Blog-iatus

I've read all your angry imaginary e-mails and comments about lack of content...and all I can say is "YOU WILL TAKE WHAT YOU GET AND YOU WILL LIKE IT!!!"

With Ryan moving into a new place sans internet due to various "child porn being traced to the landlord concerns", and with my losing my mind over the Blue Jays teasing me with a ten game win streak we're far too busy this week to update.

That doesn't mean we don't care. I care so much it hurts.

Oh Lord! Why must we hurt the ones we hit?

R.A. Dickey is My Second Favorite Knuckleballer

I have a baseball pitcher/punching related hypothesis, hence the totally appropriate pitcher picture accompaniment.

It's double appropriate as the Rays and Red Sox have started their first series since this brawl.

My favorite part of this picture is how from this angle it totally looks like James Shields is connecting with this punch.

Shouldn't pitchers be awesome at punching stuff? Their whole job involves whipping their arm to maximum velocity, which would seem to dovetail with punching stuff nicely.

But brawls have shown us time and time again that most pitchers flail and miss wildly like Mr. Shields, or turn sideways and fall over a la Pedro Martinez. Or how about that time blog-tributor Ryan got kneed in the face? Remember that? (Sidenote: Ryan you can't get on me for not helping you in that fight, I got punched in the face, you can however blame Garnett, or Kyle who has proven quite clearly he is a liability when drinking)

To test my hypothesis I want to go to a bar that has one of those sweet punching bag games to see if punching from the pitching wind-up generates more force, and also to play that stacking blocks game because it is fun and last time I was this close to winning a mini-IPod (WSIPOD).

After the results become public knowledge I imagine pitchers will at least try the pitching windup power punch when charged, I mean even if it misses everyone jumps in so fast it won't matter.

Everyone except RA Dickey that is, both because knuckleball pitchers don't get charged too often, and also because his windup is slow, girlish looking, and balk inducing. Go Jays.

Addendum: My predicted Rance Mulliniks response to being asked to party with the DoodleBops was awkward silence, sadly I was incorrect.

Friendly Game of Fifty-Two Pick-Up Ends in Tears, Mess

The only card game I have ever enjoyed was a baseball based card game that four or five of us briefly played at lunch in high school, until I accidentally left the deck in my pocket and it went through the wash. I can't remember what it was called, and I imagine googling "baseball card game" will produce too many results to sift through. So let's just call it "Wild Cardz". That sounds believable and baseball related.

So it was much to my chagrin when I went over to my rich cousins house and despite their multiple pinball machines and 8 foot rock-climbing wall/bunk beds my lame cousin asked if I wanted to play cards instead of doing something that didn't suck.

I knew I had to feign interest or else he would lose interest in me and I would have to return home and help shovel mulch from the back of a truck into smaller piles in our driveway, avoiding doing work was the whole reason I had gone over to my cousins in the first place, so I reluctantly said yes, I would indeed play cards.

"But wait fair cousin" I began, "We should play this fun new game I just learned. Do you want to play it?"

"Sure!!" He replied, "Is it like Crazy Eights?"

"Umm it's pretty much the same, except we'll need to use all four of these decks to play. It's called Fifty-Two Pickup." (Editors Note: I am well aware this would in fact be Two Hundred and
Eight Plus Jokers Plus How to Play Bridge Pick Up)

One of the decks was brand new, so that obviously needed to be shuffled before we could play.
I told my cousin I had injured my fingers on my left hand by accidentally putting them in the toaster, so he would have to shuffle as well as get me a cool beverage to soothe my wounds.

The cards were ready, my Coke Zero was refreshing...it was the moment of truth. I could still back out of throwing all the cards on the floor and telling him to pick them up, but then I would have to play Crazy Eights with four whole decks, I realize now that the length of Crazy Eights is not affected by the number of cards used....that realization could have saved me some drama.

It was too late, I grabbed the cards and tossed them in the air, "FIFTY TWO PICK UP!" I yelled.
I grabbed my belly in mock laughter, telling my cousin now he had to pick up all the cards or else I would tell everyone he was Arch Lord Fife Twoo-loserin.

I never got a chance to introduce his Lordship to the world because my cousin broke down.
I mean the cards weren't even that widely dispersed, sure he has small hands but he could pick them up in under a minute, and reorganize them into their respective decks in another ten.

Under threats of "I'm telling on you" I ran away, all the way home.
Oh no! My parents are still in the drive way doing "chores", if they see me they'll force me to help and I'll be easy pickings for forced apologies once my aunt calls to pass on what happened.

I manned up and did the mature thing, I hid in the downstairs tub with my laptop until the storm blew over. By the time dinner was prepared all was almost forgotten, I was able to claim my cousin mistakenly remembered the events and also got to watch the Jays destroy the Reds instead of doing work.

All in all another excellent day.