to do: slides, tables, hippie jam band lyrics
life it seems a struggle between/What we think what we see
That game was days ago now and I can barely think of anything interesting to say about it. I like our namesake have already forgotten it happened. I can tell you, however that I am way more sick of DMB than usual and I have "The Space Between" in my head, so that's GREAT. I blame Jorge Posada. Just because.
So I'm stuck in DC for meetings and I'm still up doing work and I just realize I can't even watch the game to keep me awake. How do you people (and by "you people," I mostly mean my brother and anyone else who lives where they don't have NESN) deal with this pain? This is tragical. The As don't look anywhere near as awesomely vaguely stoned in their Gamecast pictures as they do on my tv. [sigh] Clearly this is a sign that I should stop working and go to bed, right? Hopefully good ol' Lenny DiNardo can lose this one without me...
Edited by the co-blogger to add: I figured that since Katie was out of town on a business trip (just to really drive home which one of us is the grown-up in our co-blogging relationship: we haven't posted in a couple days because she just left town for a business trip and I've been too busy slouching around my parents' basement and drinking all their beer) that someone should probably post about Sunday and Monday (It's hard to work up the energy to post about Sunday and Monday night's games, isn't it? It's sort of like realizing that you have to finish an already-overdue homework assignment about dead babies). But then she posted about Sunday while I was blathering on into Notepad about Monday. So in the interest of posterity, Monday night, or, I can't believe I watched the whole thing:
Although, really, I shouldn't complain. Because I was watching from the west coast, the loss that we were supposed to expect that turned into a loss that was really tough to stomach only held me hostage until 11:00pm PST. However, this meant that I was forced to endure the FSN Bay Area coverage, which meant watching the clip of the Buck homer off Papelbon from last month six or FORTY BILLION times. By the time the eleventh inning rolled around, I was so numbed that I couldn't even work up that much anger toward Kyle Snyder for giving up the winning home run. With the kind of fro that Kyle Snyder is sporting these days, is it really fair to count on him to do much more than serve you a veggie bagel sandwich at Bagel Rising? Probably not. (The Bagel Rising at the corner of Comm Ave and Harvard, obvs. I've noticed that they have quite a penchant for playing mid-ninties metal, which I think would appeal to Alice in Chains look-alike Snyder.)
One hilarious note: The Oakland announcers were convinced for a few minutes that Tek had pinch-hit for Dougie, and they were trying to figure out who our back-up back-up catcher was. Y'all who remember the dark days of the Tek/Dougie Double Injury of Doom '06 know that the answer is emergency back-up everything, Alex Cora! But Cora had already been pinch-hit for as well! I was rooting for Wake, personally.
That brings us up to real-time, top of the fifth inning, and the Sox are -- for some reason I cannot fucking fathom -- failing to take Lenny DiNardo to the woodshed. Lenny Dinardo! On the bright side, when Wily Mo Pena comes up to bat, my mother now says, "Is that the easter basket?"