Monday, December 15, 2014

Last Christmas

It's that time of year again, folks. A time of magic, Mariah Carey, jingle bells, sugar cookies, and our annual TBB Christmas carol. This year, we'd like to share with you our rendition of Wham's Last Christmas. We actually just watched the video. It's incredible. We're going to post the link here so that you can experience its majesty as well.

Last Christmas, we asked Beltran to go away, 
but the very next day, he stayed with the Yankees.
This year, to save us from tears,
we'll ask for someone special. 

Once bitten and twice shy, 
we've made mistakes, 
but select players still catch our eye.
Max Scherzer, 
do you recognize us?
We write a blog and are clearly very funny. 
(Merry Christmas) - we creepily whisper in your ear

We're going to wrap a sexy contract and send it
with a note saying, "We'd love for you to come to New York."
We mean it. 
Now we know what fools our teams are, 
but if you sign with us now,
we'll give you an autographed picture of Alyssa Milano.

Last Christmas, we asked for better players,
but the very next day, we got a sh*t load of outfielders. 
This year, to save us from tears,
we're begging something special.

Oh, oh, baby.

A crowded stadium,
fans with tired eyes.
You're hiding from us
(because he's a dick) - we whisper creepily in your ear.
Holy sh*t balls, we think you could be someone to rely on. 
Us? We promise not to make fun of you so you won't need a shoulder to cry on.

An arm of a pitcher with a fire in his heart.
If you go to another team, it will tear us apart, ooh-hoo.
New York could be your real love, you'll never want to leave again.

Last Christmas, we asked for a playoff shot,
but the very next day, they gave it away.
This year, to save us from tears,
we'll settle for not coming in last. That would be special.

(Special) - we whisper creepily in your ear.

Sunday, December 7, 2014

It's Been Awhile's the off season. For baseball and for us, clearly. Overall, it's been a pretty chaotic last few weeks for us. Besides that, we're not really sure you even noticed our absence. We fed you old garbage and you ate it up like hungry, hungry hippos. Also, no one signed our Jayson Werth petition, so nice job guys. How do you expect him to listen to us if you don't support us?

In all honesty, it's becoming increasingly challenging to find sh*t to write about during this time of year. Throw in our severe ADD and it's an all around sh*t show. Lisa arrived at Serena's house at 7:20 pm and it took us an hour to stop surfing the internet, looking up Vinylmation toys, and perusing our Disney Facebook photo album.

Since it's so difficult for us to find creative blog topics to write about during the November and December months (and sometimes January), we'd like your feedback. This means you actually need to respond. If you don't respond, this request defeats the purpose. The most interesting topics we receive (either via Blogger, email, Twatter, or Facebook) will be covered here on the blog. You'll also get credit for coming up with the idea and if we're feeling particularly generous, we will send you a prize. Probably something incredible like an autographed photo of Alyssa Milano...or us in action mode.

We leave you with this random photo to get you through your darkest hours:

Sunday, November 16, 2014

Jayson Werth, Buy a F*cking Razor! Check Groupon Goods for Sales!

Welcome to Movember. One of the best times of the entire year. A time for men to embrace their inner manliness (because let's face it, men are now all a bunch of pansies who get their eyebrows and sh*t waxed). Unfortunately, there are those on this planet that abuse Movember 365 days of the year. Since this is a baseball blog, we're not going to waste time belly aching about the idiots we see on a day to day basis. We're going to focus on the King of Facial Hair Failures himself: Jayson Werth.

It is important that we emphasize just how often this man offends the very essence of mankind. Worldwide. This man has not only appeared in one facial hair blog posting, but in every single one. Including a special letter designed specifically for him. The only facial hair related blog post that he's not featured in is our letter to Barry Zito and that's only because we had bigger fish to fry that day.

