This Is Why I'm Hot

Whattup Playas? After last nights wack loss I'm personally guaranteeing no more losses to the Sux this year. 17-1 I'm so fucking juiced just typing it out. 17-1. You call that a rivalry? Shit, the D-Rays could probably have more success against us. They won't, though.

Batter up: let's talk about the game. Did you see my man A-Rod? Straight boss! He was like a sick holdem starting hand: Two jacks. Bling. Bling. I know it's a little early in his career, but I think when all is said and done, people could think of him as the C. Piddy of position players. He's so real it's surreal -- like beating Altered Beast without losing a man.

Allow me to get very real with everybody, though. It hurt me so much to watch us blow that lead that I called up George and begged him to let me pitch left handed. I'm not gonna go 100% with it, but C. Piddy at 70% still has a decent 96mph curve. The animal in me just went mad watching MaRi blow another save. I didn't know what to do, I just started howling at the moon like a jacked ass wolf.

I mean, how do you let Coco Crisp hit a game-tying triple off of you? Shit, if I want to blow a lead to a cereal, I'll have Big George send me down to Triple-A Columbus where I can pitch to Joe Frankenberry of the Nashville Sounds.

I've told you playas right off the bat I'm going to keep it real with you, so here's a bucket sized dose of truth-sauce: Mariano Rivera is done.

Your eyeballs heard it here first. Don't get me wrong: he was probably one of the best closers of all time, but those days are behind him. It's bad enough to let all of your teammates and fans down by blowing the save, but to do it while wearing Jackie Robinson's number 42? That's downright racist.

When I come back off the DL, I'm pitching nothing but complete games. Nine innings, ten innings, twenty-two innings...it don't matter. You know I'm going to shut out the suckers on the other side, and I'll pitch however long it takes my teammates to score that one run we'll need to win. Absolutely core.

Anyway, what else. Oh yeah, had to buy another iPod on the way back to the hotel from Fenway last night. These pieces of shit drain in like... 4 hours. I barely get to use them before they die. Whateves, money aint a thing, this is like my 70th one. it just makes me wonder what normal people do.

All right, I'd write more, but I'm hungover as a donkey from clubbing last night. My 11 year old nephew Reid got his bone on with this slut from Boston College. She asked him if he was a little kid, and I said, "Naw, he's just got that Gary Coleman shit." C. Piddy's always thinking.

One more day till we rock Dice- Gay. I can't wait to see us hit those big fat gyro-sushi-balls back to Hong Kong. Jeter/Giambi/ARod are gonna go Tom Emanski-sauce on that bitch. Back to back to back playas!

See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya.

Kiss peace.

ps - This is why I'm hot. This is why I'm hot. This is why This is why This is why I'm hot -- Best. Song. Ever.