Stuff That Sucks: Volume III

suckI’ve been a bit distracted over the past two weeks, which has had an adverse effect on my ability to generate coherent thoughts on those crazy Redbirds, or really on anything else for that matter.  Some might blame it on the amount of alcohol I’ve consumed over this short period of time, but that would only be partially to blame.  In any case, I’ve missed you lovely people!  What better way to illustrate that than by bitching and moaning incessantly about a bunch of random crap?  Nothing, I say!

Extra Innings – I had the pleasure of watching this past Saturday’s game against Milwaukee, as a result of the nice folks at Fox Sports who decided to make it a nationally showcased telecast.  Thanks, guys!  However, let me tell you one thing about watching contests like that.  The extra innings make me a mad woman!  Not only do they tend to be tedious, but they are also ten times as stressful as regular old run-of-the-mill innings.  EVERY SINGLE PITCH is honed in on and analyzed and strategized in ways that just don’t happen with 1 out in the bottom of the 4th.  Plus, you get pitching changes to coordinate with each subsequent batter that make those extra outs drag on FOR ETERNITY.  I swear, I aged about thirteen years on Saturday afternoon.  When Colby Rasmus finally singled in the winning run, I think I developed Alzheimers.

Vehicle Shopping – One of the biggest distractions of the past couple of weeks has been the fact that I’m in the process of purchasing a new set of wheels.  I’ve been driving the same car since I graduated high school (approximately one hundred years ago), so I finally decided over Memorial Day weekend to put the poor thing out to pasture and into retirement.  Having never purchased a vehicle before, this has been both illuminating and frustrating.  Who in the hell is actually in charge here?  How many different people does it take to coordinate this kind of thing?  I mean, it seems to be a fairly common practice.  Shouldn’t there be a predictable pattern?  The car is being delivered on Thursday, but as of press time, I still don’t know exactly how much it’s costing me or the terms of the loan I’m taking out against it.  I’m no expert, but those seem like relatively important things to know.  Could someone please get me a flow chart?

Denny Reyes – Going back to that Saturday game, I was ready to set fire to a basket of kittens and burn down an orphanage after Reyes choked up the lead and eliminated any possibility of Adam Ottavino notching his first big league victory.  What a big mean jerk!  Thanks for screwing everything up, DENNY!  I certainly hope he sent Adam a letter of apology or a large bouquet of Fruit Flowers afterwards.  It’s the least he could do after that disgusting display of futility.

Gas Grills – I am positively TERRIFIED of my gas grill.  Every time I go to light the thing, I’m convinced I’m going to die in a fiery explosion that quickly engulfs my entire city block.  There is no logical reason for me to assume this, yet I cannot stop the paranoid suspicion that an errant flick of the Aim-a-Flame is going to result in me being hurled to my death from my tenth floor balcony in a burning ball of flames.  I was reminded of this over the weekend when during a Saturday afternoon deep cleaning spree, I decided to clean off the ol’ grill and get it ready for summer.  I’m not kidding when I say my hand was trembling when I turned the gas on.  I’m a complete schizoid.

Bullpen Ballgames – You know those agonizing extra innings I mentioned earlier? Well, that’s pretty much how I imagine the entire game is going to be tonight, as Tony LaRussa has promised us a sampling of all the best the Cardinals bullpen has to offer.  Blake Hawksworth technically gets the start, but make no mistake, they’re probably going to trot out more pitchers tonight than is mathematically possible.  It’s going to be excruciating, which is why I’m happy I have plans with my girlfriends to watch The Bachelorette instead.  As painful as that no doubt will be, at least I will likely be drunk and in bed before the first pitch is thrown.

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