I absolutely hate anything that causes me discomfort.
I hate bright lights first thing in the morning. I hate gag-balls and choke collars. I hate the seven dollar plate of cheez-fud that is passed off as nachos in [email protected] and I hate the deity-damned Cubs.
Like a cockroach crawling around in a bowl of Skyline Chili (wait a minute, how could you tell if a roach was in your Skyline chili? Bad example.) Like a cockroach crawling out of your toilet, the frickin’ Cubs won’t die, they won’t go away, and like the cockroaches in certain parts of Houston itself, have actually taken over the division.
In fact, based on what I’ve learned on the internet today, the Cubs are cockroaches. The Cockroach is an opportunistic scavenger and omnivore. It mostly feeds on vegetable matter (like the Reds) but will attack any item resembling organic material (like the Pirates). Also, the cockroach has longer legs than most insects and a flattened oval body. This is not unlike Dusty Baker himself. Continuing, the cockroach is very sensitive to light and sound, which explains why the Cubs play better at night than during the day. Cockroaches also emit a nauseous odor when threatened and then tend to roll up in a ball. We all agree that the Cubs stink to high heaven and, well, they probably don’t have any balls, but I’ve been waiting for them to curl up and die for about a month now. The good news is that the typical lifespan of a cockroach is approximately o’ne year. And as the Cubs haven’t had back-to-back .500 winning seasons in my lifetime, well lets just say if the NL can slap them down in the next few days, it’s pretty likely that certain arms will just fall off certain torsos in 2004.
As for my part, I am on the road, as I have been most of the last month or so. I’ve been visiting lovely places like College Station, TX, Champaign, IL and West Lafayette, IN working, flying and drinking, drinking, flying and working, and of course flying, drinking and working. But not at the same time (at least that I’m willing to cop to). Tonight as I’m in Madison, WI, I will be basking in all that is cheese and dairy. The good news is that the game is on television. Prior to the game, I will ask the hotel restaurant to pour some bean soup over spaghetti and pretend to like it. Once the game starts I will be drinking a case of bootlegged Yuengling wearing Astros boxer shorts, a straw hat, and little else in my hotel room. For every run the Astros score the next couple of nights, I will run the loop of hallways on the floor of the Madison Marriott I am staying on in the afore mentioned outfit. Call it a wellness program. Tomorrow night, the Gabe Kotter / Dr. J cinematic classic “The Fish That Saved Pittsburgh” will be playing on my laptop along with the game.
I have grown back my goatee in an effort to bring Timmah Redding some luck (I’m willing to wear some eyeliner so I look very sad about everything that happens) and will don my bowling wrist brace whenever Jeff Kent comes to bat. While it’s possible that you may see a Reuters feed about something something Cowboy bowler arrested in Madison area hotel for streaking, I’m willing to do this for the Mud n Blood.
I’m sure several of all of you are pulling for the team. Some of you are really pulling for the team. Budgirl is traveling to San Antone for the team, Lissi is wearing thongs for the team (at least that’s what I’m imagining) and Jane Doe is one step away from tossing salad for the team. So short of that, I feel like I’m doing what I can to help the stars align right for the Astros to be in first place come Tuesday morning.
In the meantime, I’m sure the kids at the job fair this afternoon will be happy to sing along with me, “Here come the Astros, burning with desire, here come the Astros breathing Orange Fire. Here come the Astros with winning on their minds, here come the Astros, number one every time! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO AS-TROS!!!!”