i'm in ur infield fielding all ur ballsI know Katie hates lolcats like she hates Matt Clement, but it's almost two-thirty in the morning, so this is all I've got about tonight's four-plus hour throw down:
I dragged the little twelve-inch television we stash in the dining room into my bedroom for the last of the regular season west coast games, and let the record show that when little Dusty muscled out the go-ahead home run in the seventh, I was sitting up in bed making victory arms. And that was after he'd made at least three big-inning-saving catches, including an unassisted double play. Dustin Pedroia's basically the only thing right now between me and an ulcer. And thank fucking Allah, even with the Yanks loss sometime earlier in this 329-year-long night, this game was starting to sickeningly feel like a line in the sand. But now we can all live to chew our nails another day.
Like most of you, I plan to spend the off-day asleep.