Today, Followers, marks a momentous occasion in this intellectual juggernauts career. The culmination of months of not-very-hard work has finally come to fruition; I'm a paid motherfucking sport writer now.
The folks down at the Philadelphia Weekly have found my superior words and thought worthy of their hallowed pages, amongst the esteemed company of Dan Savage, local sex ads and shitty local band listings. It'll make great wrapping paper come the stupid alternative holiday your college friends invented in lieu of Christmas because your families were ashamed to have you home.
They nipped a little venom from me words but, all-in-all, they remained true to you Editor. Here she is in internet form. Enjoy.
In other news, I'm back from Ireland. Finally. That place is beautiful and rich in history but nobody cares about the Phillies. AT ALL. Next...
On the train to Dublin I saw something that's not very common in Ireland but all too common across the Irish Sea. I watched a little black british man pummel the fuck out a Eastern European. It was this heathen cunt:
and this woman. He's wearing a yankees jeff-cap. Filth.
Believe me but I was truly too far to do anything about the grievous assault as it took place before the train guards broke in. I was about 8 rows away and surrounded by Irish 90-year-old woman screaming that the man had no manners. Seriously.
Supposedly the woman called the man a monkey and then slapped him but, from where I was sitting, this did not justify him getting on-top of his chair to fully bash her head with his boot while ripping at her hair.
I'm not lying. Check out this top-fucking-notch journalism. Sheesh. What a fucking Pulitzer worthy piece.
Tonight. Is. The. Phucking. Night. Followers. The roster is set, sorta and the blood is boiling. I had constant dreams last night about this fucking game. I'm actually freaking out. I haven't been so anxious since my first herpes swab. I'm fucking manic. I walked to Wawa at 6am and said "GO PHILS!" to every person I crossed paths with. Brotherhood. NLDS Game 1. 8 Hours away. BOOOOOOOOOOYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!
OK, now I'm going to jerk-off to my article. Fuck new york and, Really, Let's go Phils! No time for cryptic bullshit.
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