MathGirl
Cogito
- Joined
- Aug 4, 2002
- Posts
- 5,825
I spent yesterday afternoon watching the SF Giants assume a knees-up posture and lose a baseball game in Florida. The once proud team with the legacy of immortals such as Christie Mathewson, Carl Hubble, Lonus Edgar Bailey, Mell Ott, Willie Mays, and Atlee Hammaker put on an astonishing display of ineptitude which was highlighted by:
1. Leaving 18 (yes, eighteen) runners stranded on base. This was the direct result of hitting like blind, one-armed, geriatric ladies with organic brain syndrome.
2. Running the bases with the swiftness and grace of an elderly nun carrying two six packs.
3. The right fielder (paid several million dollars annually for his skills) dropping an easy fly ball in the crucial eleventh inning. This play would have earned a 12 year old Little Leaguer a well deserved postgame hiding by an embarrassed parent.
After the debacle, the desicion was simple. I would do the honorable thing. I drove to San Francisco, intending to commit ritual hara kiri at the entrance to Pacific Bell Park. Much to my disappointment, the line was so long that people had brought along portable chairs and TVs. Big Hashimoto's Do-It-Yourself Seppuku Knife Rental and Take Out Sushi stand could not keep up with the demand.
Returning disappointed to my own neighborhood, I found that the local hardward stores had already sold out of rope and pistols. I was almost (but not quite) desperate enough to go to WalMart.
Ed's "Good Noose" Mobile Gibbet Service was booked until early next week.
Moshie and Muhammad's Mount Calvary Full Service Crucifixion and Equipment Rental Lot ("Twelve Crosses, No Waiting") had a line around the block, and they were having to reuse nails.
Returning home in disappointment, I went next door to comiserate with Auntie Louise. My intention was to borrow her dog, Walter the Beagle, for kicking purposes. I found Auntie midway through her seventh vodka-tonic and Walt in the furthest reaches of his dog house, nursing already sore ribs.
Auntie being too loaded to drive and I being too young to buy, we both went to the liquor store for a fresh supply of Stolichnaya. Not wishing to go out again later, she bought two quarts.
We had a lovely dinner of crow and crackers with Velveeta Quasi Cheeselike Substance, washed down with as much vodka as we could consume in a ladylike manner. Later, I lurched the twenty feet to my own home and went to bed.
I was awakened 5AM by a call from My Man, who is in China right now. I adore him. He is the love of my life and the most wonderful person in the world. I hung up on him and unplugged the phones.
Well, it's a new day now, and things look much brighter. The Giants-Marlins game starts bright and early at ten AM. Auntie Louise and I will watch it at her place. As intelligent, forward thinking people, we have made elaborate preparations. Rather than waiting until after the game, we will start doing some preventative drinking during the pregame show. That's really the only way either of us can stand that Boomer person on ESPN. He yells too much.
Louise and I fully anticipate another loss by the Giants, thereby mercifully eliminating them from further postseason play. With this expectation, we have forged an after-game murder-suidice pact. A coin flip will decide who goes first. Auntie is a lawyer, and she has asssured me this will have no detrimental effect on my future career plans. Her friend Howard the (ugh) urologist is coming over to participate in the festivities, and we expect a really great time to be had by all.
Have a really nice day,
MG
1. Leaving 18 (yes, eighteen) runners stranded on base. This was the direct result of hitting like blind, one-armed, geriatric ladies with organic brain syndrome.
2. Running the bases with the swiftness and grace of an elderly nun carrying two six packs.
3. The right fielder (paid several million dollars annually for his skills) dropping an easy fly ball in the crucial eleventh inning. This play would have earned a 12 year old Little Leaguer a well deserved postgame hiding by an embarrassed parent.
After the debacle, the desicion was simple. I would do the honorable thing. I drove to San Francisco, intending to commit ritual hara kiri at the entrance to Pacific Bell Park. Much to my disappointment, the line was so long that people had brought along portable chairs and TVs. Big Hashimoto's Do-It-Yourself Seppuku Knife Rental and Take Out Sushi stand could not keep up with the demand.
Returning disappointed to my own neighborhood, I found that the local hardward stores had already sold out of rope and pistols. I was almost (but not quite) desperate enough to go to WalMart.
Ed's "Good Noose" Mobile Gibbet Service was booked until early next week.
Moshie and Muhammad's Mount Calvary Full Service Crucifixion and Equipment Rental Lot ("Twelve Crosses, No Waiting") had a line around the block, and they were having to reuse nails.
Returning home in disappointment, I went next door to comiserate with Auntie Louise. My intention was to borrow her dog, Walter the Beagle, for kicking purposes. I found Auntie midway through her seventh vodka-tonic and Walt in the furthest reaches of his dog house, nursing already sore ribs.
Auntie being too loaded to drive and I being too young to buy, we both went to the liquor store for a fresh supply of Stolichnaya. Not wishing to go out again later, she bought two quarts.
We had a lovely dinner of crow and crackers with Velveeta Quasi Cheeselike Substance, washed down with as much vodka as we could consume in a ladylike manner. Later, I lurched the twenty feet to my own home and went to bed.
I was awakened 5AM by a call from My Man, who is in China right now. I adore him. He is the love of my life and the most wonderful person in the world. I hung up on him and unplugged the phones.
Well, it's a new day now, and things look much brighter. The Giants-Marlins game starts bright and early at ten AM. Auntie Louise and I will watch it at her place. As intelligent, forward thinking people, we have made elaborate preparations. Rather than waiting until after the game, we will start doing some preventative drinking during the pregame show. That's really the only way either of us can stand that Boomer person on ESPN. He yells too much.
Louise and I fully anticipate another loss by the Giants, thereby mercifully eliminating them from further postseason play. With this expectation, we have forged an after-game murder-suidice pact. A coin flip will decide who goes first. Auntie is a lawyer, and she has asssured me this will have no detrimental effect on my future career plans. Her friend Howard the (ugh) urologist is coming over to participate in the festivities, and we expect a really great time to be had by all.
Have a really nice day,
MG
