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 clip...you 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
Showing posts with label Alex Rodriguez. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alex Rodriguez. Show all posts
Sunday, July 26, 2015
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Preparing for Glory
This is what is it's like outside, so we're blogging over the phone. Note that despite the asinine weather, we're still managing to blog. Also,we have no more furniture from IKEA to build, so we have no excuse.
1. Like last year, we'll be attending both Yankees' and Mets' Opening Days.
2. We're forming our own fantasy baseball league this year. We're done with this collusion business that's been plaguing our former league for years. We're moving on to bigger and better things. We're quietly amassing our league participants. Our goal is a 12-team league. We're seriously considering opening a few team slots to our followers, but we're concerned that you'll be annoying. Feel free to try and convince us that you won't be annoying.
3. We've decided to legitimately visit the Baseball Hall of Fame this year. We promise that this is the year. We will not fail you.
4. The New York media has inundated us with reports on Alex Rodriguez's progress during spring training. Unfortunately, there hasn't been a single interesting update. It would be more entertaining if they informed us how often he took a sh*t. No one cares that he's making friends. What a waste of a mobile alert (ahem, Sportscenter).
5. Tentative stadium tour 2015: Miami Marlins
6. We've started working out together on Sundays again. Watch out Instagram.
We intended to write an actual blog. Serena called Lisa. She logged into Blogger. The conversation turned to Mets' Opening Day (Old Man Ed is handling Yankees' Opening Day). It took Lisa twenty minutes to actually procure tickets. Fifteen of those minutes involved her selecting our seats. The final cost was follows:
Tickets: $39/each
Convenience Charge: $10.50
Parking: $21
Convenience charge: $1.00
Per order fee: $6.00
Grand Total: $116.50
Thank you, MLB, Mets, and Ticketmaster for continuing to bend us over a table.
Somehow, during this transaction, we ended up discussing our fantasy league. Serena created our league. Then spent twenty minutes researching and creating various fantasy team names.Eventually, we invited two other people to join. The end.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
This is a Limited Time Offer. Read it While it's Hot.
As most of you have probably heard, the 2014 Hall of Fame inductees were announced this week. Tom Glavine, Greg Maddux, and Frank Thomas. Honestly, this couldn't have happened to a better group of guys. Sure, Maddux was a total dick, but the man knew how to play the game. All three of these guys played the game right and all three of these guys look A-dorable in their advanced age visiting the tourist attractions of New York.
On to the topic of conversation that we're assuming you were going to harass us about anyway even if we chose not to discuss it. We figured that we'd just get this out of the way.
Alex Rodriguez.
Since 60 Minutes already has a special on this, we're going out on a limb here and guessing that you've all heard that he is suspended for the entire 2014 season. Unless you live under a rock. In that case, hey, guess what?! Alex Rodriguez will be serving a suspension for the 2014 season!
Here are the rules of this conversation:
1. We're going to state our clear opinion on this subject and you can choose to disagree or agree. It's a free country. Or so we're told.
2. Once we publish this, we will never cover it on this blog again. In 2015, if Alex stages a comeback, we're not going to relive this conversation again, so don't bring it up. In 2015, if Alex retires, we're not going to relive this conversation. Reference the previous sentence for more information. In 2050, if Alex dies and the discussion as to whether or not he should be eligible for the Hall of Fame comes up, we're not going to relive this conversation. Continue referencing the earlier sentence for more information. If Alex chooses to continue to fight this and actually clears his name, we're not going to relive this conversation again. Get the point?
Feel free to print a copy of these rules out and carry them around with you for reference (like we're doing with our New Year's resolutions).
We should preface this official statement as released by the Traveling Baseball Babes by saying that Alex Rodriguez probably deserves to be penalized in some way. We are in no way, shape, or form saying that he's innocent. We aren't going to sit here and claim to know what the actual story is anyway. It all seems a bit shady on both sides.
That being said, the MLB used Alex as a scapegoat. Hands down. When athletes are busted for using steroids, they should be punished, however this has been an ongoing circus for entirely too long. Steroids has been a public problem since the Roger Clemens/Barry Bonds malarkey. Let's face it, those men are basically the start of everything that's wrong with the game today and they borderline got away with murder. The MLB still feels bitter about the results of their cases and now they see this as an opportunity to right their ship with an a dumb ass jock that's easily manipulated and cares WAY too much about what WE think of him. They're making an example out of the weakest link. It's just not fair. The MLB is trying to "flex their muscles" and demonstrate their power, but really they've just come off as a bully.
The problem here isn't Alex Rodriguez. When all is said and done, what did any of this accomplish? Nothing. Players are still doing steroids. They're going to continue to do steroids. Why is the MLB focusing on Alex Rodriguez? What are they doing to stop these shenanigans? Obviously, their preventative measures aren't efficient enough if Ryan Braun tested positive not once, but twice and was only punished once thanks to a loophole during the first incident. Last season's mass of suspensions makes it glaringly obvious that the MLB doesn't have an effective means of monitoring the situation and exacting punishment. It's embarrassing. If players felt that the punishment was not worth the crime, they wouldn't commit the crime. If players felt like they'd be caught, they wouldn't commit the crime. Players feel like they can get away with it OR slip under the radar unseen. That's why they continue to take the risk of doing steroids.
Alex Rodriguez.
Since 60 Minutes already has a special on this, we're going out on a limb here and guessing that you've all heard that he is suspended for the entire 2014 season. Unless you live under a rock. In that case, hey, guess what?! Alex Rodriguez will be serving a suspension for the 2014 season!
Here are the rules of this conversation:
1. We're going to state our clear opinion on this subject and you can choose to disagree or agree. It's a free country. Or so we're told.
2. Once we publish this, we will never cover it on this blog again. In 2015, if Alex stages a comeback, we're not going to relive this conversation again, so don't bring it up. In 2015, if Alex retires, we're not going to relive this conversation. Reference the previous sentence for more information. In 2050, if Alex dies and the discussion as to whether or not he should be eligible for the Hall of Fame comes up, we're not going to relive this conversation. Continue referencing the earlier sentence for more information. If Alex chooses to continue to fight this and actually clears his name, we're not going to relive this conversation again. Get the point?
Feel free to print a copy of these rules out and carry them around with you for reference (like we're doing with our New Year's resolutions).
We should preface this official statement as released by the Traveling Baseball Babes by saying that Alex Rodriguez probably deserves to be penalized in some way. We are in no way, shape, or form saying that he's innocent. We aren't going to sit here and claim to know what the actual story is anyway. It all seems a bit shady on both sides.
That being said, the MLB used Alex as a scapegoat. Hands down. When athletes are busted for using steroids, they should be punished, however this has been an ongoing circus for entirely too long. Steroids has been a public problem since the Roger Clemens/Barry Bonds malarkey. Let's face it, those men are basically the start of everything that's wrong with the game today and they borderline got away with murder. The MLB still feels bitter about the results of their cases and now they see this as an opportunity to right their ship with an a dumb ass jock that's easily manipulated and cares WAY too much about what WE think of him. They're making an example out of the weakest link. It's just not fair. The MLB is trying to "flex their muscles" and demonstrate their power, but really they've just come off as a bully.
The problem here isn't Alex Rodriguez. When all is said and done, what did any of this accomplish? Nothing. Players are still doing steroids. They're going to continue to do steroids. Why is the MLB focusing on Alex Rodriguez? What are they doing to stop these shenanigans? Obviously, their preventative measures aren't efficient enough if Ryan Braun tested positive not once, but twice and was only punished once thanks to a loophole during the first incident. Last season's mass of suspensions makes it glaringly obvious that the MLB doesn't have an effective means of monitoring the situation and exacting punishment. It's embarrassing. If players felt that the punishment was not worth the crime, they wouldn't commit the crime. If players felt like they'd be caught, they wouldn't commit the crime. Players feel like they can get away with it OR slip under the radar unseen. That's why they continue to take the risk of doing steroids.
