Saturday, June 24, 2006

My Parents Owe Josh A Coke

Ah, Josh Beckett...

He's like Andrew...

going as Chris Cornell for Halloween.

I'm sure everyone has a "perfect game jinx" story to tell. I won't bore you with mine. I'll just say that my parents switched seats inexplicably and then the perfect game ended. Within seconds. Again, I won't get too much more into it. You don't want to hear any more about "Oh, I'm cold." "Oh, would you like to sit over here away from the door?" "Sure, that'd be great. What could go wrong?" Terrible job. Another TJ by those two women behind home plate--bridging the gap bewtween Drinkwater and Kapstein--tonight who missed ninety percent of the pitches because they were chatting with each other.

Anyway, losing the perfecto at that point was the best thing for Josh, as he got to concentrate on bid'ness the rest of the way. Two sweet dongs by Manny tonight. That first one was like confections that you consume with your corneas. A sort of "eye candy," if you will. And Gabe hitting one, too, followed by "We want Gabe," followed by a well-earned curtain call. See, Yankee fans, you don't do it on a random sac fly, you save it for a special occasion.

And about the '86 celebration: This is getting scary now. We all know Sox brass read my blog and went with my idea to celebrate the team before the first game of the Mets series. Now they've taken my "new ending to Game 6" idea. I kid you not. According to Castiglione, on Monday, EEI will play the game, only with a surprise ending, that of a "contest winner." (read: we read Jere's blog.)

So, Larry, it's obvious now. I guess you're about to email me and ask what I want for my brilliant idea. No money, please. Just season tickets. Anywhere in the park. (But let's just say I have an endless supply of burning poo bags if you even consider right field grandstand sections five through nine. After a few years, I will have evolved into some kind of left-lookin' monster. They'd call me Neck-O Wafer and ask "what the hell is over there?" Come on, Larry.)

Tomorrow I'm at Fenway, which is why I'm at my parents' in CT now. I'll look to break my record of a few weeks ago when I sat through the longest rain delay in Fenway history! I can't wait! Seriously, Steinbrenner with his bugging of me, followed by him using his crazy weather machine to make it rain whenever I go to Fenway... It's getting old, dude... If there is a game, I'll be all over that wife-beater along with 30,000 others. He has some nerve goin' out there.

Happy With A Secret

"What insurance is that, Yogi?" I'm convinced that line was overdubbed by Mark Ruffalo.

Friday, June 23, 2006


Are we really doing this again? Are all the reporters going to write articles, honestly not knowing how fans will react to Pedro Martinez? Let me spell this out for everyone:

Red Sox fans like Pedro.

Reed Sox fans no like Yankees.

Pedro not on Yankees.

Red Sox fans cheer Pedro.

And I'm seriously pissed off so much at BDD right now, for thinking it's his place to
tell people what to do and think. And at for not immediately putting a stop to his comepletely worthless website. At least he's making a fool of himself, and I hope people notice that.

Next time you go to Fenway, take a look around at all the people, say, standing around in the Big Concourse, or over by that other big food area under the left field grandstand. Ask yourself, How many of these people spend hours online reading Red Sox fan sites? You'll realize the number is not only low, but negligible. People have families. And lives. They don't all sit around indoors calculating the effects of wind on Jason Johnson's batting average against. A dude like me who watches the games, writes about the team almost daily, and follows them on what I consider a "normal" level, would probably be considered "fanatical" among your average section of Fenway Park. (But overall we're still the most knowledgeable in baseball, easily.)

My point is, even if everyone who's blindly loyal to dirtdogs (read: Dead To Me's) attempts to get tickets to Pedro's first game back at Fenway, the number of people who haven't even heard of BDD and who don't spend every hour of their waking lives poring over Gammons article after Shaughnessy article will outnumber them fifty-fold. And you know what these non-internet, real life people know about Pedro? 1. Fucking awesome pitcher. 2. Fucking awesome, lovable guy. 3. Won us the fucking World Series. 4. Didn't bow down and suck the microscopic penis of George Steinbrenner, when he had every opportunity to, and in fact spurned the man by going to the Yankees' other rival.

Read number 4 again if you're still confused.

This majority will cheer Pedro, loud and long. As will the entire Red Sox dugout, Curt Schilling included. At that point, even the morons will realize their mistake, and join in the love-fest for the greatest Red Sox pitcher of all-time.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Pedro Drops Deuce On Reds

Not that kind! Two runs, sicko. Anyway, here's the offending turd from this morning. Jennie keeps that book at her desk, and decided it needed to be in the picture. I still don't know the whole story. The only thing I know is, I came in to work, and a man had taken a dump on the floor. Details to follow as they come in. Click any of these to enlarge. (At your own risk.)

On the bus on the way to Shea, on 125th Street, it's...dun du daaah, "Demolition Depot"! Can't believe nobody's snatched up that giant headless eagle yet.

The part of Manhattan where I live, as seen from the Triboro Bridge, headed to Queens. See that building just right of center? The one that sticks up a little bit, kinda? That's the one that rises up from our back "yard," basically.

Shea Stadium.

My seat was in the front row of the upper half of the green seats, in the middle of this picture. Much better than my last mezzanine experience, under the overhang behind the plate. And as I suspected, the beautiful weather made for a much more pleasant day. Plezz mezz.

I asked this kid if he'd seen Bronson. Turns out I'd missed him. I didn't get there early as usual, since this was a work trip, and I had to wait for other people to board the bus. Old, slow people. I also took this shot to show Pedro and Arroyo. Still feels weird to hear Mets fans say "Come on, get him, Pedro!" That's our Pedro, not yours.

From above the third base dugout, but, like, if you turn around.

A majority of baseball card and sticker photos were taken in New York when I was little. Hell, the whole Mariners team was pictured in front of the old "BRUT" sign at Yankee Stadium one year. Apparently, this is still the case, as I've now seen players get card photos taken at two of my last three Mets games.

That same dude, tossing a ball to a fan. If anyone reading is a huge fan of this dude, you're welcome.

Went out to right to catch Pedro running pre-game.

I love this one.

During the "Nash."

Pedro delivers.

Pedro pitches to former battery mate Scott Hatteburg.

A helmeted Pedro hits first, but is robbed of a hit, to the dismay of the first base coach.

Pedro won, 6-2. He wasn't sharp much of the time, but got the job done. Some Met that the fans seem to think should win the MVP hit two homers. I saw Lastings play, too. I don't know, it's all NL crap to me. Different sport. Never saw Bronson. Literally. I couldn't even make him out in the dugout from my seat.

Then I went on the field. Here's me near the Buckner spot. For work, we took a bunch of old people to the game, which featured the "Senior Stroll" afterwards. Some of my senior buddies did a great job of pretending I was necessary in helping them walk. Turns out security didn't even really question anybody anyway. If you were on the line, and there was an old person somewhere in your vicinity, you were allowed to round the bases.

From between first and second, facing the plate. A view Tim Teufel often had.

Here's center field, from second base.

Had Rice taken a more dead-on path from third to home... (that's for you, Matty. But I honestly never got on Jim Ed for that one.)

This is Esther. She sat next to me. Her whole family is made up of Mr. Dunbar fans, but she's a Mets fan. Here she is, quite psyched to be standing on home plate at Shea.

On the way out, I got this shot of the right field corner. Note the distinctive Dunkin Donuts-colored Dunkin Donuts ad on the wall.

Just to show you that the poo was cleaned up, here's the poo area, cleared of the charges.

Another one, featuring that lady who I wrote about, who inexplicably loves the Mets AND Yanks. Note the heavy artillery brought out to destroy the poo: Garbage pail with cleaning products on holster, vaccuum, brooms.

Only In New York...But Usually On The Street, At Least

Okay, gotta make this quick. I'm about to head out to Shea Stadium for work. I stopped by the office first, went downstairs, and smelled something awful. Much to my surprise, in our nice, clean office, sitting in front of the closed door, was a pile of shit. Yes, a pile of shit. Completely baffled, I stared for a second, hand over nose, and suddenly Jennie was on the other side of the door. "Oh my god, Jere, get in here, quick!" She lets me in and shuts the door behind me, as not to let te smell in.

"What the hell is going on?"

Long story short: It wasn't dog shit.

One of our social workers had a homeless dude in here. And he had an "emergency." I was told not to enter the men's room, as it suffered a similar fate.

Here's the funny part: Pictures to come!

Plus some from Shea. (I'm in the mezzanine again. D'oh!)

15 Degrees Of Johnny Pesky

If it weren't for Johnny Pesky, the Red Sox wouldn't have won the World Series in 2004. I'm not talking about his spiritual leadership and the knowledge he shared with that year's players. I'm telling you, had he not been born, the 1946 Series might have had a different ending, but the 2004 one might have, too.

