Saturday, August 29, 2015

We are here!

We have arrived safely in Cooperstown.

We drove through darkness and  deserted villages and ghost fog to get here. Here is a view from out hotel:
If you look closely you can see the ghosts that haunt the corn fields. Or is that Lisa's reflection of her blue and orange Mets shirt? We may never know. 

We are off to the Hall of Fame . We will post photos of our experience next week since we will not be getting home until late tonight.  In the meantine follow us on twatter and Instagram @travelingbbabes . There may or may not be a epic video on there of us singing like rock stars to the one and only Bon Jovi. More to come. 


Sunday, August 16, 2015

Tim Lincecum Appreciation Day 2015

It's that time of year, folks. The annual celebration of the wonderful Tim Lincecum. We know you've all been looking forward to seeing what we've been up to with our good friend, Timmy. Well, without further delay, let's discuss the many facets of Tim Lincecum.

Most recently, Timmy took some time off from baseball to join us at last night's lightsaber fight in Washington Square Park in the city. We joined the side of the Jedi and Timmy decided to be a real jerk and side with the Sith. He also purchased a horse mask at a nearby Halloween store and attacked Spiderman.
In November, Timmy joined us for a friend's wedding and we had some fun in a photo booth. Honestly, it being November, he had nothing better to do but attend a wedding with us. He was very popular with the elderly ladies. He danced the mashed potato and the twist all night long. He also wore a dress (we all know how he loves to cross dress) and caught the bouquet at the end of the night.
 Timmy loves to run. We don't know if you knew that, but he does. He also loves zoo animals. So running a 5K at a zoo was a perfect way to spend the day.Unfortunately (and surprisingly), Timmy isn't really good at much and he ended up suffering from a big toe cramp in the first mile and had to be escorted via golf cart to the finish line. It was pretty pathetic. Us, on the other hand, broke a gazillion records and finished the 5K in 10 minutes. We actually took 1st and 2nd place overall out of thousands of people.
 Timmy feels like we've been pretty terrible at activity lately. Which is bullshit, but whatever. He decided to take us rock climbing. Timmy next graduated from the children's ABC wall, but we did pretty good. Our guide felt that we were so good at it, that he showed us "bouldering." We were pretty epic. After rock climbing, Timmy treated us to Chipotle. As wealthy as he is, Timmy is also pretty frugal. Good thing we enjoy his company so much.
He was a little bored during his visits to us this year, but we promised to make it up to him. We've already discussed Halloween. He's decided to dress as Storm. He may also run a half-marathon with us. He's really into the whole, "running while wearing a tutu thing."

Sunday, August 2, 2015

Mets vs Nationals 8/1/2015

Our first TBB visit to Citi Field this season was an impromptu one. This was our official 59th game attended together. It's getting real, guys. We're old and we spend too much time together because we're lonely and can't find love.

Serena's coworker got the tickets and we tailgated for just over an hour in the parking lot. It turns out, unbeknownst to Serena, that her coworker is the Sheldon Cooper of tailgating. Therefore, he shall henceforth be known as Sheldon since he didn't really give us permission to talk about him on the blog. Sheldon packed coolers (yes, more than one) of food, beer, and water. We had organic chips, wings, celery, carrots, organic pineapple cubes, organic guacamole. We had a flip flop that functioned as a bottle opener. We had rolls of paper towels, plates. We had country music (which we specifically asked him to turn off several times). He directed strangers into their parking spaces without being asked for assistance. He had a timer set so that we had the precise amount of time to walk to the stadium and get into our seats by first pitch.

Old Man Ed was also at the game, so he stopped by to molest us. He really misses spending time with us. Plus, since he's so decrepit and old, he makes us feel young. Side note: Old Man Ed did not invite us to the game with him. He only knew we were there because he stalks us on Facebook. What a poop head.

This is a photo of us about to walk into the stadium for the game:
As you can see, we're very classy with our red solo cups.

Our seats were in section 508. Not a bad view, eh?
The big news heading into the game was that the Mets had acquired Yoenis Cesepedes. Behold his first at bat:
The excitement of him joining the Mets wore off relatively quickly since he did absolutely nothing all game. We're not going to judge him yet seeing as it was his first game, but he has exactly three more games to turn shit around. After that, we boo.

The rest of Mets' offense was pretty pathetic as well. Had it not been for Papa L.'s favorite player (said in a sarcastic voice) hitting two home runs, the outcome of the game would've been very different. In the 4th inning, Lisa turned to Serena and said, "this f*cker has a perfect game and he's a nobody. We're going to see a perfect game pitched by a nobody on the other team." Serena replied, "Lisa, you're turning into your father. It's only the 4th inning." Very shortly after this dialogue exchange, Duda hit his first home run. Despite the fact that we high-fived our neighboring fans, Lisa still refuses to like him. After the fervor died down, we realized that we neglected to document anything regarding the home run. Not even the celebration, let alone the home run tomato in center field. We failed. However, we DID take this, "Uh, oh, no more perfect game for you, Joe Ross" photo:
When Duda hit his second home run, Lisa remembered to snap this photo:
Please excuse the random asshole throwing the deuces.

