I’m kinda cranky tonight. My daughter was a royal pain in the ass today, and I’m tired. Tonight, she was every bit of her three year old self. She’s a pretty little thing, and she knows it, which can make her quite the little diva. I’m fairly low maintenance, and it is odd to have a daughter who is such a princess in every sense of the word. What finally got her to relax tonight was a fart. In the middle of her tantrum, she let out a rip roaring fart, and I started laughing. Yes, I’m mother of the year, laughing at my little girl’s fart. But then, she started laughing with me. She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me, and everything was okay. She can be a total sweetheart when she wants to be.
In addition, the Rays lost two out of three to the Yankees after being swept last week by the Orioles, and that isn’t improving my mood any. When I was a kid, my cousin would say that she could tell if the Mets won or lost that day just by the expression on my face (I was a Mets fan as a kid). I’m not that bad now, but it’s on my mind. The Rays are now four back for the second Wild Card spot. Safe to say, the season is pretty much over. I can’t see this team going to the playoffs, and the way they’re playing, they don’t deserve it. Their pitching is fantastic, and David Price has a good chance to win the Cy Young, but their offense, which has been anemic for the past few years, is horrendous. It’s so anemic, that if they were my patient in the even hospital, I would ask the doctor if a blood transfusion is in order. Their team leader in batting average among regulars is Ben Zobrist, at a whopping .265. Sabermaticians would tell you that batting average doesn’t matter. Fine. Their team OPS is a pathetic .699. Ugh, I wasn’t going to talk about baseball tonight. Too late.