Monday, April 19, 2010

Chappelle On Man Rape

Shame on you, Mark! You never told me you were in Houston!!

Grab Your Bats And Balls

Ah, yes. It's baseball season again. Time for SportsCenter to be 90% MLB, 8%hockey/basketball playoffs and 2% golf. Time for overpriced beer and praying that the Indians go over .500. Time for bobbleheads and promotional refrigerator magnets. Time for fireworks and ecstatically skipping back to the car after a ninth inning 3-run homer by Grady Sizemore. Time to try to say no to pulled pork and biscuits and pizza and nachos on the box seats level. Time for crawling into bed after eleven bloated and woozy from whatever Great Lakes beer they have on tap.
The good news? Nobody goes to the games anymore. The parking is great, the seats are cheap and if you are downtown with nothing to do, you don't have to worry about the game being sold out. There is one thing you do have to worry about. The freaking mascots. I attended a game a few years back and it just so happened to be on my birthday. My brother and the dork I was dating at the time decided it would be extra special if Cleveland's mascot, Slider, said Happy Birthday to me. He/she grabbed me from behind, rubbing his/her grubby kiddie booger stained wooly mammoth paws all over my face and chest. I had nightmares. No joke. They're still funny from afar, though.