"From Hell's own heart, I stab at thee!"
Wow. Am I really quoting "Khan" from Star Trek?
If "high school me" were here he'd be kicking my butt. Since when was I able to quote Star Trek? That's the kind of crap that'll bring the shades of Vince Lombardi and Jerry Sloan snooping around here looking for my Man Card.
Nevertheless, it's the thought that came to mind on Saturday night at ten when the Boss got a call from one of her piece of dirt managers, who waited until then to tell the Boss that she wasn't going to come in for her three am shift.
Guess who had to go work her sixth shift of the week at a job she should no longer give a fat rat's patoot about? Nothing like one last cheap shot from the ingrates, huh? It was a real slap in the Boss's face and I don't mind saying it made me mad enough to spit. I told her she should have called her "Idiot" supervisor up and give him a taste of what she's had to deal with.
The conversation could go like this:
Boss: "Yeah, I know it's ten at night and you're getting ready for bed and you probably worked today already, but I don't have anyone to cover my closing shift. I think if I were you I'd set my alarm for about 2:30"
The Idiot: "No way am I doing that for you. You can go to Blazes"
Boss: "Sorry, pal, I gave Blazes my two weeks notice. Fire me if you want. Welcome to the world you created. Enjoy."
The Idiot: "Gee. This really is a crappy thing to expect of someone. Who knew?"
This is why they are lucky it was the Boss they employed instead of me. I'd have had that conversation.
But because the Boss is the compassionate woman she is... she went to work on two hours sleep and pulled her second nine hour shift of the day.
Savor the flavor, Clowns. It'll never happen again.
In fact, I have a feeling that about a month from now there is going to be significant weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth when the Clowns above and below realize just how much the Boss was shielding them from each other. By then, she'll be too far away to hear it, and no longer paid to care. I told you I can be bitter, but Karma can be a real beast.
Just ask my Cubbies.
They keep finding new and unusual ways to break my heart. Yesterday, I watched Ted Lilly take a no-no into the bottom of the ninth inning. I don't know when the last time a Cubbie threw a no hitter was, but the TV said there hadn't been one at Wrigley since before I was born. I got really exited as Lilly mowed down the eighth and called my mother to make sure she was tuned into something good actually happening to the Cubbies.
I mean, come on. I've been on a real roll with the Boss finding a new job, my eye sight returning...Miracles have been popping up like daisies.
"Mom!", I shouted into the phone. "Are you watching the Cubs game? Lilly's dealing a no-no!"
"I'll turn it on", she said.
Two pitches into the inning, Lilly tosses a looping off-speed pitch that I could have hit with my contacts out and it gets drilled into short center.
No-no abolished. "From Hell's heart..." I know, I know. I get it.
Five little words.
Loopy pulled Lilly for "Rocket-fuel Marmol", who immediately proceeded to walk the guy representing the winning run, balk the runners to second and third, and try to throw the game away.
I turned to the Boss, who was napping on the couch, and said, "Only the Cubbies could get within three outs of a no-hitter and then proceed to lose."
I called Mom again. "They will..."
"...break your heart!" she finished.
In spite of my bitter sorrow over the lost no-no, they managed to at least squeek out the win.
I guess I was due for one more miracle last week after all.
In spite of those two sour notes, I have to say it does not suck to be me right now. We went to dinner with my parents on Saturday night between the Boss's eighteen hour shifts. We went to the Buffet to celebrate the Boss's new job and the return of my vision. It was a very good evening. The kids even minded their manners.
I gotta say, you have know idea how trippy it is to be able to see street signs and pedestrians again. I even snuck in a joy ride around the block on Friday night.
Just because I could. I kept pointing to signs and reading them. The poor Boss was subjected to me reading inane things for the whole ride home from the doctor. It reminded me of when Peff learned his letters and annoyed us for a month by reading every letter he saw. Remember "Dad has two heart attacks"?
Look at this! Did you see that? When did they put that there? When did they tear that down?
I saw mountains and clouds, and the leaves on trees. I saw the TV from the couch instead of three feet away. I saw that the Rockband game I've been playing for a few years has little gray lines that mark the beat for you. I didn't know that.