The Red Sox signed Paveskovich, aka Pesky, as an amateur free agent in 1940. Had they not had him, they couldn't have traded him to Detroit in 1952 for George Kell. The Sox then traded Kell to the White Sox, who traded him to the Orioles for Dave Philley in 1956. Philley had been involved in a 3-team trade five years earlier which sent Minnie Minoso to the White Sox, who eventually traded him to Cleveland for Al Smith. Chicago then sent Smith to Baltimore in exchange for Hoyt Wilhelm in 1963. Wilhelm made his way to the Cubs, and after the 1970 season, was traded to Atlanta for Hal Breeden. Breeden was traded along with Hector Torres to the Expos. Would the trade have happened had the Braves not thrown in Torres? You can't say it wouldn't have. Anyway, Torres was traded from the Indians to the Jays in 1977 for John "Tonight Let It Be" Lowenstein, who'd been traded there along with catcher Rick Cerone. Cerone was later traded to the Yanks for Paul Mirabella, who'd been traded to New York for Mike Heath. In 1986, Heath was traded from the Cardinals to Detroit for Lynn, Mass' Ken Hill, who, in 1997, was traded from the Rangers to the Angels for Jim Leyritz. Seven days later, Texas shipped Leyritz to the Red Sox for their current first base coach, Bill Haselman. Haselman then signed with Detroit, before being traded for Gabe Kapler in 1999. Kapler was signed by the Boston Red Sox before the 2004 season. Are you telling me they wouldn't have won without him?

Nice job, Red Sox, for bringing back Pesky. But more importantly, thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Paveskovich.

*Note: No research was done for this. It all came to me in a dream. Retrosheet was checked to verify facts, though.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Sweep Squared

I got this series on NESN, fortunately, so tonight I got to listen in to the hilarious conversation between Youks and SorryAssHole at first base:

KY: "How do you like left field?"

SAH: (tells his 2006 saga-to-date in the form of a single, disinterested shrug)

Slick: "I played left twice this year."

Alfonso (not the one from Silver Spoons): "Oh yeah?"

Jelly McGee: "Yeah, it's easy. It's great for hitting because you can just [chill out there doin' nothin] and think about hitting."

First base coach: (leans in and warns both players to pay some goddamn attention, it seems))

Yoook: "Thans, I appreciate it. I got picked off already this year."

Great job by Lester. Glad I saw his first major league start. Ortiz with the grand dong. Always fun. Both Seanez and Tavarez got into trouble and heard the "uh, but we are gonna keep going with the kids, mainly, right?"-style boos. Fortunately we were up big by then.

Yanks win, so we're stil two up. I walked by an eight year old kid in an "Even Idiots Get Lucky" t-shirt. I wanted to laugh in his fat little face and say "Yeah, lucky we were playing you. Asshole." But somehow I restrained myself.


This morning on my way to work, I started thinking about how there's probably going to be some off-the-field Red Sox controversy coming up. I don't know why I thought that. But I imagined myself writing a blog entry in which I'd joke around about "remembering life pre-Mike Lowell tax evasion scandal." I didn't even think about steroids.

Then I forgot all about it, and went about my day. Worked, ate an eggplant parm sandwich, worked some more, went home.

Now I read that former Sox pitcher Paxton Crawford took HGH and other roid-related stuff, back in 1999-2001. He says "everyone was doing it," which we pretty much knew. He also uses the word "ass" in his article (written by him). As in, "I injected myself in the ass."

What an ass. Terrible job, PAX Network. At least you admitted it. No, I take that back. Terrible job all around.

"It's The Skywriters' Code!"

If you're in NYC right now, look south down an avenue, and you'll see written in the sky:


No idea. When I first looked, it was "KYL_". I thought it was some terrorist thing. Like, they were gonna "kyl" us all. Then I looked fifteen minutes later to see a fading "KYLE" with an "XYP" next to it.


[UPDATE: I did a little research. Turns out it was "KYLE XY?" The P was a question mark. It's a new show coming up on ABC. Damn. I thought it would be something exciting.]

A Change In Dating

You know how much parking meters in New York cost? For your quarter, you now get a whopping ten minutes. A dollar fifty for one hour. That's getting close to minimum wage. Note self: Never borrow a car for a week unless you don't plan on using your quarters for laundry.

