A lot of things went wrong for us during this recent All-Star Break. We started with the best intentions. As always, everything we do, we do it for you (cue Bryan Adams). And as always, we suffer. It all started with a 5K. Why we continue to take part in these things when we both hate running is truly beyond the scope of our understanding. We truly must be a-holes. That is the only possible answer to this question. Running is terrible. And boring. Add the great outdoors and it's basically a goddamn nightmare. For starters, this run started at 8 am. Who the f*ck wants to get up at the ass crack of dawn on a Saturday to go for a run in the humidity? The only thing keeping us motivated this early in the morning was coffee and the promise of MLB mascots. When we arrived in Brooklyn, there was no parking. We drove around Brooklyn for 45 minutes before parking illegally in front of a fire hydrant and praying that Lisa didn't get a ticket. Needless to say, by the time we got our race bib and garbage and headed to the start line, we were suffering from some serious RBF.
Astros' alien or muppet or whatever the hell he is, Wally the Green Monster, Screech, Ace, Dinger, Sluggerr, Mr. Met, Stomper and TC Bear. We wish that someone had videoed our reactions because while Serena has no idea what she looked like, she specifically recalls Lisa's face changing from misery to pure joy at the sight of Houston Astro-Puff. Or whatever his name is. Here is a another picture of mascots. Our positive, upbeat moods lingered for all of 5 minutes. Basically enough time for Serena to listen to Peter Gabriel's "Sledgehammer" on her iPod. Then the humidity and crowd took its toll.
Let's fast forward to the finish line. There were no mascots. There were no bagels. It was a farce. All we got was stinky Gatorade (NO WATER), Kebler granola bars, and bananas. Serena can single-handedly eat $15 worth of Taco Bell without dying. That's just ONE of us. Without exercise. Together...we can eat a 400 lbs. man under the table and they didn't even have the decency to give us bagels after we ran 3.1 sweat-soaked miles? Are they a-holes? Furthermore, where the f*ck did the mascots go? They should've been at the finish line, dumping coolers of Gatorade on us like we pitched a shutout inning at the All-Star Game. Why was the Kebler Elf the only mascot thingy in costume for this entire event? You can't tell us that the heat was the reason the mascots had to go into hiding because if that's the case, we're calling Mascot Protective Services on the MLB on behalf of the Kebler Elf.
This is us post-race, pretending to be happy. Serena has Gatorade on her nipple.
We started by heading to Citi Field, which we somehow managed to forget was in the midst of hosting FanFest and Taco Bell All-Star Sunday. It's probably because the MLB didn't feed us bagels the day before at the race, so our brains were still starved. Due to FanFest, we couldn't park in the lot. We had no passes and parking cost $35. Horse sh*t. We decided to park on random side street of Flushing. Does anyone know what Flushing looks like? Allow us to illuminate you. Here is a photo of one of the many beautiful views that Flushing has to offer visitors to the area. So...we parked here and then WALKED to Citi Field, where we hopped the fence before realizing one of the fences was left open for VIP parking. Still, we remained jovial about the whole endeavor. It was already 4:00 in the afternoon and we were only JUST arriving to our first apple (that was not located in New York City) and yet we were confident that we'd find all 35 apples in one day and STILL be able to blog. We swear that we do not do drugs. We can't stress that enough.
Of course, after the apple, like children, we got easily distracted and spent another 30 minutes running around the exterior of the stadium partaking in activities we didn't pay for.
We finally headed into the city around 5:00. Yes, that's right. FIVE. How in the hell did we think we'd track down another 34 apples in one day by starting at 5:00? Our first apple in the city was located at a Bed, Beth, and Beyond on E 60th Street...because Bed, Bath totally has everything to do with baseball and/or the Angels.
"Why do we always come up with these stupid ideas?"
"Why doesn't anyone stop us?"
"Why are we such a-holes?"
"Why are these apples so goddamn far apart?"
"Why are we such a-holes?"
"I'm so tired."
"I'm so hungry."
"My feet hurt."
"Such a stupid idea!"
"Why? Why? WHY?"
"Who picked these apple locations? These people are a-holes."
"These people in their stupid fancy dresses are a-holes."
"F*ck you in your suit you f*ck. Yeah. I'm talking to you. Think you're so special because you're going to a gala? We're special!"
