Our version of "Tessie," cooler than the Dropkick Murphys, no?
That's our girl cat, Tess. We don't really call her Tessie, because it sounds really fucking dumb, but I am now officially appointing her Official Rally Cat of the 2004 ALDS. What makes Tess so cool?
1. she sleeps on her back (as illustrated)
2. she is fat as hell (as illustrated)
3. she snores (probably sleep apnea or something...hey, she's a big girl)
4. she's just plain cute
5. we rescued her from an abusive home and now she's all happy and well adjusted
6. she's Mike's favorite
7. I've noticed on more than one occassion that when the Sox were losing and Tess jumped up into my lap (painful) they started to come back. Maybe it's the name.
Conversations at work about the playoffs:
Charles (who looks like Pedro's evil twin brother): Ooooh, the Sox are playing Anaheim? That's going to be a good series right there. I'll tell you what, the Sox had a big night last night. Manny went 6-7 with four homeruns.
Me: Chas, what in the hell are you talking about?
Charles: MVP Baseball 2005, I've been playing with Boston lately, they're fucking unbeatable!
Me: But what about in real life? How do you think they'll do?
Charles: Aw, shit, boo, you got nothing to worry about.
Me: (walking out of the walk-in with an arms full of herbs, butter and spinach, chanting) Schill-ing! Schill-ing! Schill-ing! We're going to do it this year, Curt-o! (Curtis is the downstairs sous chef/sports nut)
Curtis: Didn't you say that last year?
Me: And I mean it every time!
Curtis: You don't, like, wear the same clothes for good luck or anything like that, do you?
Me: I once wore the same pair of knee-high velour socks for five days in a row. And I wore the same shirt for three or four days once.
Kevin: (my new station partner) ...and all that other shit that doesn't matter.
Me: Hey, superstitions are like religion. Of course it doesn't mean anything and it doesn't help, but people care so much about the issue involved that even though they are helpless they still invent a way to imagine they can control something that is completely OUT of their control, be it death or a baseball game way out in California, so don't rain on my fucked-up parade, Kevin.
Curtis: You don't wear the same underwear, too, do you?
Me: Hey Curtis, in case you didn't notice, I'm trying to have an intelligent conversation with someone, and - big surprise - it's not you. It's an A-B conversation so why don't you C your way out?
Antonio: (a downstairs cook who swoops in out of seemingly nowhere and cleans Curtis up for me by saying) -ya, before D jumps over E and F's you up!
I'm starting to get nervous now. Real nervous. We get our big produce order in tomorrow, so I plan on going into work even earlier than I usually do and just immersing myself in cleaning chanterelles and tourneing carrots and getting some serious, hardcore, hands-on love-time with some expensive product so that I can't fret. Cause I'm starting to fret. Oh my god what if they lose? But what if they win? AAAAAAGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! I can't do this again this year. Please. I don't want to go through it, but I don't want it to end...too soon, anyway, you know what I mean? But I just can't take the waiting and waiting and waiting and oh my god can you imagine how fucking cool it's going to be to see Schilling on the mound in a Red Sox uniform in tha mothafucking PLAYOFFS????