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Archive for September, 2007

you said it

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Talk to any Phillies fans and two things become apparent: One, they’re currently anticipating a gigantic collapse this weekend, and two, everyone seems to have a different favorite player. So, what does your favorite Phil say about you? Here is a handy pocket guide:

Jimmy Rollins: You enjoy the talking of the shit. You have pulled your ball sack out to distract opponents in beer pong. Your fantasy football name describes another player’s girlfriend and references a Wicked Video title. You have actually stood above your American Standard and admired your bowel movements.

Chase Utley: Chase appeals to both genders, but in entirely different ways:

Men: You play beer league softball and deliberately aim for the portly girl in right field, and stretch any base hit into a double. You have plowed over an entire Asian family at the beach while playing paddle ball.

Women: You are white and you live in the Delaware Valley.

Pat Burrell: You blew Pat Burrell in the bathroom at 32 Degrees once.

Ryan Howard: You believe in absolutes. You like things to have an unambiguous ending. Over 54% of the large man’s plate appearances have ended in a walk, strikeout or home run, meaning that–typically–no one on the field of play does anything after a Howard at bat. You like closure.

Brett Myers: You are Brett Myers’ legal counsel.

Abraham Nunez: Your can hit a spider with your shoe with all your might and it walks away unscathed. You don’t believe in numbers. Or statistics. Or hitting.

Adam Eaton: You are a Mets fan.

Cole Hamels: You are a true believer.

Aaron Rowand: You don’t have friends, just bros. You own a jet ski with a Nickleback sticker on the side of it. Calvin pissing on anything brightens your day. While watching Steven Seagal movies, you keep your hands occupied with one of these:

Jamie Moyer: You are enjoying the screen time you’ve been getting during the showings of Ken Burns’ The War.

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Fitting this blog experiment should begin with a soul squashing loss by the Phillies of Philadelphia, who can tease the nether regions of an entire tri-state area like no other. The Phils fell to the Atlanta Braves last night, while the Padres pulled a win out of the anuses, dropping the Phils one game back in the Wild Card.

The theme of the night was Suffering at the Hand of Douchebag Americanus, as the Phils were victimized by elder statesman douchebag, Chipper Jones, and his young upstart protege, Jeff Francoeur, whose enormous teeth and French name seem tailor-made for an Alpha Beta sweater. Several hours later, Brian Giles, whose douchebagocity includes urinating on teammates, snapped out of a huge slump to hit a ninth inning homer for the Pads.

This is nothing particularly new, as we Phils fans should know to expect such things in the final week of the season. The Phils have to face Tim Hudson and Tim Hudson’s overly tight pants tonight.

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