Twins 9, Tampa Bay 1
Tuesday, 1 May. Weight: 240 (lost 5 lb of incredible burden on shoulders) ERA: 6.67 (v.v.v.g.! and game ERA 1.29 even better!) Alcohol Units: undisclosed amount (top secret!).
Had v.g. dream last night. Visited by B. Ruth, who revealed top secret blood alcohol level most conducive to pitching (surprised to see it not 0.0!) Is secret known only to self, D. Wells, and D. Eckersley. Was excited to get to pitch today. Felt confident until realized dilemma. Have been v. concerned about ass lately, what with eminent domain issue from rapid expansion, and also v. concerned as discovered Bat-Girl v. interested in asses of Twins. Probably have spent too much time worrying about how ass looks on mound. Would pitch better if wore scary, stomach squeezing underpants preferred by grannies the world over. However, not suitable for locker room attire, as would be mocked. Normally wear much more acceptable black pearl/lace thong. Decided that, since had just discovered how to have drink and pitch too, must go with scary pants. Had slip-up in first inning, as heard J. Bartlett snicker "Granny panties!" just as was making pitch. Ended up hitting E. Dukes, he of the sexy, chiseled arms. When D. Young came up to bat in second inning, gave self knowing wink that threw off timing, gave up dinger. But, remembered, am mature adult comfortable with self (finished reading My Pitching Coach, Myself just last night) and do not need Smug DesignatedHittereds mocking choice of undergarments. Pitched scoreless innings after. Not bothered by abundance of base-runners, as does not matter if do not cross plate. Not bothered by long flyouts that could have been homeruns if hitter had just gotten bit more of pitch, as were still in park and still outs. Knew was looking great, pitching great, beyond reproach, Hall-of-Fame performance. Received chest thumps from L. Castillo (who asked self if had lost weight), warm hug from J. Cirillo (he of dreamy eyes, so glad had love handles under control), handshake from R. Anderson (Why not butt pat? Butt so entirely pattable, could bounce quarter off butt. Could bounce Quarter Pounder with Cheese off butt!). Went home, peeled self out of underpants (could not fit even one drink in stomach with stomach compressed so), poured drink (not starting tomorrow! B.A.L. nonissue!), and started diary for Bat-Girl. When refreshed page, realized had made right decision about scary pants. Was rewarded for ass-wrangling underpants-related humiliation by first Boyfriend of Day. Elated. May never wash scary pants again.
Posted by Donnalove at May 1, 2007 10:58 PM