As was suggested to me yesterday this recent debacle against the pirates is similar to the mess we had last year going out to see the padres, only that was even more sad, at least against the pirates half our team was missing. Watching Big Pelf deliver his shittiest start ever couldn't have come at a worse time, like getting a herpes outbreak the day of your big date with sally slobsmeknob down the alley big pelf looked like a desperate man that couldn't get the lube on his palm quite right. I'm not a pitching coach but how bout you throw some fuckin strikes?!?!?! This would be a good starting point, i guess pelf's starts like this remind us of how lucky we are he didn't carry on with the way he was going two years ago when everytime i bought a ticket to shea the baseball gods would open up the flood gates so that i would inevitably be stuck watching an even younger mike pelfrey do his best impression of a major league pitcher.
I just realized that i might be the only one that knows why i bothered to go on and on like a drunken wfan 2am drunko skankee fan, so here's my explanation. I have nothing better to do at work except piss and moan, and there isn't a better topic than the mets. The jets are in the title of my blog but most likely won't get any love until that wonderful time of year where our AFC East supermodel QBs battle it out to see who can look the gayest in GQ while managing to drive every woman i know gaga and on to modells to get their jerseys.
Anyways if you have taken any time to even look at this page i applaud you because its all pretty sad. Blog on motha fuckas, blog on.
Punctuation is overrated.
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