Sox lose first Spring Training game against the Yankees and I lose three days worth of baseball news.
I just wrote a big, long post to go with this picture and fucking Blogger had an "Internal Service Error" and erased it!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGH!
Okay, I am now supremely pissed. Things like this are capable of ruining my entire day. Fuck you Blogger you fucking ASSHOLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Maybe it will show up in my email or something.....goddamn stupid motherfucking internet.
In lieu of the other, better post that I wrote today, I will tell you about this dream I had the other night which has finally made me realize what a hopeless dork I am and always will be: So I'm living on the cul-de-sac from Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, the one underneath the highway overpass where the Johnson House is. And I've just gotten this motorized ten-speed bike that I'm riding up and down the street, and it's summer and I'm all happy and content. When I go back home, my parents (with whom I'm still living in my dream) have gone out on an errand and I'm all alone, so I start watching cartoons in the living room. There is a knock on the door. I open the door, and there stands Manny Ramírez, whom I recognize to be a friend of the family. I let him in, and we sit on the living room floor together and watch some cartoons. Then Manny gets up and says, "I'm kinda tired, I'm going to go take a nap." He walks down the hall and goes into a bedroom and lays down. I follow him.
Okay, ladies and gentleman: Here it is! Sarah finally has had a dream in which she has Manny Ramírez laying prone on a bed - a dream in which anything Sarah can imagine can happen - anything in the world - and what do I do in my dream? What do I do when I walk into the bedroom and find Manny Ramírez laying on my bed? I yell: "Hey, let's wrassle!" and I run, jump, and try to land an Atomic Elbow on him.
Let's Wrassle. That's what I say. And then I try to drop an elbow.
Folks, this is why I'm the biggest loser of all times. I always say that in my head I still feel like a nine-year old, and now here is concrete evidence. At least my husband can be proud because I am faithful to him even in my dreams! ::smooch for Mike::