Oh Ye Of Little Faith...

I confess, I didn't want to listen to the game on the radio tonight while I was at work.

(Scott Richmond) - (Michael Barrett) + (opposing team with hot offence) = ( ) and LJ being too nervous to get any work done.

But damn, I did the 6-49 Happy Dance around the office when I checked in online to see the box score and saw Richmond's line. I just about melted in my chair when I got home and saw the montage of nasty strikeouts. Even Mike Wilner is having himself a cuppa Koolaid.

It's easy to forget that although Richmond is 29, he's still a rookie and still on the learning curve. He had years off of baseball; it's not like he was burning his arm out sucking for a decade.

I absolutely love it when guys perform beyond expectations and silence the impossible-to-please negative asshats. I firmly believe in fair criticism, but like I always say, let 'em play the damn games. You can not know for certain what is going to happen, so if you can't be open-minded, shut up.



I went to a pair of autograph signings this week. Long story short: (a) even the least enthusiastic Jays were polite; most were sufficiently smiley and fun, (b) Scott Richmond was very smiley and fun, despite yours truly being a great big giant dorkwad, and (c) Michael Barrett is made of 100% awesome. Judging by the gesturing and goofy photo poses, I have some hope that the baseball gods answered our prayers and his shoulder isn't as bad as originally thought.

This Blog Is About To Get A Whole Lot Worse.

It's bad enough that they just opened a Shoeless Joe's right next to my nearby grocery store. Now, I'm reading an ad announcing that they have free WiFi. Coincidentally, I just bought a teensy-weensy Acer Aspire One.

Stuff.

I got nothin', really.

Just massive props to Jordan Bastian, Photojournalist, for making our lives complete over the last week or so. ♥

Earlier this week, a friend and I were musing about how, back in the day, "spring training" was little more than a teaser on the radio while we were trying to drag our sorry asses out of bed at ridiculous o'clock in the morning to go to school. Now, it seems like we're practically there. What did we do before the 'net?

--

Y'know what's a real tongue-twister when yer drunk off yer ass?
"Your Jays toque kicks my Jays toque's ass."

Spring Yet?

*climbing walls*

Inside the Clubhouse

So next in the series of Flex Pack perks was an autograph signing with Pink Round Efficient Wonder™ Jesse Litsch and Great Big Pasty White Hope™ Travis Snider at the Rogers Centre.



If you were there, and you saw two chicks being total spazzes, laughing hysterically, taking a gazillion pictures, pretending to move our stuff into a locker, diving on the big comfy couch, I swear, I had nothing to do with it.

Honest.