerry Wood all rolled into one.  Helpfully, I told him his name - "You're Matt Le Tiss!" - and then found myself completely stumped for words.  After a moment or two of excruciating silence, my mate took pity on me, removed the phone from my hand, had a brief and very pleasant chat ("Your mate doesn't say much, does he?") with MLT, and hung up.

I've since had to get my arse-cheeks surgically unclenched.

Same thing happened to me when I first met Ernie Banks, but then that dude just did all of the talking for me. The ball I had him sign was already signed by Fergie Jenkins and I was able to spit out "yes" when he asked if that was Fergie's signature, and then he just started talking to me about Fergie until I was able to talk like a real human being. If I met Sandberg there's no fucking way I'd tease him about corncob dresses or the Phillies. Fuck that. I'd just want him to sign the goddamn baseball, and then I'd tell everyone about my best friend Ryne Sandberg.

I was star struck when I met Doug Dascenzo at a Cubs Caravan once. I mumbled something stupid and he looked at me like I was an idiot while signing his autograph. I can't imagine how bad I'd be if I met a good player.

I was once taking a piss at Baja Beach Club and realized Calvin Schiraldi was pissing next to me.

And he wasn't even standing on a mound.

I once pissed next to Mark Grace at a bar in Scottsdale. I really wanted to sing "Me and my RC" but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Did you high five during the piss?

[InternetApex]

John Starks glared at me and provided a very terse answer to one of my questions after a loss to the Pacers at Market Square Arena in 1997. I was so shook I couldn't bring myself to speak to Patrick Ewing who was a few locker stalls away, icing his knees and looking at me cordially like he didn't mind if I asked him something. I still hate myself for it.

[Saul Goodman]

I've told this before but Troy Glaus was very annoyed I didn't recognize Troy Glaus.