It’s The Hardest Thing

It took us roughly 6 hours to complete these two posts today. Mind you, we already had a topic covered, so it’s not like it took us this long to decide what we were going to write about. We got sucked into VH1’s countdown to the Top 100 Songs of the 90’s. C’mon. You know that sh*t was banging. We found ourselves singing along to the great ones like Good Vibrations, What A Man, Jump Around, It’s Tearing Up My Heart, Hit Me Baby One More Time, Mr. Jones, Genie In A Bottle, Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls, Can’t Touch This, Groove Is In The Heart, I Touch Myself, You Oughtta Know, I Will Always Love You, Never Gonna Get It, My Heart Will Go On (as well as this list of epic songs). We even knew the synchronized dance to many of the music videos (mostly the ones featuring boy bands). As a result, we found ourselves singing along and reminiscing about 98 Degrees (and rising). Serena (the commitment-phone half of the TBB) thought that she was going to marry Jeff from 98 Degrees. Marry. As in participate willingly in a wedding. A wedding in which she was going to marry a man who had 98 Degrees tattooed on his amazingly sculpted bicep. Lisa, on the other hand, attended a poster signing at Tower Records in Manhattan. At aforementioned signing, she threw her phone number at Nick Lachey. We don’t know why Nick never called. Yup. Such was high school. You’re the sunshine after the rain.

As you may recall, we’ll be leaving for our first stadium trip of 2012 in a few days. We asked you what you were most looking forward to about our upcoming trip. 2 of you can’t wait to hear about our drunken antics. Only 1 person cares about the Braves game, which is disturbing considering that’s the whole point of this blog. Lastly, 1 person wants to hear about 2 a-holes zip-lining. Awesome.

As always, we do cherish you. For the rest of our lives, you don’t have to think twice.

Reds at Yankees 5-19-12

May 19, 2012

We met up with Herv and his son, Aidan and headed into the Bronx early. Last year, the Yankees donated two tickets to a game during the 2012 season to Fred K’s Cancer to be used as a raffle prize. Herv happened to win these tickets. Upon arriving at Yankees Stadium, we found a fake mascot. Literally. A creeper dressed like something that could be considered “Mr. Yankees,” the new Muppet. It was imperative that we take a picture with him. We were charged $5 to take a picture with “our” camera. $7 if creeper’s sidekick took the picture with his snazzy, old school Polaroid camera. Naturally, since this was imperative, Serena handed him $5 without question. Notice how the a-hole mascot isn’t even looking at the camera. We paid $5 for him to look off in la-la land.

After we picked up Herv’s tickets from the Yankees’ Executive Offices (where Serena will one day work), we parted ways. It was Aidan’s first visit to Yankees Stadium and Herv wanted to take him exploring. We, as promised, attended Guido Fest 2012. For those of you unfamiliar with Guido Fest, it’s actually a sports bar near Yankees Stadium called Billy’s. Sadly, unlike on Opening Day, there were less guidos, but Lisa still had a good time. We had a few beers, sang along with 80’s and 90’s rock music, and Lisa admired the chandeliers.

Of course, drinking beer on empty stomach tends to mess with your head and soon enough, Lisa was leaning in and shouting over the music, “I think I’m starting to feel buzzed!” Shortly after, we made friends…cos’ we’re super fine. A guy in a Derek Jeter approached Serena and asked, “Do you like calf muscles?” Serena actually does in fact like calf muscles (hellooo, soccer players?), so he ran off to fetch two of his friends who were trying to figure out who had nicer calf muscles. At a glance, they looked exactly the same, so Serena asked if she could grab them. The boys allowed it and she determined that one boy’s muscle was bigger than the other’s. It caused outrage. Apparently, the boys wanted Serena to declare them the same. “Calf Twins,” if you will. In the midst of this, the rest of the gang (and the gang turned out to be quite numerous) surrounded us and shouted, “Impromptu Dance Party!” We had no other choice but to participate and dance we did.

By this point, it became quite clear that we were going to miss first pitch. By the time we got through security, the first inning was well underway. We decided that we were drunk enough to eat so we stopped in at the food court. Lisa had never had a burger from Yankees Stadium so she got a single patty and a side of fries for $15 at the Johnny Rockets stand.

Serena ordered chicken fingers, never having had them, for $10.50.

After our feeding frenzy, we climbed the steps of Yankees Stadium to the very last row of the arena behind home plate. By the time we reached our seats, it was the bottom of the 2^nd and the Reds were winning 2-0.

Ivan Nova was pitching for the Yankees and Homer Bailey went for the Reds. The jumbotron in center field actually referred to Nova on one occasion as “Super Nova.” This is upsetting because the Yankees stole this from us. It’s true. Serena’s been calling him the Champagne Super Nova since Day 1. You’ve probably seen it sprinkled throughout the blog. We feel strongly that the Yankees owe us something for this insult. Money works. We’ll take tickets. A free meal. A piece of Derek Jeter that we can sell on the black market.

Oh! We totally forgot to mention our free giveaways! It was Hat Day. You like? Yet another navy blue Yankees hat in our closet. Serena’s Yankees hat count is rapidly approaching 20. 

Russell Martin hit a solo shot in the bottom of the 3^rd to make it 2-1. The annoying Reds fan sitting next to Lisa loudly announced that like Martin, Joey Votto is a Canadian. Now we have no idea if this is true because we didn’t bother looking it up, but this man seemed to have a plethora of baseball information in his brain, so it’s totally plausible. Lisa felt incredibly deceived. She’d been in love with Votto since the moment she laid eyes on him because to her, he oozed with guidoness. How can he be a Canadian guido? Do those exist?

In the bottom of the 4^th, Raul Inbanez tied the game with a double that brought Robinson Cano home.

Remember that Reds fan? He spent the entire game educating his son on the sport of baseball on every single pitch, play, nose pick. EVERYTHING. The man never shut up. He was also loud enough for Serena to hear him clearly from her seat on the other side of Lisa. Bad enough to spit out trivia about every single player that was involved in this game, he actually started quizzing his son on situational stuff. Mind you, the boy was only around 8 years old. “Now, if you were the shortstop, with this batter at the plate, where are you going to position yourself?” Well, sir, what’s the pitch the catcher is calling? A-hole. This man also claimed, “American League hitters don’t know how to bunt. They only know how to hit home runs.” This statement is false. Bunting is indeed a dying art. Pitchers like Tom Glavine who could handle a bat are simply not in abundance any longer. However, Alex Rodriguez executed a perfect bunt only a few weeks ago and he’s not only an American League player, but a “heart-of-the-order” type of hitter. On the flips side, have you seen Barry Zito in the batter’s box? It’s truly terrifying. He looks like he doesn’t know what a bat is, let alone being physically capable of getting the bunt down. And hello? Do we need to remind you of AJ Burnett getting the “bunt down” on his face during spring training?

By the 5^th, the Reds had extended their lead to 5-3 and we had another annoying fan in our midst. This couple arrived to their seats extremely late. The girl wasn’t so nad, but her man was. For starters, his pants were hanging around his a-hole. Serena was very close to leaning forward and pulling his pants down.

The Pantless Wonder also decided to light up a cigarette in the middle of the stands. In our notebook where we write our notes about the game, Lisa actually wrote about his cigarette smoking, “who does that????” After his cigarette, he took a nap on his girlfriend. He literally slept through 3 innings.

In the middle of the 8^th, we decided we needed ice cream. By this point, the Reds were winning 6-3. We quickly snapped a photo with the field behind us, knowing that by the time we got downstairs, found an ice cream stand, and ordered our ice cream, there was no way we’d get back to our seats before the end of the game. As Lisa describes this photo, “Oh, I am going to print this one, we actually look really good. You even have a sexy pose. Like, heyyyyy.” We’ll refrain from reporting the raunchy joke Serena made in response.

We met Herv and Aidan at the Carvel stand in the food court and got our vanilla cones for $5.50/each.

We wandered over to the stands to watch the rest of the game as we gobbled up our afternoon delight. Aidan performed some epic dance moves that we regret we didn’t video. All of the ladies loved him. Meanwhile, on the field, the Yankees were making a comeback. It was hard to figure out what we were more excited about. Ice cream or a 9^th inning rally. This could’ve potentially been a YES Yankees Classic. Unfortunately, the Yankees just couldn’t muster the might of Thor and ended up losing the game 6-5. We were happy that we weren’t still sitting with the Reds fan and we’re pretty sure that The Pantless Wonder had slept through the entire thing.

We’re channeling old school Sheryl Crow today. “We like a good beer buzz early in the morning and Billy knows how to have an impromptu dance party...all we wanna do is have some fun until the sun comes up over River Avenue.”

Georgia On Our Minds

We have to apologize for the nonsense that was last week’s blog. We’re not sure what got into us or why sausage was on the brain so heavily, but…well…here we are now. To make matters worse, we asked you what type of sausage YOU prefer. 6 of you prefer the Italian sausage (we like the Guineas too). 1 person enjoys the Spanish sausage and 1 other person likes the American sausage (also known as a hot dog). No one chose Polish sausage. Not sure what’s wrong with the Pollacks, but whatever. 8 votes is a lot. We’re somewhat impressed that you guys were interested enough in the sausage phenomenon to vote on it, but we’re really not all that surprised. You tend to vote on the stupidest sh*t. Heaven forbid you vote on a poll that actually has something to do with baseball.

In just a few short weeks, we’ll be departing for our Atlanta stadium tour. This trip will have a bit of a twist to it. Instead of staying in Atlanta, we’ll be crashing with Lisa’s family in Cleveland, Tennessee just a two hour drive from Atlanta. Since two hours is totally manageable, we’re hoping to make another side trip to Atlanta (in addition to the Braves game) to visit the Georgia Aquarium, which has been hailed as the largest aquarium in the country. Following the Braves game on Saturday afternoon, we’re going to check out a sexy place to eat. Any locals who have recommendations for us? We found a few options on the Google Machine, but it’s always nice to have the voice of a local offer suggestions.

