The path lit up in purple neon bulbs leads back to the familiar road of escapism.

Dear baseball, fuck you.

A Champagne Jam to kick off Interleague Play.

(From Cannabissearch.com/strains/champagne)

"A lustful combination of Hashplant and a Kush strain that was pollinated with a male Burmese cannabis strain, Champagne offers patients an exquisitely pleasurable medication. The effect sets in nearly immediately and lasts anywhere between an hour and an hour-and-a-half. Ideal for patients with depression, inflammation and migraines, this 50/50 hybrid is popular in dispensaries all over. Coated with tri-chromes, more experienced cannabis patients often use Champagne to make high-quality hash."

-This photograph reminds me of Pizza the Hut from Spaceballs.


I obviously give a fuck about baseball today.

Fuck it.

Here's another photo of a train wreck. A real good, old tyme one. Soon to come, weed recipes and music videos. Things that win sometimes.

Ladies and genteman, you're 2011 Los Angeles Dodgers!

Baseball was better when everyone was on steroids.

Nobody reads this shit. So maybe its safe now to take this blog in a different direction. I've said it before. This team can really lead to redundancy. Their bullshit is seeping into my life which is strange because I've had to care far less than any other season in the past, to avoid jumping out the goddamn window, but inevitably their piss poor play persists and then permeates my life. The other day a friend needed help moving some couches and said she'd buy me lunch even. So she lifted one end and looked at me standing there like an asshole shrugging. What's the point? I metaphorically popped up a first pitch change up with the bases loaded. These motherfuckers have got to go.

I would like to think that the Albuquerque Isotopes would score more than two runs in three days against shitty teams but then again, most of their line up is starting so maybe the Chattanooga Lookouts.
If I gave a fuck, I'd look up the statistics and back my rant up.


Anyhow, this blog might slowly become some kind of blog about different weed I smoke, mixtapes, tight breakfasts I make. Maybe just photos of my pit bull wearing different pairs of sunglasses, whatever it takes.

Following each game and writing about them still not getting it together just sounds like weaksauce in a shit sandwich. I get suckered in still but holy fucking shit, I had to watch them give up one hit and one run off an error against the Arizona Assholes and it really bummed my mom out. What a waste of time and money. Kemp and Ethier will be on another team soon and Frank McCourt can still insist we're doing just fine. Let's hope he's raped and mauled by Chihuahuas sooner than later.

Somebody get these motherfuckers some steroids.

To celebrate finally doing really hi-tech shit like putting up photos and videos and hopefully more in the future, here's something I found on the internet. All you have to do is google search "yuppie SF Giants" and this pops up.

It's funny. You can chant World Series all you want. Your colors still fittingly represent sunburn and wine diarrhea.