I saw that my carpet is far dirtier than I thought, and I saw that what I thought was a grass lawn is really a mowed down weed patch. I also saw that I might have done the world's worst paint job on my living room. I can't believe the Boss has put up me doing such "fractional donkey"(think about it, you'll get it) work for so long.
"What, did a blind man paint this room?" Um, funny you should ask. I think I have some work to do. Or redo.
I saw the Boss is still as good looking as she was fifteen years ago, and I saw Squizzle clearly for the first time in his life. Thank heaven he looks like his mother.
I've seen a lot this weekend. It ain't perfect. The lenses irritate my eyes after about eight hours, and I have some glare in the left eye, but it's so much better than what it was, I don't care.
Hell can stab at me all it wants.
It's good to be me.
Showing posts with label Diary of a Mad Cub Fan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Diary of a Mad Cub Fan. Show all posts
Monday, June 14, 2010
Thursday, April 15, 2010
And If They Lose...
I have always loved my sports. Many of my childhood memories involve my whole family participating in or watching some sport or another. One of my favorites was when my Dad taught me what it means to be a real fan.
I was in high school and the Jazz were getting run out of the gym by an undermanned, mediocre Golden State team in the first round of the playoffs. In spite of the first or second best record in the league, the Jazz were about to flame out early, yet again.
"I can't stand it anymore", I told Dad right before the last game. "These guys are killing me. I've finally reached the point where if they win; great. If they lose, whatever."
Dad looked at me kind of like I was one of the neighbor's dogs that had just desecrated his lawn.
"I'm kind of the same way" Dad said. "If they win; great. And if they lose I'm gonna be madder than hell."
I instantly felt like a betrayer. A blasphemer. It was around then that I realized that true fans never give up on a team. If I'd given up on the Jazz, that shot that Stock dropped over Chuck Barkley would not be the sweet moment of victory that it is. If I'd quit cheering for the Broncos when Craig Morton was throwing every second pass to the guys in different colored shirts, Elway's dive into the end zone wouldn't be one of the coolest plays ever. And if I'd stopped watching BYU when Gary Crowton was single handed destroying thirty years of powerhouse domination, then Harline would not still be open, fourth and eighteen would be just another punting down, and seeing Andrew George split the middle wouldn't make me laugh every time I see the replay.
You can't give up when it gets ugly. You just can't.
Take the Cubbies. they've blown a half dozen games in the bottom of the eighth inning this year, their bully has been mistaken for solid rocket fuel, and Loopynella doesn't know a foul ball from his elbow. But the day they win the world series will be one of the best feelings ever. Even Cardinal fans will feel it that day. I know it. You can't give up.
Which brings me to the Utah Jazz.
What the crap was that all about? You win last night, you get home court advantage in the first and maybe second rounds. You've swept the season series with two of the three teams on your side of the bracket and you would be highly favored against the third. All you have to do is beat the Suns in your own house.
You lose, and you won't see home court advantage in any series, you start against a team that has pretty much owned you, and IF you beat them, you get the right to be blown out of the sky by the hated, despised, scumbag Lakers.
Naturally the Jazz get popped by twenty.
About halftime, my brother T and I began to exchange text messages.
"These guys suck OUT LOUD!" I said. "I can hear the smell from here."
"Why isn't Steve Nash crumpled in a heap somewhere in the third or fourth row?" T replied. "Is anybody gonna put a body on that guy?"
"And where the crap is Korver?" I wondered.
"What the H is a 'Korver'?" asked T. "I think he got left in Oakland the other night."
"I hope he doesn't fall off a pier there. He would not be able to hit the water."
Yeah, it was that bad. Meanwhile Boozer was where he usually is when he might be called upon to earn his pay. Hiding behind the bench in street clothes. With Andre "Don't turn up the air conditioning, I might blow away and get hurt again" Kirilenko sitting right next to him.
Just for curiosity sake, who knew that Kirilenko even had a calf muscle? How can you strain an imaginary object?
Sometime in the second quarter, the Boss noticed I was getting more than a little agitated. Cementing her greatness and insuring that she has a perfectly chiseled bust for the wife-hall-of-fame, she put the kids in bed and went to watch her shows in the bedroom.
