I watched the game last night. I was convinced (and bizarrely enough semi-disappointed) that there wouldn't be one because it was nasty nasty nasty out there. Roommate was having boyfriend-troubles so we drank lots of wine while we simultaneously watched the game, and the Real World, and other things to take away from the boringness of baseball.
Bronson Arroyo is the best name in the world.
Anyway. The wine caused me to pass out during the bottom of the ninth, so I just went to bed because I could no longer function.
This morning I desperately tried to find a radio station that would tell me the outcome of the game.
I managed to hear Color Me Badd's I Want To Sex You Up as well as someone talking about how LL Cool J has suggested buying a new shower curtain and smearing it with baby oil before putting it on your bed to spice up your sex life. Finally I found a channel that was playing some sort of Red Sox bashing reggae song which allowed me to conclude that they'd won!
Yippee!!!
My plan for tonight is to go to this Safe For Red Sox Fans bar in the Village after class to watch the game.
Someone at work just said "I think the Yankees let them win on purpose to get people to watch the series, for advertising, you know." Right. The Yankees let them win.
Collective stress is such a weird phenomenon.
OK. Back to the blot.
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
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2 comments:
Oh, right. The Yankees let them win. That's logical. You know what I think? I think that Curt Schilling is friggin' good, and the Yankees couldn't get a hit off him!
I hope Wakefield starts tonight. I don't trust that Derek Lowe.
M
Dude,
I love how you know the names of people. So cute.
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