Anyway, fat ass was sitting in the steam room yesterday, "part of his daily routine to get his body ready for that night['s game] ." (Uh, huh. His daily routine also consists of a T-bone and 8 eggs for breakfast, a 24" hoagie for lunch, a small baby for a snack, and Hank Blalock for dinner.)
Ron Washington came to get him.
"He's never in the steam room," said Guardado, who had been the subject of trade rumors all week.
"Eddie, I need to see you," Washington said, his head down.
"All right, Wash, where am I going?" Guardado asked the manager.
"Washington Nationals," Washington said with a straight face.
Why wouldn't it be with a straight face? He didn't say the Springfield Isotopes. Or the Pluto Penises. He mentioned a franchise that has been in the Major Leagues since 1969.
"Washington Nationals?" said Guardado, who is perfectly capable of reading the National League standings. "You've got to be kidding!"Oh, he can read the N.L. standings. Congrats, Eddie. Your mom must be very, very proud. Can you read the A.L. standings? You're 12.5 games back, slick. Good luck with that.
So, the Rangers manager and GM keep playing a little ball-busting (and I'm sure some ball fondling) with chubby fat ass. He walks (waddles?) upstairs to see the suits, and to get the word from them officially.
"There's Jay Robertson, John Hart, Thad Levine, all those guys," Guardado said. "They're all sitting around and nobody is smiling. I go, 'Washington Nationals? You've got to be kidding.'"No, Eddie, what would be kidding is to call you handsome. Or physically fit. Or mention your wife without using the words "whore", "whale", or "man face." The GM asks him to step into another room (blow job?) and fat face obliges. Then the GM decides to tell him the truth, which was there was no deal for him to go to the Nats. ((The Nationals offer of 1 batting practice baseball, 1 broken bat, a seat from RFK stadium, and a foam Screech claw was rejected? (I was pissed when they threw in that Screech claw, btw.)) You see, it was a "gag" all along. (Gag on this, ass hat.)
Guardado, realizing he was the victim of a practical Trade Deadline joke, started laughing, too.
"You're lucky," he told Daniels, pointing to a pie-serving knife on a desk. "I was going to kill you."Who are you kidding, Eddie. You were gonna grab the pie knife and lick it all over, you food loving Fatty McFat-fat. Jesus. If you were any larger, they'd fly you over Arlington for the TV shots. Asshole.
I'd link to the article, but I don't want any of you hunting down the "author" (Great job, fan-boy. Did you get Eddie's autograph after the interview? Did you squeel with glee?) and giving him the business. Actually, I do. Go bail your drunk mom outta jail, T.R. Sullivan. $200 for his head in the mail, folks.