I know who my daddy is, do you Derek-san?
Nice shorts bro. Behold the majesty of A.J. Burnett's cavernously flared nostrils. Revel in their glory. The permanent sneer resembles a puckered asshole.
No way bud, those tattoos are stylin.
To the play by play.
Second inning. Matthew Staircase coming up with a prime cut to shoe in a ribeye. One-nothing Philadelphians.
Juice Ape's curve swerve gets him out looking, 5th K in the series. Let's see how long we can ride this out, eh? As much hubbub as there's been about A-Rod's supposed post-season renaissance, how tantalizing would a full world series thorough bed shitting be?
Raul Ibanez old man hero catch.
Bottom of the fourth. Teixeira gets the solo paint scraper. One to one. Heart to heart. You see how when he pops one it's a paint scraper and when Utley gets one in the same spot it's legit? You see how these things work? It's called bias. Turd bias. Weed out the turds and use em as compost, man.
Juice Ape third encounter. Now we're at 0-7, lookin good, feeling fine. Hideki Matsui, jewel of the orient, plops one over the fence. Two to One Yankees.
Runners on the corners in the bottom of the seventh with no one in the outhouse. Pedro needs a re-up of the Jheri Curl, but he gets yanked instead and smiles like a big goofball on his way out.
They're playing this at the Yankee crap shack to get the meatheads pumped:
Posada chinless wonder reels in a ribeye, outhouse is still unoccupied, 3-1. Lucky Philadelphian call on the double play, I'm not complaining.
Eigth inning. Rivera enters night and walks Rollins. The Hawaiian follows with a Clyde Singleton. All for naught.
Juice Ape with his fourth attempt at the razzle dazzle. 0-8 with another K. To quote a dude named Ronald, I'm lovin it. But, that's about all I'm lovin this evening. Yankers take it 3-1 and send it to Philadelphia with one a piece.
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