Apr. 18th, 2007

soxgrrl: (jasonsmilecaptext)
Dougie steppin' up for his man (and Wakey all twitterpated over him in the post-game show)...

A Sox blowout that still features Jonathan Papelbon in a save situation(?!)...

Our two starters whose collective age is somewhere around 80 holding the Angels to 1 run in 15 innings...

Oh, and just for shits and giggles the Angels turning that critical double play when they only needed one out...

Now that’s more like it!

(Of course, if they’d just refrained from swinging the bat at all against Carrasco today, they probably would’ve scored about 15 runs via the base on balls—okay, okay, I’ll stop nitpicking.)

Oh, is it just me, or should we move Eric Hinske to the clean-up spot? Guy’s on fire right now.

Sigh. The only downside to this baseball weekend is that after two fantastic games, my ticket is for the one that’s probably going to be flooded out. God, my instincts suck.

In completely non-baseball related news, after years as a faux-redhead I finally dyed my hair back to its natural color...or something closely resembling what I vaguely recall my actual hair color to be. (I honestly can’t remember exactly—you should’ve seen me standing before the rows of Garnier Nutrisse wearing an uncanny approximation of the Jeff Weaver Face as I tried to determine precisely which shade of dark brown I needed. It was pathetic.) Anyways, it somehow looks right and yet completely weird at the same time. Does that make any sense?
soxgrrl: (wakey and dougie)
Ugh. The offense turns back into a pumpkin, and I have to spend 3 hours looking at housefly/alien baby hybrid Gustavo Chacin.* Put it all together, you get nine innings of ugly (though I will confess to getting a little hot ‘n’ bothered at Okajima’s striking out the side ::purrs::).

Am beginning to suspect there’s a locker somewhere on Yawkey way containing all the ingredients of a Transposition of Run Support Mojo spell—little wax figures of Wakefield and Matsuzaka (complete with a hair or a nail clipping or some such bodily detritus) melted together midst a ring of ashes, a sprig of belladonna, perhaps some eye of newt...

Not that I’d ever suspect our boy Timmy of dabbling in the Dark Arts (there’s not enough crack in the world), but Dougie...well, a good catcher helps out his pitcher any way he can, right?

We’ll see what happens tonight.

*Given that Chacin is obviously the product of some sort of X-Files-ish alien cloning experiment, I don’t understand why the Jays don’t throw (one of) him against the Red Sox every game. Save some wear and tear on Halladay.


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