Also, did you read about the dude doing a Sox fan matchmaking site? Some things I found offensive:

An example of someone's type is given, along with them saying "must not make fun of my love of Bellhorn," or something: "tall, Caucasion, single, 29-33." Now I don't know how these matchmaking services work. I've never been to one. Never have I been asked to fill in "my type" of mate on any kind of form. So I had no idea that people specify race. I guess I should realize that there are people who only want to date within their race--and terrible job by them--but I thought that would be something they don't even admit. Isn't that just labeling yourself as a racist right off the bat? I've never once in my life thought, "I hope I find a nice white girl soon!" What the hell? I've never even known anyone who has specifically sought out someone of their own race to go out with. There are so many real issues to worry about when choosing who you date. This woman would rather date a guy who's "tall" than "anything other than white." That is horseshit right there, and she and everyone else, male or female, who's that narrow deserves just what they get.

And the other thing I'm offended by: The dude who runs the site says: "My main goal is to keep those New Yorkers in New York, and keep them away from our Boston girls." That guy can seriously take a shit on his own face. (Oh, he'll find a way.) Remember the bumper sticker, people: "I Love New York, It's The Yankees I Hate." (Pedro's standing ovation should help him understand this.) Again, much like the "tall" thing, he's saying he'd rather have a Yankee fan from Boston date one of "his girls," than a Sox fan from New York. Terrible job.

Go Teams

I get to go to Shea Stadium for work tomorrow afternoon(!) No Bronson for the Reds, but I should get Pedro.

Our secretary-type person (we'll call her Nemmer--because we actually do call her that, since she's [co-worker] Jennie's nemesis) is a nice enough person, but, well, I'll just leave it at that in case she ever finds out about this blog. She's been known to wear a Yankees jacket, but seems to not even notice that I'm wearing Red Sox stuff. I always get the feeling she just assumes we're all New York fans, and even visual confirmation of other team's logos couldn't pull her out of the fog she's clearly lost in.

Today, Nemmer came over to my cubicle, where me and Jennie were talking about something else, ripe for the interruptin'. She starts asking if we're going to Shea tomorrow. Jennie told her she was out, I told her I was in. Nemmer gets this really excited look on her face. "I'm so pumped, I haven't been there in twenty years!" Okay, I thought, maybe she's just excited because she hasn't been there in a while, even though it's the home of her rival team. Nope. "Oh, man, at my house, I my shrine up for the Mets, I got one for the Yankees, the Knicks..."

That's where I cut her off. "So you're one of these 'I like every New York team' people?"

"Oh yeah. I love ALL of 'em. That's the thing, we New Yorkers are selfish. We can't just have one team. And when the Subway Series happened, oh man, everyone was jealous of us, they all envious and shit..." Yawn. "And then the next year, everyone was gunnin' for the Yanks AND the Mets!" Uh, what?

I've talked about this before, but just more proof of New York backwards sports fans. I just wanted to tell her how ridiculous she sounded. Hey, why don't I just say "I just love sports! Every team is my team! I win every year!"

It was funny hearing her defend her decision to not root for the Devils, even though they play in the same place as the Giants. "But it's New York Giants..." Gotcha.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Oh Yes I Proverbially Did

We're rollin' now. Even an Arthur Rhodes-aided Yanks win can't take away this good feeling.

A Washington pitcher toinight was named Bill Bray. Which, if you went to first grade with a kid named Bill Bray, like Pat and I did, is hi-larious.

After walking forty blocks from an Indian restaurant at which I ate dinner with my visiting parents, I arrived home to find the Sox up 4-0 in the second. I thought it would be one of those games where the Sox win big, but you miss that one inning where they got the runs. But they tacked on seven more. Thanks, guys.

Crazy play in the Yankee game, as some Phillie hit a deep fly that hit the top of the wall and bounced, like, a hundred feet in the air. I'd describe it, but I don't feel like writing anymore. That's why I'm glad I'm not paid for this blog. No deadlines. If I want to end this post right now for no good reason, I ca

The Reaction Brody Had When He Realized He'd Killed The Shark

1986 Red Sox to be honored at Fenway!!!!

A few months ago, I did a "future post" about this. I even nailed the date (out of three possible dates). And yes, you all missed your chance to get the ticket I offered up for this historic night! Terrible job!

The following will be there that night, according to the article, with more to come. (And an unlimited supply of money ready to be offered to Buckner until he caves, I assure you.):

Dennis "Oil Can" Boyd, Steve Crawford, Bruce Hurst, Tim Lollar, Al Nipper, and Joe Sambito; catcher Marc Sullivan, infielders Marty Barrett, Wade Boggs, Pat Dodson, Spike Owen, Ed Romero, and Dave Stapleton; outfielders Dwight Evans, Jim Rice, Mike Stenhouse, and LaSchelle Tarver; and coaches Walt Hriniak and Joe Morgan.

