Washington Nationals do not lose.

Soooo much to write about. Soooo little time.

I'm trying to knock this post out before my boss sends me another email. We'll see how that goes.

My views from last night's not loss:

• I crushed a six-pack of Reese's peanut butter eggs in two innings. Them fuckers be delicious.
• Adam Dunn is so reliable, watches ask him for the time. (Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all the week. Tip your waitresses.)
  
• Shy Young could seriously do some damage if his three pitches can all be thrown for strikes. He can't bunt for shit, however.
• Zippie chance DOOKS! was taking on that 3-0 pitch. Before Dibble (Who I actually like!) and Carpy (Who I still hate!) had their green light conversation, I beat them to it. I'm in my living room, and I jump up and scream as loud as I can, in my best Bill Alfonso voice, "Green Light Daddy-O!" The man beast swung, and that shit was crushed.
• I think I'm gonna like Joe Beimel. Sure, he might look...um...different (is caveman-like too harsh to say?), but he just made the Phillies look silly in the 8th. The set-up job is his.
• If we just get some consistent pitching, we could be okay. Right now, we rank 5th in the NL with an average of 5.25 runs scored/game. We're dead last in runs allowed per game, however with 7. I'm telling you, this offense can score more times than Mickey Rooney had wives. (He was married 8 times. Seriously. Mickey fucking Rooney. This little guy.)

I know I promised an update last night, but I was so damn excited that I ran to downtown Rockville to celebrate with the other three fans. We were hooting and hollering, and then it turned into a riot donnybrook pathetic display.
We got all boisterous and flipped over a cop car motorcycle moped. Then we stared lighting huge bonfires sparklers. Fucking good times. I didn't make it home until 10:15, so I was dog tired.

Uh-oh, just got an email from the dictator. I'll talk to you deliriously happy folks later.

BREAKING NEWS

Nats on verge of a win. More updates to come.

See ya, Lastings.

I wonder if anyone stored this on Lastings' iPod touch, so he can watch it repeatedly on the sled dog ride to Syracuse?




I know it's seriously lame to repeat post, especially so soon, but I'm just getting massacred at work. I think I just developed carpal tunnel syndrome cause my forearm aches like hell from all this typing. (Hey, I know how Shawn Hill feels now. Cool.) Hopefully I'll find my way out from under these TPS reports soon.

I'm off to the game...

Hopefully I can make it out alive today. Since Stan Kasten went on a Philly radio station and invited the whole fucking city of Philadelphia to come down, I have a feeling I should take massive amounts of antibiotics in advance. Philthadelphians have been known to carry doucheness, stupididous, idiotness, meatballheadidous, and gonorrhea.
I'm bringing a pack of D Cell batteries with Chase Utley's name on 'em. If I don't post in the next few days, it means I'm in jail. Pray for me, oh loyal readers.

Shairon vs. Derek Lowe Tonight.

Which means I get to use the "wife beaters" tag again. Yay! I can also create the "home-wrecker" tag. Sweet.

My main man Shairon Martis, the Curacaoan Killer (Wait, does that sound like he kills people from Curacao? I mean the opposite. He kills people not from Curacao.) is going up against Derek Lowe. A man who is famous for being such a shitty starting pitcher that he was moved to the bullpen not once, but six times. Hell, he actually got punted from the bullpen in favor of Ugi Urbina, who is now serving 14 years in prison for trying to kill a couple dudes. (See what I did there? I equated Lowe to being worse than an attempted murderer. Did it work?)

Also of note for Mr. Lowe? He was arrested for beating on his woman in 1994. I read the transcript of him talking to the cops*, and not only did he admit to beating on her, he used the oldest, lamest excuse in the book. "But officer, dude, she just don't fucking listen!"

Anywhoo, Derek matured a bit, got married, had kids, and then got a chick fired from her job and divorced by her husband cause he played hide the pickle. See, she was a reporter covering the Dodgers, and he was a married dude with two (or three, I'm not known for my fact checking) kids. He thought she looked "neat-o" and was "super hot". They did the deed. FOX fired the reporter, and the reporter's husband filed for divorce. But...this was true love, see, so Derek promised he'd leave his wife for her, just like in all those Lifetime movies. The main difference from them and a Lifetime movie, though? He actually did it. Derek and the reporter (Carolyn Hughes) got married last year. Yay! Everyone wish them well, cause they sure as fuck are gonna need it.

I ran into Derek and his lovely bride** at the ballpark sometime back. I even took this picture, as some groupies were professing their love to D Lowe.



So, in case you needed any more incentive to root for our boy Shy Young, just remember that Derek Lowe did all the above, and kills kittens, too.


* Is a complete lie, but I'm positive that's what's in the transcript.
** I have no clue whether this is wife number one or wife number two. Does it even matter though?