The Mets would go on to win 3-2, bringing them within one game of first place in the NL East. This is kind of a big deal. For the first time in a long time, both New York teams are playing good baseball. Papa L. really wants to merge both teams into one - keeping the Mets' pitching staff and the Yankees' offense. We'd be unstoppable. New York City would be a force to be reckoned with. Unfortunately, there are too many idiots on this planet that "just can't root for a Yankee (or a Met)." Bunch of buffoons. Plus, imagine all the money we'd save cutting the fat. Literally. We're going to fire all of the fat players. We're too innovative for this world, guys. We're ahead of our time.

Since we didn't get a chance to see Heart, we made it a point to stay for the post-game fireworks show. Granted, the fireworks cannot possibly hope to compete with Heart or any 80's rock band for that matter, but it was a good show nevertheless. Our Samsung Galaxy 6 phones takes killer fireworks photos (Samsung, you should be paying us for this plug):

Sunday, July 26, 2015

Alex Rodriguez Does Not Need a Walker (Unlike Us)

This is what we learned about baseball today:

"At 39 years and 363 days, he [Alex Rodriguez] became the fifth oldest player to hit three home runs in a single game...Musial, Giambi, Reggie Jackson, Babe Ruth were older."

This is what we learned about ourselves yesterday:

Running 1 mile on a school track with a strained hamstring (Serena) and a sympathy strained hamstring (Lisa) at an age vastly younger than Alex Rodriguez is a cause for us to bitch and moan for several hours afterwards. During which we stuffed our faces with gyros, chicken souvlaki, and french fries. 

What does this mean exactly? It means that at the age of nearly 40, Alex Rodriguez is not only on death's door with his senior citizen hip joint, but also more physically fit and capable than two girls in their kind of-sort of-borderline-maybe prime of their lives.

There may be some of you jack wagons that will return our post with some kind of stupidity that sounds like, "I could hit 3 homeruns in one game if I did steroids!" Listen. No, you f*cking can't. You just can't. That's not what steroids do for you. If we take steroids, the only thing we'd succeed at is growing facial hair. Perhaps some chest hair. Which could be somewhat entertaining. Neither of us are going to wake up and suddenly have the skills to play for a professional baseball team. You actually need to have talent to do that. Which we do not have. Really. We have no talent. We actually looked up the odds of playing baseball as a career and they're bleak:
"Less than three in 50, or about 5.6 percent, of high school senior boys interscholastic baseball players will go on to play men's baseball at a NCAA member institution. Less than eleven in 100, or about 10.5 percent, of NCAA senior male baseball players will get drafted by a Major League Baseball (MLB) team."
What this means is that if you suck donkey dick at playing baseball, you will still probably suck donkey dick at playing baseball while on steroids. We're not condoning the use of steroids. We're simply saying that one has nothing to do with the other. Though, if WE we were on steroids, perhaps we wouldn't have these hamstring issues and we might've been able to run that mile a little bit easier. Also, perhaps that 75 year old man with a limp wouldn't have passed us on the track twice while wearing khaki shorts and a golf shirt. He wasn't even dressed like an athlete! At the very least, we looked the part.

In conclusion, stop hating on a man that's two steps away from the MLB Nursing Home. Give credit where credit is due. Also, in conclusion, we probably need to workout more instead of spending our time at the gym having dance off contests and bouncing exercise ball races (please see our Instagram account for a video may have to scroll through a lot of nonsense before you find it though). In conclusion part 3, we're currently watching Sunday Night Baseball and Dustin Pedroia has a stupid face. In conclusion part 4, we missed a free Heart concert at Citi Field last night. How do we get so alone?

Before we sign off, we have a little stadium tour update for you. Due to unforeseen circumstances, we've decided to postpone our trip to Miami until next season. Instead, we'll focus on our trip to the Hall of Fame and Doubleday Field and consider a trip to Philly or Baltimore later in the year since we did those stadiums as Mets and Yankees fans instead of as hometown fans.

Gracefully Yours,
Two Assholes & a Kitty

Sunday, June 28, 2015

Once Upon a Time, We Dissed a Baseball Player

It was that moment that every little girl wishes for. The moment where a professional baseball player acknowledges your existence and decides that he wants to include you in his life in some capacity. Sure, he's not the ball player you would've chosen to fulfill this fantasy, but nevertheless, the fantasy has been fulfilled.