There aren't words to describe what Jayson Werth has become. To call him the missing link would be an insult to the missing link. Behold:
We're done. We're done with him and his asinine behavior. We're throwing down the gauntlet. If this a-hole doesn't shave his f*cking sh*t off by Thanksgiving, we're demanding that he allows us to shave him for men's health related charities. Of course, since he's rich, he'll be writing the check for these donations. We ask all of you to show your support for this cause by leaving words of encouragement in the comments section of this blog post. We will then take this blog post/petition and pepper his social media outlets with it.

Since it's Movember, he can't shave his hair completely off. Therefore, to help Jayson, we've compiled some examples of what acceptable and desirable facial hair looks like:

Tom Selleck and the moustache:
Actually, we don't think anyone but Tom Selleck should be rocking a Tom Selleck moustache because technically, it's creepy and only he can pull it off. So maybe he needs to find another moustache to choose from. Perhaps he should Google Johnny Depp.

Chris Evans shows what it's like to wear a beard the right way. That's he is Captain America and Jayson Werth is an a-hole.
Brad Pitt is not only a political activist, but he also knows how to groom a proper goatee. Take notes.
Lastly, and Serena's personal favorite, the 5:00 shadow. Jensen Ackles is basically a super hero at crafting the 5:00 shadow. Maybe you should try reaching out to him to ask for some help. We think he has an official Facebook page.
Traveling Baseball Babes, join us in this call to arms! Do not stand for this malarkey any longer! Join us! And fight! We stand together united in hatred for stupid beard choices!

Sunday, October 5, 2014

Tropicana Field

Tropicana Field
One Tropicana Drive
St. Petersburg, FL 33705

September 21, 2014:
The day of our game was the nicest day weather-wise we experienced during our entire stay in Florida. Of course, the Rays 32bgvfre4[p0-p-0 (Serena's cat just typed this, so we're leaving it), play in a domed stadium, so we didn't get to enjoy the weather in the slightest. The next day, Serena got a stomach virus, which we thought was multiple organ failure, but that's neither here nor there.

We did enjoy the view on the way to Tropicana Field. A nice man paid our toll as we crossed the Sunshine Skyway Bridge...probably because we're hot.
We spy with our little eyes a crappy dome:

Parking was $20, which isn't terrible when compared to other ballparks, but shocking because the Rays only sell out when the Yankees are in town (probably because Florida is full of New York transplants). We're not saying parking for those kinds of teams should be FREE, but it should definitely be offered at a discounted rate. Just sayin'. 

We asked an elderly gentleman to take our picture in front of the main entrance and this is what we ended up with:
Maybe he assumed that we just wanted a group photo because no one would want their picture taken in front of a building that looks like a warehouse.
And just because we now seem to have an obsession with team pigs:
The pig is stationed outside the main gift shop, so we stopped here first to buy our traditional souvenirs: a Rays hat and mascot. Serena's hat cost $34. We'll allow that to marinate for a moment for effect. 

Now we'll repeat that. $34. Serena's Yankees' hat didn't cost $34. Neither did her Mets hat. Both hats get infinitely more mileage than this Rays hat ever will. The cheaper alternatives were hats that didn't look remotely similar to the hats worn on the field by the players. The only other option for Serena was the MLB New Era "authentic" hat for $50. We searched 4 other stores for replica hats and found none in the entire stadium. She spent nearly $40 on a fake hat for a team she does not root for. Hands down, most expensive hat in the collection to date. 

Lisa, on the other hand, spent $24 on a creepy Raymond doll that is approximately 6 inches tall. Again, hands down, most expensive mascot in the collection. 

On to the stadium itself. Okay, so seriously. She's not pretty. She's pretty awful. She's basically a Coyote Ugly. However, she's got some redeeming qualities. She's like an old lady that's lost her looks, but hasn't given up trying. She still gets up in the morning and does her hair, her makeup, and dresses her best.

Plus, the place has REALLY catered to children, which is fantastic if you've got kids or have the same maturity level as a child (like we do)...but it's kind of pointless if you don't. Great for a family day out, maybe not so much for date night. The effort they've placed in their kid zones (yup, there's more than one) is what makes the Trop better McAfee Coliseum. Therefore, Oakland is STILL the worst stadium we've ever been to. Congrats, Oakland. No one is stealing that crown from you.