While in Tennessee, Lisa’s family will be taking us to Ruby Falls where we’re seriously considering attempting to zip line. This will either be amazing or the hugest fail of our lives. It could go either way. Naturally, we will post pictures for you. We’ll probably be sporting a stink eye in every single photo. We apologize in advance. We did agree that Lisa will no longer take photos of Serena from behind as it is one of the worst angles of her in history. Going forward, Lisa will only take photos of Serena from the front. Even if she has to run ahead of Serena and turn around in order to do this. We briefly contemplated a trip to Graceland (you know how much we love Elvis), but it turns out that despite the fact that we’ll be in the same state as Graceland, it’s actually quite far of a drive. We apologize, but there’ll be no pictures of the Jungle Room for you. There will also be no video feed of our rendition of a “hunk of, hunk of, burning love.” We’re All Shook Up. Thank you. Thank you very much. Insert lip curl.

Exciting stuff is going down today. So exciting that Serena thought for a moment that we should cancel Mother’s Day so that we could stay home and watch the Yankees game. What could possibly be so exciting that we’d ditch the Celebration of Motherhood for? ANDY PETTITTE returns today! Serena’s “Big Texan” (as she says…he doesn’t really belong to her) is back! While she doesn’t expect him to pull a complete game shutout out of his ass, he definitely brings a sense of yogic calm to Serena…which ironically yoga does not do for her.

Lisa is somewhat annoyed with TOWSNBN today. On one hand, he’s been performing exceptionally well at the plate for the Mets. Which is a good thing. On the other hand, he’s playing for Lisa’s fantasy arch nemesis, The Riverdale Rebels (aka: Roberta). So now Lisa’s relationship with TOWSNBN is in a Mexican Standoff. TOWSNBN isn’t talking to Lisa because he thinks she’s a psychopath. Lisa isn’t talking to TOWSNBN because he’s helping Roberta win. Normally, Lisa would just switch to Derek Jeter, her new BFFer, but he ALSO plays on The Riverdale Rebels. Lisa has no backup plan for when both Golden Boys fail her.

Next week, we’ll be posting about our Yankees Stadium adventure that we’ll be embarking on Saturday afternoon. Serena promised Lisa Guido Fest 2012 (Fist Pumpers unite!) and Lisa has not ceased to remind Serena of this promise. As she says, “you made promises, daddy. Promises you better keep.” We suppose this means we’ll need to be at Yankees Stadium by 10 am for a 1:00 game. And there’s a very good chance that Serena will end up attending this game alone if everything goes according to Lisa’s plan.

Finally, Happy Mother’s Day to Mamadukes and Mama L.!! You’ve clearly birthed the best children ever. Just look at us. We’re special. Here’s to you, mom!

Italian Sausage

Last week, Serena was solo (hence, the word “vagina” being used twice without any sort of quality control). MLB had begun its campaign for the All Star Game already, so Serena asked how you guys voted. 5 people said that they sit with the ballot and carefully think about each option before selecting the player they deem most appropriate. 2 individuals said that the use The Force. No one said that they pick the most popular players (in fact, they don’t know why that they’re not allowed to still vote for Ken Griffrey Jr.) and no one didn’t understand question and wouldn’t respond.
  

You might be wondering about what today’s blog theme is about. Italian sausage? Really? Are they talking about food AGAIN. Well…sort of. While watching last night’s Yankees game against the Royals, Alex Rodriguez stepped up to the plate. Here’s how our conversation went:

Lisa: Wow, he’s got some big thighs.

Serena (smacking her own chunk-tastic thighs): The curse of third base.

(Rodriguez adjusts his man-junk area)
Lisa: And apparently so is his junk.
Serena: Ya know, he looks like he’s huge.
Lisa: Yeah. He looks like he’s hung.

This got us thinking…who ELSE looks like he’s packing heat? In defense of this topic, they do have lists of baseball’shottest girlfriends/wives. Why can we cover…sausages? Disclaimer: we should note that we’ve never seen ANY of these private male parts that we’re discussing. This is strictly opinion.

For example, we’re pretty sure that Albert Pujols has a baby’s arm in his pants. In fact, to quote Lisa, “he probably has to roll it up in order to tuck it into his cup.” Wish we took video of this demonstration. At one point, she flung “it” over her shoulder and wrapped it around her leg. We’d go so far as to assume that Pujols is the biggest in the league. Hall of Fame worthy. We’re also confident that Brian Wilson is hung, BUT he has his beard in his pants, which is a serious problem. It’s like a thick, wooded area without civilization that will take you at least 45 minutes to find your way out of. Truly terrifying. The only way it could get scarier is if it was red. Other men that we’ve decided are well-endowed are Joe Mauer, Ryan Howard, CC Sabathia (he looks like a f*cking grizzly bear), Mike Jacobs (even though he’s no longer playing), Brian McCann, Tim Hudson, Matt Holliday, and unfortunately, Carlos Beltran. This might be the only thing that Beltran has going for him because his personality sucks and so does mole. Oh, yes, AND his taste in music.

We briefly discussed one of New York’s Golden Boys (TOWSNBN).
Lisa: I don’t think he’s long, but…
Serena: I think he’s stocky…
Lisa: YES!
Serena: Like his body…
Lisa: EXACTLY!
To clarify, stocky=girthy.

Now for the boys we think have more of a string bean in their pants than a sausage. We’re thinking that New York’s OTHER Golden Boy, Derek Jeter, has a long, but thin noodle…just based on his body. A long, lean noodle. Unfortunately, we think that our honorary TBB, Tim Lincecum, might be small as well. He just looks like he physically couldn’t handle carrying around a Louisville Slugger in his pants. He’d topple over and royally f*ck up his delivery to the plate. Other players that we think are small are Matt Cain, Cole Hamels (and this truly does pain Lisa to think this), Josh Beckett, Dustin Pedroia, Ichiro Suzuki (he’s probably built like Mr. Chow), Jeff Franceour (we’re sad to admit this), and Jose Reyes. Lisa would like to issue a challenge to Hamels to prove to her that he doesn’t have a small Twinkie.

There were a few that we couldn’t decide on. Jayson Werth, for one. He could easily go either way, but he may smell…down there. Like a men’s lockerroom. Justin Verlander is hard to tell also, but we think he probably smells nicer…down there. NOT like a men’s lockeroom. David Ortiz seems like he’s either enormous or really small. Other unknowns: Joey Votto, Josh Hamilton, and Barry Zito. Barry Zito’s a big boy, but he’s rocked a comb-over. A comb-over may indicate a small taquito. That’s just two girls’ opinions.

Huston Street belongs in the average sausage category, but he knows how to work it. We once sat in the left field bleachers at the old Yankees Stadium and watched his warm up. Trust us when we say that “the hips do not lie.” That man can do things with his body that no man can do. There are women (us included—and Serena practices yoga) who cannot do what Huston Street can do.

In non-sausage related news, the TBB have decided to run in the Runyon 5K at Yankees Stadium in August. We get to run the warning track. How bad a$$ is that? We probably would’ve done ANY 5K being held at a baseball stadium within driving distance, but it’s a bonus that it’s taking place at one of the New York stadiums. Here’s a brief background on our running capabilities: Serena ran her first 5K last week at the Bronx Zoo. While running 3.1 miles isn’t something that Serena isn’t physically capable of completing relatively easily, she has the attention span of a toddler. In fact, at the Bronx Zoo, the only reason why Serena finished without running off to look at the monkeys is that she ran the entire thing with her cousin, Sara, a cross-country runner. Now we’re going to be running through a stadium, a course that includes being on the field. We’re probably going to lose Serena to the Yankees dugout or bullpen…or closest hot dog stand. Lisa has never run in any sort of race whatsoever. She HAS chased after the ice cream truck and from a creepy dog walker at Shea Stadium though. Once in awhile she runs on the treadmill at the gym, but she certainly can’t claim to enjoy it. It’s a long, tedious mile. What is exciting for Lisa is the prospect that there may be a lot of fit guidos present at this event (seeing as how most guidos in New York are Yankees fans). Perhaps these guidos can run in front of us and Lisa can run after them. One of them can carry a hot dog and a beer and that will be motivation for Serena. Stay tuned for the blog post following that event.

The big baseball note effecting New York this week is the crap with Mariano Rivera. While shagging balls in the outfield during batting practice (not even an actual game), Rivera twisted his knee. Ouch. An injury like that to a player as old as Rivera immediately makes people think that this is it. He’s not coming back. His career is over on a bull sh*t injury. Not so fast. Rivera insists that he’s coming back for 2013, “not going out like this.”

Jered Weaver, another f*ck a$$ who spells his name wrong (and this is more offensive than Andruw since Brother’s name is JARED), pitched himself a no-hitter against the offensively ineffectual Twins this week. While it’s nice to have a no hitter under your belt, what’s it like to accomplish something like this against a team with the major league-worst record (7-18)? We actually had to double-take that statistic there. 7-18??? SEVEN? They’ve only won seven stupid games??? That’s friggin’ AWFUL. Their terrible record actually outshines Weaver’s accomplishment. His no hitter is a backhanded compliment. We’re not even sure it should count. That’s like pitching no-hit ball to the Bad News Bears.

Closing things out with Adele today: “Oh, rumor has it. Oh, rumor has it. The rumor has it that Pujols is rolling up his sausage from the floor.”

All-Star Ballot? Already?