****Editor's Note
Hehehe...Perfect bust for the hall of fame...hehehe. It has two meanings, and both are applicable...giggle, giggle. There's really only three words to say here.
BEST.
PUN.
EVER!!!!
****
The game was as bad as a root canal. But I watched the whole thing anyway. All by myself in a dark, lonely room. I'm lucky I didn't break my neck tripping on a chair again.
It's just like Dad says. If the Jazz win; great. If they lose...
I was in high school and the Jazz were getting run out of the gym by an undermanned, mediocre Golden State team in the first round of the playoffs. In spite of the first or second best record in the league, the Jazz were about to flame out early, yet again.
"I can't stand it anymore", I told Dad right before the last game. "These guys are killing me. I've finally reached the point where if they win; great. If they lose, whatever."
Dad looked at me kind of like I was one of the neighbor's dogs that had just desecrated his lawn.
"I'm kind of the same way" Dad said. "If they win; great. And if they lose I'm gonna be madder than hell."
I instantly felt like a betrayer. A blasphemer. It was around then that I realized that true fans never give up on a team. If I'd given up on the Jazz, that shot that Stock dropped over Chuck Barkley would not be the sweet moment of victory that it is. If I'd quit cheering for the Broncos when Craig Morton was throwing every second pass to the guys in different colored shirts, Elway's dive into the end zone wouldn't be one of the coolest plays ever. And if I'd stopped watching BYU when Gary Crowton was single handed destroying thirty years of powerhouse domination, then Harline would not still be open, fourth and eighteen would be just another punting down, and seeing Andrew George split the middle wouldn't make me laugh every time I see the replay.
You can't give up when it gets ugly. You just can't.
Take the Cubbies. they've blown a half dozen games in the bottom of the eighth inning this year, their bully has been mistaken for solid rocket fuel, and Loopynella doesn't know a foul ball from his elbow. But the day they win the world series will be one of the best feelings ever. Even Cardinal fans will feel it that day. I know it. You can't give up.
Which brings me to the Utah Jazz.
What the crap was that all about? You win last night, you get home court advantage in the first and maybe second rounds. You've swept the season series with two of the three teams on your side of the bracket and you would be highly favored against the third. All you have to do is beat the Suns in your own house.
You lose, and you won't see home court advantage in any series, you start against a team that has pretty much owned you, and IF you beat them, you get the right to be blown out of the sky by the hated, despised, scumbag Lakers.
Naturally the Jazz get popped by twenty.
About halftime, my brother T and I began to exchange text messages.
"These guys suck OUT LOUD!" I said. "I can hear the smell from here."
"Why isn't Steve Nash crumpled in a heap somewhere in the third or fourth row?" T replied. "Is anybody gonna put a body on that guy?"
"And where the crap is Korver?" I wondered.
"What the H is a 'Korver'?" asked T. "I think he got left in Oakland the other night."
"I hope he doesn't fall off a pier there. He would not be able to hit the water."
Yeah, it was that bad. Meanwhile Boozer was where he usually is when he might be called upon to earn his pay. Hiding behind the bench in street clothes. With Andre "Don't turn up the air conditioning, I might blow away and get hurt again" Kirilenko sitting right next to him.
Just for curiosity sake, who knew that Kirilenko even had a calf muscle? How can you strain an imaginary object?
Sometime in the second quarter, the Boss noticed I was getting more than a little agitated. Cementing her greatness and insuring that she has a perfectly chiseled bust for the wife-hall-of-fame, she put the kids in bed and went to watch her shows in the bedroom.
****Editor's Note
Hehehe...Perfect bust for the hall of fame...hehehe. It has two meanings, and both are applicable...giggle, giggle. There's really only three words to say here.
BEST.
PUN.
EVER!!!!
****
The game was as bad as a root canal. But I watched the whole thing anyway. All by myself in a dark, lonely room. I'm lucky I didn't break my neck tripping on a chair again.
It's just like Dad says. If the Jazz win; great. If they lose...
Saturday, April 10, 2010
A New Owner For the Cubs Already?
Wire report-
During the off season, the Cubs were sold by the Tribune Corporation to the Ricketts family (No puns, please). This morning there are rumors that the family was contacted by ATK corporation about a possible takeover.