We really loved these lights held by Raymond's arm:
Sadly, while waiting on line to visit the rays' touch tank, we found this sign:

The entrance for the touch tank is located to the left of the stadium's primary entrance. Nearby is the guest services desk where we got our MLB TrapperKeeper stamped. Lisa finally remembered hers, so she was able to get her book's first stamp. Out of 23 active stadium visits. Good times. In perspective of the field, the touch tank is located just beyond the center field wall.  

There are only photos of Serena half-submerged in the tank because Lisa doesn't do touch tanks...or petting zoos.
Please note how the pretend mascot gave us bunny ears in this picture:
As we left the touch tank, we spotted this interesting sign:
Instead of heading toward our seats, we decided to check it out. It turns out that we stumbled upon a gem. The museum houses the owner's personal collection of baseball memorabilia. It was absolutely incredible and we're pretty sure no one knows about it because we were the only people there. The museum is another reason why, despite its looks, the ballpark is still way better than Oakland.

The nice old man in charge of the exhibit offered to take Serena's picture with Casey and it was impossible to decline the invitation.

We spent a little more time than anticipated in the museum and ended up missing the first two innings of the game. By the time we found our seats, the White Sox led 4-0. Serena snapped a "selfie" of us in our seats with her cell phone. Mamadukes, the stealth ninja at avoiding being photographed, managed to hide herself behind Serena's head. 
Our TrapperKeepers:
The view from our seats: 

It reminds us of an institution. A depressing one. Perhaps a mental institution. In fact, it reminds us of the Damien Rice song, "Grey Room." Listen. Cry. Try to stay away from sharp objects for a few hours after listening. Notice the threadbare carpeting these people are calling grass: 

Notice the lack of fans.

Again, Mamadukes tries to sneak out of the photo:

In the bottom of the 5th, the bottles raced. What's that you say? Some teams have racing sausages, presidents, Home Depot hardware, or pierogies. The Rays have bottles of ice, cold beverages: Pepsi, Diet Pepsi, and Lipton. The Lipton bottle won the race. We waited for the race to be over before heading for food. We did that for you. So you wouldn't miss anything. 

We bought the chicken finger platter because the hot dogs looked really unappealing. The platter was $9.50/each. With these chicken platters, we were given cups of ranch dressing, which is grodie. Who thinks of chicken fingers and ranch dressing together? That's just weird. Serena asked for BBQ sauce instead. They had none. No honey mustard either. 
We headed over to the condiments table and found next to nothing, but what we did find was more disturbing than the idea of coming face to face with a fire crotch and that, friends, is the idea of sauerkraut being served in a packet. This photo makes us dry heave:
Side note: the Rays also offer gluten free options at specialized stands for those of you with dietary restrictions. Be forewarned, the rest of the food offered at the ballpark is sub par, so don't expect culinary greatness from the gluten free stand. Just know that it exists.

This is us before we knew how terrible our meal was about to taste:

Back in our seats, the Rays continued to lose. The score was 10-1 in favor of the White Sox in the bottom of the 6th.  Meanwhile, on the big screen in right field, DJ Kitty was spinning on the 1's and 2's. They called it "DJ Kitty Time." We're not joking. Someone dressed a cat in a Rays jersey and was forcing the cat to sway side to side. He looked utterly miserable. We, however, thought it was hilarious. As was this video of Raymond singing "hip hop go rays, oh, go rays, oh..."
The Rays made a brief attempt at a comeback, but it was too little too late. The final score was 10-5.

Since the gentleman that took our first photo outside the stadium neglected to include the stadium in the background, Mamadukes snapped an alternate photo...probably because she assumed that we wouldn't include the photo of her if she took one of just us. She was wrong.
We snapped a few photos of Trop as we left so that you could truly see its beauty and glory: