Barry Does Baseball

I ran into a guy in a hallway recently. I hadn't seen the guy in several years. The guy asked me if I knew where I'd been. I answered, "No. Do you?"

I have mentioned my eternal battles with those pesky vending mentions on this blog before. Well, I was using one yesterday and waiting for a Mountain Dew to drop out of the thing when some fat woman comes waddling into the vending area and inquires if I can change a 10 spot for her. I ignored her plea, and instead told her that "...this machine is making me crazy." This lardy wonder responds, "What happened? Did it eat your money?" I said, "No, I underpaid by 15 cents for a MD and feel extremely guilty about it. I've been standing here trying to get this machine to accept a dime and a nickel from me, but it just gives me a 15 cent credit toward another purchase. I'm about to lose it here." Looking frazzled, she said, "You mean you're trying to give the machine more money after you received your drink?" "Yes, of course I am. Do I look like the kind of freak who'd steal 15 cents from a struggling vending machine company, especially in these economic times?" The fatty said, "You've got to be the only person who'd worry about it. I've never heard of such a thing." I said, "You have no idea." And she didn't.

I commented on the girl-like nature of Barack Hussein Obama's jump shot the other day. And I'll be damned, but Barry was at it again yesterday - only this time on the baseball diamond. I haven't seen footage of the toss toward the plate that Barry limply hurled in DC myself. But according to Geilfuss, it was, and I quote, "awful, awful, awful." I can't say I'm at all surprised. Barry seems to play every sport either like a girl (hoops, baseball), or a retard (bowling {and remember, that was Barry's own self-analysis, not mine}). The thing that interested me was that Barry was talking to some sports media folks about being a White Sox fan after the embarrassingly wild and to the left "pitch," and they asked who his favorite player was growing up. And he couldn't name one. Not ONE. What a fucking phony. Barry grew up in the late 60's to late 70's, and granted, the White Sox generally sucked during those years, but to not be able to name a single player??? I could name a hundred or more Cincinnati Reds from the mid 70's to mid 80's, in a matter of a few minutes. And our phony, throws like a girl, tyrant of a leader can't name one player from his youth who played on his favorite team. I don't know what more you need to know about this pitiful liar. Lastly on this, the most pressing and important question I had for Geilfuss about the whole spectacle of Barry weakly heaving the baseball towards home plate yesterday was, "Did he wear those mom jeans again?"

Well, another wild hoops tournament has come to a conclusion. And I'd be remiss if I didn't thank the Butler Bulldogs for coming through like champions last night. They covered that ridiculous number with little problem. Huge. Huge.

...this is starting to sound the same