my advice for how to win at fenway: stop allowing the sox eleven runs a game (so simple)
firstly, what's jason lee doing in a commercial about lance armstrong trying to win a sixth? is he like a mad lance armstrong fan or someth? cos otherwise it's pretty weird.
love you, jason lee. have always loved you. mallrats? brilliant.
*
but moreso, it is a painful thing, kids. to get hammered--repeatedly--by the punkety punk red sox. not that i am not all about the sox most other times of the year, but what's with the fenway voodoo spell! uncool.
also, ramon castro, i do not approve of you. i understand that you are just a minor leaguer not intended to play at this level yet, that mark mclemore is a gimp and esteban german is far too small to play at the big league level (hee, i kid. actually he's hurt), but you, castro, with your monkeyfied hair and your thirteen major league at bats, are not winning my heart as joyous marco polo has done. this seems like a personal problem. a personal problem of yours, not mine.
or, it could just be that i am so ready for chavvy to come back, it's ridiculous. two journeyman fill-ins and an end-of-his-career utility man with a bad knee do not equal the excellence of one gold glover who in addition is hotter than the other three combined.
i'm seriously about to drive out to sacramento and get me to a rivercats game. but then i'd have to be in sacramento. hmmm. is it worth it?
*
and on the other side of the bay, what is up! what's the deal with the giants getting beat by the rockies two outta three? what the FUCK is up with the 'pen blowing a FIVE run lead in the EIGHTH, after my boy jason schmidt went six innings of one-hit ball!
jesus, felipe, is scott eyre not ALLOWED to pitch to more than one batter? you left in freakin' brower until he almost damned us, eyre came in and i could tell watching him in the BULLPEN that he had the good stuff today, but no, you pull him after one out and bring in that lousy former dodger and LOOK WHAT HAPPENED.
felipe is mad overthinking his pitching matchups. fuck righty vs. lefty, fuck what the pitcher did last appearance, if the boy's getting outs, LEAVE HIM IN.
anyway. it was hilarious, i was at the game last night, the rocks had this rook on the mound who'd pitched all of three innings prior, kid was all cocky and punkish, he said, 'i'm gonna announce my presence with authority,' then he threw one pitch to bonds and barry was all, 'what what! i am the ONLY cocky motherfucker around these parts, and yeah, there's a GOOD FUCKIN' REASON no one ever pitches to me.' straight away center, ball was just clocked. it was excellent.
and my boy jt snow, of whom i've become totally adoring, mainly cos i watched him play at candlestick and there was this crazy lady the next row up who was always hollering, 'jt cutie!' every time he was up (not so strange, but add in the fact that this lady was sitting maybe two rows from the field, so there was a good chance that jt actually, you know, heard her) and also cos he can never keep his bubble gum in his mouth and also cos he saved the life of a very small and adorable child in the world series and also cos he's the best defensive first baseman in the past decade and i will challenge to a duel anyone who disputes me on this fact, ANYWAY, my boy jt snow has found his bat when hitting in the three hole and that is an important place to be raking doubles, what with the fella who comes up behind him (see above).
it's weird pulling for both the city and the town (for those not aware, the city is sf and the town in oakland), even though interleague's over, just on accounta the two teams are basically as different in makeup as two teams can get. tough grizzled vets on the one hand, pretty twenty somethings on the other (gawd. did i just write 'twentysomethings'? bad candle).
the a's have trouble with their starting pitching (save that tall one), trouble with their bullpen, trouble with their offense, and an injury-ravaged infield. someone remind me how we won 46 games?
oh that's right. we've got god on our side. that'll do it.
i can't let myself get worried before august, though, else i go insane. and ps, i am so unconcerned about the rangers. yeah whatever, they're in first--they've still got no pitching. i predict flame-out, and not in too much longer either (yeh, yeh, knuckles are bloody from the wood-knock).
*
work is hard, y'all. did you know eight in the morning was an actual time? i was always under the impression it was a ghost story used to spook insomniacs and recovering drug addicts. and since i happen to fall into both those categories, imagine my terror to find my alarm clock set to eight every day now. it's a sad state we find ourselves in.
anyway, sleepy. stupid year of laziness in london, spoiling me like a mofo.
*
finally, rich harden looks damn weird in his uniform. i'm having difficulty pinning it down, but it's definitely true. i think he'd benefit from the high socks. but then, i think pretty much everybody would benefit from the high socks.
oh! i forgot to tell you guys! killer idea, yo. oakland a's . . . pinup calendar. you KNOW you would buy it. i'd buy like a bushel of 'em. and the thinking is if there's at least one heterosexual woman or flaming gay man (or even just smoking gay) working in the a's pr office, they'd totally see the genius of it.
who'll sign my petition! who'll help me write the petition in a way that doesn't border too much on pornagraphic? aw, hell, let's porn it up.
of course, there'd prolly be some kind of awkward conversations as they chose the players to feature. like, no, sorry bobby kielty. put your shirt back on, you're scaring the cat.
love you, jason lee. have always loved you. mallrats? brilliant.
