It's pretty amazing how a sports team can effect your mood. As a Mets fan, I've pretty bummed out so far this week. They've lost 5 in a row, while the second place Phillies have won 6 in a row to pull up within 2 games of first place.

I don't know why such a thing should bother any sane person. It's not like we, the fans, have any real control over what happens. The best we can do is buy a hot dog while at the game to help pay off Carlos Delgado's salary.

It's an odd bond between fan and team. You watch the team play every day, get to almost feel like you know each player. They have no clue who you are, and they don't care. You can cheer, rant, or cry all you want they're not going to win a game for you. They're playing because they want to win, not because you want to.

I suppose it's not much different than watching an action movie. Except in a movie, you know the good guy is going to win in the end. In baseball, there's no such guarantee. Every fan thinks their team is the good guy. There isn't really any bad guys (except for Barry Bonds). Everyone hates the Yankees and could possibly define them as the villains of baseball, but the Yankee fans would probably disagree with you.

So, logically we should all just be able to sit back and enjoy the game and not worry so much. Yeah, right....

Labels: barry bonds, baseball, mets, yankess

Moving out of your parents house is huge step in the path to independence from creepy guy living in his parents' basement. It's a well known fact that most of these creeps surf the internet anywhere from 0 to 24 hours a day. So there's a good chance you, the reader, might be one of these guys. Therefore I'm going to share some of my vast experience of the subject with you poor fools.

After I moved out of parents house I had a hard time adjusting. I probably should of figured out what I was going to do before I moved out, you know like decided where I'd live, where I'd get money, or learn how to cut the crust off my peanut butter and jelly sandwiched myself.

I moved to Greece for a while. I remember learning when I was a child that the Gods lived at the Acropolis. Unfortunately when I got there all I found was a stray cat roaming around. I worshiped the cat for a while until one day a dog killed it. I thought maybe the dog was the real God letting me know that I'd been worshiping a fake God, but I also wondered if the dog was actually the devil. It was all very confusing, so I moved back to America where I can find a Jesus in every church to worship.

Life was hard when I got back, I needed to find a place to live. They say home is where the heart is. That's stupid, I can't live inside my own chest. I've also heard people say "home sweet home." I guessed I'd know when I'd find my home because it'd taste good. This knowledge didn't help me much though. Real Estate brokers tend to give you weird faces if you lick the walls while they're showing you a house. They got pissed and I think I got Tuberculosis, which landed me in the hospital. But that's okay it gave me a place to sleep for a while, well until the nurses kicked me out for tasting the floors.

Eventually I was taken in by some bums who lived behind the 7-Eleven. They actually had a pretty nice set-up. They built a hut out of discarded slurpree syrup. Sometimes the guy who ran the place would feel sorry for us and give us some free big bite hot dogs, which we'd use to lure in rats and pigeons to eat.

Yeah, life was pretty sweet at that point, but it still seemed something was lacking. I'm not sure what is was. Perhaps it was the fact that we had no heating, or roof. We tried to make a roof out of old newspapers once, but people kept coming around reading our house. It was especially annoying when some commuter in a hurry would peel off one of our buttresses off to read on the train. I took my concerns to our lead resident, one leg Willie, but he called me a spoiled brat and kicked me out, well, not literally, Willie doesn't do much kicking anymore. It didn't matter much to me anyway, because although theslurpee was did taste pretty sweet, it just didn't seem right.

So I was on my own again. I spent a couple of nights walking around residential neighbors making a real sad face hoping someone might feel sorry for me and invite me to live with them. When that didn't work I tried sobbing as loudly as possible. That got the cops called anyway, and landed me in jail for the night.

Jail wasn't so bad though, it was free housing as far as I was concerned. I started to commit crimes every night so I could go back to jail. After a couple of nights the cops figured out my game and told me they were not going to arrest me anymore. I tried blowing up a couple of buildings, kidnapping the presidents daughters, not cleaning up after my dog, but the police didn't fall for any of it.

Back to square one, and pretty depressed, I decided to attempt the lowest thing possible. I started an internet blog. Now I'm no longer respected, but with the pennys I make every month off the Google ads I can afford a can of soda. It might not sound like much, but don't worry, I've got it all figured out. I'm going to hold onto that can and eventually the aluminum will go up value, like all precious metals do. It's either that or maybe Google will buy my website for 200 million dollars... hmm I have to remember to put a call in to Larry Page as soon as I save up enough cans to afford a cell phone.

Labels: 7-eleven, bums, god, google, greece, jail, larry page, moving

International movie star Lassie was arrested this past weekend after being suspected of running illegal football games in his Hollywood estate.

Cops paid a visit to Lassie's home on Friday night when neighbors complained of a foul odor coming from the area. Inside they found an illegal football game in progress being watched and held by a number of high rolling canines.

"It was awful, it's turns out the bad odor was the Cleveland Browns," Officer Mike Neil told us, "I haven't seen anything that made me this sick to the stomach since Mr. Bean's Holiday."

Many of the football players were injured with strained hamstrings, scraped knees, and hurt feelings. One player yelped in the corner because his helmet was too tight.

Ingred Termso of PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Athletes) spoke out the issue earlier today on a televised press conference.

"It is horrible. Horrible. When will American learn that they are evil. Watching these 'sports' is not fun for anyone. You are all sick. You should die. You are dumb. What is wrong with you guys? Listen to me. It is not natural. Watch some paint dry or a nice game of Monopoly. These are fun, ethical alternatives. You are evil if you like sports. You will pay," Termso went on like that for a while... probably, I don't know, I was too busy paying attention to the Met's score scrolling across the bottom of the screen, and too lazy to hit the replay button on the TiVo remote.

Meanwhile matters have gotten worse for Lassie, whose real name is Haig Lassaderian. It is now being reported that as many as fifty bodies of football players have been dug up from the backyard of her house. Many electrocuted, some hung, a couple drowned, one killed with kindness.

Lassie was scheduled to begin shooting a comedy next month with Chris Tucker and Michael Ian Black about a two men who give birth to a dog, but the project now seems like it's in jeopardy.

"Damn it," Black told us, "Every time I'm about to finally hit it big something goes wrong. First my annoying personality, then my lack of acting ability, and now this."

All may not be lost however.

"Did you hear they're going to make another Pink Panther movie with Steve Martin and John Cleese. I didn't think the first one did that well," Officer Mike Neil told us.

We're not sure what that has to do with anything, but he said it.

Labels: dogs, football, lassie, Mr. Bean, sports