Sunday, December 8, 2013
Dear A-Hole, We Mean Mr. Cano
We're not going to waste a lot of time recapping the ridonkulous week that New York baseball has had because we're pretty confident that you're all up to date. And if you have no idea what we're talking about, you've probably been living in an underground shelter prepping for Doomsday. Today, we felt it necessary to write Robinson Cano a letter expressing our regrets in his departure.
Dear Mr. Cano,
How are you? Are you well? Physically? Mentally? How's the offseason treating you? Catch any good movies? Feed any homeless people? Truth be told, you should probably be caring for LOTS of homeless people since you've recently raped the Seattle Mariners' bank account for the purpose of feeding your ego.
We understand that each individual is entitled to pursue a higher salary and better benefits at other companies. Really. We do. We are not rolling in extra dough or anything like that, so trust us when we say that we understand the motive. That being said, you've got some set of BALLS to use money as an excuse to leave (as do all of your peers). Your salaries are not even in the same solar system as the average Joe. The average Joe leaves his company for more money because he feels pressure to pay his bills on time, feed his family, etc. You and the rest of the league are just gluttons. When your home team offers you a salary of over $160 million, you take it. $240 million is pure selfishness. Who are you? Scrooge McDuck? Do you have plans to build a vault where you can swim in your money?
Don't defend yourself by saying something along the lines of, "the Yankees didn't respect me with their negotiations" or "the Yankees tried to underpay for me." Listen here. The Yankees MADE you. You would not be anything without the Yankees. Their offer would have been the furthest thing from underpaying you. The Mariners overpaid for you. The fact of the matter is...you're f*cking lazy. You're going to be on your best behavior for the first season of your contract and then you're going to return to your lazy tendencies. Probably take a few trips to the DL for something stupid like pink eye. Furthermore, $160 million is respectable enough. It's actually disgusting that you feel (that ANY of you ball players feel) that you deserve that salary or more. The fact that you left the Yankees for a team that will most likely not see the playoffs for next four seasons (at least) is proof enough that you care nothing for "respect," loyalty, the team, your fans, or the game. All you care about is money.
One piece of advice before we go and before you relocate to a city where it rains approximately150 days of the year (226 cloudy days a year - which means you'll only see the sun 139 days each year): ditch Jay-Z. He's a rapper. Not a sports agent. He's quickly made you the next Alex Rodriguez, which makes him Scott Boras. Do you know how many people like Scott Boras? We're willing to bet that the list is probably only 5 people long, 2 of them being his parents. Even that might be a stretch.
So, farewell. We'll see you when the Mariners come to town. You'll hear us. We'll be the ones booing. We'd throw spare change at you, but honestly, you don't need it and we do.
Gracefully Yours,
The Traveling Baseball Babes
Dear Mr. Cano,
How are you? Are you well? Physically? Mentally? How's the offseason treating you? Catch any good movies? Feed any homeless people? Truth be told, you should probably be caring for LOTS of homeless people since you've recently raped the Seattle Mariners' bank account for the purpose of feeding your ego.
We understand that each individual is entitled to pursue a higher salary and better benefits at other companies. Really. We do. We are not rolling in extra dough or anything like that, so trust us when we say that we understand the motive. That being said, you've got some set of BALLS to use money as an excuse to leave (as do all of your peers). Your salaries are not even in the same solar system as the average Joe. The average Joe leaves his company for more money because he feels pressure to pay his bills on time, feed his family, etc. You and the rest of the league are just gluttons. When your home team offers you a salary of over $160 million, you take it. $240 million is pure selfishness. Who are you? Scrooge McDuck? Do you have plans to build a vault where you can swim in your money?
Don't defend yourself by saying something along the lines of, "the Yankees didn't respect me with their negotiations" or "the Yankees tried to underpay for me." Listen here. The Yankees MADE you. You would not be anything without the Yankees. Their offer would have been the furthest thing from underpaying you. The Mariners overpaid for you. The fact of the matter is...you're f*cking lazy. You're going to be on your best behavior for the first season of your contract and then you're going to return to your lazy tendencies. Probably take a few trips to the DL for something stupid like pink eye. Furthermore, $160 million is respectable enough. It's actually disgusting that you feel (that ANY of you ball players feel) that you deserve that salary or more. The fact that you left the Yankees for a team that will most likely not see the playoffs for next four seasons (at least) is proof enough that you care nothing for "respect," loyalty, the team, your fans, or the game. All you care about is money.
One piece of advice before we go and before you relocate to a city where it rains approximately150 days of the year (226 cloudy days a year - which means you'll only see the sun 139 days each year): ditch Jay-Z. He's a rapper. Not a sports agent. He's quickly made you the next Alex Rodriguez, which makes him Scott Boras. Do you know how many people like Scott Boras? We're willing to bet that the list is probably only 5 people long, 2 of them being his parents. Even that might be a stretch.
So, farewell. We'll see you when the Mariners come to town. You'll hear us. We'll be the ones booing. We'd throw spare change at you, but honestly, you don't need it and we do.
Gracefully Yours,
The Traveling Baseball Babes
Sunday, August 11, 2013
Tim Lincecum Appreciation Day 2013
Wednesday marks our 5th Annual Tim Lincecum Appreciation Day! We know that you expected us to post about our trip to Busch Stadium today, but to be frank, we felt this topic infinitely more important. We knew that you'd agree with us on this subject.
We know that you're dying to know what Timmy did with us this year (besides pitching like an a$$ clown for 75% of the season) and we're more than happy to enlighten you. We started the year off with a bang by running in our underwear for the Children's Tumor Foundation.
In keeping with our new "healthy lifestyle," we also ran in the Spartan Sprint at Citi Field in April (notice how Timmy refused to hold our hand or run with us. He's a real a-hole sometimes)...
...but not before getting sh*t faced on St. Patrick's Day...
or at the Beer Festival for Serena's birthday at the Nassau Coliseum. So, apparently even though we're all living "healthy" lifestyles, none of us have quit drinking.
At the Running of the Balls, Timmy didn't feel like running, so he dressed as a testicle in order to show his support for Fred #1.
There are more pictures of us partying together, but they're extremely inappropriate to post on the World Wide Web. Timmy's publicist and our parents would be very disappointed in us if we did that.
As is typical with Tim Lincecum Appreciation Day, it's time for our "Fun Facts About Timmy" segment. Did you know...
...that Timmy pitched his first career no-hitter this year on July 13th?
...that Timmy is often mistaken for Mitch Kramer when we're out at the bars? Don't know who Mitch Kramer is? Log onto Netflix and rent Dazed and Confused.
...there is a Tim Lincecum bobblehead beer tap at Beechwood Brewing & BBQ in Long Beach, Ca that was created out of a free giveaway?
...his favorite movie is Grandma's Boy?
...that he loves Hall & Oats? He sings Sara's Smile at the top of his lungs during all of our road trips. It's embarrassing. He's a terrible singer.
...that he bought a used car from Dave Roberts? It was an 06' Mercedes CLS.
...that he and KD Lang share the same hair stylist? That's why he has such a horrible haircut. After screaming at him for his stupidity, we offered him vastly improved alternatives for his next trip to the barber: Exhibit A, Exhibit B, Exhibit C, and Exhibit D.
Baseball Notes:
The Return of Alex Rodriguez and a successful hidden ball trick as performed by the Tampa Bay Rays. Want to know more? It's called The Google. It's time for us to feed now.
We know that you're dying to know what Timmy did with us this year (besides pitching like an a$$ clown for 75% of the season) and we're more than happy to enlighten you. We started the year off with a bang by running in our underwear for the Children's Tumor Foundation.
As is typical with Tim Lincecum Appreciation Day, it's time for our "Fun Facts About Timmy" segment. Did you know...
...that Timmy pitched his first career no-hitter this year on July 13th?
...that Timmy is often mistaken for Mitch Kramer when we're out at the bars? Don't know who Mitch Kramer is? Log onto Netflix and rent Dazed and Confused.
...there is a Tim Lincecum bobblehead beer tap at Beechwood Brewing & BBQ in Long Beach, Ca that was created out of a free giveaway?
...his favorite movie is Grandma's Boy?
...that he loves Hall & Oats? He sings Sara's Smile at the top of his lungs during all of our road trips. It's embarrassing. He's a terrible singer.
...that he bought a used car from Dave Roberts? It was an 06' Mercedes CLS.
...that he and KD Lang share the same hair stylist? That's why he has such a horrible haircut. After screaming at him for his stupidity, we offered him vastly improved alternatives for his next trip to the barber: Exhibit A, Exhibit B, Exhibit C, and Exhibit D.
Baseball Notes:
The Return of Alex Rodriguez and a successful hidden ball trick as performed by the Tampa Bay Rays. Want to know more? It's called The Google. It's time for us to feed now.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
ALCS Game #2 2012: Yankees vs. Tigers
Last
week, we asked you what your favorite part about our ALDS experience was. No
one chose the fratada or PINK loves the Yankees. Okay, so PINK wasn’t very
funny, but that fratada sh*t totally was. You guys suck. As always. 2 of you
actually chose our grotesque eating habits. You’ve got to be kidding us.
Seriously??? That is so disappointing. 1 person chose “Wood.” That was funny
also, but why did only 1 individual choose it? There’s only 1 pervert in this
bunch? We’re starting to think that we have nothing in common with you people.
We
arrived at Yankees Stadium with enough time to grab a beer at Stan’s. The
placed was packed out, but the bartender was the very definition of efficient
and he serviced us like a mother f*cking champion. We drank our beers near the
doorway to make room for the customers still pouring into the bar.
Since
we only had about 15 minutes before first pitch, we sucked our beers down. And
when we say “sucked down,” we mean that we literally couldn’t have drank our
beers any faster unless we drank them with a straw. From Stan’s, we jogged
across the street to Yankees Stadium, sped walked up the billion ramps to our
section (no stairs. We learned our lesson from the Damon Runyon 5K), purchased
a pair of hot dogs and beers, and headed to our seats just in time for first
pitch. Side note: we’ve decided that these are the best seats ever. Look at
this friggin’ view. It’s perfect:
Nothing was obstructed from these seats, except for Nick Swisher, but seeing as how he played like a total douche nozzle this postseason, we really didn't want to see much of him to begin with. We
want these seats for every single game we attend at Yankees Stadium. We do not
care if these belong to season ticket holders. We demand that Section 305, Row
3, Seats 14 and 15 be issued to us. Don’t the Yankees know who we are?
Our
hot dogs were pretty good. Not as good as a sausage, but tasty nevertheless.
What can we say? We were on a budget. Money was tight and we pretty much spent
90% of our cash on beer. We’ve got our priorities in order.
Our
pitching matchup was Hiroki Kuroda and Anibel Sanchez. This was disappointing
because Serena still felt strongly that we deserved The Big Texan and the
Yankees purposefully blew it in the ALDS just to piss us off and prevent us
from having quality time with Andy Pettitte. Those f*cks.
Like
Derek Jeter really gives a sh*t that you wish him well. Stupid. What’s worse is
that this pair is clearly a couple of some sort. When you’re in a couple, it’s
someone’s job to make the appropriate decisions for that couple. It could be
the man or the woman. SOMEONE needs to make the right choices. When you show up
to a stadium with an asinine sign like this, it means that both of you are
a-holes. Neither of you have any decision-making skills. One of you needed to
say, “seriously, babe? This is asstastic. Can we not do this? We’re gonna look
stupid.” Clearly these two would not survive in the great outdoors. They look
like giant pansies.
We
found him dressed in a pimp outfit to be particularly amusing. Amusing enough
to take a picture of it. In our defense, there was nothing else to amuse us by
this point. The score was 0-0.
The
men in front of us heard us talking about the football game and assumed that
Serena was the keeper of football scores, so at his request, she had to keep checking her NFL
app for score updates to appease them. We discussed being a part of a pick em’
league. Which teams did you pick, etc., etc., and why? The men agreed with
Serena that her league being all about “The Spread” was horse shit. What is “The
Spread” anyway? Who came up with that? It sounds like an STD. The little kid hanging
out with them really enjoyed Serena’s R2D2 text tone and other assorted Star
Wars sounds that can be found on her phone. Serena tried to eat his ice cream,
but the kid wasn’t having it. Selfish little crab. He had an entire pint and he
couldn’t spare ONE lousy spoonful? That seems a bit ridiculous, if you ask us. Ridiculous
and a touch selfish.
C’mon!
That’s definitely a little penis poking through! So disturbing.
Super
hero of the week: Alex Rodriguez for getting digits while at work. Good for
him! Multi-tasking at its best!!!
Anyway,
onto to the purpose of this blog. Our delightful experience at Game 2 of the
ALCS. Obviously, we know how this story ends for the Yankees. They sucked
penis. They couldn’t hit water if they fell out of a boat. The sad thing is
that for the most part, their pitchers kept the Yankees in the game, but when
your starting pitcher makes 1 lousy mistake and gives the opposite team a run,
that can’t be it. You NEED to give your pitchers some wiggle room.1 run can’t
be a death sentence. It’s not fair to your pitcher. Or the fans that paid a lot
of money to get drunk at your game. You’re suffocating your pitcher and now you’re
suffocating your fans. Don’t suffocate us, man! Oh, and by the way? We’re at a
bar drinking right now as we blog.
Oh!
And we should mention that Derek Jeter had hurt his footie the night before so
we were surrounded by a lot of a-holes carrying signs like this:
Not
much action happened until the 7th, but prior to that, the only man
who had been consistently performing, Raul Ibanez, walked with Mark Teixeira on
base in the bottom of the 1st. The Yankees would go on to do nothing
to capitalize on this scenario, but the jumbotron flashed this gem on the
screen:
While
the Yankees trudged slowly through the game like a man in a desert without
water, we continued to check the Giants/49er’s score. Another side note: Who
schedules a MLB Championship game at 4:00? This directly interfered with
football Sunday as we had to leave with enough time to get the train to Yankees
Stadium, causing us to miss both the Jets AND Giants games. PLUS, the Giants
game turned out to be epic whereas the Yankees game turned out to be a dud!!!!
We supported both our Yankees and GMEN:
In the
7th, the Tigers scratched a run across, spelling inevitable doom. 1
run? With the way this offense had been hitting? Might as well have been 4,000
to 0. Around this time, Serena came up with a pet name for Alex Rodriguez,
Curtis Granderson, and Nick Swisher. Since they were as useful as tits on a
bull, Serena started calling them the “0 (pronounced “O”) for Triplets.” Lisa
found this funny enough to actually make a note about it in “The Notebook.”
A few
rows in front of us sat a man that we’d never, ever consider dating. Want to
know why? No? You don’t. Tough. We’re going to tell you. It’s our blog. So
there. This man was an embarrassment to testosterone. He saved bits of his
pretzel like a squirrel. What kind of man can’t finish a f*cking pretzel? It’s
not even that big. And if you don’t eat it while it’s warm, it get hard and
icky. Hard…hahaha…that’s what she said. Sorry. Easily distracted. And we’ve
been drinking. Back to the vagina who calls himself a man. Not only did he save
bits of his pretzel, but he stored his bits in his pocket like a total
creeper!!! Tell us that this doesn’t look like a flasher with his penis
sticking out of his fly:
In the
bottom of the 9th with 2 outs and the Yankees down by 3, Alex
Rodriguez hit a single and stole second. For absolutely no reason except for
maybe his health. The Yankees lost 3-0. Like a pack of a-holes. After the game,
we went to the bar and continued to drink. This is Lisa playing baseball with a
little boy:
A-hole
of the week: The Yankees, not for losing, but for getting swept. Really,
guys???
Sunday, October 14, 2012
ALDS Game #4 2012: Yankees vs. Orioles
If you follow us on Facebook, you know how much we've ranted about the new playoff format f*cking up our ticket schedule for the Division Series. Thankfully, the Yankees are a pack of morons who didn't sweep the Orioles and we got to go to our Game #4. Before we get into our delightful 13-inning experience, let's talk poll results. Lisa had asked you if you agreed with the left field ump's call in the Braves/Cardinals game that basically allowed the Cardinals to advance to the NLDS. Of 7 votes, 5 of you said, "no f*cking way" whereas 2 of you said, "hell yeah." Here's the bottom line: the Cardinals never should've had the opportunity to play that game. End of story. Now they get to play the Championship Series against the Giants. F*ck you, Cardinals. We hope you get your asses handed to you. Go Giants! Oh, and f*ck you too, MLB. Just f*ck you and all of your mothers.
We all know how the Division Series on both sides have ended. The Yankees are playing the Tigers. The Giants are playing that jack ass team from St. Louis who should be sitting at home eating wings and playing golf right now. We'll be in attendance for Game #2 of the Yankees/Tigers series, so we'll be posting about those shenanigans next week. For now, we'll talk to you about what went down Thursday night.
We arrived at the stadium with enough time for us to grab a sausage sandwich and a beer before the game started. Sausage sandwich: $8. Snazzy souvenir beer cup: $11.
We shared a table in the food court with a couple that eyed us suspiciously and whispered to each other about placing bets. We tried ignoring them at first, but eventually they popped the question that apparently had been plaguing them since we joined them. And no, it wasn't them asking if we were lesbians.
"Are you guys sisters?"
"No."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Cos' you have the same mannerisms and everything."
"Nope. Not sisters."
"Wow."
Someone lost $5 over sheer stupidity. So sad.
By the time we finished scarfing our food down like animals, it was almost time for first pitch, so we hurried up all the steps that we had run up just two months ago in the Damon Runyon 5K to our seats.
Our starting pitchers for the evening were Phil Hughes and Joe Saunders. We were surprised that more O's fans weren't in attendance. Unfortunately, behind us was the biggest fratada O's fan in the franchise's history. Yes, she was that bad. Listen, we've traveled to Oriole Park for a Yankees game. Serena's been there multiple times without Lisa for Yankees games. O's fans are pretty chill. This bitch was anything but chill. We think she might've escaped from a mental institution in Philadelphia. She didn't cheer for her O's. She screamed. And when we say screamed, we mean she sounded like she was being raped and murdered in a back alley somewhere. She was also drunk, which means she had to piss a lot. Every time she had to go to the bathroom, she unsteadily groped the fans sitting in front of her so that she could make her way out of the row. One of the gropees was Serena. We all know how much Serena loves to be groped by random strangers...said no one ever. This chick was lucky that she wasn't punched in the vagina. We tried to be ninjas and take a picture of her subtley for you to see what an a-hole she was, so we pretended to take a photo of us, while trying to get a picture of her and her moron boyfriend in the background. This is how well we did:
See that phone she's holding? She dropped it on Serena twice. A-hole. On her 4 millionth return from the bathroom, we got a proper picture of her:
We should also enlighten you on some of the awesome sh*t she was screaming at the field. Let's begin with when Hughes was taken from the game. She screamed (yes, screamed, no exaggeration), "Sit your ass down you piece of sh*t! You suck!" Repeat over and over and over again. For starters, Phil Hughes is the equivalent of white bread. It's there and it totally works when you need to make a sandwich, but it really isn't all that inspiring or entertaining. Does white bread deserve to be called a "piece of sh*t?" No. We're not sure that it does. It's pretty functional when it needs to be. Secondly, Saunders was removed before Hughes! Does that make her starting pitcher a "piece of sh*t?" Does that mean Saunders "sucks" as well? At another point, we think she got really confused because she started screaming love phrases at Alex Rodriguez, who, to the best of our knowledge, plays for the Yankees. At that time, she also screamed, "let's go Yankees." Perhaps her beer had been doped. Shortly after, she returned to her O-fan status, but that didn't make us any less bewildered.
In front of us was a female Yankees fan that represented everything we hate about female fans. If you think the back of this asinine outfit is bad, you should've seen the front of it. Her hat was printed with a jeweled encrusted "Bronx Bombers," which was borderline terrifying. And her sweatshirt. Who the hell on the Yankees ever wore, "03?" That's a year, not a jersey number. Furthermore, PINK doesn't love the Yankees. They love every MLB and NFL team under the sun as long as some airhead fan is willing to buy the merchandise. You know what? PINK also loves yoga. So obviously PINK is just a love whore. That shirt probably cost her $70. Terrible.
In the bottom of the 6th, the Orioles were still leading 1-0 and we had to pee. While leaving the bathroom, we suddenly decided that we were hungry again. Like there's a f*cking surprise. We stopped at a nearby Wholly Guacomole stand and got a plate of nachos to share for $8.50. We covered it with cheese, beef, salsa, jalapeno peppers, and guacomole on the side. Sour cream is also available if you like that sort of thing.
We ate it at a nearby counter and watched the game overlooking left field. The Yankees tied up the game while we inhaled the food. We barely stopped chewing in order to high-five this small Yankee victory. This what our plate looked like when we were done:
We disgust ourselves. We got back to our seats in time for the bottom of the 8th. So shameful. Little did we know that we'd be in it for the long haul. Ichiro Suzuki singled, followed by a Mark Teixeira single with no outs. Robinson Cano moved the runners over with a ground ball to second. The Yankees had runners on second and third with only one out. This was it. The Yankees were going to win. We were going to witness the victory puppy pile at the end of the game. CC Sabathia was going to pitch Game 1 of the ALCS and we were going to get The Big Texan on Sunday. Everything was going according to plan. There was only two things standing in our way: a pair of hairy a-holes. Rodriguez struck out swinging and Nick Swisher flied out to end the inning and to not only piss off 95% of the stadium, but to encourage the fratada behind us to start screaming gibberish.
Nothing happened in the 9th, so we headed into extra innings, which we were oh so thrilled about seeing as how it was freezing, windy, and we were sitting in front of a psychopath. Plus, it was getting late, we had to take the train back, and both of us had to report to work bright and early the next day.
Lisa's remaining notes on the game were as follows: "Man in khaki pants has wood." The conversation went as follows:
Lisa: "Serena, look at that man in the khaki pants."
Serena: "What?"
Lisa: "Tell me he has a hard on."
Serena: "What?"
Lisa: "Tell me he has a hard on right now."
*Serena looks at his crotch*
Serena: "Oh, for crissakes, Lisa."
Lisa: "Exactly what is so arousing about what's happening right now? HOW can he have wood?"
Serena: "Absolutely nothing. There is nothing happening. This is the most frustrating game I've ever been to. If I was a dude, I'd have blue balls."
Lisa: "I think he's in love with his friend."
*We both turn to see them hugging each other*
Serena: "Apparently extra innings and beer make men want to express their bromance."
*Suddenly, we notice that we're surrounded by "bros" hugging each other, picking each other up, stroking each other, high-fiving each other, and being all-around in love with each other*
Lisa: "What the hell is going on?"
Serena: "This is why we're single. There are no straight men left."
Back to the game. Nothing happened. Alex Rodriguez struck out again. So did Nick Swisher. A pair of real American heroes. This is us trying to remain upbeat and positive during this time:
At the top of the 13th, the Orioles scored and the fratada screamed. We contemplated pushing her down the stairs. We didn't. We got home around 2 in the morning. Party on, Wayne. Party on, Garth. We are the super heroes of the week because we had to put up with all of this bull sh*t for 13 innings. It's hard to choose the a-hole of the week because this entire blog is dedicated to a-holes, but Alex Rodriguez seems to be the best choice. Sorry, Alex. We realize that you have low self-esteem (so do we) and that you're a Taco, but you've left us with no alternative.