So, it went for the Traveling Baseball Babes. We met a baseball player. He found us funny. We exchanged numbers. This was big time for us. The Baseball Babes finally had a buddy who was a baseball opposed to a drunkard at the local ale house. He certainly wasn't an attractive fella, but it was cool. It didn't matter. He played baseball for a legit baseball team and he was more than just a bullpen catcher. That's what mattered. Besides, we weren't interested in doing anything naughty with him. We were merely interested in riding his coattails into some future World Series activity. Or at the very least, soliciting random free giveaways from other ballparks. Perhaps, we'd get to meet his other baseball players friends. Perhaps his other baseball player friends were more attractive and more single than he was.

The dream was short lived. For starters, as mentioned earlier, the man was not single. In other words, married. Secondly, he texted too often. Like a needy boyfriend that likes to snuggle. Plus, he wasn't very insteresting, so not only was he clogging up our text feed when we had more important shit to do (like eat french fries), but he was clogging it up with shit no one cares about. Thirdly, despite being super unattractive, this mother f*cker actually had the nerve to try to make our relationship a pervy one.

He had to go. First, Serena told him to f*ck a duck. Then he sought comfort with Lisa, but Lisa told him to blow monkey chunks. After which, he stupidly returned to Serena. This, our wonderful and loyal fans, is what destroyed the dream. It turns out that professional baseball players are just as stupid as the men we eat 20 cent wings with at the bar. Now, Lisa specifically wants and only wants TOWSNBN. She no longer plans dabbling with just any ball player for if she must tolerate the asinine behavior of mortal men, that dude better be hot. And perhaps mute. If it's at all possible, he should not already be married.

Do not message or email us to find out the player's name, position, team, or whether or not he is active. We'll not divulge. Partially because we're embarrassed.

Saturday, June 20, 2015

Our List of Demands

For starters, allow us to apologize for our absence. It's kind of not our fault. Life has gotten in the way. Serena works Sundays, which ruins our leisurely blogging experience.

However, we've returned to you this weekend with a delightful little topic known as, "If we were to hold a ball ransom, this is what we'd ask for." You might be asking yourself, "where is this coming from?" Since, as we've been told hundreds of times by other sports teams' fans, no one cares about New York except New Yorkers, you may not have heard the news that Alex Rodriguez hit his 3,000th hit yesterday. Zack Hample, the fan who caught the ball, won't give it back to Alex. Before we get into the important topic that we'd rather discuss (and that topic is US, what WE want, and what makes US happy), allow us to spend some time making fun of the a-hole in the video we just hyperlinked to.

First and foremost, what's with the hat? Yes, it's a nit picky thing and maybe we're being a touch Mean Girls about this, but we stand by the question. Who goes to a sporting event advertising the league as opposed to a team unless they work for the league? What a d*ck. Also, eat a bacon cheeseburger, dude. You're quite slight.
Secondly, this man sounds like a woman on the rag. "This is about what I want to do with the ball, what makes me happy, what makes me feel good..." Okay, stop. You whiny little bitch. Who are you? You didn't hit the ball. It's not a symbol of your career. Regardless of your feelings regarding Alex Rodriguez, his ethics, history, or his pay check, it is still not your career. Is it cool to confiscate Meryl Streep's Academy Awards? How would you feel if someone decided to hold your 4th Edition Quests hostage? The quests that you won fair and square at the Dungeons and Dragons Championship Series? You probably would've feel so great. You'd probably cry in your bowl of Fruit Loops while wearing your Star Trek footie pajamas.

Thirdly, he needs to stop making this milestone about him. He's like the chick that shows up to someone else's wedding in a white dress. He's a thunder stealer.You caught the ball and that's very exciting. We're happy for you. You had your moment. You were on TV. Congrats. Now just give Alex his ball back.

Of course, we aren't telling you to give it back for free. You're entitled to prizes just like you are when you win your Dungeon and Dragons tournaments. In this case, the prizes are given by the New York Yankees, not the Class 5 Dungeon Wizard Masters or whatever the hell they're called.

If WE had caught the infamous ball, we would provide this simple list of demands that we'd require be met in order for us to part ways with the ball. Also, this contract would be negotiated and settled upon prior to departing the Stadium. The ball would not leave the Stadium with us. That's how you get jumped. Look at you. You're a sissy. You clearly can't defend yourself. Someone bigger and stronger (roughly Serena's size) will give you a wedgie, stuff you in a locker, and take your ball away.

