Anaheim at Twins. Angels 8, Twins 3.

Oh, thank the maker! All this incessant winning was really growing tiring. I mean, Batgirl was going to lose all her sass and become some kind of blogging equivalent of Hillary Duff. The girl can rock!

Batgirl's not particularly distraught about today's loss; we won the series. And Terry Mulholland's Portrait of Dorian Grey act has been fun to watch, but like all demonic contracts with paintings, sculpture, and miscellaneous objets d'art, it was bound to end. That's not to say Terence John can't get himself ensorcelled some other way—maybe a fountain of youth (watch for snakes), or a bargain with the devil, or maybe its modern equivalent--the extreme makeover. Whatever his poison is, Batgirl cares not for his immortal soul. He's 41—that's clearly been mortgaged away some time ago, and anyway we need his freakish inhuman rubber arm.

There's been something sort of sweet about having Mulholland in the dugout and in the bullpen. Here's a man who's seen everything in baseball, from the Black Sox scandal to Roger Maris to when Barry Bonds was skinny. He's got some perspective, and I thought it was sort of sweet that he managed to counsel Doug through his whole emotional apocalypse. And I hope the team can keep him on during the playoffs, perhaps as some sort of Wayne Hattaway-like spiritual advisor.

The pitching was Hattaway-esque today, the bases were loaded so often that Batgirl was taken back to her own brief pitching career in WESAC softball, when after nobody volunteered to take the mound she said, "I'll try!" That was the last time Batgirl ever volunteered for anything again, or indeed put herself out into the world in any way at all. She has spent every day since hiding under the bed muttering to herself about strike zones. ...But that's another story.

It wasn't all Terence's fault, though. Poor little Jason Bartlett may spend some time of his own under the bunk bed tonight, regretting he ever volunteered for this whole business. His first major league start at shortstop didn't go what you'd call well--he committed two errors and generally acted like he'd never actually played the game of baseball before. Batgirl's heart bleeds for him; it can't be easy to start your first game in the bigs, especially when you are obviously a giant mental spaz. BatMom and BatDad's kitties are on anti-anxiety medication right now; you actually give it to them by rubbing it behind their ears. Maybe that would help?

Regardless and irrespective, the Twins can go into the Oakland series feeling strong. We're one game ahead of them right now, for second place in the A.L., and thanks to Brad "So Sleepy" Radke we'll be sending out our two best pitchers for the first two games. (Hey, I know Brad, if you don't let anyone on in the 7th Gardy's much less likely to pull you!) So, sleep tight tonight, my precious darlings, and come back tomorrow ready to solider on.