Wednesday, September 08, 2004

Ran Into a Rainstorm

NOTE: I've been trying to post this since 9:30 AM. I guess Blogger's system is all wet too, like my ass.

Wow, what the hell prompted God to get so pissed off at us? What's gotten into this lickbag? Is it all the reality TV? Go-gurt? Well we're sorry, guy, now turn this goddamn spigot off. This omnipotent doucheface threw such a shitstorm at us this morning that the back of my shirt is soaked through and my ass couldn't be wetter. Nothing in this world is worse than wet ass, not swamp ass, not monkey ass. Uncomfortable wet ass is not exactly how you want to start the day. That just ain't no fun.

It also didn't help that I took the shuttle to Grand Central just in time for them to announce the 1, 2, 3, 9 lines were no longer running -- that meant a slow-moving and semi-long underground hike in what felt like sub-Saharan Africa to the A, C, E line. When all was said and done, I didn't know if I were still dripping from the rain or the sweat now pouring from my pores. I was sweating like Lamar Odom taking the SATs.

Good commute today. Really. There are gonna be a ton of smiling people in NYC today. Strangely, I'm in a decent mood. Just one of those days you have to laugh off...

Why? Well, for one thing, we're one day away from the kickoff to this year's NFL campaign, and I'm pretty sure everyone's as nervously excited as a high schooler in an adult bookstore. But I'm here with a simple message: Let's not give up on this amazing baseball season. Despite my undying love for the sport, I'll be the first to admit that baseball isn't our national pasttime anymore. Football is just insanely attractive, and the kids all idolize hoopsters the way they used to look at baseball players. But remember last post-season? Every series was off the charts ridonkulous, including both League Championship Series -- and you know, it escapes me Beantowners, what exactly happened in that ALCS? I'm sorry, I just forget sometimes. I just don't remember. Anyone? That's right, the Yanks gave Boston a rockin' donkey punch.

The end of this season, along with the post-season, shouldn't disappoint either. In fact, it has the potential to be even better than last year's awesomness. The same reasons most people tuned in last year will be around down the stretch and possibly into the playoffs: Bonds, the Cubbies' and Sawx' curses, Yankee haters, underdogs, small markets and big markets, jacked sluggers and nasty pitchers. It's all there. It's all happening. Emily Rugburn.

The National League Wild Card race surely ain't over (don't call me Shirley)...five teams are separated by less than three games, including America's favorite lovable losers from Chicago, the game's best player and a Cy Young candidate driving the Giants, the streaking Astros with the Killer B's (not these Killer Bees), the defending champs hitting their absolute stride and the underrated Padres, who I'm rooting for because they have my fantasy stud pitcher Jake Peavy and NU alumnus Mark Loretta.

I love football as much as the next guy, and I'm super excited for the season to begin...but let's not forget there's six more Yankees/Sawx games to go before we even hit the post-season; let's not forget we've got Bonds headed for 700 homers in the next week or two; let's not forget we've got Ichiro and his slipples gunning to break the 80-year-old single-season hits record, that we've got showdowns in both league's Cy Young races and both MVP races. This thing is on, and it's only getting, well, more on. (That's what you're gonna go with there? More on? Yeah, baseball isn't getting more on.)

All I'm saying is, don't write off the little round ball for the oblong pigskin just yet...we're not done here. I'm giving you the option to stick around and watch -- don't make me pull a Sonny and say, "Now youze can't leave."

1 Comments:

At 9:00 PM, Blogger introspectre said...

Yah. Wet ass totally sucks.
(nods affirmitively)

 

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