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*Source: Cone Zone fanmail. At an ice cream shop in my hometown, a bulletin board displayed thank you notes from a bunch of toddlers who came to the Cone Zone to see how ice cream was made. The rosetta stone of hilarious kid rhetoric was posted up there, too:

Dear Cone Zone,
Thank for teeching
[sic] us how to make ice cream. I likked [sic] it alot. I espleshily [sic] likked [sic] the gumi [sic] bears and the hot fuge [sic]. It was so good I almost exploded [f-ing awesome].



So I echo Kevin's sentiments when I say I'm 100% enamored of this team.

3 homeruns in a row! That definitely is something that loses something a little when you experience this feat via Gamecast. I know they TRY to make it exciting by writing HOMERUN!! in flashing letters, but there's something a little anticlimatic about this:

And it makes it infinitely more awkward looking for little Kevin Cash, when he just strikes out swinging. It's adorable though, because it means that this guy was literally swinging for the fences. It reminds of that Onion article:

At-Bat Following Grand Slam Just Kind Of Awkward

July 10, 2008 | | Onion Sports

HOUSTON—Astros right fielder Hunter Pence expressed consternation following teammate Miguel Tejada's seventh inning grand slam, saying the proceedings took a decided turn for the awkward from that moment on. "Now where does that leave me exactly?" Pence said after the game, referring to the at-bat in question, in which the sixth-place hitter took two called strikes before hitting a check swing grounder to second base. "Not to mention the fact that when I got up there it was 7-0 all of a sudden. Best case, and I'm talking about if everything goes perfectly, I would've driven in one run, maximum. I felt like an idiot." Cardinals pitcher Ryan Franklin, the man who gave up the grand slam in question, calmly retired the next three batters, walked down to the visiting clubhouse, and took his own life.

The Yankees of the past week have been like the photo negatives of their former selves. In every sense. I don't know what got into them, but I like it. The pie in the face post-walkoff? Confusing but pie is pie. Yum. Nick Swisher's mohawk? Swisher can do whatever the hell he wants, in my book, because the guy is about 10 minutes away from sainthood.

I feel like I'm in that movie "Dave" about the President body-double who's a placeholder for the real Prez who's currently in a coma. And the country's confused because the Prez used to be less personable than a Doberman, with about as much joie d' vivre as the Scripps Spelling Bee word reader.

But the NEW Dave is fun and charismatic and productive. I hope the Yankees aren't in a coma, but if they are, I hope they love the franchise enough to stay that was for another few months, if possible.

OR, what if the Yankees took some kind of magic kid potion? And one day it wears off? Like when Donald Duck found the voice pills that made him speak clearly, and then one day he ran out of them, right as he was trying to propose to Daisy Duck.

Either way, this is the box score from yesterday's game, and there's one number that makes me more besides myself with unbridled adoration for this team, than other:



That number was circling around triple digits a few weeks ago. The Yankees were treating the bases like I treat my hangers: put as many shirts and jackets on one hanger as possible. Never take them off hanger. Wear t-shirt instead.

But not only did the Yankees score, and score early..not only did they go yard a few times with people other than Tex and ARod, but in the 8th inning, they decided to see what the big deal with manufacturing runs is anyway.

Loaded the bases and then cleared them. WITH SOMETHING OTHER THAN A LONGBALL.

I'm still having trouble wrapping my head around this. I love this team. Phil Hughes had 9Ks and his throws look SICK. He only went 5 on account of a handfull-at most-bad pitches that the Os connected with, but I can easily forgive those blunders based on the ridiculous control and sharp movement that the lion share of his throws were demonstrating.

Jesus Christ, when Wang gets back the Yankees will be in a position that may trump all of these aforementioned aberrations. Too. Many. Good. Pitchers.

My head might actually explode if this comes to fruition.

In other unrelated Yankee news:

1.) Kris Allen wins American Idol, making me the most excited dingdong in the world. Because now I get to pretend all the headlines are about me. This is something I particularly enjoyed during Kris Benson's tenure on the Mets, until Anna Benson usurped his celebrity-dom with her slutty trump card.

The weirdest part of the American Idol showdown was that the other finalist's name was Adam (my ex's name) so I kept taking personal offense when I'd read statuses like "Emily hopes Adam kicks Kris's ass!"

2.) After going 48 hours without sleeping so much as 1 minute, I hit a wall last night. In spades. I left work at 9, got home, ate 2 slices of pizza, got my laundry, and then I don't know what happened after that. I DO know that I woke up at 6:30am with melted Tasti Delite ALL over me, along with a potpourri of sour and gummy candy. And this is the worst part: I was so delirious that my first reaction was supreme disappointment that the ice cream was I tried to scrape it off my face and put it on a piece of paper and stick it in the freezer. None of that plan made sense.

Text exchange with me and Laur:

3:21pm-- How are you feeling, snoozer?
3:32pm--i was the most delirious ever this morning and last night. I woke up with ice cream allll over my face. candy too. everywhere.
3:41pm--Ha nice. Sounds like heaven!
3:47pm--No heaven would be if any of it made it into my mouth.


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