Suzy Waldman clearly needs to have her heart cut out with a spoon ("it's dull you twit...it'll hurt more"). I know it's a little late on the ball to talk about the "bug game" between the yank$ and indians from friday, but I'm pretty uninspired today so we'll do this anyway. According to LCT, who was listening to the game on the radio coming back from a water polo tournament and got to hear the stellar duo of Sterling and Waldman, these fuckfaces were blaming Joba's shitting of the bed entirely on the bugs. They were saying that Joba would never give up runs or pitch badly (which seems plausible as he is the lovechild of Chief Joseph and the Virgin Mary) and that it was entirely the fault of the bugs, which was "disgraceful." A number of yankee fans seem to have adopted this attitude, despite the fact that Carmona totally raped the yankees lineup the next inning while pitching with the same amount of bugs around him (not to mention that a swarm of midges on the field would seem to give the pitcher a distinct advantage over the hitter).
But really, who the fuck cares about the bugs. This post is just an excuse to link to Suzy Waldman's call of Roidy McRocket's return to pinstripes back in May. She is either straight orgasming on air or seems to think Clemens' return to the Yankees is the equivalent of the fall of the Berlin wall, MLK's I have a dream speech, and the liberation of Auschwitz by the Allies all rolled into one. At least Clemens appears to share his HGH with the Mrs., which I guess is commendable. Seriously, that chick looks like Charles Atlas. I wish CBS radio would just have Suzy follow the Rocket around for a day, giving a play-by-play of his life. Here's how it might go (annoying Boston accent included):
5:37 A.M. And now, I think, yes...oh my, yes! The Rawcket is stahting a REM cycle...his eyelids ah fluttering and...wait, now, Jesus! he's rolled ovah onto his right side...that's his pitching ahm! Let's hope he doesn't hurt himself heeah...he's sleeping through the pain! Jesus I just peed my pants...
8:01 A.M. The Rawcket's opening his eyes and....yes! he's awake. My Gawd! He's going to the bathroom...and yes he's got mohning wood...I just can't even believe this...it's biggah than I evah dreamed, like he's got Derek's foreahm shoved down his pants! I'm so wet! John... (Sterling: The Rocket's got a pocket rocket...clickity clocket..where are my pills?)
8:37 A.M. Rojjah's pouring some cereal and it's...oh my word it's Froot Loops. The milk is...it's SKIM! Oh my gawd it's skim milk. The rawcket with skim milk...and now we know how he stays in playing shape, John (fruit loops, hula-hoops...hahahahahahahahaha)
10:40 A.M. And Jorge has just shown up...him and Rawcket are going into the bathroom and there go Rojjah's pants. Posada with the needle and he's injecting...what is that?...it's ...it's....yes decadurabolin...into Rojjah's glorious buttocks, John (Jorgie juiced one!)
12:11 P.M. And now the Rawcket is doing his wife from behind...and that's about the cleanest asshole I've seen since Phil Hughes let me attend his monthly enema. Oh sweet sassy molassey here comes Andy and....yes, they're double teaming her...Rawcket is stepping back and just watching now and Pettitte is...just...about...done...and yes all ovah Mrs. Clemens' breasts...I tell ya...can Pettitte come through in big situations or what?
3:30 P.M. Rojjah is in the clubhouse and....oh my Alex has let off the biggest faht I've evah heard. Rojjah is just covering his nose and laughing...you can just tell the difference in this clubhouse when Rawcket is heeah...everybody is loose and just rippin fahts like there's no tomorrow. Am I right john (an A-bomb for A-rod).
7:35 P.M. The yankees win a big one tonight ovah the Devil Rays 18-2. Even though he didn't pitch in this game, Rojjah's meeah presence has enahgized this team. Alex hit 3 grand slams, but to me Rojjah was the MVP of the game...weeah gonna peak in on Rojjah's post game showah and...I just came 17 times...
9:14 P.M. Rojjah sittin down to dinnah now with his sons Kody, Koby, Kolvert, Kameron, and little Kanceroustumor. What's this....oh holy Moses Rosenstein he's grillin a steak and it's...yes, it's a t-bone. You talk about blue collah work ethic...he's telling his butlahs exactly when to flip the steak. Rawcket is more down to earth than a bomb on Hiroshima.
11:11 P.M. And now Rawcket is getting his hair cut by....what is this?...yes, it's little Kanceroustumor...he's tellin him just a little off the top. You know John, a lot of people gave up on the flat top in 1962, but not Rawcket...he plays by his own rules (Brosius the Ferocious!)
11:13 P.M. Kanceroustumor has taken just a little too much off the top and...what's this...of all the dramatic things...Rojjah's beating him with salad tongs and they're...yesssss...stainless steel: just like Rawcket's testicles.
1:07 A.M. Rojjah's going to bed now...and checking down with our sideline folks we've confuhmed it: Rawcket's sheets ah made out of virgin skin. There you have it folks...and Rojjah should sleep well tonight knowing he doesn't have to pitch until the next full moon, as puh his contract. You know, John, I don't say this often about a playah, but if Rawcket isn't the second coming of Jesus then I'm turning towelhead and praying to Mahahmed (Bernie goes boom! The rabbits stole my klonopin!)
Coming sometime this week: we get animal fights off the ground.
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