People,

What a horrible, disgusting, awful, terrible, sickening, heartrending, nasty, shitty, shameful, puke inducing crapfest of an evening.

If you had told me seven months ago that 9 overweight guys with terrible facial hair were not just going to break my heart but were going to shatter it into a million bleeding pieces I would have said "you're going to clone me nine times and then have me be mean to myself?" But that's not what happened. My beloved/hated Boston Red Sox reduced me to a pulp of withering tears last night.

Of course, this is why I've always been of the opinion that it's folly to get involved with pets or sports teams. In my life I've had more than enough problems with my actual human relationships, so the thought of forming an outside attachment to a dog or worse, a sports team, has always looked like heroin to me (i.e. that's prolly a lot of fun, but we prolly shouldn't fuck with it.) Anyway, I stuck the needle of the Sox in my arm and now I'm like some back-alley junkie rooting through a trash bin trying to figure out where it all went wrong....and, to my own disgust, looking forward to April.

Arg.