It would be quite some time before we reached our next apple. By that point, we were dragging ass. It started to become a reality that there was an excellent chance we would not be getting to all of the apples. Stores had begun to close. Most of the apples were in stores. We had to take a picture with the Mariners' apple through the window. The Royals' apple was gated off. Yet, we forged on. We finally reached the Yankees' apple at 9:00. The Modell's that the apple was located in closed at 9:30, so we barely made it in time.
Fast forward to Monday. We're not sure how we didn't die from dehydration on Sunday. In all seriousness. Yet that didn't stop us from muttering all day at our desks and to each other via email about the injustice of it all. Of life, MLB, apples, and happiness. Why were the gods so cruel to us? Why were we forced to work at all? Why can't our day jobs be apple hunting? We knew the apples would be gone as soon as the All-Star Game was over, plus we'd be leaving for St. Louis the day after. There was no way we could go back and finish what we started...or could we?
We decided to take Tuesday off from work to finish this stupid idea, despite the fact that neither of us had started packing for St. Louis, which we were leaving for early on Wednesday morning (the results of that was over-packing including several pairs of yoga outfits and an abundance of jeans and panties...as in 3 weeks worth of underwear for 5 days). We suppose that even a bad idea needs to be seen to the end. Was this stupid? Yes, but we're stupid and we still stand by the fact that we did this all for you. This is where a mature, responsible adult needed to step in and tell us that we are d*cks who need to cut the sh*t. We both have 401K plans and are over 30 years old. Why are we acting like this?
We decided to reward our "ingenuity" by having a few beers and wings. This was ANOTHER mistake. We should've gone home and slept. Our feet and bodies still hurt from our shenanigans the day before, running without bagels, and wearing heels to work that day like buffoons. By the time we arrived at the bar (still in heels...and now swollen ankles because we chose not to rest them in flats), we looked the picture of road worn. Imagine a flower wilted from too much sun and no water. That was us. At a bar. We got the cold shoulder, no party for our apple accomplishments, and in fact, one a-hole patron didn't even know what the hell we were talking about when we mentioned the apples. This was a mistake on his part. We...looked and acted...insane...muttering about apples. It suddenly became, "F*ck you! F*ck this bar! F*ck this town! F*ck these sh*tty wings! F*ck these beers! F*ck you and these apples! And your mother! F*CK!" (We should stress that we didn't shout any of this at anyone. It was whispered firmly to each other and into our beers as we slowly began to lose grip on reality and our sanity) We clearly needed to be prescribed Xanax by this point. We were on edge and unstable. So we quietly gathered our belongings and made an exit as lady-like as possible and drove to the closest McDonald's for French fries.
Which brings to us to Tuesday. We sort felt like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. We started bright and early this time but the temperature had sky rocketed to close to 100 degrees. However, we had learned our lesson from Sunday and we wore shorts (with socks, so we look incredibly unattractive...the only thing to make this image worse would've been plaid shorts with polo shirts tucked into them). Also, Auntiedukes was kick ass enough to plot our entire day via subway in order to cut down on time and alleviate the pain in our foot arches, lower backs, shins (Lisa), and knees (Serena). We also packed water bottles this time and swore off all pubs. Yes...this was serious business. Our first apple was in Harlem. Lisa had never been to Harlem before...
The Rockies' apple was Day 2's Intrepid experience. We had banged out 3 other apples relatively easily, but the Rockies were an entirely different story. The MLB reported the World Financial Center at one location, Newsday at another, and Google Maps at a third. Where was this f*cking apple? Thanks to a fellow blogger, we discovered that we weren't the only idiots who ran into this problem. He found the apple after a bunch of missteps in the plaza between building 3 and 4. Due to the construction at the World Trade Center site, this required another trek similar to the Intrepid. By the time we reached the apple, we were back in RBF mode. In fact, we yelled at the apple. Again, we stress, like crazy people. Crazy people that aren't medicated.
Finally, at long last, while the All-Star Game played on without us, we found the final apple at a Modell's near Herald Square.
We leave you with these final words. MLB, your next tour of All-Star crap needs to be plotted in a more logical, thought-out route. The fact that you even considered Harlem to be an acceptable location shows just how far you've fallen from your Throne of Clarity. And also, f*ck you. Thank you and have a nice day.