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!
