Last night, as the ugliest Sox game since that 19-8 drubbing in the 2004 ALCS unfolded, I flipped over to MTV, eager for a little “quality time” with Gwen Stefani [nudge nudge, wink wink, say no more]. Instead, I found the latest episode of Cribs, featuring Johnny Damon’s lush Florida digs. Rather than pour over the details of another crushing defeat at the hands of the Os, I figgered I’d give you a brief overview of all the cool shit Damon has:
Closets with more square footage than most East Boston apartments! It’s official: Mrs. Damon’s thongs are living better than my entire family.
His own goddam movie theater! [Check this episode in reruns: When they enter the movie theater room, there seems to be some kind of bizarre Japanese schoolgirl fetish film playing. 'Course, that might have been in my head, where those flicks run 24/7, baby.]
A big ass pool!
Exotic staircases! And did we mention Michelle?
And a hip brother — James Damon — who’s apparently on the payroll! [Johnny introduces him as "the guy who answers my fan mail" right before making bro get his Jeeves on at the helm.]
Okay, just one thing about last night’s game: I’ve never seen Bellhorn look more lost at the plate than when he struck out looking with the bases loaded in the second. He’s never been one to show a lot of emotion, but I swear to God, during this at-bat, as a couple pitches sailed right across “the sweet spot” [at least it looked pretty sweet from the comfort of my recliner], he appeared to be channeling the spirit of a guy behind the counter at In-N-Out Burger. It was one of those instances that you just wanna plunge your hands through the TV set and grab him by that regulation “Night Ranger” hairdo and scream “Do something! Anything!” That third strike, though? Nasty.
So. Whatever. Let’s just forget that this one ever happened. Kay?