Lisa is in Punta Cana right now, so I regret to inform you that you’ll be dealing with me alone today. I promise to be somewhat well-behaved. Last week, we asked you what you do with yourself when rain shuts down your baseball quality time. Only 3 people had any inclination to vote, which makes me think that we’re starting to lose you people. I realize that we’re a-holes and that a lot of the crap we write on this blog is complete nonsense, but really, we just want to make you laugh. Don’t you find us funny anymore? Did you ever find us funny? Anyway, all 3 folks claimed that they like to get f*cked up and pass out in the middle of the living room when there’s no baseball. This makes me think that we cater to the unique group of individuals known as “alcoholics.” No one chose, “watch a Real Housewives marathon on BRAVO,” “pick my nose (and this was truly a wise decision as I would’ve spent several paragraphs making fun of anyone who chose this option),” or “I don’t understand the question and I won’t respond.”

It’s hard for me to talk about what’s been going on in New York in terms of baseball because I haven’t been able to watch. Why? Cable’s been acting like a real NTAC (no talent a$$ clown), so while I’ve had access to the Real Housewives marathons on BRAVO (just what I need), I’ve had no access to SNY or YES (for those of you out-of-staters, SNY is the network home of the Mets and YES is the network home of the Yankees). I managed to catch the Brewers/Cardinals game on FOX yesterday afternoon, but needless to say, I’ve been quite frustrated with the fact that my only connection to the Mets and Yankees has been via baseball apps on my portable internet machine (the cell phone). However, a nice man showed up today and waved a weird-a$$ device around the apartment that I’m pretty sure the Ghostbusters used to catch Slimer and now I am enjoying YES for the first time all week.

If you’re registered with MLB.com like Lisa and I are, you probably receive at least 5 stupid emails a day. I received a disturbing one yesterday. MLB is already asking fans to vote for this year’s All Stars. How is this even possible? We’re still in the first month of the season. Personally, I feel that voting shouldn’t even begin until June. How could you possible rate players’ performances based on one month of duty? That’s ridiculous. That’s like my boss giving me my performance evaluation for this year now.

Of course, I’m bitching about this as if people aren’t going to vote for the same guys they vote for every year. Let me take a wild guess and say that 50% of the American League starting lineup will be made up of Yankees, 30% will be Red Sox players, and the remaining 20% will be a cocktail of the remaining teams. Oh, and duh, TOWSNBN will obviously be the starting thirdbaseman for the National League because god forbid we should vote someone else into that position. The sad thing is that one of the Yankees that should be considered an All Star will most likely won’t be an All Star because he’s not a big name like Curtis Granderson (this is in no way suggesting that Grandy shouldn’t be an All Star because he’s a fantastic athlete that can do just about anything—bunt, hit for average, hit for power, steal, field, maybe even cook a decent meal and do laundry) nor does he have a lovable, popular personality like Nick Swisher (again, I love Swish, but should he be the starting right fielder for the American League? No…unless, of course, you’re only taking into consideration his April performance). The player I’m talking about is Brett Gardner. Gardy does everything right. He works hard, gets the bunt down, he’s a phenomenal base runner in a time when base running as a skill has taken a giant dump (actually, come to think of it, bunting is another skill that has become a lost art), and he’s a fantastic left fielder! He really doesn’t get enough credit. Plus, even Lisa loves him. That should tell you something since the only other Yankee she is in love with is Derek Jeter. Unfortunately, unless you have the privilege of being able to watch the Yankees on a daily basis (or happen to be an avid fantasy follower), you probably don’t know who Gardy is and since you don’t know who he is, you’re never going to vote him onto the All Star team. It really is a shame.

The All Star ballot will be officially launched on Friday. Do the right thing, folks. Do the right thing.

Baseball notes!

Tim Lincecum continues to cultivate my utter adoration for him. He just doesn’t stop. I wish he would at this point. My affection for him can no longer be deemed healthy. He doesn’t even play in New York. I need to be in love with someone who plays for my team. Yesterday, Padres’ pitcher Anthony Bass carried a perfect game into the 6^th inning when lo and behold, Lincecum stepped up to the plate and ran out an infield single to short stop. Look at that skinny boy hustle down the line. Love that shit. As if that didn’t earn his pay check, the boy pitched 8 innings in the Giants’ 2-1 victory, giving up only 1 unearned run, striking out 5, and walking 4. The walks aren’t so sexy, but the good news is that Timmy looks to be returning to form.

Today, Braves’ fans will have the pleasure of seeing Tim Hudson make his 2012 debut after recovering from spinal fusion surgery. Even more good news is that the Braves could potentially get Brian McCann back for Monday night. McCann left Friday’s game early with a strained right intercostal muscle. I sincerely wish I could speak to that injury but I don’t even know what an intercostal muscle is…or what body part it’s attached to. For all I know, it’s something in his ear.

Michael Pineda is officially out for the season, requiring surgery to repair his torn anterior labral. Again, I wish I knew what this was, but based on what I’ve heard, I am pretty confident that this is something in his shoulder. Especially considering I don’t think Pineda has a vagina. This is probably an extremely inappropriate joke, but as I said earlier, Lisa isn’t here so I don’t have anyone keeping me in check.

If you hate Justin Verlander (and I don’t know how that’s possible seeing as how he loves Taco Bell), I dare you to watch this video and not become all squishy inside for him.

Lastly, anyone not rooting for a team in the NL East want to take a stab at who is leading the division? It’s not the Phillies or the Mets. It’s not even the Marlins, who talked a lot (and I mean, a lot) of shit this off-season. The Marlins, with their fancy new stadium, are in last place. The team leading the NL East is the Washington Nationals, followed closely by the Braves. What a shocker. Good for them. Shake things up in the east.  

Before I sign off, I just want to give folks the heads up that the 3^rd Annual Fred K’s Cancer Event has been relocated from Cantiague Park to Eisenhower Park (North Linden Picnic Area, Parking Field 6A) due to a scheduling mix-up on the part of Nassau County. We hope to see as many people as possible, so please join us on Saturday, June 23^rd, where you’ll get a chance to meet and walk with The Freds. You may even meet a few folks that are listed in the TBB Lingo & Cronies page of this blog. Also, if there is any way I can sell something of Lisa to you in order to convince you to come down, I’ll be more than happy to do that. She’s not here to defend herself, so I’m allowed to do this. I mean, I can’t sell her body to you or anything like that, but almost everything else is open for negotiations. Very exciting stuff. You can register to participate online here.  

Next week, Lisa will be back so there’ll be no vagina jokes. Swear.

-Serena

Rain Out

So Serena found Guido-Fest 2012 near Yankees Stadium last week and asked if you thought Lisa would ditch the May 19^th Yankees game to spend the rest of her days rubbing up against guidos. Only 2 of you bothered to reply and both of you agreed that Lisa will not be leaving Guido Mecca ever. This means that Serena will be attending the Yankees game alone…which is kind of sad and pathetic. Is there anyone out there that would be willing to sit for a full 9 innings with Serena and eat hot dogs? Maybe drink a little beer? No one seems to think that Lisa will be so overwhelmed by the onslaught of fist pumping that she’ll literally combust and need to be escorted from the bar.

Allow us to share with you our Sunday evening. There is no baseball. It’s pouring out, so we can’t even walk to the bar like we’d planned. Though technically, Serena has more booze in her fridge than food, so we’re not sure why we’d even need to bother going to a bar. We’ve just wasted several hours being sucked into the Real Housewives of New Jersey marathon instead of blogging. Serena turned off the television when the Real Housewives of Atlanta’s Reunion special came on in an effort to promote a more efficient work environment. Now all we hear is the pitter patter of the rain on the roof and Lisa’s complaints that Serena took away her only happiness by turning off the television.  Even as Serena types this, Lisa is still muttering about the Real Housewives and how she’s definitely going to watch “Don’t Be Tardy for the Wedding.” This has turned into an all too depressing affair of hoodie sweatshirts and listening to sad, poetic music like “Sometime After Midnight.” There is one funny factoid about tonight’s rainout that makes us laugh and that is the fact that since Roberta’s entire fantasy lineup is made up of the New York Mets and Yankees, she had no one to start today and Lisa’s “The Asstastic Bunch” finished Week 3 out by demolishing the Riverdale Rebels. Insert evil, victorious laugh.

Now we’re drinking hot tea, which is less sexy than sucking down a cold one at The Main Event and perhaps chowing down a tasty burger. Such a lame Sunday.

For just two minutes, let’s talk about Barry Zito. We’re flabbergasted. Where in the hell does he get off pitching like a jack wagon for all these years and then suddenly pull out of his ass a complete game shut out? What’s even more confusing is that the performance was apparently not a fluke! He’s continuing to perform up to his contract…so far. He pitched a solid 7 innings in his second start and 5 innings in his last start against the Mets on Friday night. He has an ERA of 1.71 in 21 innings pitched with 10 strikeouts. What is happening here? What in the hell did he do in this offseason that is so different from past offseasons that he’s now able to pitch again? We know he got married and we know that at this wedding, he sported a comb-over. Is married life really treating him this well? What is his wife made of? Beer and hot wings?? Oh, wait, no. That’s what OUR husbands are going to taste like…she probably tastes like sugar and spice and everything nice.

This weekend was the celebration of Fenway Park’s 100^th birthday. How did the Red Sox commemorate this occasion? By sucking the fat one. And we mean fat. How do you blow a 9-run lead in the 7^th inning? How? That’s worse than anything we’ve ever done and let us tell you, we’ve done some pretty stupid sh*t. Well…you know. You’ve read all about it on this blog. In conjunction with its birthday celebration, we’ve been seeing a lot of brouhaha on television and in the paper about why Fenway is so great. Its nostalgia, history, blah, blah, blah. And it’s all true. It is a great piece of history. However, if you’ve read our post about our visit to Fenway, you’ll know that we think that the stadium needs a face lift. Particularly in regards to seating and comfort. It seems that we’re not the only ones with this attitude toward Fenway. Rays’ designated hitter, Luke Scott described the stadium as a “dump,” which is way more terrible than anything that we ever said about the place. Scott meant it in regards to a facility to work at as a ball player, but nevertheless, the comment ruffled a few feathers. We’ll take it one step further. Fenway is an unattractive ballpark and we’re sorry, but it’s not the best old-time stadium. Wrigley Field is. It has retained its historic, nostalgic feel, while updating certain amenities for the comfort of their fans, AND it’s a cute mother f*cking stadium! It’s flippin’ adorable! It’s like being transported to another planet! Another planet called Wrigleyville! Going to Fenway is like being transported to a green warehouse where you may or may not become the victim of a mafia hit.

In addition to the Red Sox’s anal raping that took place yesterday, Phil Humber threw the 21^st perfect game in MLB history against the Mariners in the White Sox 4-0 victory. He managed to do this while only throwing 96 pitches.

AJ Burnett…remember him? Our ex? Well, that douchenozzle left us and the Yankees to perform like he’s Iron Man for the Pirates!! Today, he tossed 7 scoreless innings, allowing 3 hits, and recording 7 strikeouts. Thank you, Mr. Burnett, for being absolutely useless to us in New York. We really appreciate it. Best wishes on your future endeavors, you a$$hat. Burnett became the first Pirates pitcher since 1907 to pitch at least 7 scoreless innings and record 7 strikeouts. Either the Pirates are really that god awful to have such a pitiful history or Burnett is now a legit super hero with super powers. Or it’s a combination of both. Time will only tell. Stay tuned for further rantings on this subject.

In the highly intelligent words of Melissa Gorga, “The Red Sox are on display, on display each and every day, every day. Bobby V. is waiting for them to win, but they keep on crawling, and people keep hating on them, hating on them.”

Yankees Opening Day 2012

April 13, 2012 

I have to start this post with a quasi-related, but not-really-related statement. When Lisa and I go to the Yankees game on May 19^th, I need to take her to Billy’s Bar. I’m pretty sure that I’ve discovered a guido dumping ground. Dark spiked haired, olive-skinned fist pumpers galore. It’s like a buffet of all of Lisa’s favorite things. It was a little scary. I am running the risk of losing her forever if I bring her here. She may get sucked into the black hole of tanned skin, Italian-themed tattoos, gold chains, and open-collared shirts and then I’ll be stuck walking over to Yankees Stadium and watching The Boys take on the Reds by myself. Anyone willing to travel into the Bronx with us on the very real chance that I may have an extra ticket? Let me know.

Back to the whole purpose of this post. Baseball. Opening Day. All good stuff. Mamadukes bought our tickets for Opening Day as my birthday gift, but the actual purchase was done by me. As in, “go onto StubHub and find tickets. I’ll give you the money.” I picked two tickets that felt like a happy medium in terms of cost and location, but I didn’t really have any idea as to where they were being that they were in a section I’d never sat in before. We drove into the game and parked at a nearby mall. “Event Parking” cost us $30, but for some reason, it felt less like a raping than paying $35 at the other lot. Getting to Yankees Stadium from this mall, however, proved to be a bit of a challenge for us. Initially, we followed these two guys wearing Jeter and Mantle jerseys toward the entrance we had just driven through, but then we realized that they were going to have to hop a wall in order to get to the sidewalk and that just seemed to be more trouble than it was worth. We decided to find another way. This would be a mistake. I don’t know what we were thinking. We should’ve just stuck to following Jeter and Mantle. They’d always been reliable in the past. Why did we think they were going to let us down this time? We ended up walking a sidewalk that ran somewhat parallel to the Major Deagan Expressway. That is some hot stuff right there. Eventually we did manage to reach the stadium and this random, off-the-beaten-path route actually had us approach the stadium from a direction we’d never taken before, offering me the opportunity to take this photo of the entire stadium in all its sexiness.

The walkway leading up to the stadium past the little league baseball field is paved with sporadic markers indicating historical moments in franchise history, like this:

This:

This:

And this:

We tried finding a marker celebrating Don Mattingly’s retirement, but apparently, nothing of importance happened for the Yankees between 1987 and 1996, which I found a little strange.

As usual, I needed to be fed immediately upon walking through the doors of Yankees Stadium. I need to eat regularly or else I become a whiny, unaccommodating toddler. We headed up to our section and bought a hot Italian sausage for me (Seriously. This is not a metaphor for a really attractive male of the Italian persuasion. It was called a hot Italian sausage and it cost $8.50.) and a hot dog for Mamadukes. Laden with our glorious, deliciously fragrant meat products, we went in search of this mysterious section 314W. It’s the “W” that kept throwing me off when I searched the stadium’s seating chart online. The chart clearly showed me section 314, but what was the deal with this “W?” Well, ladies and gentlemen, we found out that it apparently stands for “wheelchair.”  Yes. That’s correct. This Yankees fan half of the TBB duo is a giant a-hole who unknowingly purchased tickets to the handicapped section. As if I can’t look any more insensitive than I already do. The seats were padded folding chairs, which were pretty cool, but man, did we feel a touch guilty about occupying these seats. The guilt didn’t last long because my stomach got the better of me. I pretty much inhaled my sausage in three bites (okay, WHY does everything I say about sausages sound incredibly dirty?).

Look who ran into us at the stadium! Ed! Lisa’s favorite of Serena’s colleagues. Ed had seats 3 sections over from us.

There was one really amazing upside about sitting in these seats though. I got to hang out with this little buddy the entire game:

How amazing is he? He’s adorable and fat. I wanted to dognap him. The downside to this bootyful baseball fan was that his owner was a jerk Mets fan that kept rooting against the Yankees. Dude, go be miserable at your own Opening Day. Don’t make my Opening Day experience miserable because you hate my team.

Soon after, the opening ceremonies commenced.

Jorge Posada threw out the first pitch to Papa Posada.

The pitching matchup was Hiroki Kuroda and Ervin Santana. I’ll admit that this did not inspire confidence in me after watching the nightmare of a game that took place in Tampa Bay in the week prior. However, we got out of the first inning fairly unscathed, so I calmed down a bit. In the bottom of the 1^st, Santana led things off by striking out both Jeter and Granderson. Allow me to describe the mental illness that currently resides in this brain of mine. Instead of being overly pissed off at this, I got excited because Roberta’s ridiculous New York-focused fantasy team wouldn’t get any offensive points. Insert evil laugh. See? I’m truly a disturbed individual. With two outs, Alex Rodriguez (the one Yankees player that I managed to pry out of Roberta’s greedy fingers) singled. Hooray for fantasy points for Tigers Love Pepper! THEN he stole second. More fantasy points! It’s just an explosion of fantasy points for me.

When Mark Teixeira stepped into the batter’s box, our neighbors to Mamadukes’ right had some negative comments to say about him. She got very upset and defensive about “her man” (the fantasy baseball illness seems to be hereditary). I had to remind her that Tex was no longer her fantasy first baseman. Roberta owned him now. It was time to let go. With Rodriguez, Cano, and Tex on base, Swisher drilled a double over the center fielder’s head, scoring three runs. All fantasy points for Roberta. It’s just becoming tedious now.

Rodriguez would go onto hit a bomb of a home run to dead center field in the bottom of the 3^rd and another single in the bottom of the 5^th following a Granderson home run. While his sudden surge of offense pleases me both from the Yankees fan perspective and the perspective of being the manager for the future 2012 championship fantasy team, I feel it necessary to point out something that he did in the bottom of the 7^th that really pissed me off. I have always defended Rodriguez. Despite the fact that he’s got a personality that’s equivalent to a brown paper bag and the whole steroids fiasco, I do believe him to be a hard-working and gifted athlete. When he fails, it’s never from a lack of trying. Yes, he’s totally overpaid and yes, he tends to collapse when the Yankees really need him, but I will accept a player who fails to succeed if he puts forth genuine effort. In the 7^th, with Jeter on second, Rodriguez hit a weak dribbler to Ryan Isringhausen on the mound, which typically would’ve been an easy out, but Isringhausen bobbled the ball, giving Rodriguez the chance to safely reach first AND advancing Jeter to third. Instead of actually running hard down the line, Rodriguez did the f*cking Hustle! Naturally, this gave Isringhausen enough time to recover and throw Rodriguez out. I was enraged. If I recall the moment correctly, after a string of curse words, I shouted, “Did you have an asthma attack on the way to first, you a-hole?” Apparently the surrounding fans found this amusing. What the hell? I defend this man all the damn time for his work ethic and he repays me by acting like Carlos Beltran?? Trust me, I’ve played sports. I get that there was a chance that Rodriguez still may have been thrown out even if he ran hard. I totally understand that. The point is that he also might’ve been safe, giving the Yankees another chance to score. Crap like that makes me crazy.This better have been a brain fart on his part because if this is a sign of behavior to come, I’m going to convince Lisa to allow me to write another asstastic letter for this blog. And I’m very convincing. You have no idea how much stupid
sh*t I’ve convinced Lisa to participate in with me.

Just prior to the 9^th inning, we asked the nice men sitting next to us to take our picture. I’m actually surprised that Mamadukes allowed this considering how much she hates taking pictures. I think the fact that this man gave her his Cracker Jack prize softened her a little.

We were pleasantly surprised when Kuroda came out to pitch the 9^th having already thrown 103 pitches. He allowed Bobby Abreu on base with a weak a$$ crap hit and Joe Girardi pulled him out in favor of David Robertson. Kuroda exited to a standing ovation. A vast improvement from his first start. Now if only CC Sabathia would follow suit. Robertson closed out the game, coaxing Albert Pujols into a double play and then striking out Kendry Morales. Final score 5-0 Yankees.

By the way, exiting the mall’s parking garage was a nightmare. Do not park here. Make the extra $5 investment and park in a proper lot.

-Serena