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.
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.
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.
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:
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.
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:
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.
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:
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.
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:
C’mon!
That’s definitely a little penis poking through! So disturbing.
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:
Super
hero of the week: Alex Rodriguez for getting digits while at work. Good for
him! Multi-tasking at its best!!!
A-hole
of the week: The Yankees, not for losing, but for getting swept. Really,
guys???
