Now I know why I need a fucking credit card

Fuck! Fuckity Fuck Fuck! I am forever lamenting on my bad luck and I finally get some good luck and it comes all wrapped in Fuck-you-you-can't-have-it-after-all Irony. Fuck you bad luck. Fuck you bad timing. Fuck you bad decisions. Fuck me why can't I catch a break.

OK, I feel better now. No, not really but I will stop bitching for about six seconds here.

Those of you who know me or have seen this blog before, know I am HUGE Cubs fan. HUGE.

I have been a Cubs fan since Nineteen Seventy ummummmeruh yeah anyway, a long fucking time. I'll admit that I kinda lost interest between the late eighties and the late nineties, because of marriage, a kid, and they well, sucked. But I came back way before the 2003 playoff run, and briefly considered suicide after last year's playoff debacle but the hot barmaid I was talking to immediately after Game 3 wouldn't have sex with me before I stabbed my self in the heart, so I decided to delay my life ending plans and go drinking instead.

What most people don't know is that my expletive deleted ex-wife left me with $36,000 in credit card debt. Less than $4000 of that had anything to do with me, and there was even a card in my name that I never applied for. That's illegal or something, I'm sure. A party foul at the very least. So, because of this I have adopted the philosophy that credit cards are evil, and there is even some documented proof to this effect I am sure. And since the advent of Debit Cards I longer look at credit cards as that piece of pie I want but can't have. But more like that fruit cake that you can never figure out who brought to the party but keep 'til February just in case someone asks if you liked so you could look at it and give some close to reality description of what flavors it may have tasted like if you took the Fear Factor plunge and ate a piece of the maggot infested, er, candied fruit filled bundle of what the fuck. Who invented that shit anyway?

But I digress. Credit Cards are evil. I don't want anything to do with them.

Until now.

The brief glimpse of good luck I received was in an email from cubs.com saying that because I was willing to be #12488888999234 on the waiting list for Cubs season tickets I am eligible to buy tickets for 9 games. NOW! Right now! Before they go on sale which would be great seeing as my ass may be in Vegas when they go on sale. So I click on the button that allows me to sit in a waiting room that refreshes every 15 seconds. I liked it better when it refreshes every 60 seconds. At least then you can get over the no one will take you to prom disappointment of finding out you have to spend another 60 seconds in waiting room hell. Over and over and over. Until cutting off your balls to bounce them off the wall just seems like something to do. But no, for this event it is 15 seconds. So you can countdown 10,9,8...3,2,1 and before you can finish being pissed off that you are still in the waiting room you are counting down 10, 9, 8, ad infinitum. Then what, what is this? Something I have never seen before.... A pick your game screen. An actual you can buy tickets screen. And I am overjoyed. Happiness fills the room. Until...

Until I remember that my bank account looks like Comiskey Park did three years ago. Empty. MT. Capital letters. Not a dime. Certainly not the $600 or so it would cost me to buy 2 tickets to each of 9 games and we won't even try to discuss 4 tickets per game. Or bleacher seats. Or any seats for that matter. Because I can't go. After taking monkey to Florida and spending who the fuck knows how much on Christmas presents, I am flat mother fucking broke. I mean my rent is paid, and I didn't bounce the child support check, by the skin of my teeth but still, It cleared. So while I wait for my next paycheck a scalper or some trustfund baby who doesn't even watch the games or own a Cubs shirt is buying my seats so he can sell them or impress some blond bimbo that he has bleacher seats. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.

Fuck. And even if there are still seats in 3 days when I get paid that money is already spoken for. Because instead of passing my hard earned cash to greedy corporate giants in Chicago I will be passing it to greedy corporate giants in Vegas. Woo Hoo at least there is some light at the end of the tunnel. I hope I get laid because going to Vegas is way better than going to a Cubs game but 9 Cubs games that's a close call. Oh wait the strippers at the Cubs games don't take off their clothes they just try and scam you for drinks and Skybox seats.

Yep, Vegas way better.

But I am still getting a damn credit card.

Love vs. Respect

Some times topics just come to you for no reason and no relation to anything going on at the time.

You can respect someone with out loving them and probably vice versa. To illiustrate this point I am going to use the New York Yankees. The Yankees? Where the fuck did you come up with the Yankees it is not even baseball season. I know, and if baseball doesn't come around soon I am probably going to lose my sanity and my ability to resist the homicidal urges that have been surfacing lately.

For those of you who don't love baseball the way I do, I must tell you that everyone hates the Yankees. Everyone. Except Yankee fans. And we won't even talk about them. If there is a group of people more despised than the Yankees it is Yankees fans.

Hate is a strong word so we will say no one likes the Yankees there is a whole lotta residents of New York C that don't even like the Yankees. The problem with this is that the Yankess ARE baseball. You can't get around it. Can't ignore it.

The Yankees are baseball.

The way The Cowboys used to be football.

And the way The Celtics used to be basketball.

And the way Wayne Gretzky used to be hockey.

Ask any guy, even one that has his head so far up his ass that he doesn't like baseball which Major League Team exemplifies baseball. The Yankees. There is no getting around it. They have more World Series Rings than any other team, and you have to respect that. Which is probably one of the reasons we hate them so much.

I had this conversation with someone when the Yankees came to town a few years ago to play our beloved Cubs because she couldn't understand why it was so important to see the Yankees play at Wrigley. The way they hadn't since 1938.

I still haven't made it to Yankee Stadium but it is on the list. The house that Ruth built. It is those of you who don't know that the Yankees are baseball that don't know why I have to, in my lifetime go to Yankee Stadium. But not before I go visit Fenway Park. The Big Green Monster. Baseball. They way it used to be played. No 'roids. No million dollar contracts. No bullshit. Baseball. Guys who would pitch 40-50 games in a season. Guys who would play for the fans. Guys who would play for the love of the game.