WOOOOOOOOO GIANTS.

Forgive me interwebs, for I have slacked. It has been five days since my last post. That'll be three Our Fathers and five Bloody Marys. Har har. Old joke, lame! I have been really busy doing totally important things. Let's discuss.

First, I've been occupied with hating the Giants. Yeah yeah yell at me whatever you love them way to go blah blah. Like I said I'm from LA and we win shit there a lot. And I spent time in Boston when the Celtics won a lot. And I was in college in SA when the Spurs won (bleck!) I do not need to go 'check out' the city coming together in gleeful herds to yell and wear paint. As I was toodling along on my bike this morning -- yeah I rode to work, that's right!!! (mostly to justify the McDonalds I knew I would eat later.) Anyway -- so I'm riding along weaving in and out of these black and orange dweebs milling about the stadium at 8am for some dumb reason, and I think to myself, "Self? Why do we hate the Giants so much?" Self came up with these top four reasons:

1. I am from SoCal, which is essentially a different STATE than NorCal and natives from each end tend to dislike the other. NorCal is for hippies, banana slugs, liberals attending Bezerkely, biking through forests, rejecting commercialism, being progressive, and beaches that are fucking freezing. SoCal is palm trees, awesome Randy Newman songs, hot beaches, celebrities, people who are actually proud to be rich, surfers, Universities of Spoiled Children, and (according to people who have never actually lived there -- craaaazy traffic.)

How SoCal sees NorCal

How NorCal sees SoCal, (clearly superior)

2. Selfish, I'll be the first one to say it. I hate the Giants because Boyfriend's bromantic partner, (let's just call him Sparky, why not?) looooooves the Giants and has season tickets. Sparky also lives near the ballpark and its many bars and is generally single (and I personally feel that he sits by the phone waiting for Boyfriend to call because he ALWAYS seems to be free whenever BF wants to hang out!!) Now in your best King Leonidas voice, say it with me, THIS.... IS.....ANNOYING!!! Firstly, because I want to spend time with BF, and second-of-ly (and probably more importantly) because I do not have an 24/7 on-call available bff. I am jealous of their magical date nights drinking beers, whoopin it up in the stands, calling each other Brah, high-fivin while Jock Jams blasts through the stadium, and whatever else happens in my mental montage of guys at sporting events. And since it's sad to leave poor Sparky to drink alone, BF must meet him at sports bars, take him to dinner, go to more bars, do shots, shots shots, Yeeeeah!, pass out in his car, then drive home at an ungodly hour, and finally drop his 200 pounds of whiskey nasty stinky ass self onto my beautiful bed. Which of course makes me bounce in the air from the impact (because we do not have the magical mattress that you can simultaneously stand a glass of wine and dance on and not spill a drop, which is just weird because that's what we have tables and floors for) and that is just not a pleasant way to be awakened from your beauty slumber. Annnnnyway.... so I think I blame the Giants for lots of days and nights spent with MY bff's, Mr. Cabernet and Mr. S. T. Vodka. We do super fun things like clean the weird fluff from the back of my hairdryer with tweezers, open and close the fridge 24 times without taking anything, and writing nonsensical posts on people's facebook pages. So for that, I say damn you Giants!!

Yeeeah! I love you Sparky! No, I love you more!

 3. Selfish one again, shocking, I know. I have to take the dreaded "light rail" aka MUNI, aka Satan's Train, aka Wu-Tang video, aka Most Unreliable Public Transit Known to Man, to get to and fro home and work, and it goes di-rectly in front of the ballpark. For the entire length of the ballpark entity/complex/block/whatever. And somehow, Giants traffic makes my train have to sit still for insanely long periods of time. This I do not understand. We are a fucking train here, people! We have our own tracks! There are presumably no cars or people in our path! Who is keeping us from moving? (I actually took the time to yell these sentiments at the driver one time, clearly to no avail, and the dipshit had no answers anyway.) I've already ranted about my commute on here, but just had to throw in that I definitely did a lot of voodoo spells in my head hoping they would just lose, dammit! Stop coming home! Don't make the playoffs! Oh dear god NO NOT THE FRICKIN WORLD SERIES!!

Actual photo. THAT'S how long we sat there. I believe that was game # I Don't Give a Fuck.

4. Because I think the city of San Francisco should fall into the sea.
Therefore it deserves no accolades. Especially not the highest honor given in a sport that represents summertime, sunny days, green grass, summertime, and did I mention summertime??? This frickin frackin hellhole with its Satan-run trains has angered the sun god so intensely that we appear to be cursed to 5,000 years of darkness, fog, rain, cold, wind, and other things that want to shit all over your summer. I painstakingly researched the actual weather data one day (cause I am very busy and important here at my company) and found that in the last year we had had like 5 days over 80 degrees and a puny 24 or some shit that were over 70. SEVENTY! That is not even considered warm on my personal lizard-like scale of comfortable temperatures!! You wouldn't give Mexico the Stanley Cup, now would you? You wouldn't have an AA meeting at my house! Ludicrous.

Now, this is in fact an ACTUAL photo taken by moi, at a Giants game,

IN AUGUST.