I am having the worst day. PLEASE DO NOT LOSE.
8:35 p.m. I just got home. JUST.
I have had the worst day. Really. The worst.
And then I listened to testimony from a Holocaust survivor. Which was amazing in that masochistic-awesome-story-reporter kind of way… but horrifically depressing in a human kind of way. But kind of life altering in an amazing way.
And then I blew up at a copy editor. Which was amazing in NO WAY. And (despite “tantrum kitten” comments from my coworkers) it was not cute. It was dynamite in an entirely different sense of the word dynamite. The explosive, graphic, violent sense of the word dynamite. And then I had a town council meeting. Which was the crap icing on the crap cupcake.
SHITHAWKS, leave me alone!!!!
So I am NOT in the mood to be messed with, Baltimore. Do you hear me, Buck Showalter?
I will reach through this computer screen and install a new pitcher myself if you don’t fix this Weiland mess, Curtis Young. It will be bloody. It will be gritty. But I swear to Fisk I fill find a way to make it happen.
I wasn’t sure I was going to watch, honestly. But I talked to my mom on the way home from work just now and she said, “If you’re having a bad day, don’t watch this game.” And, like all real Red Sox fans, there’s something wrong with me. More with the masochism. So I don’t even skip a beat to change out of my miniskirt. I flip on the game. I will, however, make the bloodiest mary that ever Ketel One did make during the next commercial break.
OHMYGOD I forgot about you, announcers. I forgot about you. But my brain didn’t. It hurts the instant you start talking.
Do you ever imagine what your office would be like if it were filled with quicksand? Like, all of a sudden. Like, imagine all the office furniture slowly sinking. That’s when it gets a hold of you. The lines on the linoleum blurring as your feet slowly sink. Do you struggle? I hear that makes it worse. Sometimes I feel like my office is already full of quicksand. Metaphorical quicksand. And I’m just sinking, sinking, sinking. I don’t even struggle anymore. I think I’ve made my peace with it.
This game is kind of like that.
No. No! This game will not be like that! Damn quicksand. You can take me. You can take my office. And my pretty desk. And my “world’s best boss” cross stitch. But damn it if you will take my Red Sox. We will not go gently into that great night! We will not! Do you hear me? Pedroia hears me. Nice catch, buddy. Adam Jones, I hate you. I don’t know why. I just do. You must have earned this hatred in another life by doing something terrible. Like ticketing cars or something.
AND I’m getting texts from work! Hold me back, Youkie! Hold me back.
Crap. For a second, I imagined you were really here.
Another out. And bottom of the fifth.
Gonzalez gets an out. I just sort of watch. No reaction right now. I’m still stewing. You know what would be neat? If my office just filled with water. And my desk could float. It would solve none of my problems, but it sure would be swell. I like water.
Youkilis out at first.
Or jello. I don’t like jello. I don’t eat jello. I really try not to eat things that jiggle. It freaks me out, jello, because I’m not entirely sure what it is. I just know what it isn’t. Food. But it would be neat if my office was filled with jello. I’d like to take a picture of that.
Oh, bluecheese olives. You call to me.
And people keep calling me.
“Come to the bar,” Hannah said. “I’ll even let you watch the Red Sox game.”
And I turn them down. And you know how much I like the bar.
No. Only my bluecheese olives understand. Is it blue cheese? Or bleu cheese?
And Jason Varitek. He would understand. He understands a great many things, Jason Varitek. He is the captain, after all.
Hi, Buck Showalter. I enjoyed watching you on youtube today.
“He just muscled that one.” Hell yeah, Reddick. I like you. You can be my official mistress. Youk won’t mind. It’s like King Henry tried to do with Ann Boleyn. Except I won’t divorce you, Youk. I just started watching The Tudors on netflx.
Crap. An out.
And we enter the 6th.
Jenks got an injection??? Oh. It’s just plasma. Calm down, Lauren. Google doesn’t always tell it like it is at the first glance.
I still don’t trust that guy.
Damnit. Bottom of the 6. Reynolds finds a hole. We just kind of look at it.
One on first.
I like Nolan Reimold’s name. But I do not like his team. Or his manager.
So much Sox love in that stadium tonight! Can you hear it?
I even see a Youkilis jersey. Worn by a girl. You want to fight, girl?
I’m in the mood for a fight.
Thanks, Ellsbury. I think you’re swell. I need a joke. Anybody have a joke? Because my office just texted me again.
Scut is on base. Hit number 8.
I hate Guthrie. He’s another whiner.
DAMNIT. Called out on Scut’s steal. Okay. It looked fair. Fair but CRAPPY. Damn it, Scut…
Bottom of the 7th. Aceves. I am glad to see you. They’re talking about bikes being the reason Aceves is on the Sox? I don’t understand. Stop talking, announcers.
Angle has a Jorge Posada quality. Don’t you think?
Okay. The announcers just made a joke about whether Youk brushes his teeth. Do NOT talk about my Youkilis, stupid announcers. DON’T DO IT.
Okay. Aceves. You are doing your part. Offense… you have GOT to step it up. Hear me, Pedroia? I’m talking to YOU. Because you are the only one who ever listens to me.
I bet if we worked together you would listen to me.
You could have the desk next to mine.
Oh, what great adventures we would have together.
I’m going to write a children’s book about it.
I might. You don’t know.
And Hardy is out. Huzzah.
Okay, offense. It’s time. It. Is. TIME.
Oh no! I am sleepy. I do NOT want to fall asleep during this 8th inning too. I won’t. I won’t…
WHAT IS ON YOUR TIES? Don’t they have people to pick those out for you, Baltimore announcers? Apparently not. APPARENTLY NOT.
Hear this shit? They’re talking about how it’s a true pitching duel, best of the best. Really? Weiland is our best?
Jim Johnson is on. Perfect chance for a rally. Guthrie, you should watch this.
Crap. “Ellsbury is retired.” Just say he’s out, orange-tied jackass.
WHY are we ALL aiming for first???? Stop it! Gonz, seriously. I can just see the post-game interviews.
On the plus side, if the O’s can win, they can say, “hey, Gregg, see how we win without your whiny ass on the mound?”
On the negative? It’s the fricking Orioles. COME ON.
ANOTHER GROUND OUT????????? WHAT THE FRICK?????
Where are our fricking bats?
Bottom of the 8th. There is no more time. Fix this. Fix it now, damnit. FIX IT. I could be watching The Tudors right now!!!
So, I’ve been thinking a lot about this. Do you think Showalter has had laser hair removal on his face? Guys, tell me, is it possible to get THAT smooth a shave? EVERY DAY? Seriously. Thoughts?
12 and 2 in the month of July. Do you guys reeeeeeealllyyy want to screw that up?
That was lovely. A lovely out. Courtesy of Pedroia. THE ONLY ONE WHO LISTENS TO ME.
Yessss. Close up on Kevin Youkilis again. Yessssss.
No. He walks one. NO. He did that on purpose. Aceves!!!!!
Derrek Lee, who I remember because he misspells his first name, is on.
STOP SAYING THAT. “It’s a pitchers’ duel tonight.”
Um. No. A pitchers’ duel is like two extreme badasses. Like Cliff Lee versus Beckett. Like Holliday versus Lester.
ACEVES. WE WILL HAVE A FIGHT. Homerun. 5-2. Sonofabitch. Derrek Lee. Oh, Derrek Lee.
Seriously, Aceves? I’m going to give you a big REALLY? REALLY?????
What part of I AM HAVING A BAD EFFING DAY inspired you to hand him a homerun? What, no giftwrapping?
I should just watch the Tudors.
DAMNIT. ANOTHER HOMERUN? Mark fricking Reynolds?????
Curt Young, I BETTER see you at the fricking mound.
WHAT THE FRICK????????????
6-2. Nolan is on. There are STILL TWO OUTS. So any fricking minute now.
Seriously, Aceves. Are you a double agent? Do you work for my newspaper? Were you there for my copydesk blowup? Because you know the buttons to push.
I am NEVER eating fettuccine alfredo again. EVER.
DAMNITESLLBURYYOUBETTERCATCHTHAT. Ellbury caught it, but he did not absolve you, ALFREDO ACEVES. IF THAT IS YOUR REAL NAME.
Well, good news, I’m awake.
I am sososososososososososososososo angry.
Not even about the game.
About the inevitable pompous and ridiculous post-game comments. I hate you, Buck Showalter, for the comments you will make that will annoy future me. Poor future me.
I am so mad.
Two outs. I don’t even want to watch this crap.
See, just a loss doesn’t do this to me. A loss to a team that is going to run its mouth to every media outlet and inflate its own ego unnecessarily? Does this to me.
Again with the anger.
And that’s the game.
Just a loss.
Just an ANNOYING loss.
Aceves, I hope you’re happy.
And you, Dustin Pedroia!!!! You should have gotten six home runs. SIX.
I am going to watch the Tudors. If this was the Tudors, the King would have your head, Aceves. You better be glad this isn’t the Tudors.
PS- The Tudors is on Netflix and it is neat.
9:59. Jeb and I just had a facebook comment fight. I totally won.
“You’re just mad because Ortiz can’t land a right hook,” he said.
“But I can, and I will remember that statement,” I said.