I will not mention Tom Brady

Oliver Perez stood by his locker after his team rallied late to give him a no decision, saving him a devastating loss. He sighed and breathed deeply into his microphone, contemplating the right words to say, the right way to convey the relief and the euphoria he felt after being let off the hook. He wouldn't be responsible for a slip up in the Mets' charging towards their division crown in Aught Eight.

He looked at the microphone, tightened his grip. His eyes, red-rimmed and weary, closed slowly. Then he lowered his giant, gaping monkey face on top of the mike and started sucking away like Rich Garces trying to extricate the last bit of Slurpee from his Big Gulp. It wasn't a microphone at all; it was David Wright succulent penis.

Oliver Perez, who has been a revelation the last month and a half as a waiver pick up for my fantasy team, biffed it against the Washington Nationals (!!!) last night, and instead of accruing the loss he deserved his stupid, ball-twiddling teammates bailed him out with a three-run sixth inning. I wish those bastards would've just lost. I don't care about the no decision! What feeling does that leave me with! It wasn't a win like I needed, so I wanted everyone involved to suffer!

GAHHHHHH

On the plus side, waiver whore Randy Wolf gots me a much needed winsy poo. What a guy!

***

On the injury front for NFL, Marques Colston will be out for 4 to 6 weeks with a thumb injury that required surgery. That leaves the door open for Devery Henderson, David Patten, and Robert Meachem to fight over who gets a first-row seat to watching Jeremy Shockey and Reggie Bush catch all of Drew Brees' passes.

It's kinda sad, really; the same guy in my league that owned Tom Brady (nutsack, I mentioned him) and Chris Johnson also owned Colston. This dude's team is Team Madden Cover. Absolutely ridiculous, man.

***

Erik Bedard is throwing still. For no good reason. I hope his fetus goes to hell.

***

Fantasy pickup for this weekend: Antwaan Randle-El. He's like poor man's old version of Nate Burleson.

What's up with injuries this season? Good lord.

Who are These People? Mark Fidrych?

What the dace is up with major league pitching this year? I mean seriously now: what the dace?! We’ve got Jeff Francis swallowing the dead raccoon who ate a load of turds, Rich Hill devolving into a larva, Erik Berdard stewing in a jug of rotten buffalo fetuses, and there’s Scott Kazmir.

The Kaz has done nothing of redeemable value for anyone, the Rays, his fantasy denizens… Heck, I even heard he left his wife and kid alone in the department store and went to gobble on some barbequed donkey sausage. WTF! For the first month of the season this dude was eating hitters’ lunches nonstop, tossing the horsehide like it was a hummingbird sneeze; he was untouchable. And now? Now he can’t even make it five innings, can’t even finish a start without walking 4+, can’t win a freaking game. And the Rays expect to win their division? With this? Bollocks. BALDERDASH!

I declare Shenanigans on Scott Kazmir and his lack of pitching. Where’s Victor Zambrano when you need him?

***

This Brett Farverevrer nonsense needs to just end already. This man is a selfish prick – just let the Packers move on already! Has he even seen the episode of Seinfeld when George realizes that it’s best to leave on a high note? Didn’t Brett have his “Good night, everyone!” cry-fest already? Maybe he’s not content with being the retired fake best quarterback ever when he’s cruising the Wisconsin scene for sorority tail and painkillers. Way to put your team, the one that acquired you and made you a king, on the spot there, Bretty boy. You douche. I hope Aaron Rogers wins the MVP for the next nine seasons.

***

My fantasy football draft is on August 31^st. Seeing as how when I research for X amount of hours I still do terrible, and whichever unfortunate soul I draft in the first round criminally underachieves, I’m just not chomping at the bit to start up this year. In fact, I refuse to read any fantasy football pieces until the day of the draft. I won’t buy a magazine until August 31^st, nor will I compile a list of players in any particular ranking. What’s even more frustrating is that in our draft lottery I wanted a bottom three pick (we do a snake style drafting system), and what do I get? The first pick. So now, be wary if you draft either LaDainian or Adrian Peterson—one of them is going on my team and subsequently underachieving/getting seriously injured.

***

Does anyone else love Mark Reynolds of the Arizona Diamondbacks? You know exactly what you’re getting with this dude: for a week or two he will be atrocious, missing everything, running poorly, making outs left and right, and then for several days at a time he’s Babe Ruth; he KILLS the ball and steals bases and in general garners more extra bags than a Beverly Hills teenager in a Gucci store (yes, horrible metaphor, I know, but it’s early. It’s so, so early!). And he’s dreamy. …What?