How about that? The Phillies won the World Series. I’m not going to be afraid to tell you that I did tear up a bit watching it all go down last night. I mean, we haven’t won a championship in a bajillion years and I was so happy that wives, girlfriends, and illegitimate daughters throughout the Philadelphia area would not have to go back to work/school tomorrow with black eyes and missing teeth. A buddy of mine removed three fingernails from his fiancé’s fingers for each interception McNabb threw in the Superbowl……….no no no….I’m just being silly.—We only joke about domestic abuse because it is much more appropriate than actually doing it. Jeez-Lighten up.
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In the midst of my joy…..no fuck joy– I’m a big boy so I am going to use big boy words. I have a goddamn website so I need to man-up. Here we go…In the midst of my elation (OH SNAP) I realized something: I don’t like baseball. No seriously—I fucking loathe it, I find it excruciatingly boring. I hate the fact that you can be the poster child for “Fat, Old, Bald, and Shitty” (Guess I’ll call it FOBS. Neat) and be a very successful professional athlete. I hate that there are 87 teams,437 games in a season, and two teams make the playoffs. It blows.
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However I did make it to a couple of games this year. My company which will remain nameless up to the point they fire me (which is viable) has season tickets up in one of those hot-shit boxes (not a shit box) where you don’t have to commiserate with all the poor people. I like going to drink beer and do Philadelphia Soul chants. Other than that, I am passing the time by counting all the people in the stands who I think have actually killed a person, are cheating on their wives, or didn’t go to college. This is a long drawn out explanation I will get in to at another time but I can do all three with creepily astonishing success by measuring the distance between people’s eyes and how blue their jeans are…..sounds crazy but I’m like fucking Nostradamus over here…..a Nostradamus that will punch you in the throat if you try to look at his junk when he is taking a whiz.
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Anyway, I went to a game this year and they were giving out Opening Night shirts. I know jack shit about baseball but what I did know is that there was a game the day before. I’m all like, “Typical Philly. They have leftover shirts from yesterday and are still giving them out tonight. What a bunch of cheap bastards.” A girl no older than seventeen sitting in front of us says with a “does this guy sit down to pee?” look on her face, “That was Opening Day dude. Like during the daytime. This is nighttime, a la Opening Night. The shirts aren’t leftover.” Her dad turns around in disgust and sees that I am sitting with my girlfriend. His disgust turns to sympathy or empathy (I don’t know the difference) for her as you can see he clearly thinks I would have no idea of what to do with a naked woman. Not wavered by my faux pas and with an ere of cunty blasé-ness I was all like, “…………….” Actually I was all like nothing. I sat there and said, “Oh my bad” and chewed my fucking gum.
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The shirt stayed in my car for the better part of six months. I used it to wipe my hands when I checked the oil, take beer caps off when I was drinking and driving (kidding. Just trying to fit in), blow my nose, and even wipe my ass when it got all itchy. I remember it specifically because well…..I guess it’s hard to forget wiping your ass with a tee shirt while you are driving. Now I just remembered I haven’t written anything in over three weeks and the last time I did, I wrote about drinking pee in my car. “Way to knock ‘em dead Ryan. We really adore your command of syntax and structure while providing us with ever dynamic and exciting content. A true gem.” Whatever—back to ass wiping in the car because don’t act like you never done it you scumbag. Ugh you make me sick. But for real for real—I totally desecrated my Phillies tee shirt. The Phillies I watched win last night. The Phillies that made me cry.
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It really just goes to show you that I have all these strong opinions but at the end of the day I am just a big pussy that has no idea what he is talking about. Again however, a big pussy that has no idea what he is talking about who will punch you in the throat if you try to look at his junk when he is taking a whiz.
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Go Phils.