The Morning Offering - June 6, 2005

Written by Father Time on June 06, 2005

Good morning. Well, maybe for you it is. Me? I’m sick. Sick during summertime. Does it get shittier? My throat feels like someone took a cheese grater to it, and I have no energy whatsoever. So what is written here, in my defense, is written under duress. And like all other moments of duress in my life, I blame Mike Sherman.

I have no order or plan or strategy for this offering, so I’ll just start saying shit. Shit. Shit. Shit-Shitshit-shit-shit. A little shit rhythm for all y’all who have been to a ballgame recently. I went Sunday to see the Nationals beat up on the Marlins in 90-degree weather. Nothing scares a cold away more than sitting in an oven for three hours and eating a polish sausage. This little girl was eyeing my son and his peanuts like he was a human cotton candy for most of the game. He pretty much just blew her off. That's my boy. He also had the line of the day. He had brought his two baseballs to the game and at one point asked, “Who wants to play with my balls?”

Days off in baseball. Is there anything more annoying? How lazy do you have to be to take a fucking day off from playing baseball? And my favorite part of it all is the manager. “Well, he really needed a day off.” Yeah, I hear that. What? You’re…you’re getting a wittle tired standing in that mean ol’ sun for three hours? Is there another sport where the athletes just take a day off work because, “they need it?” Maybe this is why baseball is my least favorite of the three big sports. Because they’re a bunch of pussies.

Contracts. Hey professional athletes, contracts are pieces of paper that you read, agree to, and sign in order to play for a team. I hope Terrell Owens never wins a Super Bowl. Although maybe instead I should hope that they just don’t pay T.O. any money. Because that’s obviously what’s important to him. There’s a reason you sign a contract. Because you accept the terms within it. So pretty please, with sugar on top. Shut the fuck up.

Fresca is so yummy.

I went bowling at this place where you have to be 21 to get in after 7 p.m. They shut down the main lights and instead you have two huge bars in the back and black lights all around the lanes, with neon bowling balls and pins. And they’ve got big screen TVs hanging from the ceilings over the lanes. A bowling alley night club. Tremendous. The best part of the evening was when I was hitting on this waitress, and during a slight lull in conversation, she goes, “So do you need your check now?” Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best part of the evening.

That’s all I’ve got. I need some medication. And to refill my Fresca. Enjoy your Monday.

-- Written by Father Time on June 06, 2005