A Little Research

The Red Sox are 17-7 in series opening games so far this season. Feel free to recount that for me.

The Electric 80s Are Over, Dad

The Red Sox on my TV, the Yanks on another channel, and on the screen it's Francona, Bowa, Nipper, Remy, Rice, Kaat, Mattingly, Pena, Ward, Bell, and Armas. Okay, sons of those last three, actually. But still, what is this, 1984?

Tony Armas ruled. (And note the BO/STON style.) And I didn't even know to point to my toe, knee, arm, and ass when he was on the Sox. We didn't have that in Connecticut. But when I think of Armas, besides that moustache, I see him hitting a home run in Fenway Park on channel 30's old Red Sox theme song, which varied from year to year. But you could usually count on Toe-knee hitting a blast within a montage, to the strains of "Obsession" by Animotion or Dire Straits' "Industrial Disease." Or the "Jailhouse Rock" parody "Red Sox Rock." I always wondered if you TV-38 people got those little theme songs, too, or if they were made by channel 30, the still existing WVIT-TV, New Britain/Hartford. Either way, I still miss those Labatt's Blue and Rolling Rock "33" commercials.

Armas' son took the mound tonight, and without a big mustache, just didn't look like dad. Didn't do as well, either, fortunately.

Kapler was back, (standing O that even Kapstein participated in, nice job) and looked like a different person. Did he completely change his stance or does it just seem like it? Even his helmet looked somehow different on his head. I noticed he still uses the 19 helmet with the 44 jersey. Kapler's like that kid who's all big and strong, but still likes you, even though you're a scrawny nerd. He seems like he'd be like all the other dumb jocks, but when you hang out with him, you see it's just not true. And he even has a foundation for domestic violence victims. Nice job, Gabe. Thanks for not beating me up. I won't tell the other popular kids that you came over and played RBI Baseball with me.

Nice job by Snyder. And I'm glad to see Snow go, since he didn't want to play for us anyway.

It was sweet when Manny hit the HR into seats Tony Armas, Sr. never knew, because right after he crossed the plate, I switched over to HN and saw the Yanks lose. We're two games up. I propose we pull away. Who's with me?

Here's a funny story from today's Five Bucks To Friday: "

"I heard the always detestable John Sterling for the first time all season. 'It is high, it is far, it is outtahere! A walk-off home run for Ryan Zimmerman!' My thought process was something along the lines of, 'Is Ryan Zimmerman one of the eight or so putz-ass call-ups the Goat Fuckers have? No, I don't think so! Sweet, they lost!' Not a bad time to have to hear that guy."

Congratulations to Chan, who got his green card! Nice job, Chan! You're officially recognized as a dude who can eventually become a citizen at some point! Even though you've been in this country for 15 years. (Terrible job, Homeland Security.) (Can I get arrested for saying "terrible job" to the DHS?)

Monday, June 19, 2006

Congratulate Me Right Now Or Feel My Wrath

I am a true champion today. Maybe not I, but we. We the people of my town. No, state. All right, my ex-state. Connecticut. For our one professional sports team has captured a title. The NHL's Stanley Cup is ours. And by ours I mean the people of North Carolina, where our Hartford Whalers play. As the Carolina Hurricanes.

All right, so I've got myself a team that plays really far away, who I never followed in the first place, winning a championship in a sport I never liked. Whatever. I rule!

Scraps (Not The Dog In Airplane!)

Before this series against the Ex-Pos really gets going, I have to finish talking about last night's game at the Peach Pavilion.

Great catch by Trot. Some guy who thinks he's funny but definitely isn't on every sports network should've broken out his best, meaning worst, catch phrase on that one.

The dude who the homer in the seventh inning. Uh, did he think the game was over at that point? I guess the excuse for the overcelebration was the fact that these Braves are happy just to sniff a victory. But come on, I think everyone watching was thinking the same thing: "Do you think you're the first guy to homer off Seanez?" We definitely showed them in the very next inning. (Before they showed us, before we showed them again.)

Papelbon. Here's my theory when it comes to his future: Imagine if the Yankees, in, say, 1998 said, "This Rivera's just too good not to put in the starting rotation." How many championships do you think they would have won since? Not three. I say keep Pap where he is. But, hey, if they start him next year, that's cool. As long as he's on our side, we'll be okay.

