Another Letter from the Desk of Miss Hathaway

*Image courtesy of Kelly at www.sittingstill.net* (I think)

Dear Mr. Geritol,

Let me start off by saying I don't really think your name is Mr. Geritol. I'm only typing what my employer railed at me over the phone today; I'm guessing Geritol is the name of the gentleman who discovered your fine product who long ago sold out for millions of dollars and is now either dead or laying on a beach on some tropical island and sipping a fruity drink with an umbrella in it.

Please understand I'm a 50 year old spinster who needs the money and is just following the directive of my slightly insane superior. In his defense? Have you SEEN his children? Beasts, I tell you. BEASTS.

After a 10 hour day where, and I quote "I'm going to eventually shove a recliner in an area not exactly large enough", I received a call on the Bat Phone around 7 p.m. I've discovered these are usually never good calls and today was no exception.

After rambling for roughly 10 minutes about some "dink" stepping on Youk's ankle (Youk is a heavily bearded gentleman with anger issues and apparently a gland problem due to his excessive sweating that plays for the Red Sox), the fact Big Papi is THIS CLOSE to busting out, and a proclamation that "Josh Beckett say's FYYO" to the rest of the league he finally got around to the purpose of this letter.

Again, don't shoot the messenger; I'm just passing along the words of my, and I use this term loosely, esteemed employer.

"Why in the name of all that is good and holy have you idiots not signed Tim Wakefield to a lifetime contract as the spokesperson for your company? He's 7-3, has a beer belly Homer Simpson would envy, kisses babies and visits sick kids in the hospital, my 3 year old can throw harder than he does, and he's 43 years old."

I try and keep up for the benefit of my employer (he gives bonuses for knowing the team leaders in each category, although I'm pretty sure "How many times Terry Francona looks like he's having a seizure" isn't an "OFFICIAL STAT") and I'm fairly certain there aren't many teams where the guy most likely to be voted "Coolest Grandpa at Pre-School" is an official stat.

I do know this man is the epitome of what I'd like my Son's (If I'd ever gotten married) to emulate, knows his way around a lineup, and can make that doofus Alex Rodriguez look completely silly with a 61 mph pitch.

Which only makes me want him that much more.

Sorry; did I say that last line out loud?

Back on topic, whoever is in charge of market research/development and company spokesman, please seek out Mr. Wakefield's representation on this matter. According to the imbecile, I mean upstanding citizen I'm employed by, this will be of great benefit to your company.

In closing, please accept my condolences on the future phone calls you'll be recieving. It really is in your best interest to make Mr. Wakefield your spokesperson within the next few months. He's like a retarded pit bull in that regard.

I've tried to tell my employer that deranged and stupid is no way to go through life, but I'm fairly certain he's not listening.

Sincerely,

Miss Hathaway

P.S. Is there any way you could slip Timmeh my phone number?