oldtimefamilybaseball:

Derek Holland Sans Mustache: 1.2 IP, 8 H, 8 ER, 2 BB, 2 SO 

Freddie Freeman Augmented By Goggles: 3-for-5, 1 HR, 1 2B, 3 RBI, 2 R

Now, I’m not saying that having a mustache and wearing goggles would make you an unstoppable baseball machine, one that was just as comfortable blowing mid-90s heat by batters as you would be smashing giant taters, but I’m not not saying that either. 

Also, this is important for some reason: 

This guy. Apparently the Cardinals knew something that the rest of us didn’t. Maybe we all should have been a tad bit startled when the 2011 World Series Champs weren’t fighting to reclaim their prize. We probably should have been slightly agog when we noticed that Pujols was shipping out to a team like the Angles and not the Yankees who tend to pay a lot for a name. Basically we only have ourselves to blame for being the slightest bit surprised that Albert can’t seem to get the white thing off the wooden thing into the chair things.

He’s batting just under .200 which is almost pitcher-y, but he’s hopeful. No one else is. But he is. And I guess that’s great. He hasn’t won the favor of Los Angeles. St. Louis is basically being smug and otherwise irrelevant this season. Everyone else doesn’t really care at all so Pujols sucking is just kinda awful for LA because they’re stuck with him until 2022. He’s excited. He thinks they’ll love him eventually, and they may, but it’s not looking good. At this point, his first homer with be on Sports Center’s Top 10 and we’ll all be excited for like 10 minutes. But then we’ll get over it because it’s not that impressive that he finally found himself again. 

Maybe they’ll make a movie about it or at least produce some Tebow-esque inspirational segment on ESPN. 

Read more about the fallen Angel here.

This is the second little rant I have posted related to Pride and Prejudice. Still one of my favorites, but I’m starting to hate Mr. Darcy. Which is a really big thing for me to own up to and probably sufficient grounds for some to de-friend me on Facebook. He didn’t give me unreal expectations about love or make me want to marry a fictional character so we should all just put our hats back on and keep reading. 

Here’s why I am frustrated with the Man-of-Every-Girl’s-Dream:

I’m not in love with him.

Plain and simple. I think I’m supposed to be. I think I’m also supposed to be like Elizabeth Bennett, which I am not. We all want to relate to one of the Jane Austen heroines, especially Elizabeth, but I just don’t really relate to them and as a girl/woman (**insert Britney Spears “I’m Not a Girl” here**) of the 2010s I think that’s okay. 

I know he’s all brooding and haughty at first which is supposed to draw me in with the whole “want-what-I-can’t-have” mentality or at the very least want the guy who sticks to his guns and doesn’t rub that he’s right in your face. And in my heart of hearts, which many people doubt I have, I guess it’s there. But honestly, I don’t think guys have to be like that to win my affections. I attract a lot of trouble and a lot of Wickhams. Why? Because I’m easy to talk to and enjoy listening to the idiocy that is my sweet friends’ lives. I mean none of these adventurers have tried to woo my hott (two T’s) and brooding acquaintance’s really young sister so I feel rather justified in not refusing their friendship. I don’t want to marry these clowns, but like I don’t want to bury them, ya know. 

Either way, I don’t love Darcy. I don’t even really love the idea of Darcy. If he’s mean at first and uninterested then I’m going to take my hint and most likely move on. So now I’m the weird one for not really loving this guy who everyone else adores….like Bruno Mars. That’s why this thing is titled “Damn it Darcy.” Because I’m having to realize that Pemberly just isn’t my future life. Neither is the army in the North, but l like to think maybe there’s a Bingley with a little spunk and nice little set up at Netherfield. I wouldn’t complain. Although his hott (two T’s) and brooding bestie could create some issues for the triumph of our sub-plot of a novel. 

So, WANTED: Hott (Two T’s) and brooding man. Must have a dapper and funny friend who makes you look like the evil and pretentious bastard I will think you are until you reveal some aspect of a heart which will inevitably draw us into a sweet friendship but nothing more. Write back with a rude response and said friend’s contact information. We can discuss the inferiority of my family/birth if you wish. 

So as a senior with an incapacitating case of senioritis, I signed up for a freshmen sociology class. It’s sociology, I knew it would suck, but I was thinking like read the notes the day before the test and get a B. That’s all I wanted. BUT this teacher has it out for people like me. He hates us. I mostly don’t think about this class or the teacher. I have better things to do like imagine Courtney on the Bachelor getting attacked by a bat. But yesterday, oh yesterday. I had enough.

For my Public Relations Campaigns class, we have a large event happening in Grady County, Ga. For those of you wondering why this worth mentioning, hold your hats, it’s coming. The event is on Tuesday which is the same as every other Tuesday where I have 4 classes. So to be at this event I am skipping two of them because my grade depends on it. I get to go to my Communication law class and then we’re cruising tires to pavement for four hours to get to the southernmost county in the state. My grade has never depended on travel before, but you know, new things. So I went to give one of my teacher’s an excuse from the teacher with a UGA letterhead and basically a giant university stamp of approval for an excused absence. This teacher, didn’t need it. He believe me and said I was good to go. One of my major classes so upper level and this class meets once a week so I was feeling pretty confident about sociology 1101. 

Then I went to give my note to the sociology teacher. He was less than kind. He told me that he didn’t do excused absences in his class which was kind of a shock. Most of my important classes have attendance policies that are understanding that sometimes life happens. They give you unexcused absences that don’t count against you because they have real professions I guess. 

If my grandmother had died or I was suffering in the hospital from blunt-force trauma to my head, he would expect me to be there. So now my attendance grade is dropping. 

Let’s also address the way he said it: “You know this isn’t excused (it is). You aren’t getting a free pass out of class.” ———basically talking to me like I’m some delinquent that is skipping his class to go do designer drugs or eat at Moe’s. 

Basically, he has a complex. He has that, This-class-really-is worthless-complex but he needs to feel the need to be validated. I imagine his wife doesn’t do that for him but she’s the one who married a sociology professor with the voice of a trombone. I found it odd for a sociology teacher to have such a complex but then again, maybe it’s not. He knows that zero people take his class seriously. He knows that sociology tends to lead to a job making coffee. He knows that it’s a field that doesn’t require a degree because looking at and making decisions about people is not brain surgery, it’s gossip.

He also told me to hide my shoes so they wouldn’t distract people during our test. Naturally, I thought he was kidding, turns out, he was not. so as I shoved my feet as far under my seat as I could, I began to develop some annoyance but I let it go because i’m understanding and don’t like to cause problems.

Now I’m just looking forward to class evaluations and opening an account on rate my professor. There will be no chili peppers given to this guy.