Enough with the goddam west coast. Seriously. I mean, these swings through Seattle and Oakland and Anaheim are about as appealing to me as “free tuberculosis” or “hot man on man action.” You either stay up and watch and sleepwalk through the next day, or you crash and become a slave to the ESPN “scroll” the next morning as you force down your Jameson’s and Wheetabix. And although I like NESN’s early-morning game replays, what I really need is “Hazel on Demand,” whereby I can flip on my TV and immediately get a 5-second verdict on the previous night’s game. “They lost, motherf–ker,” and I can then get on with my day and worry about Julio Lugo’s batting average when I’m feeling a bit more lucid.

Anyway, as I’m battling a stomach-virus thingee and need my precious sleep, I didn’t watch a bloody minute of last night’s game. So I’m just gonna focus my energies on pushing positive vibes toward Curt Schilling for this afternoon’s start against the immortal Joe Blanton. No way Curt lets us down. Just not gonna happen.

In other news, I was arguing with a coworker yesterday who swears Manny won’t get to 500 home runs this season. He’s currently perched at 478 and I don’t see how in God’s name — unless he breaks his arms in a bizarre gardening accident or starts drinking from J.D. Drew’s Gatorade bottle — the man doesn’t get another 22 dingers. So I basically pledged to eat my Manny jersey if he doesn’t join the 500 club by season’s end, and videotape the whole thing for posterity. Most likely with a side of slaw and/or hashbrowns to help it down.

Stay tuned. And don’t panic. Nine games up? Sheeyit. This is just a bump in the road.