Secretion of the mind

Well, I'm back from my monthly blood-washing (thanks for the tip, Keith!) to end the longest drought of my illustrious career as the preemminent blogger of our time. It probably won't be any good, but I don't care. It must be all the drugs that they keep giving me. Just call me Brian Wilson.

I see that some of my beloved Red Sox added a few trinkets to their trophy cases in the last few days. Manny, Papi, and Big V all won Silver Slugger awards two days ago. For Manny, this is his seventh in a row and 8th(!) overall. It was Varitek's first (should have had one the last couple of years) and Papi's 2nd.

I'm waiting for them to legalize the stomping Hippies.

This is second award of the offseason for Papi with him having won the Hank Aaron award last week. That is awarded to the best overall hitter from each league every year. Hell, Papi will probably need a wheelbarrow to haul away all of his the awards after all of this is said and done. Hopefully, the trophy on top of the pile will be the MVP, but we'll see. I just can't see how Mr. 3-run-homer-when-my-team-is-up-by-5-in-the-8th-inning Rodriguez.

**UPDATE**
Big V just won his first Gold Glove award for his stellar defense behind the plate. It's about friggin' time, dammit. Ok, I'm off to give him a full-body massage.

Well, the battle continues on this destroyed back of mine. I had my 7th(!) injection this morning and it didn't go very well. At one point I could actually feel the needle scraping along my spine. It makes this weird scraping noise that echo's up an down your body. The problem this morning was that I have so much scar tissue built up around the nerve that the medicine that the injection can't properly disperse to reduce the swelling. I think it's all a big waste of time and I'm sure that I'll have to have more surgery, but we'll see... I guess.

Frikafraka firecracker siss boom bah... bugs bunny bugs bunny, rah rah rah.

If they ever legalized hunting seagulls, I would buy a case of shotgun shells, a few hundred pounds of herring and go to town. I hate them more than squirrels... and we all know how I feel about those fucking tree-rats. (Where's my pellet gun, dammit!?)


Well, on that note...