Danny Espinosa likes to hit the long ball.

On Monday, Danny Espinosa homered off of Roy Halladay, which should have been more than enough for any regular Major Leaguer. But, Daniel is no ordinary Major Leaguer, so he followed that up by homering off Cliff Lee the following day, and not just once, but twice. It was an Ruthian Espinosian effort by our dirt baggy little second baseman, and proved that Danny scoffs at your large contracts, your large reputations, and your large Cy Young awards. (Are they large, actually? Shit if I know. You think I have one sitting in my living room, or something?)
The second of the homers off of Lee was just a punishing shot to center that made its way up into the Red Porch. I hear the ball ended up in the Red Porch bar, actually, and asked for a beer. When asked for ID, the ball replied, "Bitch, Danny Espinosa sent me up here, and you gonna hassle me for an ID? Shit, I got half a mind to go tell Danny that you up here harassing me.You want me to do that, Mr. Bartender? You want me to go bug Danny?"

..............................


(Okay, you caught me. That didn't really happen. What gave it away? Was it that I had the ball ask for a beer? It was, wasn't it... I knew I should've had it ask for a vodka and cranberry. Dammit.)

On to the video tape! What you have here is Danny's second home run. As always, I can never figure out why MASN has the dugout microphones muted, so I turned them up to hear what a Danny at bat and congratulatory dugout visit sound like.

Whoa. Cool. Danny's helmet "bongs" if you bang it? Well, looks like I know what I'm getting arrested for the next time I'm at the park.

Happy Birthday to you, DeNo.

Jeez. I was so busy trying to save my marriage lavishing gifts and praise on my wife this past Monday, that I totally missed one of my best buddies*' birthday. Happy 22nd, Derek Norris!! Love you!! xoxo!
On 2/14/89, the planet was blessed with DeNo's presence. Since then, he's been dominating both baseball fields and awesome meters like no other. Keep on keeping on, homey!
This is the part of my post were I'd usually write some more crappy crap, but I happen to be busy trying to, just... well... survive. Since every second of my time is now devoted to my day job and my 8-month-old, you'll just have to make do reading the archives. Here's three posts about Derek I wrote way back when. Hey, if you haven't read them, they're new to you! And, if you have read them, read them again you ungrateful bastard!

Here's one, here's another, here's yet another still.

*Well, he's really just my imaginary best buddy, but I'd like to become his real life best buddy! So, on the slim chance you read this, DeNo (can I call you DeNo?)...

OMG, CONTACT ME!!1!! My email is totally on the top right of the page!! Maybe you can Tweet me?!? We could be best Twitter buds!!!! ZOMG! TWEET, TWEET, DUDERINO!!

So... about that leave of absence there...

Yeah, it's been a little while... sorry about that. But I have an excuse!

You ever been married? How about engaged? If you said yes, you probably remember well how a bunch of people came up to you to tell you the one secret to a successful marriage. "Never go to bed angry," they said. You know why? Cause it's true! You know why it's true? Because when you sleep, you're most vulnerable!

My last post was Friday, September 25th. You know why? Cause that night, the wife and I went to bed angry with each other. What happened next*? I woke up with a knife handle sticking out of my chest. Crazy broad had stabbed me with a 12" butcher knife and missed my heart by inches.

I had to fall out of bed and army crawl down the stairs, aided by nature's natural lubricant - blood. I got to the phone and called the po-po. Went to the hospital, got all patched up, and now I'm back and ready to get back to blogging life. (Oh, I also have a titanium plate in my chest that I can use to fuck up dudes. I can just grab their heads and ::BAM:: slam it into my chest. I'm still deciding on my superhero name.) I'm telling you, folks, it was a harrowing tale that will soon be told on the scariest show on TV, BIO's "I Survived." (Seriously, have you seen that shit? Un-fucking-real! Whenever I watch it I end up locking all the doors, and double fisting lethal objects. I also get my dogs all worked up so that if someone breaks in, they're ready to tear some meat from some bones.)

[*Small, wee, tiny confession - None of the above is true. Well, I Survived is still the scariest show on TV, and I do whip my dogs into flesh ripping frenzies while watching, but the whole wife stabbing me thing? Yeah, made that up. Look... I just lost track of time. I didn't have anything to blog about one day. Then.. one day turned into two, then five, then... I'm really sorry about that, and I cry myself to sleep every night, I'm just so damn torn up about it. I was embarrassed so I made up that story above to cover for me. But I'm back. And things will be better than ever, you'll see! And, sweetie... if you're reading this? Love you, sugar bear! Happy three days since our first anniversary! Sorry about calling you a crazy broad!]

So, what did I miss while I was away?

Oh. Yeah. Drew Storen has turned to the dark side. Witness him on the left below, next to some other Nats pitcher who's supposed to be pretty good himself. (And shows socks!)


Yep. Despite us socks folks out-voting the pants folks 53-3, I have it on good authority that Drew has turned to a pair of Manny pants. Drew, Drew, Drew. You know who else wears Manny pants?

The Spice Girls

Hobos

And Brett Myers, Drew. BRETT MYERS!!!

I'll still read your new blog posts over at NatsTown, and I'll still root for you when you're throwing, but I will not.. nay, I could not... root for your pants, sir. Unless you put Chase Utley on his ass the first three times you face him. Then? We'd be cool. We'd. Be. Cool. /Winks realllly exaggerated and slow like.

(Photo of Drew in the Hobo pants courtesy the Twitter feed of the always great Pam Storen.)