*Image courtesy of Kelly O and www.sittingstill.net*4-0.
6-2.
7-3
7-7.
10-7.
All the above were leads held by the Red Sox tonight against Toronto. Then Tito puts Papelbon in the game to get the last 4 outs and all of a sudden I'm on the phone with "1-800-Ineedadifibrilatorstat".
Before I can yell out "CHARGE" to Ang, it's 10-9 Red Sox, bases loaded, and I'm at the medicine cabinet throwing Flinstone vitamins willy nilly over my shoulder while I look for the nitroglycerin tablets I stole from my Dad 9 months ago.
Thankfully Pap got out of it before I found them. I'm pretty sure you can OD on nitro; at least I saw an episode of ER once that makes me think that.
God, it's me. I know your'e there.
Can I please have a completely classless game sometime in the next week?
My heart, as well as my sanity would greatly appreciate it.
4 comments:
:falls down in exhaustion:
I feel the same way.
Watching baseball shouldn't be such a contact sport.
Ted, in the interest of accuracy, that shot of Paps isn't mine. (I wish it were!)
And I have to assume that he wants to kill all of us. Or, possibly, that he has more migraines than he lets on (he didn't look well to me last night) and has decided that if HE'S going to suffer, we're ALL going to suffer!
Kelly, thanks for the correction; could have sworn that was yours. And your theory about him wanting to kill us makes sense.
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