Well, no, but I’m afraid there won’t be much dancing today, anyway. The little guy injured himself Wednesday throwing me batting practice, and he’s just now able to get out of bed after taking a vicious line drive off the snout. Which, I feel bad for him an all, but then that’s what you get when you leave your slider flat and hanging out over the plate like a ripe melon—especially if you’re only throwing, say, 16-20 mph, and I’m in a fucking zone!
Line drive? Armadillo? Snout? You sure it wasn’t a grounder?
No, it was a liner. He was just up on his back legs, and his follow through doesn’t leave him in good fielding position. We need to work on that.
Don’t let PETA find out about this.
First it is Frank Thomas and his broken foot, and now the armadillo and his mashed snout. What a lousy day for baseball…
Manual trackback: It’s in the genes…
So now you have to feed the little guy a grub worm, insect, small mammal blender parfait with an eyedropper through the metal of his wired-up snout. Actually, nice move. That takes care of what, the next six Fridays?
. . .oh wait. I forgot he healed up nicely one week after having his legs cut off. Never mind.
Question: How do you feel about the nightlife? Boogying?
Once he came to, how did the little fella react to the Byrnes for Bigbie trade?
Seems like a weird deal.
Yeah, that is what you get. In fact, it’s almost like he was asking for it, you know? That’ll learn him.
I was thinking of the little dancing dude this morning after I traded in some paperbacks for a used “ABBA Gold” CD. Driving home I was just so happy.
You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen
Dancing queen, feel the beat from the tambourine
You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life
See that girl, watch that scene, diggin’ the dancing queen
He must be able to get some nice movement on the ball, what with his little claws, and all.
Phils 8, Rockies 7. Three in a row. Neener neener.
Salt Lick,
Gee, thanks for that. I might have to go to the garage and get a drill – SO I CAN BORE A HOLE IN MY SKULL TO GET THAT #$%^& SONG OUT OF IT.
Ditto what Major
TomJohn said. I had, “See that girl, watch that scene, diggin’ the dancing queen” running friggin’ rampant in my skull–especially that “diggin’” dung–the moment I read that dreck. Had to slap on the headphones and call up some Ramones to baseball beat those weeners right out of my mind.In a huge break in the Natalee Holloway case, there has been no new sign of Natalee Holloway.
Yes, they do this at Gitmo, also.
Knowing me, knowing you (ah-haa)
There is nothing we can do
Knowing me, knowing you (ah-haa)
We just have to face it, this time we’re through
Breaking up is never easy, I know but I have to go
Knowing me, knowing you
It’s the best I can do
Your armadillo is Matt Clement? You never mentioned the beard.