Little Manny. Should have kept him in. Got two quick outs, then gave up a hit, which America missed. ESPN was showing a replay which sat on "pause" for about two seconds, causing them to cut to the single only when the ball was already in the outfield. Does anyone else get pissed about this stuff? If I can't see the entire pitch, I don't feel I'm given a chance to put my full rooting into it, and then something bad ends up happening. OR, something good happens, but my celebration is lessened because I'm so mad that I missed it. Terrible job, every single network. You're all trying too hard. Just show the damn game.

Such a great job by Lowell, Co2, Cora, and Youk with that comeback. Seriously. Very exciting stuff.

Really great job by the Sox fans down in Luke-lanta. Seemed like a party. The lady in green behind the plate, with the non-stop energy--nice job. If any of you were down there, write in and get a free prize. The prize of my gratitude.

Jack Go Under Limbo Stick

If you're not a math person, turn away from your screen. I was thinking about Papelbon's miniscule ERA, as I do 23 hours out of every day, and I came up with this question: What's the lowest a non-zero ERA has ever been at any point in a season? In other words, what are the most innings a pitcher has thrown while only giving up one earned run? (Or two runs, but then the innings would have to double, or three and triple the innings, and then it starts to spiral out of control.)

I guess you could just find out who had the longest scoreless streak to start a season, and then calculate his or her ERA after they gave up their first run. But then again, it could be someone who gave up the one run in the middle of a long period where he or she gave up no other runs.

If you give up a run in nine innings, you're ERA is 1.00. A run in 18, 0.50. 1 in 36, 0.25. (Which is near where Pap is now.) What kills you is giving up just one more run. 2 in 37, and you're right back up near 0.50, and you'd have to do 35 more scoreless just to get back to 0.25. I'm just wondering if we've ever seen anything under a 0.20. Or a 0.15. You'd have to pitch 90 innings and only give up one run to see 0.10.

Is Papelbon getting close to the all-time record? You know, not including ERA's of 0.00. But I think he should get some kind of credit for that. And you could say if he goes more innings while only giving up one run than the guy or chick who threw the most innings to start a season without giving up any runs, then he gets some credit for that, too. Then again, he's not really bettering that person, because according to the average (that's what we're takling about, Earned Run Average), they would've pitched to infinity without giving up a run.

In Orel Hershiser's 60-odd inning scoreless streak, he would've gone from 0.00 to 0.16-ish, I think, had he given up the run in the sixtieth inning--counting his ERA only from the beginning of the streak, but his streak was at the end of the year, as I remember the baseball card that said "59 and counting."

Feel free to help me answer this question. Step it up, fellow nerds. But the more important question is: How low can Pap go? (But the answer to that is: infinitely closer and closer to zero without ever reaching it. I just meant, how low will he go?)

"Don't Have Much Time To Write" Post

What'd I tell ya? Sweep. That was a really awesome game. For anyone who turned off the game after Seanez, terrible job! But I can't blame you. Anyway, a sweet win, the type that makes you glad to be alive, combined with what the Yanks did these last two days, that capped off the weekend nicely.

Tonight it's KySny against the WaNas. This Snyder is a real mystery man. It's weird when the first time you hear a guy's name is when they say that he's strting for your team the next night. I swear the website didn't even mention they acquired him. Maybe I just missed it due to timing/weekend/semantics issues. (Always a good excuse trilogy.)

Sunday, June 18, 2006

Team From Pixies' Hometown Breaks Out Stix

This was one of those days where you've got an all-day event, and you know you'll be missing the game, so you're forced to just hope for the best. You know, instead of doing the scientifically-proven method of rooting for the team.

I was glad to hear the news. Two in a row in Atlanta. And when I heard the Yanks lost 11-9, I started talking about how I hoped they'd been up 9-0 and gave up 11 runs in the ninth. So you know how happy I was to find out they were actually up 9-2 at one point. And that Mo blew the save!

So the momentum is back on the good side.

In other news, I just ate a Pixy Stix (what's the singular form?) for the first time in almost ten years. Needless to say, those things are good as ever. I can't believe the idea was ever allowed to become an actual product, though.

"Hey, kids like sugar, right? Here's a little tube with said sugar inside!"

"That's IT?"

"Uhhhh...yeah......I, it comes in different colors--I mean flavors--no, colors..."


Hey, I ain't complainin'.

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