2)…I just realized ads are showing up on my posts here. You can get rid of them if you sign up for the pro account, but…no. So I think I’m going back to blogger. Updates as they occur…

First, I’d been nursing what I thought was tonsilitis since last week. Then, suddenly, this disgustingly gross I don’t even know what grows in my throat and I’m like, “This is a first.” So I call my doctor and…he doesn’t call me back. So I find a new doctor. And even though by the time I see him the gross disgusting whatever in my throat has shrunk, it’s still there. And he’s like “Ah, so have you ever had mono?” And I’m like “UM, no” and do not decide to tell him the story of how I was one of only a few people on my floor freshman year of college to not get it. And he’s all like “Get out.” And I’m like “No, I’ve never had it.” And he’s like “Because that thing in your throat is caused by one of two things: A food particle is caught in one of your tonsil’s pouches or mono.”

People. I’m 34 years old, and I possibly have mono for the first time in my life. Making it even more head scratching is that writing this book, along with making me MIA from blogging a lot, has kept me from being, uh, smoochy-smoochy with anyone. I don’t share drinks with people. I don’t have any contact with other people’s saliva as far as I know. It could still be the food particle thing, but I doubt I would’ve had swollen glands with that now, would I? So yes. I get mono roughly 20 years after I should’ve had it for the first time. Makes sense. I’m going to blame the air ventilation system on the PATH, which blows so harshly it dries out my contacts, so why wouldn’t it blow other people’s germs down my throat? Or maybe it’s my dungeon of an office. Who knows.

Also for the first time this week, as many of you have experienced as well: Snow in October. And not just flurries. Like, full-on ugly wet snow. Along with never having had mono, that’s never happened in my whole life before Halloween, either.

It’s like the wintry weather got jealous of the earthquake followed by a hurricane thing and decided to let loose early, to remind us it’s still the superior form of natural phenomenon or something. Weather is immature like that.

Since these things tend to happen in threes, I’m going to hope my first lotto win happens this week. Or my first book deal comes through. Or something awesome along those lines.

I was lucky that year – I lived in a dorm with quite a few Yankee fans, as opposed to the year before, when I experienced Edgar Martinez-induced angst amongst many smug and gloating Orioles fans. So as the game progressed, people were in and out of my room, I was in and out of theirs. It was the strangest feeling that night, being wound up like a spring, eyes bugging out, but not really talking, not really wanting to believe what could happen lest the Braves make a comeback.

And then John Wettland came in and made things exciting. I couldn’t sit. I clung to the corner of the cinderblock wall in my dorm room like my life depended on it. Mark Lemke would NOT go quietly. And then, and then…

Here’s what I remember about the ball hitting Charlie Hayes’ glove: Screaming. Me screaming. My dormmates in my building screaming. A friend of mine said he was walking across campus when it happened, heard the collective roar and was like “Oh, the Yankees must’ve just won the World Series.” I ran around hugging and high-fiving various people on my floor. I high-fived my friend’s forehead by accident. I called my parents at the party they were at and screamed my thanks at my father for making me a Yankees fan. I sprinted up to the third floor, my feet not touching the stairs, and hugged and high-fived all the Yankees fans there. I will never forget the smell of that stairwell, either, as it now just reminds me of utter joy, where before it was just an old stairwell smell. I’m not sure there’s ever been a moment of my life where years and years of emotion added up to that one explosive moment in victory, especially since it was so unexpected, given what had happened in the first two games of the Series. There’s no replicating that kind of delight, to be sure.

Fifteen years later, it still makes me smile.

Anyway, this took me back to a time when I was in the first grade and at one point during the school day, I started to feel really, really crappy. Same symptoms as above but I think I was nursing a higher fever at that point because I could barely focus. I was miserable and finally went up to ask if I could go to the nurse. We had a substitute that day, one I really liked because I think she’d read us Dr. Seuss books when I was in kindergarten and she was a nice older woman – except in this instance, she wouldn’t let me go to the nurse. I can’t remember her reasoning: it was either she didn’t believe that I was sick or it was later in the day and she figured I could suck it up and tough it out or whatever. But I was genuinely sick and I needed to lie down. That’s all I knew. I guess I wasn’t much of a hellraiser back then, because I went back to my desk and sat down and continued to feel crappy in silence.

Finally, our release was drawing near, and there was still some time left before dismissal, but what does our substitute want us to do for fun? Start drilling us with math problems for fun. And not just any math problems: multiplication. Which we hadn’t learned yet. She kept grilling us about this stuff and my classmates were like “Huh?” and I remember thinking “I DON’T KNOW I JUST WANT TO GO HOME.” At some point, my friend Kimberly, who was in second grade, came down to our classroom like she always did before dismissal because she walked home with my friend Brian and me. The teacher starts grilling her about multiplication and of course she understands it because she’s in second grade and she’s learned it, so she kind of saved us there, but still. I had to sit through god knows how many more minutes at my desk, feeling awful, because of math – and not even math that was helping me learn. It was math for the sake of torture.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where my realization comes in: it’s probably half the reason I was terrible at the subject from there on in. Because if I can’t handle minor things like people talking when I’m sick at 34, I can imagine I was probably scarred for effing life over that little “game” of multiplication when I was 6. So there.

Now I’m going to go suck on a lozenge and try not to be bitter about any of this.