It seems that the Aerospace giant, which manufactures the solid rocket fuel boosters for the space shuttle program, is interested in testing the flammability of the Cubbie bullpen for possible use in the next generation of spacecraft boosters.
"Those guys are quite possibly the most ferociously combustible material in the known universe," said one anonymous ATK source. "Their bizarre ability to simultaneously implode and explode is unique among terrestrial elements. If we could find a way to harness that... to use it for good, we could really be on to something. We could ride those guys right into space!"
"Good luck with that," replied Lou Pinnella, the Cubs embattled manager when told of the impending acquisition. "We can't even use the bums to climb out of the NL basement."
Pinella added that he might be willing to trade his entire relief staff to ATK for as little as case of "Big League Chew" and a new water cooler and he would involve himself in any future talks.
No one at ATK or the Cubbies front office had any official comment.
*******
Bottom of the 8th: Cubbies 3, Reds 1.
Top of the 9th: Reds 5, Cubs 3.
There's more to say but I can't. It just hurts too much.
During the off season, the Cubs were sold by the Tribune Corporation to the Ricketts family (No puns, please). This morning there are rumors that the family was contacted by ATK corporation about a possible takeover.
It seems that the Aerospace giant, which manufactures the solid rocket fuel boosters for the space shuttle program, is interested in testing the flammability of the Cubbie bullpen for possible use in the next generation of spacecraft boosters.
"Those guys are quite possibly the most ferociously combustible material in the known universe," said one anonymous ATK source. "Their bizarre ability to simultaneously implode and explode is unique among terrestrial elements. If we could find a way to harness that... to use it for good, we could really be on to something. We could ride those guys right into space!"
"Good luck with that," replied Lou Pinnella, the Cubs embattled manager when told of the impending acquisition. "We can't even use the bums to climb out of the NL basement."
Pinella added that he might be willing to trade his entire relief staff to ATK for as little as case of "Big League Chew" and a new water cooler and he would involve himself in any future talks.
No one at ATK or the Cubbies front office had any official comment.
*******
Bottom of the 8th: Cubbies 3, Reds 1.
Top of the 9th: Reds 5, Cubs 3.
There's more to say but I can't. It just hurts too much.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Diary of a Mad Cubs Fan
Last night sucked.
Speaking strictly from a sports standpoint. The Jazz got blown out of the water (and the 2 seed in the West) by a mediocre Houston team, and my Cubbies were at it again in Atlanta.
Dempster pitched pretty well, but Giovanni "So-So" Soto was...so-so. In the bottom of the second, the Cubs had a chance for a strike-'em-out, throw-'em-out double play, but the throw was late and the secondbaseman dropped it. Instead of ending the inning, the next guy up shot a double down the line and it was 1-0 ATL.
Of course I grumbled and changed the channel, and the %$#! Jazz were already down by fifteen in the first half. Wow.
I put it back on the Cubs in time to see Alphonso "Sorry"-ano get a hit and then score a run. While he was on base I told the Boss, "Every time I watch Soriano run, I hold my breath. I keep waiting for his hamstring to snap like an old rubber band."
Seriously, the guy is a trip to the injured list waiting to happen. He has the weakest hamstrings this side of Carlos Boozer. His twigs are constantly on the verge of self destruction. If he isn't on the DL with some leg injury or another by the all-star break, I'll be stunned.
By the time the Boss left for her church assignment at ten to seven, things were looking up. The Jazz had cut the lead to 4 and the Cubbies were up 2-1 and Dempster was mowing down Braves with impunity.
"Maybe they'll win one", said the Boss as she got up to leave.
"I wouldn't hold my breath", I told her.
****Editor's Note
Due to time and space constraints we now take you forward to the bottom of the eight inning.
****
So by this time, the Jazz are back to down by twenty and the talking heads on ESPN are getting ruthless in their criticism of the Jazz road woes. I can't help but agree with them, but it still ticks me off. So I roll back to the Cubs just in time to watch the bottom of the eighth when Chipper Jones hit a 3-0 changeup from John Grabow so far that it still hasn't landed. Just like that, 2-1 becomes 2-3 and the Cubbies are doomed. Again.
