Randy, Haladay, Chien

That's it, I'm starting to attend games. The one last night must have been unbelievable to witness. Even though the yanks lost, I think overall the game points to good things from Randy. One bad pitch. I know we signed him to get W's, but if you look at his pitches, they are crisp. His slider was looking unbelievable, and his location was pretty spot-on. It's a tough loss, but you can't look at the game as an indication of bad things. You have to treated everything in life as an isolated incident. It's when you start saying, "You're ALWAYS late," or "We just can't win!" that you run into trouble. The bats slept last night because it was a pitcher's duel. It happens.

I think Jeter is about to come into a stellar streak. A-rod, of course, has rode out his moment in the sun to his critics, who are now whining he doesn't get hits in clutch situations. Guy can't win. I'm REALLY interested to see how Chien Ming Wang pitches today. And for the record, all you Brown infidels, you can't ignore the fact that he pitched beautifully this past week. I think all these little kinks should have been worked out during spring training, but I'm very encouraged by the fact our pitchers are polishing their arsenals.

I think Chien is going to pitch a decent game today. I don't know why. I have a feel, though, that he's going to have Brad Halsey syndrome. Excellent opener in Yankee Stadium. Potential to get rattled in front of disapproving opposing fans. But what the hell do I know. I'm hoping for sick, unexpected brilliance from Chien. That would be hot like summer.

In other news, some chick from washington who I can only assume is the intern I so severely lambasted, is sending me hate mail about how my eyes are "different shapes and sizes." Kinda hurt my feelings, because while I knew they were different SIZES, my friends never pointed out they were different SHAPES. Bitches. That's the type of thing I want them to tell me about.

But the best part is that she's writing this mail under the pretense of being a dude. As if a dude would ever say, "Your eyes are unnerving." If a guy wanted to insult me, he'd attack my sports knowledge. That's just how it is. Since I've noticed the intern has made the rounds of googling herself, including a counterattack email to another blog, I feel a little ripped off I didnt get to relish direct email interaction.

My NY Post Immortal Medallion Collection display board is looking pretty cool on my mantle, next to my Rivera rookie card that I just bought. But on the other hand, I can't get past the fact that every time I look at that display board, I think, "I cannot believe I spent $3.50 every morning on buying one of those things." I swear to God, when I woke up this morning, I thought, "I'm so happy it's the weekend because that's 2 days of not having to pick up the medallions." Not that there's anything wrong with them. But every time I get one right before I get on the subway, I'm a little sad to part with those few dollars. And the worst part is, I have no qualms about dropping $80 on a night of drinking. At least I'll get to have tangible evidence of my idiotic spending habits with this Medallion thing. With the drinking, I can only hope I never see tangible evidence of it.

I'm going to an upper west side pub crawl in about 2 hours. The secret to avoiding "tangible evidence" is something I learned on my 21st birthday, when I managed to have 24 shots/drinks without ever throwing up. At all. (To be fair, I drank a shot or mixed drink every hour starting at midnight the second I turned 21 and ending at midnight. Very pragmatic. But still no small feat for a chick who weighs a buck and change.) The secret: Peanut butter sandwich. Power Bar. Right before you drink.

I'm serious. I don't have an iron stomach, I just have a stomach coated in Peanut Butter and protein.

Speaking of, time to prepare pre-daytime-drinking meal.