I WENT TO A BARBER SHOP...

--Question: Is a person who tries to impress you by mentioning all the celebrity hairstylists they know a mane dropper?

--Rolling Stone comes out with a special issue on the "100 Greatest Guitar Songs" and Sweet Child O' Mine is rated 63rd? Bite me, Jann Wenner. Wait. Please don't. Other egregiousnesses: "Adam Raised A Cain", Springsteen's worst song, even being on the list (Didn't you mean "Badlands"?); "Back In Black" is on the list but "You Shook Me All Night Long" is not?; "Smoke on the Water"? Not even on the list! "Smoke on the Water"?!? That's the Power Chord holy grail; And "Satisfaction" can't get no, no no no;

-- I hope someone from Entertainment Weekly reads this blog and asks this writer to do a cover story on Craig Ferguson, and the cover headline will read "The Funniest Man After Midnight (I know!)."

--Whenever I see Sasha Vujacic and that hairnet I think of Ruth Buzzi's character on "Laugh-In", Gladys.

--So, Belmont. My good friend Adam Duerson, the Pied Piper (or Captain Ron, if you wish) of Sports Illustrated, organized two busloads of pilgrims to meet at the corner of Hipster and Doofus, i.e., the East Village, at 8 a.m. on Saturday morning. We all got there mostly on time (some of us might not have slept). We did this in order to beat traffic, which we successfully accomplished.

But then it was 9:45 a.m., we were already at the track, and the weather was downright steamy. If we had been characters in The Great Gatsby, we would have driven to The Plaza, gotten a room, ordered martinis, and then outed everyone's affairs.

But we weren't.

Instead, I got a haircut. And quaffed beverages. And we listened to a darn fineBilly Joel cover band that had the good sense not to play "We Didn't Start The Fire", "Big Shot" or "Pressure" but did play the lesser-known classics such as "Summer, Highland Falls", "Angry Young Man" and "All For Leyna". And when it all came to be too much, a loyal confidante saved me by force-feeding me Bunny Grahams (the chocolate chip make a terrific snack).

And the entire day might have been a successful one, except that at about 5:30 p.m., I finally relented and headed to the men's room. Now, by that I don't mean the urinal. And, you should hope to never need to visit a stall at Belmont Park when it's 94 degrees and stifingly humid and more than 100,000 humans have crammed their way into the park (unless it's a horse's stall). Big Brown, indeed.

The funniest part? As I was walking out a woman, beyond frustrated with the lines for the women's rooms, just walked right in (I would do the same thing if I were female) and used the stall. She didn't care that it was a men's room, didn't even care that what she was entering made the Trainspotting water closet smell like an English garden.

And speaking of clogging the toilet (we were, by the way), what happened with our 1-5 favorite? From my limited grandstand view, I went from seeing him in 3rd on the backstretch to wondering if he hadn't gotten lost. "Did he turn right?" I recall asking someone.

--Here's something: Of all the "For Dummies" titles, and there are hundreds if not thousands, I was unable to find a Rocket Science For Dummies. Shouldn't they have this? Or is the title's non-existence absolute proof that rocket science just cannot be dumbed down?

--Here's what I hope happens in Game 3 at the Staples Center: Kobe goes down in the first half with an injury so serious, so grievous, that he is carried off the court in a body bag. They even zip it up. Then, miraculously as it were, he returns in the second half and leads LA to four straight victories.

-- What did I do on Sunday, you ask? I traveled to New Paltz, N.Y., to see the "Got Rhythm" dance recital at Wallkill High School. Now, I am not normally an amateur ballet and tap aficionado, but it just so happened that my friend Charles Davis' (yes, the excellent dude on the Fox and Big Ten Network broadcasts) father, Franklin, was performing a tap number. Here's what you have to love about Franklin Davis (a former basketball and football coach, by the way): he's 67 years of age and he just took up tap in January. And yet he was utterly without fear in taking that stage and doing a little shuffle-step.

In a show with at least three dozen performers, Mr. Davis was probably the only person over 50, and was certainly the only male, on the program. And there was never one moment of self-doubt on his part. He was dead-set on enjoying himself and he did. How many people of any age do you know who have such a terrific attitude?

--Proposed blossary terms:

stomple: Something a little more dire than being simply trampled or stomped, leading us to...

trampede: A runaway horde of cheap floozies

--Finally, wouldn't you like to see a sign in the bathroom of a Chinese restaurant that reads, "Employees must wash hands before returning to wok"?