(no subject)

We better either lose tonight or win tonight and the next three nights. One or two or three wins will just prolong and intensify the agony.

It's not enough that we lost last night. Oh no. We had to lose to such an inflated score that the eight runs we made still aren't enough to ease the humiliation. And we had to lose like that in a game that lasted for FOUR HOURS AND TWENTY MINUTES, because lord knows we needed plenty of time to squirm. And it had to happen after, for a brief shining moment, we were ahead for the first time in the series.

If we lose tonight, at least it will all be over, and the Red Sox Nation can get on with this year's round of retreating, licking our wounds, and preparing for next year's season and next year's heartbreak.

Because if there's one thing a Red Sox fan knows a thing or two about, it's unconditional loyalty. They are our boys and our team and we love them no matter what. And a part of me still believes that they can win this series. They're not done quite yet.

(no subject)

On the other hand, I sure as hell didn't mind abandoning the game for half an hour to watch Red Dwarf. Even though it was the very last episode, and didn't make very much sense, and made it pretty clear that the show declined rather drastically, and there was one scene that was so embarrassingly awful that I had to switch back to the game for a couple minutes, and really it was just like the game itself. I went in all excited, and left feeling drained. And kind of suicidal.

Ugh. But enough of that. If I wallow much more, I'm going to end up sticking my head in the oven before the day is out. And I can't do that, because a) it is actually a gas oven, so that might work, and b) - ta-daaa! - I got the job at Cumberland Farms and I start tomorrow. I'm scheduled for forty hours this week. At eight dollars an hour. Every time I start feeling dejected because I've ended up at another goddamn gas station, I'll think about how next week's paycheck will be the biggest one I've ever gotten in my life. And if I get punchy and reckless from exhaustion, I'll start greeting my manager with the Rimmer salute. And I won't tell him why.

Now if you'll excuse me, I think it might be prudent to go watch some of the Red Dwarf I rented yesterday. And possibly have some more coffee.