I woke up yesterday so excited for Baseball. Due to a very unnecessary amount of drinking, I woke up at 11am and the birds were already singing, the weather was 65 degrees, and the New York Yankees were in the middle of doing their pre-game warm-ups. Baseball was back and I was elated.
I already had ten text messages from my college friends chirping me about how bad my fantasy baseball team is and my bookie was in my ear talking shit. That’s right, my bookie talks shit. He’s the worst. I felt like a billion dollars because all was well in the world until something that happens almost daily occurred once again. The New York Jets ruined my day.
I’m going through twitter to see if Buster Olney was trying to throw yer boi some insider info on who to start in fantasy or if he was giving any tips that I can use against my douche bag bookie and I come across this shit…….
What the fuck is this. The Jets mushing me right in front of my eyeballs. My brain can’t take this. Thank God my dad doesn’t have a twitter account otherwise he’d either be dead via stroke or he would’ve taken his anger out on Josh McCown. Poor Josh. He was a Jet for about 38 seconds and almost died via Mr. Frank. What a time to be alive. Back to the point though, fuck these guys. They can’t let me breathe for two seconds before trying to ruin my day. No longer than two hours after they sent this tweet out Tanaka was getting yanked in the third for throwing meatballs that were getting hit to the moon. I would bet my life savings that if the Jets didn’t tweet this out Tanaka would’ve went seven innings and the Yankees would’ve won 5-2. I know that this was probably sent out but some 19 year old intern that meant no harm but fuck him. He might not realize this, nor does he probably care, but he’s one of my least favorite people on the planet. He needs to go. And by go I mean die. And by die I mean just quit his job. Don’t do it for me, do it for the Yankees.
Hugs & Kisses,