Friday, June 16, 2006

Had It

Usually, I leave the sports blogging to the professionals. But sometimes, a girl who usually talks politics, meterologists, boobs and women's rights has to get her dander up about sports.

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Yeah, word up, last-year's Bronson. What the fuck is wrong with you, Boston Sox? Why can't you help poor Tim Wakefield? He's such a nice guy. Loves his kids. Loves his wife. Was the second coolest thing on the Queer Eye Sox makeover episode (first being Millar declaring he's gay). He is humble and wonderful and his own personal catcher who had a mothereffing police escort into Fenway has decided that baseball is golf and won't hit. You're not helping, Douglas.

Not like the rest of you are any better. Trot, I am disappointed. There is a kitten in Rockland with your name on it. No, I'm not giving you a kitten, but I am going to name the cat, be it boy or girl, Nixon. When I heard the news that my kitten had been born and would be ready for me next week, you went 4 for 4. I can't get the cat for another couple weeks. Could you please trust that the cat will bear your name and hit?

So, I'll leave it to Kristen to swear at you and full-name you. I'll just leave it at this: Boston Sox, I am very disappointed in you.

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