Anyhow, it’s made me realize that recent songs are 1) really long (the show starts two-three minutes earlier than my DVR is set for – I’m guessing to accommodate for the fact that every song is like five minutes long now) and 2) really repetitive. Or maybe I’m just more sensitive to that since I’m turning into a crotchety old bag. Still, there are some videos that are just ripe with awesome factoids and snark – “In Da Club” might be my new favorite, if only because I learned the average human “poops 420 pounds a year” (think about that) AND there was a reference to The Babysitter’s Club. Also: Suge Knight coming to the video set and everyone running and hiding. That one isn’t on the Vh1 site, but this one is, and I sort of love the “Yes, that’s Kenny G.” bubble. Also: Shot at Bo Duke’s house. Who knew?

So glad you’re back, old friend!

Then this happened (Hughes is a Tampa Bay Lightning supporter, for those not in the Twitterverse:

The season’s over and yet I can still be delighted by Yankee doings. Technology rules, man.

Also, what she said. (Because, seriously, I know I’ve been an A-Rod defender in the past, but it was nothing to do with actually liking the guy. More like, using him as a lighting rod of angst makes people not see the bigger picture — TWENTY RUNNERS LEFT ON BASE. Of which A-Rod was responsible for three — which also has its issues. But I digress.)

Pitchers and Catchers is in like 130 days. Let’s be grateful we had an extra (pretty exciting) month of summer over lots of other people who don’t give a crap about the game. And an extra week over Red Sox fans, who, may I remind you, were supposed to be in the playoffs when the Yankees weren’t supposed to be at all. Let’s look forward to what happens next instead of scapegoating the entire scenario and actually enjoy our offseason instead of being bitter about it.

Anyway. AJ. Woot! I wasn’t quite so certain he was going to implode like everyone else seemed to be – I mean, I’ve seen him pitch two quality games in person: that 15-inning game against the Red Sox and Game 2 in the 2009 World Series. Plus, it’s baseball, and you never know what’s going to happen. Still, I told my dad that if AJ got the win, I’d paint his picture on my cubicle wall (long story). Since I’m an editor and not a painter, I did the next best thing, and while it’s not a painting per se, it’s still honoring my commitment:

Man, I wish more games could be like that one — and not even for just the end result (which was pretty awesome, by the way). The crowd – both nights – was incredible. I worried that the intensity and loudness and out-and-out boisterousness of Friday night would be diminished slightly by Saturday night, but, lo, it was all there again, even though it looked as if a few seats were empty in Game 1 2.0 (sidebar: You can’t give those seats away? Just sayin’). What was great was everyone returning to our section and exchanging greetings, all, “Hey, back again?” Two solid innings and a seemingly out-of-nowhere downpour had somehow bonded all of us. (Well, not the girl who claimed to be a Tigers fan behind us – I think she was more a Detroit fan than a fan of the actual team, considering at one point she said “I’m sitting near the big yellow pole” and also only seemed to cheer for the team as if to get herself attention and look “anti New York even though I live here” or “Look, I’m a girl and a baseball fan, aren’t I great!” Everyone seemed to catch onto her right away and didn’t pay her much attention, though.)

Anyway, the Granderson to Jeter to Martin relay just about made the place explode and set the tone for the night. Cano’s near-home run review had everyone standing on their feet till the result came down. Swisher’s catch led to one of the most ferocious cheers I’ve ever heard. So, when Sad Clown came to bat with the bases loaded, Steph’s all “Grandslam Saturdays?” as is our custom. The dude next to me, a bit of a salty fan, is all “It’s going to be a grandslam” – and man does he freak the hell out when it happens. As does everyone else, for that matter.

But I just love that the crowd was so involved. I’ve been to Game 1′s in the past that were… not so dripping in the enthusiasm, usually because it’s a bunch of corporate types or bandwagoners. For example, it was the most I’d ever heard a crowd sing along to God Bless America. Like, really singing and not just mumbling along. And then hanging on to every pitch the entirety of the game, not just getting into it when a rally started.By the time the game was over, people were singing “New York, New York” in the elevator (one, uh, enthusiastic guy in particular). I don’t know how all these real fans, or people who at least SOUNDED like real fans, managed to score tickets, but please let this always be the case. I mean, the “Super Nova” chant started up in the upperdeck… and not the wave, for once.

Also awesome: A Paul McCartney stakeout. Steph singing “Better Man” whenever Wilson Betemit came to bat (shout out to 2007-2008). And, when the usual “Empire State of Mind” montage is shown, complete with Jay-Z and Alicia Keys footage from Game 2 in 2009 (to which we always say, “Oh, hey, we were there”) we start changing the lyrics around to reflect the awesomeness of our luxury box experience that night – let’s see Jay-Z shoehorn in mentions of heat lamps and free cookies and carrots into HIS next song.

As I was riding home on the PATH, this older man started chatting up these two 20somethings who’d been at the game. Turns out he was born in Colombia, but is a huge Yankees fan. Their conversation was so giddy and delightful, and the guy mentioned that he worked tonight, but heard about Cano’s grandslam and freaked out, and that he was excited to watch it “on tape” in the morning. There was a slight pause in their conversation and the guy goes, “Oh, man, I love the Yankees.”

That about sums it up, doesn’t it?