Author: The Jody

I’m not going to make good on my threat to poop on door steps. Except for Grady Little. Pedro shouldn’t have even started the 8th inning – and when he faltered, you left him in? What are they paying you for, that you can’t stand up to Pedro and say “sorry, you’re coming out”. And where the hell was Williamson last night? Why wasn’t he pitching relief? That cubs’ fan is practically beloved compared to how New England feels about Grady Little right now.

I’m so very very sad. I can’t even think about this anymore.

4 – 0! Holy crap, I never imagined it. Boys, this is our game to loose. They need FIVE to win. If you don’t keep them down, I will personally poop on each and every one of your doorsteps. No really, I’d do it.

I must be a Boston fan, I can’t bring myself to even THINK the words “we’re going to win this game.” See you in 5 innings. If we win, I’ll be looting in my kitchen, possibly causing all sorts of trouble in the living room. I don’t think I’ll be tipping my car over, cause it’s kind of heavy. Plus I need it to get to work in the morning.

Peanuts? Cracker Jacks? Okay, you laugh, but I bought some in our cafeteria just to throw around the house like I was selling them at Fenway. I was happy with the quality of the popcorn portion, but the nuts were WAAAAAY at the bottom of the bag, and the “prize” was crap. CRAP I TELL YOU?

Dear Frito-Lay,

Are you kidding me? You call that a prize? A little graphic puzzle that takes two seconds to solve, even if you don’t accidentally see the solution which is obviously right there on the next piece of paper. I have to ask you this: Why Bother? Don’t call it a prize. Cereal boxes give you a prize. McDonald’s, Burger King, Wendy’s, even the place my kid gets his hair cut gives away a “prize”. A 1 x 1 piece of paper with a drawing of a puzzle on it? I wiped my butt with it. There’s your prize.

Sincerely,

The DumpTruck Driver

(Okay, maybe it got a little harsh at the end, but after struggling to locate the peanuts, I was faced with that? Harrumph.)

Bad pie makes me mad. If you can’t make pie properly, don’t make it – that’s my motto. But that’s not the motto in the cafeteria. I’ll give them some credit – they’d don’t bake there. I don’t know if it’s an effort to keep everyone thin, or laziness, but the cafeteria doesn’t really have a dessert section, other than some random puddings and a few cookies. They aren’t prominent and I think if you didn’t know where they were, you wouldn’t know they had them.

Anyway, when I was at Allmerica they had a huge sinful “pay by the ounce” dessert every day that was just killer. Blueberry crisp, chocolate trifle, strawberry shortcake, etc. Every day there were a couple of cakes. But here there is none of that, which I can deal with.

So it was a big deal to me that they had a big pile of “Fresh Baked Pie!” today. Apple, of course, but I like apple. Everyone was buying a piece because it looked good, and because it was so unusual.

It was horrible. The apples weren’t cooked, the crust was just mushy dough, and the spices were off a bit. But it was the apples that got to me. How hard is it to cook the pie enough so that the apples don’t taste like you just picked them off the tree? Hell, even *I* have been known to make apple pies, tarts and crisp and cook the apples. Grrr.

I got all excited that there was pie and then I couldn’t even finish eating it, so you know it was bad. And THAT is what makes me mad.

I can’t watch the Sox game live anymore, it’s just killing me. KILLING ME. I can’t handle the stress of these playoff games a single second longer. So I told Junior he could have control of the television. He decided to pull out the Playstation. His game of choice? Major League Baseball. Oh good God, he’s set it up so the Sox are playing the Yankees, and the play-by-play keeps making me look up, because I forget it’s the game. In his capable hands, Nomar homered, Nixon got a double, etc. etc. So he didn’t want to watch baseball, but this is different? Not from where I sit.

I keep switching to the gameday live coverage online – that’s about as much stress as I can handle. Can they keep the lead? I guess we’ll know shortly. One more inning and I can breath again.