*
but moreso, it is a painful thing, kids. to get hammered--repeatedly--by the punkety punk red sox. not that i am not all about the sox most other times of the year, but what's with the fenway voodoo spell! uncool.
also, ramon castro, i do not approve of you. i understand that you are just a minor leaguer not intended to play at this level yet, that mark mclemore is a gimp and esteban german is far too small to play at the big league level (hee, i kid. actually he's hurt), but you, castro, with your monkeyfied hair and your thirteen major league at bats, are not winning my heart as joyous marco polo has done. this seems like a personal problem. a personal problem of yours, not mine.
or, it could just be that i am so ready for chavvy to come back, it's ridiculous. two journeyman fill-ins and an end-of-his-career utility man with a bad knee do not equal the excellence of one gold glover who in addition is hotter than the other three combined.
i'm seriously about to drive out to sacramento and get me to a rivercats game. but then i'd have to be in sacramento. hmmm. is it worth it?
*
and on the other side of the bay, what is up! what's the deal with the giants getting beat by the rockies two outta three? what the FUCK is up with the 'pen blowing a FIVE run lead in the EIGHTH, after my boy jason schmidt went six innings of one-hit ball!
jesus, felipe, is scott eyre not ALLOWED to pitch to more than one batter? you left in freakin' brower until he almost damned us, eyre came in and i could tell watching him in the BULLPEN that he had the good stuff today, but no, you pull him after one out and bring in that lousy former dodger and LOOK WHAT HAPPENED.
felipe is mad overthinking his pitching matchups. fuck righty vs. lefty, fuck what the pitcher did last appearance, if the boy's getting outs, LEAVE HIM IN.
anyway. it was hilarious, i was at the game last night, the rocks had this rook on the mound who'd pitched all of three innings prior, kid was all cocky and punkish, he said, 'i'm gonna announce my presence with authority,' then he threw one pitch to bonds and barry was all, 'what what! i am the ONLY cocky motherfucker around these parts, and yeah, there's a GOOD FUCKIN' REASON no one ever pitches to me.' straight away center, ball was just clocked. it was excellent.
and my boy jt snow, of whom i've become totally adoring, mainly cos i watched him play at candlestick and there was this crazy lady the next row up who was always hollering, 'jt cutie!' every time he was up (not so strange, but add in the fact that this lady was sitting maybe two rows from the field, so there was a good chance that jt actually, you know, heard her) and also cos he can never keep his bubble gum in his mouth and also cos he saved the life of a very small and adorable child in the world series and also cos he's the best defensive first baseman in the past decade and i will challenge to a duel anyone who disputes me on this fact, ANYWAY, my boy jt snow has found his bat when hitting in the three hole and that is an important place to be raking doubles, what with the fella who comes up behind him (see above).
it's weird pulling for both the city and the town (for those not aware, the city is sf and the town in oakland), even though interleague's over, just on accounta the two teams are basically as different in makeup as two teams can get. tough grizzled vets on the one hand, pretty twenty somethings on the other (gawd. did i just write 'twentysomethings'? bad candle).
the a's have trouble with their starting pitching (save that tall one), trouble with their bullpen, trouble with their offense, and an injury-ravaged infield. someone remind me how we won 46 games?
oh that's right. we've got god on our side. that'll do it.
i can't let myself get worried before august, though, else i go insane. and ps, i am so unconcerned about the rangers. yeah whatever, they're in first--they've still got no pitching. i predict flame-out, and not in too much longer either (yeh, yeh, knuckles are bloody from the wood-knock).
*
work is hard, y'all. did you know eight in the morning was an actual time? i was always under the impression it was a ghost story used to spook insomniacs and recovering drug addicts. and since i happen to fall into both those categories, imagine my terror to find my alarm clock set to eight every day now. it's a sad state we find ourselves in.
anyway, sleepy. stupid year of laziness in london, spoiling me like a mofo.
*
finally, rich harden looks damn weird in his uniform. i'm having difficulty pinning it down, but it's definitely true. i think he'd benefit from the high socks. but then, i think pretty much everybody would benefit from the high socks.
oh! i forgot to tell you guys! killer idea, yo. oakland a's . . . pinup calendar. you KNOW you would buy it. i'd buy like a bushel of 'em. and the thinking is if there's at least one heterosexual woman or flaming gay man (or even just smoking gay) working in the a's pr office, they'd totally see the genius of it.
who'll sign my petition! who'll help me write the petition in a way that doesn't border too much on pornagraphic? aw, hell, let's porn it up.
of course, there'd prolly be some kind of awkward conversations as they chose the players to feature. like, no, sorry bobby kielty. put your shirt back on, you're scaring the cat.