The best part of the night (and I mean that in the most facetious way possible) was watching the Cubs send four guys to the plate in the ninth, down by a run and three of them struck out looking. Come on. At least take a cut at something. Three guys punch out LOOKING, and they're down by a run? You'd think they already didn't give a hangnail. I'd almost rather they lost by thirty again, just so I would only have to watch the first three innings before throwing up my dinner.
And speaking of dinner, I am led now to the "greatest" part of the night. I was flipping channels to see if there was anything on to take my mind off my lousy teams when I happened across "Top Chef" on Bravo. The Boss and I like to watch cooking shows on Food Network, but I'd never seen Top Chef before. They had these 4 star chefs competing and the first challenge was to make a gourmet meal out of ingredients they had to purchase at a gas station.
One of the teams made Macaroni and Cheetos!
I had stroke. Right there on the couch.
THOSE FILTHY BEGGARS STOLE MY RECIPE!!!!!!
I want it officially stated for the record that I thought of it first. Go read the post. Friday, March 12, 2010 titled "Best Idea Ever".
The Jazz ripped my heart out. The Cubbies took my legs, and Top Chef kicked me right in the mouth.
I gotta find a hobby.
Speaking strictly from a sports standpoint. The Jazz got blown out of the water (and the 2 seed in the West) by a mediocre Houston team, and my Cubbies were at it again in Atlanta.
Dempster pitched pretty well, but Giovanni "So-So" Soto was...so-so. In the bottom of the second, the Cubs had a chance for a strike-'em-out, throw-'em-out double play, but the throw was late and the secondbaseman dropped it. Instead of ending the inning, the next guy up shot a double down the line and it was 1-0 ATL.
Of course I grumbled and changed the channel, and the %$#! Jazz were already down by fifteen in the first half. Wow.
I put it back on the Cubs in time to see Alphonso "Sorry"-ano get a hit and then score a run. While he was on base I told the Boss, "Every time I watch Soriano run, I hold my breath. I keep waiting for his hamstring to snap like an old rubber band."
Seriously, the guy is a trip to the injured list waiting to happen. He has the weakest hamstrings this side of Carlos Boozer. His twigs are constantly on the verge of self destruction. If he isn't on the DL with some leg injury or another by the all-star break, I'll be stunned.
By the time the Boss left for her church assignment at ten to seven, things were looking up. The Jazz had cut the lead to 4 and the Cubbies were up 2-1 and Dempster was mowing down Braves with impunity.
"Maybe they'll win one", said the Boss as she got up to leave.
"I wouldn't hold my breath", I told her.
****Editor's Note
Due to time and space constraints we now take you forward to the bottom of the eight inning.
****
So by this time, the Jazz are back to down by twenty and the talking heads on ESPN are getting ruthless in their criticism of the Jazz road woes. I can't help but agree with them, but it still ticks me off. So I roll back to the Cubs just in time to watch the bottom of the eighth when Chipper Jones hit a 3-0 changeup from John Grabow so far that it still hasn't landed. Just like that, 2-1 becomes 2-3 and the Cubbies are doomed. Again.
The best part of the night (and I mean that in the most facetious way possible) was watching the Cubs send four guys to the plate in the ninth, down by a run and three of them struck out looking. Come on. At least take a cut at something. Three guys punch out LOOKING, and they're down by a run? You'd think they already didn't give a hangnail. I'd almost rather they lost by thirty again, just so I would only have to watch the first three innings before throwing up my dinner.
And speaking of dinner, I am led now to the "greatest" part of the night. I was flipping channels to see if there was anything on to take my mind off my lousy teams when I happened across "Top Chef" on Bravo. The Boss and I like to watch cooking shows on Food Network, but I'd never seen Top Chef before. They had these 4 star chefs competing and the first challenge was to make a gourmet meal out of ingredients they had to purchase at a gas station.
One of the teams made Macaroni and Cheetos!
I had stroke. Right there on the couch.
THOSE FILTHY BEGGARS STOLE MY RECIPE!!!!!!
I want it officially stated for the record that I thought of it first. Go read the post. Friday, March 12, 2010 titled "Best Idea Ever".
The Jazz ripped my heart out. The Cubbies took my legs, and Top Chef kicked me right in the mouth.
I gotta find a hobby.
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