Hot Out Here for a Pimp

Yesterday was our first day off in a while. I know I'm on the DL but playas like me need a vacation even when we don't play.

As most of you know, I am engaged to be married to a Maxim hometown hottie. You know how we do. And since we had yesterday off, I decided to treat my baby right and took her out to a phat dinner last night. I wanted to show her that under this sick yolked exterior was a romantic, but super buff, dude. So I took her ass to the 'Lob.

That's right: Red Lobster.

You know, when playas like me are straight 'Lobbin it, we don't even need a reservation. C. Piddy walks right in and gets a table instantly. In the middle of Lobsterfest no less. Holla atcha boy when you see him in the STREET.

It was a beautiful evening -- though my baby did look a little stressed. I knew things were gettin' real when she started crying, so I took out one of my earbuds to listen to her and moved my iPods volume level from MAX to medium. Problem was, I still couldn't hear her over a sick ass guitar solo.

But it was just that simple act of removing one of my earbuds that made her know she will always be my #3 priority (behind ball and food. And I guess working out.) Yeah that's right. Even C. Piddy has a sensitive side. But at least I'm gettin' play!

But of course, a playa's life is never easy and today it was BACK TO THE GRIND of watching my team play.

Tonight's game was truly heinous-sauce. Guys, don't get me wrong, I love A.J. Burnett like a brother, and I have ever since we won a World Series together. He's like a best friend to me, and he is probably going to be the godfather to my children. But he's an overrated, overpaid, underperforming piece of shit, and there's no excuse for us not beating his weak ass. None. He's horrible. And he'll be the first to admit it.

I'm getting so tired of watching my team lose. For real, it's really tiring. I had to take a nap for the middle innings of tonight's game. I even had a dream we scored a run.

I feel a little bad about this kid Hughes. But come on, four and a third innings? You call that busting your ass? At least have the decency to get that last .17 of an inning to make it to the halfway point of the game.

I told him to bring his "A-Game" but it looks like he brought his Triple-A game instead. I tried busting his ass back down to the minors after the game but in the middle of my speech skip told me to hit the whirlpool, so I stopped what I was doing and sprinted towards that tin tub and dove in head first.

But all is well, tomorrow we're playing the Boston SlumpBusters. There's no better cure for a losing streak than playing those homo's from BASTAN and their batting cage pitcher Dice Gay Matsufaga.

PEACEINTHEMIDDLEEAST

p.s. - I've been watching some NBA Playoff action in the clubhouse. I think I'm gonna rock the Rip Hamilton face mask when I come back. But put real bobcat wiskers on it. Sick as fuck.