don’t fuck with me fellas, this ain’t my first time at the rodeo

She’s not smiling like that today, that’s for sure.

I am in no way comparing Christine Glavine to Faye Dunaway as Joan Crawford, but I can also see her, y’know, going on some kind of rampage and demanding earrings made out of Guillermo Mota’s shriveled-up balls. Or maybe chasing around Pedro Feliciano with a wire hanger. Throw Aaron Sele through a glass table too, just for the heck of it. (I may just be projecting my own desires. Who can really tell?)

From the very beginning of the game the poor woman looked strung out and nervous, as anyone would be when watching their spouse on the verge of a milestone. She’s quite pretty but you could see the age on her face–the worry, anxiety, and most of all the energy she’s expended over countless Milestone Games for Mr. Glavine–and her hair too. It looked kinda stringy (in a cute hippie-ish way, actually. Also: nice headband), like she’d been running her hands through it for the past 24 hours and twirling or tugging or pulling it out. I wanted to give her Valium but then again I always wish I had handfuls of Valium.

The three moods of Christine Glavine (probably just me) during the Mets’ extra-innings stumble last night, as postulated through SNY’s coverage and the blaring of Motown and 80s hair metal at the Turkey’s Nest:

MY GENIAL DEMEANOR BELIES INNER TURMOIL

While being interviewed by Kevin Burkhardt, you could see her mentally going through her laundry list of “Oh Tom’s so great” or “He’s a fantastic father” or “He deserves it” or whatever general platitude befitting The Narrative of the Milestone, but her involuntary rocking in place conveyed something like UGH WOULD YOU PLEASE SHUT UP I JUST WANT TO WATCH MY HUSBAND AND YOU KEEP BLAHBLAHBLAHING WTF I JUST MISSED THAT OUT YOU SHITHEAD

OH FUCK YES

Jose Reyes double! David Wright RBI! THANK YOU FOR REMEMBERING HOW TO HIT THE GODDAM BALL. HEY YOU GUYS ARE CUTE. Moises Alou sac fly. YOU’RE OLD. Carlos Delgado tries to score from first. LOL @ U. Shawn Green makes diving catch. WELL NOW I’VE SEEN EVERYTHING.

POSITIVELY CATATONIC (SOME RAGE)

WHY ARE YOU TAKING OUT HEILMAN?!

I GUESS NOT HITTING PRINCE FIELDER IS LIKE PUTTING LOHAN IN A ROOM FULL OF COKE AND HOPING SHE’LL STAY SOBER. BUT UGH PEDRO DOS HAS BEEN SO BAD HIS LAST THREE APPEARANCES. DOES HE MISS JOE SMITH? WILL NO ONE ELSE PLAY CARDS WITH HIM?

GOOD GOD NOT MOTA. NO MOTA. NOOOOOO. THAT FUCK. I’M GONNA KILL HIM. GIMME VALIUM.

So now Tom has to hope to get #300 in Chicago. Which oughta happen, if the fucking Mets can hit with RISP and the bullpen doesn’t send heaters straight down the middle of the plate. Dear Mets, please spare him and Christine and the seven thousand other Glavines in attendance last night from a repeat dumdumdurrr performance.

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4 Responses to don’t fuck with me fellas, this ain’t my first time at the rodeo

  1. I’d smash. Her, not him.

  2. will says:

    This may be the best Mets blog ever.

  3. will says:

    Now that Tom has gotten #300 she can relax again.

  4. billyfabs says:

    thanks for the compliment! however, i’m leagues away from the brilliant insight of faith and fear in flushing, or the humor or metstradamus, or the snarkiness of mets are better than sex, among many. check the blogroll for some of my favorite writing on the mets.

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