Now, I enjoy me some shrimp. That succulent seafood crispness, that implied taste of butter and garlic, the sour and sweet pairing with cocktail sauce, or that guilt-laden bag of fried gold... yeah, count me in. But honestly, would you enjoy being pelted with the stuff as much as this woman apparently does?

She's positively 'krilled.'

I caught wind of uniform changes coming to the Red Sox a couple days ago. Dangerous territory. The unveiling of the new fabrics happened today. A breakdown:

Not even sure if this is a change

No big surprise here. Although traditional I would have to say no one was really married to the circle logo any more. It's actually kind of neat that the hanging sox are so iconic that they can be pulled right out of all the other badging. It would be like the top hat catching on from this symbol:

Let's go... top hats?

It's interesting to me when teams still take a stab at making these elaborate circle baseball symbols as seen even in recent expansions like the Florida Marlins:

Keeping it classy for all those Marlins fans

So the Sox outgrew it's circle. I'm not shocked, yet.

The PHU and the PRU

I have to say. I'm a big fan. I was not Sox aware during the 80's but I really enjoy this throwback to a time with simpler uniforms. The Sox will be hanging on the sleeve for this uniform as well. That's great, of course, they might have to be there because I would expect the socks for this team to be blue to match the lettering. Maybe not, maybe there will be enough red accents on these new guys to still yank the crimson foot tubes knee high. (The way they ought to be.)

Okay. Let's dispense with the pleasantries, on to the TDOW...W!?

Here it comes...

What is THAT on the hat!?

What is it!?

TELL ME WHAT IT IS!

Ooooh, it's that Sox logo I was okay with just a second ago. Well, not when you mess with that hat!

This one needs little extra commentary from me to prove it's relevance to TDOWT…W!?.

You just don't know how to respond to that imagery. If Target had gotten it's act together in time I was supposed to be working retail myself today. I shouldn't be putting my life on the line!!

Tom Shillue is stalking my mind. Tom Shillue, the comedian, is stalking me. 

I can't imagine this is easy for Tom to do and considering the variety of ways he's taking to the task I applaud his efforts. Read on for the wild details:

My introduction to Tom was simple, normal, and subversive. Tom's Comedy Central Special was just one of 30 on a community television set. This took place sometime during my first year at Oswego in the room known, as the great Michael Kelly would put it in an ever so inebriated fashion during Bridge Street Run 2006, as good ol' fiiiive twenty fiiiive. Stand up comics were a popular televised feature in that room, as the special clicked by during this particular Comedy Central marathon the various floor occupants would come and go, dispensing their expertise: "Seen this one, it's alright." "Wait for this part here." "We saw him live in the city and it was ridiculous."

Tom had been seen before, too. He was, "pretty good," with "a couple of funny parts." I don't know what it was but I really liked him. This wasn't pristine and crisp comedy but it wasn't glaringly in the gutter either. He had stories, a lot of stories about watching TV, and I relate to that. In my mind I bookmarked him. I even went on to subscribe to his podcast for a bit. I'm sure we could call this a post at this point and you'd be satisfied that you have a new comic to check out. Pssh, this is where it gets downright whacky.

It is now 2008, a good three years later. It must have taken some intense planning in those three years to get this coincidence assault Shillue is shellacking me with now fully operational. I am good friends with a family of barbershoppers. (Jason is one of those culprits, Jordan may be joining us soon, and their dad is the ringleader.) After years of talk about this fun and harmonic hobby I finally got the chance to attend a convention with the family. We sat in the back of a beautiful hall in Lowell, Massachusetts and watched the remaining foursomes duke it out with tight (or not so tight) harmonies and tenacious hangers (or sometimes crash-and-burners). It was a great experience but I had not thought to bring my glasses and it was a squint-fest trying to keep the singers faces from going fuzzy. 

Despite this, during the show, the lead from one of the quartets not competing looked incredibly familiar. Perhaps even more fascinating to me was that although I could only hear him sing he sounded familiar. I was damn sure it was Tom Shillue. With the help of my iPhone I quickly confirmed it.

Later that night the family and I puttered around the afterglow, a time where the hotel is turned into a barbershop dormitory on a drunken friday night with the beer pong replaced by four part harmony. We sat for a bit in a libation supplying room to watch some performing quartets. I had a seat by the door with sight lines to a couple of coolers. Tom, yes that Tom, popped his head in the door, snaked his gaze past Jordan who was beside me, and asked me something about the coolers. The truth was that I could not hear him well in the atmosphere and barely registered that it was even a query. While I sat contemplating how to say "what?" and still sound intelligent Jordan answered his question still hanging in the air. Tom looked at Jordan briefly, seemingly satisfied at getting an answer but not at the answer given and then looked back to me. Smoothly he held up two fingers and indicated my eyes, drawing dotted lines away from them and towards the singers I was watching, said, "It's cool, stay focused," and slipped back outside.

Now it is tonight. I wanted to normalize my sleep schedule and rest up for the big day, so I planned an early retreat to my bed this evening. I like to read a little news on my iPhone before I go to bed but tonight I decided to try something a little different, podcasts. To my delight there was a couple of episodes of Car Talk available from NPR and I snapped them right up. That's something I know however, and I wanted something new. I poked around under sports and Mayne Street with Kenny Mayne looked like an interesting video podcast to try. I selected a single episode to try out.

Well, see for yourself. Two men begin marching toward you in the clips opening scene. The man on the right? Tom Shillue! Stalking me in my very bed.

So in this post, Tom, I give in to your demands. Clearly you want something and I will provide. I only ask one favor. Can you get me a job at ESPN using the contacts you made? 

Thanks, Tom, and see you soon!

Apparently this travesty of an ad (a tradvertisement) inspires the airline customer to associate the commercial with oceanic amounts of space in British Airways new Heathrow terminal. That's what I learned from the YouTube blurb from the embedded video below. What I learned from the actual commercial is as follows, the world will be flooded by oceans soon, the airport will still be packed, and seals make everyone uncomfortable with their public displays of affection. See what you think: