Home > Ask Too Soxy > Ask Too Soxy: How I’m a joke and other statements of class

Ask Too Soxy: How I’m a joke and other statements of class

I have had several e-mails lately. Mostly because I’m so popular. Partially because I’m so pretty. And thirdly ’cause I’m so ranty. Since I’m in such a sugary-sparkly mood, (and waiting on a meeting) I decided, on behalf of joviality, to address a few classy ones. Feel free to shoot me your OWN e-mails- ohnolauren@gmail.com. Rants are always appreciated. Insults are treasured.

Dear Too Soxy (I added the dear part. I think it really makes you sound like less of a jackass, and I’m all about euphemisms),

U R such a joke. You’re team lost, but maybe U don’t remember that. I am sorry that your team is such a loser and that U find the need to complain about it to strangers on the internet. I am sorry for your sad life.

Sincerely, (I added the “sincerely,” too)

Yankster (Really? Well, okay)


Dear “Yankster,”

I think I get it. That’s supposed to rhyme with Gangster? Or Prankster? Your cleverness will turn the world on its head.

Usually I only respond to QUESTIONS. But, with your limited knowledge of grammar, I was so excited that you were able to communicate a thought that I wanted to reward you with reciprocation (sound it out. It’s okay. REEEE-SIP-PRO-CAY-SHUN. There. Now, run upstairs and ask mommy what it means!).

So, Yank (Can I call you Yank?), I’ll start by sincerely (see what a great, non-jack-assy word that is?) thanking you for taking the time out of your busy schedule of paper clip organizing and cheeto-eating to peruse my blog. It’s sincerely, sincerely appreciated. You probably had to wipe your fingers on a napkin and everything.

I am particularly flattered by the compliment in your first sentence. As an extraordinary example of unearthly beauty, sometimes I think it’s my aesthetic charm and not my sense of humor that attracts these swarms of readers. It’s a terrible responsibility, being this pretty. You and your mother are so lucky that you will never have to deal with the burden, but I am sorry that you had to spend so much of daddy’s child support money on braces before you arrived at that inevitability. Count yourself lucky, Yankster. LUCKY.

Pretty people, see, often we are not appreciated for our personalities. All people see is my shimmery hair (Oh, hush. Your plugs aren’t THAT noticeable, surely) and my glistening eyes. But you, Yankster, you see through all of that, to my hilarious core. Thank you for the compliment about how good I am at joke telling. It really made my day. Because sometimes I doubt my funniness. But not you. Oh no. Not you.

And how you were sweetly trying to get me to forget September in the next sentence. That’s most kind of you. You’re right. It is forgettable. And we should just move on. Apparently lack of grammar doesn’t mean a lack of wisdom. Apparently people who didn’t complete the apostrophe chapter of second grade CAN communicate an intelligent message. A truth that, if it hadn’t been for this e-mail, I never would have known. Thank you for that.

And your apology. It’s so very sweet. But, dear, it’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself for OUR Soxsplosion. After all, you who were number one came crashing down so quickly, so painfully. So very… is karmically a word? Of course YOU think it is, but could you run upstairs and ask mommy for me?

In conclusion, thank you for your e-mail, sweet as it was, and I hope you have the very best of days. Don’t forget to write!



PS- Don’t tell my readers they’re strange. I really don’t think they know that. It might come as a shock.

Dear Too Soxy,

Your Youkilis obsession is a bit much. And I think you are going to have to get over that. Because, darling, he’s trade fodder.



Dear “DJ”,

If that’s really your REAL name. That is the MEANEST e-mail I have ever received. HOW COULD YOU? I am a person, DJ. A HUMAN BEING. And I have feelings. We could have had it all. Rolling in the deep. But you played it to the beat, “DJ.” The beat.

I’m going to tell you what I told Ben Cherington in my dream last night:

Okay, Ben Cherington. I think I’ve been a pretty good sport up until today. I’ve been charming. I’ve been affable. I’ve been welcoming. I have been my sugary, sugary sweet-tastic self. If you were real and not just some elf on the internet nodding when Luchhino nods, I would have sent you a crumb cake by now (and have in my mind) but let’s get something straight, Keebler. I will bring down so much fury that you’ll need a Tommy John time out for a cry break if you TOUCH Kevin Youkilis. Ask John Lackey.

I am sick and tired of Kevin Youkilis, aka: only-person-other-than-Jacoby-that-always-remembers-how-to-play, being tossed all over the internet as trade fodder.

So as Cherington tackles the leftover remains, will he show a little less aggression in that area and perhaps lean more toward the trade market? Will somebody like Kevin Youkilis (injury-plagued as he might be, at present) or Marco Scutaro be considered a movable piece in the search for pitching repairs?

(I can send people links in dreams)

I think I’ve handled change well. I was suuuuuccchhhhh a good sport with Jonathan Papelbon. That was my nice face. And those blogs that TempaTampa74 called “ranty examples of why Sux fans suk” in an e-mail? Those were my NICE thoughts. If you breathe the words TRADE and YOUKILIS in the same sentence, I will tell John Henry you sneak onto his yacht every time he brunches with Lebron.

What was I saying? Oh, right, DJ. See, DJ, Kevin Youkilis is a power bat. Sure, he’s injured. But we’re not horses, DJ. We don’t shoot someone and send them to Philadelphia because they’ve broken a leg. He’ll race again. You just see. And all will fear his glory and his might.

This is the offseason of the worst Soxsplosion since… um… since… um… ever, really. EVER. We can’t turn on each other now, DJ. We have to support each other. We have to be there for each other. We’ve got to get the band back together. Not rip it apart! HAVEN’T YOU SEEN SPINAL TAP?

Don’t call me darling.




Dear (I have to keep adding the dears. People are just so uncouth these days…) Too Soxy,

I like your blog. You are hilarious. Do you think we should re-sign Tim Wakefield?

Suzi (last name redacted)


Dear Suzi,

Thanks for the compliments. Tim Wakefield is an institution. But his manager is a jackass.

That puts us in a sticky situation, see. Because, we like institutions (David Ortiz), but we hate jackasses (Manny Ramirez). If Timmy will accept the fact that he’s our favorite song on the “Greatest Hits Album,” concert nostalgia but not exactly the constant on our radio dial, then sure. Accept a little less dough. A little less playing time. And win those fifteen games, listen to the angel chorus and share the fairy dust with the rest of the class.

But if you’re going to follow the jackass and look for the most money, you’re not going to find it with us, and you just need to leave quietly so that we can still love you when you come back in a few years to throw the first pitch.




Dear Too Soxy,

Does your real boyfriend look like Kevin Youkilis?

Jake (Last name redacted)

Dear Jake,

Wow. Hmmm. You know, I have never really thought about this. Hmm. Well, Youk’s got like a thousand pounds on him. And Youk has facial hair. And scary baseball muscles. And J is lean, shaven (ish) and kind of anti-trucker vibe. So… um… Yes. Sure. They are exactly alike.

No, a few months ago (this is kind of personal. Please don’t read this, J), J said “of course” he knew who Kevin Youkilis was. He said he Googled him so he would know who I…

Yeah. That’s too personal.

They are exactly alike in spirit, Jake. But not really alike in anything else, other than their mutual adoration for me.




Dear Too Soxy, (okay, this guy had no headliner on his letter. But I think adding a “dear too soxy” helps so much with class)

You sound like a cool chick. Move to Boston and I’ll date you.

Carson (last name redacted)


Dear Carson,

I AM a cool chick. Boston is cold and has no jobs for me. What’s your annual salary? Oh, and do you pay taxes?




Too Soxy,

I think Nomar should manage the Red Sox.

Andrew (last name redacted)

Dear Andrew,

Sure. Okay. Why not? At least it’s a decision.



Looks like that’s all I have time for today. Keep them coming. ohnolauren@gmail.com.

PS- Before you get back to your Tuesday, check this out– a good theory on Amnesty from the folks at the Outside Corner. Might be our only out where Lackey’s concerned.

Categories: Ask Too Soxy
  1. SH
    November 29, 2011 at 2:08 pm

    Pretty sure we’re best friends. Or you’re one of my multiple personalities of which I have no awareness (I totally don’t have multiple personalities…)

    • November 29, 2011 at 3:58 pm

      Awesome! I like best friends!

  2. November 30, 2011 at 2:32 am

    Lauren, you rock all kinds of socks, mine, red ones and otherwise! This is too funny…to be read at work without literally laughing out loud at any rate. And I think you pegged Yankster just right.
    — Kristen

  3. Jup
    November 30, 2011 at 7:58 am

    In all fairness, Pedroia always remembers how to play also. You have to give the munchkin some credit there, too

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