The Mets have won seven in a row, and now sit atop the National League East, albeit with a narrow lead. Their big man, Johann Santana, arguably the best pitcher in the National League, takes the mound tonight. Against the hated Atlanta Braves. On ESPN.
Can you tell I'm psyched?
I taught the little clowncars how to read the standings this weekend. Win column, loss column, streak column. They're a couple years away from learning the elegant brevity of a box score. So much information contained in such a small box of numbers.
Ah, Spring. Ah, baseball.
Our mortgage company, which I will not name, but which rhymes with Skank of America, has asked for: my last 2 pay stubs, my 401K, the last 2 months of bank activity for me and the huquita, our W2's for the last 2 years, and, oddest of all, our marriage certificate (since we have different last names).
Meanwhile, last week's banking stress tests says they may need to borrow another $34 billion. From me. The taxpayer.
What is wrong with this picture?