We're off to ALCS Game #2. Will post pictures to Facebook and Twatter providing we can get internet access in that black hole of cell service. Miss you, love you, bye! Kiss noise!
We all know how the Division Series on both sides have ended. The Yankees are playing the Tigers. The Giants are playing that jack ass team from St. Louis who should be sitting at home eating wings and playing golf right now. We'll be in attendance for Game #2 of the Yankees/Tigers series, so we'll be posting about those shenanigans next week. For now, we'll talk to you about what went down Thursday night.
We arrived at the stadium with enough time for us to grab a sausage sandwich and a beer before the game started. Sausage sandwich: $8. Snazzy souvenir beer cup: $11.
"Are you guys sisters?"
"No."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Cos' you have the same mannerisms and everything."
"Nope. Not sisters."
"Wow."
Someone lost $5 over sheer stupidity. So sad.
By the time we finished scarfing our food down like animals, it was almost time for first pitch, so we hurried up all the steps that we had run up just two months ago in the Damon Runyon 5K to our seats.
In front of us was a female Yankees fan that represented everything we hate about female fans. If you think the back of this asinine outfit is bad, you should've seen the front of it. Her hat was printed with a jeweled encrusted "Bronx Bombers," which was borderline terrifying. And her sweatshirt. Who the hell on the Yankees ever wore, "03?" That's a year, not a jersey number. Furthermore, PINK doesn't love the Yankees. They love every MLB and NFL team under the sun as long as some airhead fan is willing to buy the merchandise. You know what? PINK also loves yoga. So obviously PINK is just a love whore. That shirt probably cost her $70. Terrible.
Nothing happened in the 9th, so we headed into extra innings, which we were oh so thrilled about seeing as how it was freezing, windy, and we were sitting in front of a psychopath. Plus, it was getting late, we had to take the train back, and both of us had to report to work bright and early the next day.
Lisa: "Serena, look at that man in the khaki pants."
Serena: "What?"
Lisa: "Tell me he has a hard on."
Serena: "What?"
Lisa: "Tell me he has a hard on right now."
*Serena looks at his crotch*
Serena: "Oh, for crissakes, Lisa."
Lisa: "Exactly what is so arousing about what's happening right now? HOW can he have wood?"
Serena: "Absolutely nothing. There is nothing happening. This is the most frustrating game I've ever been to. If I was a dude, I'd have blue balls."
Lisa: "I think he's in love with his friend."
*We both turn to see them hugging each other*
Serena: "Apparently extra innings and beer make men want to express their bromance."
*Suddenly, we notice that we're surrounded by "bros" hugging each other, picking each other up, stroking each other, high-fiving each other, and being all-around in love with each other*
Lisa: "What the hell is going on?"
Serena: "This is why we're single. There are no straight men left."
Back to the game. Nothing happened. Alex Rodriguez struck out again. So did Nick Swisher. A pair of real American heroes. This is us trying to remain upbeat and positive during this time:
We're off to ALCS Game #2. Will post pictures to Facebook and Twatter providing we can get internet access in that black hole of cell service. Miss you, love you, bye! Kiss noise!
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Italian Sausage
Last week, Serena was solo (hence, the word “vagina”
being used twice without any sort of quality control). MLB had begun its campaign
for the All Star Game already, so Serena asked how you guys voted. 5 people
said that they sit with the ballot and carefully think about each option before
selecting the player they deem most appropriate. 2 individuals said that the
use The Force. No one said that they pick the most popular players (in fact,
they don’t know why that they’re not allowed to still vote for Ken Griffrey
Jr.) and no one didn’t understand question and wouldn’t respond.
Lisa: And apparently so is his junk.
Serena: Ya know, he looks like he’s huge.
Lisa: Yeah. He looks like he’s hung.
For example, we’re pretty sure that Albert Pujols has a baby’s arm in his pants. In fact, to quote Lisa, “he probably has to roll it up in order to tuck it into his cup.” Wish we took video of this demonstration. At one point, she flung “it” over her shoulder and wrapped it around her leg. We’d go so far as to assume that Pujols is the biggest in the league. Hall of Fame worthy. We’re also confident that Brian Wilson is hung, BUT he has his beard in his pants, which is a serious problem. It’s like a thick, wooded area without civilization that will take you at least 45 minutes to find your way out of. Truly terrifying. The only way it could get scarier is if it was red. Other men that we’ve decided are well-endowed are Joe Mauer, Ryan Howard, CC Sabathia (he looks like a f*cking grizzly bear), Mike Jacobs (even though he’s no longer playing), Brian McCann, Tim Hudson, Matt Holliday, and unfortunately, Carlos Beltran. This might be the only thing that Beltran has going for him because his personality sucks and so does mole. Oh, yes, AND his taste in music.
We briefly discussed one of New York’s Golden Boys (TOWSNBN).
Lisa: I don’t think he’s long, but…
Serena: I think he’s stocky…
Lisa: YES!
Serena: Like his body…
Lisa: EXACTLY!
To clarify, stocky=girthy.
Now for the boys we think have more of a string bean in their pants than a sausage. We’re thinking that New York’s OTHER Golden Boy, Derek Jeter, has a long, but thin noodle…just based on his body. A long, lean noodle. Unfortunately, we think that our honorary TBB, Tim Lincecum, might be small as well. He just looks like he physically couldn’t handle carrying around a Louisville Slugger in his pants. He’d topple over and royally f*ck up his delivery to the plate. Other players that we think are small are Matt Cain, Cole Hamels (and this truly does pain Lisa to think this), Josh Beckett, Dustin Pedroia, Ichiro Suzuki (he’s probably built like Mr. Chow), Jeff Franceour (we’re sad to admit this), and Jose Reyes. Lisa would like to issue a challenge to Hamels to prove to her that he doesn’t have a small Twinkie.
There were a few that we couldn’t decide on. Jayson Werth, for one. He could easily go either way, but he may smell…down there. Like a men’s lockerroom. Justin Verlander is hard to tell also, but we think he probably smells nicer…down there. NOT like a men’s lockeroom. David Ortiz seems like he’s either enormous or really small. Other unknowns: Joey Votto, Josh Hamilton, and Barry Zito. Barry Zito’s a big boy, but he’s rocked a comb-over. A comb-over may indicate a small taquito. That’s just two girls’ opinions.
Huston Street belongs in the average sausage category, but he knows how to work it. We once sat in the left field bleachers at the old Yankees Stadium and watched his warm up. Trust us when we say that “the hips do not lie.” That man can do things with his body that no man can do. There are women (us included—and Serena practices yoga) who cannot do what Huston Street can do.
In non-sausage related news, the TBB have decided to run in the Runyon 5K at Yankees Stadium in August. We get to run the warning track. How bad a$$ is that? We probably would’ve done ANY 5K being held at a baseball stadium within driving distance, but it’s a bonus that it’s taking place at one of the New York stadiums. Here’s a brief background on our running capabilities: Serena ran her first 5K last week at the Bronx Zoo. While running 3.1 miles isn’t something that Serena isn’t physically capable of completing relatively easily, she has the attention span of a toddler. In fact, at the Bronx Zoo, the only reason why Serena finished without running off to look at the monkeys is that she ran the entire thing with her cousin, Sara, a cross-country runner. Now we’re going to be running through a stadium, a course that includes being on the field. We’re probably going to lose Serena to the Yankees dugout or bullpen…or closest hot dog stand. Lisa has never run in any sort of race whatsoever. She HAS chased after the ice cream truck and from a creepy dog walker at Shea Stadium though. Once in awhile she runs on the treadmill at the gym, but she certainly can’t claim to enjoy it. It’s a long, tedious mile. What is exciting for Lisa is the prospect that there may be a lot of fit guidos present at this event (seeing as how most guidos in New York are Yankees fans). Perhaps these guidos can run in front of us and Lisa can run after them. One of them can carry a hot dog and a beer and that will be motivation for Serena. Stay tuned for the blog post following that event.