1. We're going to need season tickets in the leather seats for life. Should a member of the TBB die, the surviving member reserves the right to choose the individual that inherits the extra ticket.
2. Also, free food and booze. For life. See above for what happens should one of us kick the bucket.
3. A town car to take us to and from the games so we don't have to worry about drunk driving.
4. We have a list of players that we're going to need meetings with...including non-Yankees.
5. We want our own World Series rings. We feel like we've earned it.
6. A special Golden Glove Award. Since we're talented athletes that can field important home runs like this one, we believe strongly that we deserve it. In fact, we'll go so far as to say that we're better athletes than Derek Jeter. That's right. You heard it here.
7. Building on our last demand, since we're more special than Derek Jeter, we belong in the Yankees' museum. More specifically, busts of our asstastic faces.
8. We get to pick the music the players come to the plate to. For life. See above for what happens when one of us dies.
9. We will henceforth be in charge of determining the free giveaways each season because there have been some questionable decisions made in the past and it needs to end. Also, we will take on this role for life. See above for what happens when one of us dies.
10. Lisa gets to close one game of her choosing. It can be any game that she wants, including season-deciding games and the postseason.
11. We get our own special float during all future World Series parades. Our float must be driven by Derek Jeter and his shiny bald head. Should Derek Jeter die before us, we request David Wright be our driver. Should David Wright kill himself upon hearing this news, we request Jon Bon Jovi.
12. We reserve the right to call the bullpen anytime we see fit. This capability should be able to be performed via our cell phones from our seats because we're lazy and do not want to have to keep walking to the dugout to the use the phone. Also, our decision overrules that of the team's manager. Always.
13. We get to sing the National Anthem during Opening Day each season. If you follow our Instagram account (@travelingbbabes), you would've seen some of our choice musical videos and you know that this can be terrifying, but oh so glorious.
14. Serena will be assigned to Carlos Beltran as his personal trainer because it looks like he's getting fat. He will not enjoy these training sessions.
15. Free access to the Yankees' WiFi so that we can easily upload our stupid photos to our social media accounts. Also, we're going to need full access to your social media accounts. Thanks. Kisses.
16. Our names need to be added to the Stadium's name somewhere. We'll leave it up to your discretion as to how and where because we're not picky, but at some point, "Traveling Baseball Babes" need to be in the title.
17. We each want the light up pen free giveaway from the Yankees/Red Sox game in 2007. We missed the free giveaway due to holiday traffic and we want it. Give it to us. We know you probably have extras stored somewhere.
18. Pay off Serena's college loan.
19. We require that one of the streets leading up to the Stadium be renamed to Traveling Baseball Babes Way. If this is not possible, we will settle for a bar named after us. Of course, since it's our bar, we get free drinks. For life.
20. We get our own special day each season. Similar to Irish Heritage Night, only it's to celebrate us. The free giveaway shall be a bobblehead of us.

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Happy Bernie Day!!!

So Mamadukes is epic because she bought Serena tickets to the Bernie Williams Retirement game. After a leisurely workout at Serena’s place of employment, we ate at Chipotle (to save money – even though we spent $15 each) and then headed to Yankee Stadium for the big night. We didn’t want to take any chances on the traffic front. It was Memorial Day weekend and even though it was a Sunday night, we recalled how several years ago, we went to a Yankees/Red Sox game on the Friday night before Memorial Day and it took us 4 hours to drive a distance that should’ve only taken 45 minutes. Max. We not only missed the first 3 innings of the game, but more importantly, we missed the free giveaway, which was a light up baseball pen.

Anyway, back to Bernie Williams. We arrived at the Stadium at 6:00 and this is what the line outside looked like:

Like the Yankees were giving away high class strippers and cocaine. We figured we’d “outsmart the system” by hanging out the Hard Rock CafĂ© bar and then sneak in through restaurant without standing on line. Well…after spending $20 on two beers (that weren’t even imports), we discovered that the restaurant entrance into the place wouldn’t open in time for the start of Bernie’s ceremony. So, as usual, additional proof of how we suck at life. 
After our beers, we got back on line, went through the metal detector for a second time, and finally got into the ballpark. The free giveaway was a Bernie Williams card thingy.
Mamadukes had us rolling in style this evening. We got to sit in cushy seats for the first time in the history of the Traveling Baseball Babes. 

We snapped a few pro-Bernie photos before the ceremony started.

 Before Bernie came onto the field, they retired his number in Monument Park.

He and his family traveled via golf cart to the area around home plate where he unveiled his Monument Park plaque and made a very important speech. Serena nearly cried.

Some noteworthy moments from the ceremony. Bernie’s mother is adorable. Andy and Tino are f*cking hot. Derek Jeter is balder than ever with a freshly waxed chest. He must go to the European Wax Center. He’s also very tan.

Bernie also threw out the ceremonial first pitch and thus ended the happy moments of the evening.

Following the ceremonial first pitch, the Yankees took a sh*t on the field instead of actively participating in a baseball game. They ruined #BernieDay. Bunch of ass clowns.
 We found these while leaving, which made us happy again: