Thursday, October 06, 2005
  The Morning After Pill
Advil. Ouch. (I think I broke my toe last night. Or maybe it's turf toe. But I haven't been on turf. Very confused.)

Oh well, time to move on. I just got to thinking this morning: this blog began at the beginning of the Sox season, right after I got home from Australia. Now, with the baseball season about to end, it's the autumn of this blog's year. The leaves are all turning and the air is getting colder.

Seriously colder. It was 86 yesterday and I had the a/c on in the car. This morning, it's pushing 50 and is winter hat weather. I'll have bird flu by Sunday, I reckon.

Well, onto work and stuff as baseball is over.

Next on TLBR: The Art of the cross-stitch and how to make a western omelette.

One.
 
Comments:
Sure, cross-stitch is fine, but I took up knitting over the weekend. I'm going to make Big Papi a hat.
 
That's gonna be a big hat.

(That's a big twinkie.)
 
"Well, onto work and stuff as baseball is over."

Maybe you should just move on from The Nation then. Has the last few years of comebacks not taught you anything, capped off by last year? We have enough good fans that we don't need the fair-weather fans anymore. It's a different time now. Be gone with you.

"One." Duh.
 
Who died an appointed you "prime minister" of "Red Sox Nation?"

How are all the benefits you receive from your officially licensed Red Sox Nation I.D. card? Was it worth the $9.95?
 
I have one of those cards. I coulda gone to that rally they had the other night, but I don't live or work in town...
 
Prime Minister, huh? That's the best you got. We live in America. Doesn't work big guy. What the hell does a Red Sox Nation ID card have to do with anything. You call yourself a fan. You jump off when things get tight. We don't want you. I speak for all because we don't respect bad fans. I speak for all sports fans, no one likes a bad fan. I guess I am the Prime Minister of Sports then. My first task while in office, shut you and your horrible voice up.

Two.
 
As for shutting this voice up, it's easy. And you don't even need to be the Prime Minister, Czar, Grand Poo-bah, or President of Sports. Bookmark this instead.
 
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