The big baseball note effecting New York this week is the crap with Mariano Rivera. While shagging balls in the outfield during batting practice (not even an actual game), Rivera twisted his knee. Ouch. An injury like that to a player as old as Rivera immediately makes people think that this is it. He’s not coming back. His career is over on a bull sh*t injury. Not so fast. Rivera insists that he’s coming back for 2013, “not going out like this.”
Jered Weaver, another f*ck a$$ who spells his name wrong (and this is more offensive than Andruw since Brother’s name is JARED), pitched himself a no-hitter against the offensively ineffectual Twins this week. While it’s nice to have a no hitter under your belt, what’s it like to accomplish something like this against a team with the major league-worst record (7-18)? We actually had to double-take that statistic there. 7-18??? SEVEN? They’ve only won seven stupid games??? That’s friggin’ AWFUL. Their terrible record actually outshines Weaver’s accomplishment. His no hitter is a backhanded compliment. We’re not even sure it should count. That’s like pitching no-hit ball to the Bad News Bears.
Closing things out with Adele today: “Oh, rumor has it. Oh, rumor has it. The rumor has it that Pujols is rolling up his sausage from the floor.”
You might be wondering about what today’s blog
theme is about. Italian sausage? Really? Are they talking about food AGAIN.
Well…sort of. While watching last night’s Yankees game against the Royals, Alex
Rodriguez stepped up to the plate. Here’s how our conversation went:
Lisa: Wow, he’s got some big thighs.
Serena (smacking her own chunk-tastic thighs):
The curse of third base.
(Rodriguez adjusts his man-junk area)Lisa: And apparently so is his junk.
Serena: Ya know, he looks like he’s huge.
Lisa: Yeah. He looks like he’s hung.
This got us thinking…who ELSE looks like he’s
packing heat? In defense of this topic, they do have lists of baseball’shottest girlfriends/wives. Why can we cover…sausages? Disclaimer: we should
note that we’ve never seen ANY of these private male parts that we’re
discussing. This is strictly opinion.
For example, we’re pretty sure that Albert Pujols has a baby’s arm in his pants. In fact, to quote Lisa, “he probably has to roll it up in order to tuck it into his cup.” Wish we took video of this demonstration. At one point, she flung “it” over her shoulder and wrapped it around her leg. We’d go so far as to assume that Pujols is the biggest in the league. Hall of Fame worthy. We’re also confident that Brian Wilson is hung, BUT he has his beard in his pants, which is a serious problem. It’s like a thick, wooded area without civilization that will take you at least 45 minutes to find your way out of. Truly terrifying. The only way it could get scarier is if it was red. Other men that we’ve decided are well-endowed are Joe Mauer, Ryan Howard, CC Sabathia (he looks like a f*cking grizzly bear), Mike Jacobs (even though he’s no longer playing), Brian McCann, Tim Hudson, Matt Holliday, and unfortunately, Carlos Beltran. This might be the only thing that Beltran has going for him because his personality sucks and so does mole. Oh, yes, AND his taste in music.
We briefly discussed one of New York’s Golden Boys (TOWSNBN).
Lisa: I don’t think he’s long, but…
Serena: I think he’s stocky…
Lisa: YES!
Serena: Like his body…
Lisa: EXACTLY!
To clarify, stocky=girthy.
Now for the boys we think have more of a string bean in their pants than a sausage. We’re thinking that New York’s OTHER Golden Boy, Derek Jeter, has a long, but thin noodle…just based on his body. A long, lean noodle. Unfortunately, we think that our honorary TBB, Tim Lincecum, might be small as well. He just looks like he physically couldn’t handle carrying around a Louisville Slugger in his pants. He’d topple over and royally f*ck up his delivery to the plate. Other players that we think are small are Matt Cain, Cole Hamels (and this truly does pain Lisa to think this), Josh Beckett, Dustin Pedroia, Ichiro Suzuki (he’s probably built like Mr. Chow), Jeff Franceour (we’re sad to admit this), and Jose Reyes. Lisa would like to issue a challenge to Hamels to prove to her that he doesn’t have a small Twinkie.
There were a few that we couldn’t decide on. Jayson Werth, for one. He could easily go either way, but he may smell…down there. Like a men’s lockerroom. Justin Verlander is hard to tell also, but we think he probably smells nicer…down there. NOT like a men’s lockeroom. David Ortiz seems like he’s either enormous or really small. Other unknowns: Joey Votto, Josh Hamilton, and Barry Zito. Barry Zito’s a big boy, but he’s rocked a comb-over. A comb-over may indicate a small taquito. That’s just two girls’ opinions.
Huston Street belongs in the average sausage category, but he knows how to work it. We once sat in the left field bleachers at the old Yankees Stadium and watched his warm up. Trust us when we say that “the hips do not lie.” That man can do things with his body that no man can do. There are women (us included—and Serena practices yoga) who cannot do what Huston Street can do.
In non-sausage related news, the TBB have decided to run in the Runyon 5K at Yankees Stadium in August. We get to run the warning track. How bad a$$ is that? We probably would’ve done ANY 5K being held at a baseball stadium within driving distance, but it’s a bonus that it’s taking place at one of the New York stadiums. Here’s a brief background on our running capabilities: Serena ran her first 5K last week at the Bronx Zoo. While running 3.1 miles isn’t something that Serena isn’t physically capable of completing relatively easily, she has the attention span of a toddler. In fact, at the Bronx Zoo, the only reason why Serena finished without running off to look at the monkeys is that she ran the entire thing with her cousin, Sara, a cross-country runner. Now we’re going to be running through a stadium, a course that includes being on the field. We’re probably going to lose Serena to the Yankees dugout or bullpen…or closest hot dog stand. Lisa has never run in any sort of race whatsoever. She HAS chased after the ice cream truck and from a creepy dog walker at Shea Stadium though. Once in awhile she runs on the treadmill at the gym, but she certainly can’t claim to enjoy it. It’s a long, tedious mile. What is exciting for Lisa is the prospect that there may be a lot of fit guidos present at this event (seeing as how most guidos in New York are Yankees fans). Perhaps these guidos can run in front of us and Lisa can run after them. One of them can carry a hot dog and a beer and that will be motivation for Serena. Stay tuned for the blog post following that event.
The big baseball note effecting New York this week is the crap with Mariano Rivera. While shagging balls in the outfield during batting practice (not even an actual game), Rivera twisted his knee. Ouch. An injury like that to a player as old as Rivera immediately makes people think that this is it. He’s not coming back. His career is over on a bull sh*t injury. Not so fast. Rivera insists that he’s coming back for 2013, “not going out like this.”
Jered Weaver, another f*ck a$$ who spells his name wrong (and this is more offensive than Andruw since Brother’s name is JARED), pitched himself a no-hitter against the offensively ineffectual Twins this week. While it’s nice to have a no hitter under your belt, what’s it like to accomplish something like this against a team with the major league-worst record (7-18)? We actually had to double-take that statistic there. 7-18??? SEVEN? They’ve only won seven stupid games??? That’s friggin’ AWFUL. Their terrible record actually outshines Weaver’s accomplishment. His no hitter is a backhanded compliment. We’re not even sure it should count. That’s like pitching no-hit ball to the Bad News Bears.
Closing things out with Adele today: “Oh, rumor has it. Oh, rumor has it. The rumor has it that Pujols is rolling up his sausage from the floor.”
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Yankees Opening Day 2012
April 13, 2012
Back to the whole purpose of this post. Baseball. Opening Day. All good stuff. Mamadukes bought our tickets for Opening Day as my birthday gift, but the actual purchase was done by me. As in, “go onto StubHub and find tickets. I’ll give you the money.” I picked two tickets that felt like a happy medium in terms of cost and location, but I didn’t really have any idea as to where they were being that they were in a section I’d never sat in before. We drove into the game and parked at a nearby mall. “Event Parking” cost us $30, but for some reason, it felt less like a raping than paying $35 at the other lot. Getting to Yankees Stadium from this mall, however, proved to be a bit of a challenge for us. Initially, we followed these two guys wearing Jeter and Mantle jerseys toward the entrance we had just driven through, but then we realized that they were going to have to hop a wall in order to get to the sidewalk and that just seemed to be more trouble than it was worth. We decided to find another way. This would be a mistake. I don’t know what we were thinking. We should’ve just stuck to following Jeter and Mantle. They’d always been reliable in the past. Why did we think they were going to let us down this time? We ended up walking a sidewalk that ran somewhat parallel to the Major Deagan Expressway. That is some hot stuff right there. Eventually we did manage to reach the stadium and this random, off-the-beaten-path route actually had us approach the stadium from a direction we’d never taken before, offering me the opportunity to take this photo of the entire stadium in all its sexiness.
The walkway leading up to the stadium past the little league baseball field is paved with sporadic markers indicating historical moments in franchise history, like this:
This:
This:
And this:
We tried finding a marker celebrating Don Mattingly’s retirement, but apparently, nothing of importance happened for the Yankees between 1987 and 1996, which I found a little strange.
Look who ran into us at the stadium! Ed! Lisa’s favorite of Serena’s colleagues. Ed had seats 3 sections over from us.
There was one really amazing upside about sitting in these seats though. I got to hang out with this little buddy the entire game:
How amazing is he? He’s adorable and fat. I wanted to dognap him. The downside to this bootyful baseball fan was that his owner was a jerk Mets fan that kept rooting against the Yankees. Dude, go be miserable at your own Opening Day. Don’t make my Opening Day experience miserable because you hate my team.
Jorge Posada threw out the first pitch to Papa Posada.
The pitching matchup was Hiroki Kuroda and Ervin Santana. I’ll admit that this did not inspire confidence in me after watching the nightmare of a game that took place in Tampa Bay in the week prior. However, we got out of the first inning fairly unscathed, so I calmed down a bit. In the bottom of the 1st, Santana led things off by striking out both Jeter and Granderson. Allow me to describe the mental illness that currently resides in this brain of mine. Instead of being overly pissed off at this, I got excited because Roberta’s ridiculous New York-focused fantasy team wouldn’t get any offensive points. Insert evil laugh. See? I’m truly a disturbed individual. With two outs, Alex Rodriguez (the one Yankees player that I managed to pry out of Roberta’s greedy fingers) singled. Hooray for fantasy points for Tigers Love Pepper! THEN he stole second. More fantasy points! It’s just an explosion of fantasy points for me.
Rodriguez would go onto hit a bomb of a home run to dead center field in the bottom of the 3rd and another single in the bottom of the 5th following a Granderson home run. While his sudden surge of offense pleases me both from the Yankees fan perspective and the perspective of being the manager for the future 2012 championship fantasy team, I feel it necessary to point out something that he did in the bottom of the 7th that really pissed me off. I have always defended Rodriguez. Despite the fact that he’s got a personality that’s equivalent to a brown paper bag and the whole steroids fiasco, I do believe him to be a hard-working and gifted athlete. When he fails, it’s never from a lack of trying. Yes, he’s totally overpaid and yes, he tends to collapse when the Yankees really need him, but I will accept a player who fails to succeed if he puts forth genuine effort. In the 7th, with Jeter on second, Rodriguez hit a weak dribbler to Ryan Isringhausen on the mound, which typically would’ve been an easy out, but Isringhausen bobbled the ball, giving Rodriguez the chance to safely reach first AND advancing Jeter to third. Instead of actually running hard down the line, Rodriguez did the f*cking Hustle! Naturally, this gave Isringhausen enough time to recover and throw Rodriguez out. I was enraged. If I recall the moment correctly, after a string of curse words, I shouted, “Did you have an asthma attack on the way to first, you a-hole?” Apparently the surrounding fans found this amusing. What the hell? I defend this man all the damn time for his work ethic and he repays me by acting like Carlos Beltran?? Trust me, I’ve played sports. I get that there was a chance that Rodriguez still may have been thrown out even if he ran hard. I totally understand that. The point is that he also might’ve been safe, giving the Yankees another chance to score. Crap like that makes me crazy.This better have been a brain fart on his part because if this is a sign of behavior to come, I’m going to convince Lisa to allow me to write another asstastic letter for this blog. And I’m very convincing. You have no idea how much stupid
sh*t I’ve convinced Lisa to participate in with me.
Just prior to the 9th inning, we asked the nice men sitting next to us to take our picture. I’m actually surprised that Mamadukes allowed this considering how much she hates taking pictures. I think the fact that this man gave her his Cracker Jack prize softened her a little.
We were pleasantly surprised when Kuroda came out to pitch the 9th having already thrown 103 pitches. He allowed Bobby Abreu on base with a weak a$$ crap hit and Joe Girardi pulled him out in favor of David Robertson. Kuroda exited to a standing ovation. A vast improvement from his first start. Now if only CC Sabathia would follow suit. Robertson closed out the game, coaxing Albert Pujols into a double play and then striking out Kendry Morales. Final score 5-0 Yankees.
I have to start this post with a quasi-related, but not-really-related statement. When Lisa and I go to the Yankees game on May 19th, I need to take her to Billy’s Bar. I’m pretty sure that I’ve discovered a guido dumping ground. Dark spiked haired, olive-skinned fist pumpers galore. It’s like a buffet of all of Lisa’s favorite things. It was a little scary. I am running the risk of losing her forever if I bring her here. She may get sucked into the black hole of tanned skin, Italian-themed tattoos, gold chains, and open-collared shirts and then I’ll be stuck walking over to Yankees Stadium and watching The Boys take on the Reds by myself. Anyone willing to travel into the Bronx with us on the very real chance that I may have an extra ticket? Let me know.
Back to the whole purpose of this post. Baseball. Opening Day. All good stuff. Mamadukes bought our tickets for Opening Day as my birthday gift, but the actual purchase was done by me. As in, “go onto StubHub and find tickets. I’ll give you the money.” I picked two tickets that felt like a happy medium in terms of cost and location, but I didn’t really have any idea as to where they were being that they were in a section I’d never sat in before. We drove into the game and parked at a nearby mall. “Event Parking” cost us $30, but for some reason, it felt less like a raping than paying $35 at the other lot. Getting to Yankees Stadium from this mall, however, proved to be a bit of a challenge for us. Initially, we followed these two guys wearing Jeter and Mantle jerseys toward the entrance we had just driven through, but then we realized that they were going to have to hop a wall in order to get to the sidewalk and that just seemed to be more trouble than it was worth. We decided to find another way. This would be a mistake. I don’t know what we were thinking. We should’ve just stuck to following Jeter and Mantle. They’d always been reliable in the past. Why did we think they were going to let us down this time? We ended up walking a sidewalk that ran somewhat parallel to the Major Deagan Expressway. That is some hot stuff right there. Eventually we did manage to reach the stadium and this random, off-the-beaten-path route actually had us approach the stadium from a direction we’d never taken before, offering me the opportunity to take this photo of the entire stadium in all its sexiness.
As usual, I needed to be fed immediately upon walking through the doors of Yankees Stadium. I need to eat regularly or else I become a whiny, unaccommodating toddler. We headed up to our section and bought a hot Italian sausage for me (Seriously. This is not a metaphor for a really attractive male of the Italian persuasion. It was called a hot Italian sausage and it cost $8.50.) and a hot dog for Mamadukes. Laden with our glorious, deliciously fragrant meat products, we went in search of this mysterious section 314W. It’s the “W” that kept throwing me off when I searched the stadium’s seating chart online. The chart clearly showed me section 314, but what was the deal with this “W?” Well, ladies and gentlemen, we found out that it apparently stands for “wheelchair.” Yes. That’s correct. This Yankees fan half of the TBB duo is a giant a-hole who unknowingly purchased tickets to the handicapped section. As if I can’t look any more insensitive than I already do. The seats were padded folding chairs, which were pretty cool, but man, did we feel a touch guilty about occupying these seats. The guilt didn’t last long because my stomach got the better of me. I pretty much inhaled my sausage in three bites (okay, WHY does everything I say about sausages sound incredibly dirty?).
Soon after, the opening ceremonies commenced.
When Mark Teixeira stepped into the batter’s box, our neighbors to Mamadukes’ right had some negative comments to say about him. She got very upset and defensive about “her man” (the fantasy baseball illness seems to be hereditary). I had to remind her that Tex was no longer her fantasy first baseman. Roberta owned him now. It was time to let go. With Rodriguez, Cano, and Tex on base, Swisher drilled a double over the center fielder’s head, scoring three runs. All fantasy points for Roberta. It’s just becoming tedious now.
sh*t I’ve convinced Lisa to participate in with me.
Just prior to the 9th inning, we asked the nice men sitting next to us to take our picture. I’m actually surprised that Mamadukes allowed this considering how much she hates taking pictures. I think the fact that this man gave her his Cracker Jack prize softened her a little.
By the way, exiting the mall’s parking garage was a nightmare. Do not park here. Make the extra $5 investment and park in a proper lot.
-Serena
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Forbes’ Top Ten
We’d been thinking about a potential career change and since we care so much about your opinion, we asked for your feedback. Since it was a tie, you haven’t helped us at all. Good job. When asked if you thought we should quit stadium touring and become professional MMA fighters, you people couldn’t make a decision. Now we’re stuck between “Oh, for crissakes, no. You’ll be killed” and “Yes. You look bad a$$. You’ll totally win some matches.” What are we supposed to do with this? We suppose we’ll just go be strippers instead. Thanks a lot, guys. Miserable married corporate men will have the unfortunate experience of us dancing and twirling around a pole. If you think that sounds sexy, just be aware that while spinning on a pole, Serena actually squeals, “Weeeeeeee!” Kay? Does that still sound sexy?
This weekend, Forbes’ released its Top 10 Most Disliked Athletes list. The ranking is as follows:
- Michael Vick
- Tiger Woods
- Plaxico Burress
- Ndamukong Suh
- Kris Humphries
- LeBron James
- Kobe Bryant
- Terrell Owens
- Alex Rodriguez
- Kurt Busch
Some of this list is completely understandable. After all, Michael Vick should not have his current job. He’s a man who operated a dog fighting ring, killed dogs, served time in prison, and then was rewarded upon his release with a really awesome career. Most “reformed” criminals have trouble finding jobs at Walmart and yet this a-hole immediately gets his old job back. His entire salary should be donated back to the ASPCA. He’s a scumbag. Plaxico Burress, Terrell Ownes, and Kurt Busch are all total douchebags. We get it. Kobe Bryant? Sexually assaulted a woman AND an arrogant a-hole. Yup. We get it. What we can’t understand is why Tiger Woods is ranked higher on this list than a man who shot himself in the leg like an a-hole, a sell-out who abandoned his fans for extra money, and more importantly, a man who had sexually assaulted a woman. We’re not saying that Tiger doesn’t belong on this list, but his issue is sex addiction. Those women all wanted to have sex with him (for reasons that are unknown to us). Kobe forced himself on a woman. Why is he only #7?
Even more disturbing is Kris Humphries’ placement on this list at #5. The only reason you should dislike him is that you’re sick of hearing his name and about his a-hole ex-wife. In fact, instead of Humphries, Kim Kardashian should be on this list. She might not be a literal athlete, but she certainly sleeps with a lot of them. Humphries also spells his name wrong, but that’s not enough of a reason to rank him #5. Why is this man on this list in the first place? How could you have this much venom toward someone so unimportant? He’s literally a non-entity. Furthermore, why is he on this list higher than a man who sexually assaulted a woman AND LeBron James and Terrell Owens??? This has to be a joke.
Alex Rodriguez. Really? How could you possibly hate him more than say, oh, we don’t know…Ben Rothlisberger?? A man who raped not one woman, but TWO!!! We get that there’s animosity toward Rodriguez for his inflated salary (but really…how many other athletes are out there with grossly inflated salaries? Can we say Barry Zito? At least Rodriguez performs. What has Zito done for us lately besides attempt to bring back the porn-stache and rock a comb-over on his wedding day?), his high-profile relationships (wouldn’t you bang Kate Hudson if you had the chance?), and the whole steroids debacle (umm…what about Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens? They actually lied to a grand jury). But really? Top 10 MOST disliked? Really? More disliked than a rapist? The rapist isn’t even on this list!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Furthermore, Chad Ochocinco renamed himself after his jersey number. We’re not sure you can get more douchey than that. Why isn’t he on this list?
Alex Rodriguez’s personality is minimal. It’s like listening to a piece of Melba Toast speaking when he’s interviewed and as we stated earlier, Kris Humphries is a non-entity. You’ve eaten two spots on this list with men that are essentially space-wasters. Spots that could’ve been filled by a rapist and Douchey McDouchey. This list basically confirms how stupid the public is. They shouldn’t be allowed to vote for anything. Not for the All Star Game, not for the People’s Choice Awards, not for American Idol, and in all honesty, no one should be voting in the presidential elections. We’d be better off being run by British Parliament at this point.
In other worldly baseball news, according to sources, there’s a chance that AJ Burnett could be sent to the Pirates. Did you just hear that? It sounded like angels singing. The Yankees still owe Burnett $35 million for the next two seasons, which is worth more than the cost of both of our cars combined and we’ve gotten more practical use out of our modes of transportation than the Yankees have gotten out of Burnett. On the flip side, the Pirates are seeking a veteran starter who can eat innings. Here’s the problem with the Pirates’ strategy here. Yes, Burnett is a veteran and yes, when his sh*t is on the money, he’s great and he’ll definitely eat up some innings for you. However, that being said, when the f*cker is in hot mess mode, you’ll be lucky if he survives two innings. Maybe removing him from the pressure of being in New York will help him. We’re not sure, but he needs to take his epic fails elsewhere.
Tom Brady’s sister (who we imagine looks like Tom Brady, only without a beard and with long, silky smooth hair as opposed to short) is engaged to Kevin Youkilis. What could be going so wrong in the Brady household that something this terrible would happen to the sister of Tom Brady? Youkilis looks like a crazed lumberjack. A friend of Youkilis said that, “he’s really lucky. She’s a really nice person…” Hell yeah, he’s lucky! Has he looked at himself in the mirror lately????
Jose Reyes’ locks went for $10,200 on eBay. This would normally be a disgusting and creepy situation that we’d make fun of, but the money was donated to the Make A Wish Foundation of South Florida, so it would be a little inappropriate for us to ridicule this.
Finally, Chubby Bubby Miguel Cabrera reportedly shed 20-25 pounds to move back to third base for the Tigers. The End. End Scene. Close curtains. Exit theater.
In the fine words of Candlebox: “Now maybe, they didn’t mean to put you on that list. Now maybe, but they did it anyway. And now maybe, some would say that your life is sad. But you lived it anyway. And so maybe, and your friends they stand around and they watched you marry that whore as your reputation faltered to the ground. And then someday, even some of your friends voted, oh they voted you for #5…but you left them far behind. Now maybe, they didn’t mean to put you on the list, but they did it anyway. Now maybe, some would say you’re left with what you have, but you couldn’t stop the pain of beating a sex offender.”
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