"It's great to be young and a Yankee."

I never really liked the expression Sunday Funday because Monday gets the shaft on that one. Monday rhymes with Funday just as much as Sunday does, but no one ever says "Monday Funday"

Regardless, yesterday which was Sunday was a pretty fun day, as it were. In terms of sports, anyway. Outside of sports, all I did was sleep and move my cat in and out of harms way, as the door to the house continued to be ambiguously absent.

(I don't know, I woke up on Saturday and there was a note from my mom that said, "Call Mike about the door." So I called the number she provided and "Mike" came over, and removed the door from the hinges and ran off with it. He puts the door back on the hinges at about 10pm and then it's gone by the time I wake up.)

My dad returned from the Pet Cemetery Owners Convention, with a disappointing lack of stories about the affair. All he said was that they like to drink alot, someone was dressed up in full cowboy gear with a girlfriend dressed as Pocohontas, and that no one wanted to play pool with him. You know, all things you'd expect.

Both the Yankees and the Giants pulled off wins yesterday in miraculous fashion. The Giants more so miraculously than the Yankees.

I just learned that Ohyob only reads my blog posts when he is mentioned somewhere in the post. Which means that from now on, I'm going to shoehorn his name somewhere within the recap.

Ohyob: Litora Aues quaerunt te. Suae quisque vult quod hic eras. Where's Ohyob? He's actually in here.

I'm not gonna recap the Giants game (for obvious reasons, but to be clear, I'm not going to recap the Giants game because I'm not CGC, I'm CYC.)

I'll briefly touch upon the ridiculous G-men win at some point, but in the interest of staying on topic, (weird) then I'll start with teh Yankees. Who managed to patch together a win using the most unlikely of suspects:

R-Mart
ZPack3
Swish

Swish BUNTED which made my jaw drop to floor because he's about as good at bunting as I am at crocheting and/or staying on topic.

ZPack3 stole 3 bases which made my jaw drop to floor because he rarely does anything relevant beyond paying defense like a semi-conscious hedgehog.

R-Mart hit a 3-run bomb which made my jaw drop to floor because the consistency at which he fails offensively is generally quite remarkable.

That last item of the bullet points put the Yankees up 5-0 by the time the 3rd inning was through (excitement!)

Anyways, I told you they'd win those last 2. Unfortunately, the f'n O's also won last night, because they're so goddamn annoying. They're starting to remind me of the freaking seagulls at the beach who, you throw ONE tostito at them, and then a whole flock of 'em comes over and starts squawking at you for more. And before you know it, you've got an empty bag of tostitos and a million seagulls and a weird tan line and nothing done on your crossword puzzles. Yeah, the O's are exactly like that.

Maddon gets ejected and he sucks because then he makes this comment about the chances of being in the playoffs: "The math isn't in our favor." Oooh, look at you, you know how to do math. Now you're just showing off. Everyone knows how I feel about math, so this is just a particular slap in the face.

Go kick rocks, Maddon.

Then he switches to something more in my wheelhouse: "The baseball gods have created 2 wild cards." No, not the baseball gods. Baseball gods refer to other things, like things you can't control. Wild cards aren't created by baseball gods, they're created by baseball BRASS. I hate him. He doesn't even know what he's talking about ever.

Our ace Kuroda (hahaha this will never stop being weird) struck out 10 in 6 innings, bringing him to a career high of 14 wins in the season. R-So got the save, and I've said it before but it bears repeating that he has been every bit as Mo-like as Mo is. Seriously. How do you think Mo would have done this season? Unless we assume he would have had 41 saves in 43 chances, then R-So has been just otherworldly.

Meanwhile, this is what Mo is doing at home:

Mo living the dream.