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Sandy and I looking tough
That's right, Zito. His choad. The perineum, numbnuts--between the pubic symphysis and the coccyx. Aw, boo-hoo. What, expecting a little more?
Don't look all pissed off--you're lucky you swindled Sandy and I into hanging out with you over the winter.
What? Well, let's just say the rest of him couldn't make it, Barry. Put down that fucking guitar. I swear, I'll jam that thing so far up your dilated yoga ass, your teeth will rattle. I know you just had them bleached, you twat--that's part of the reason I'm here to talk to you. Look, I'm not one to mince words. Sandy's nice and he'll put up with a lot of shit, but I won't. I'm tired of putting up with shit, but it goes with my "territory."
No, in the anatomical sense, you lactating man-tit. If you call it a grundle again, I will snap your neck.
Ok, first off, if you keep on talking to Esquireor American Douche or whomever it was you told you'd developed a "relationship" with Sandy on a spiritual level over the winter, we're going to have to bury you. Sandy is Jewish, not "spiritual," not in the sense that he dips his nut sack in patchouli before every away game and burns incense while reciting lines from 'On the Road' to his menagerie of stuffed animals like somebody I know.
Don't bullshit me, Zito! I was there. You think that just because I spend most of my time bridging that unspeakable divide, I don't know what's going on? That I'm out of the picture? I'll have you know that one March in a spring training game, when Sandy's elbow was really swelling up, I stepped in and struck out Willie Mays, Orlando Cepeda and Willie McCovey to preserve a win. Ever do that?
Didn't think so.
I was there every miserable week when we'd be trying to show you how to give your slider that late-breaking snap you're always begging for, and sure enough, we'd have all the gear set up and there you are, out of your mind on toadstools, barking at the sea lions over by Fisherman's Wharf. You ingrate.
Do you know what you are, Barry? You're fucking soft. Don't give me that look. I don't give a tinker's fuck if you had a "good outing" last start. How much are they paying you? Sandy gave up like three runs his whole career.
Look, I may just be a choad, but I know a thing or two. I'll have you know that I was single-handedly ready to go in there at Candlestick in '65 and take Marichal's, bat, break it in half, shove both halves up his nostrils and send his Momma the bill. I'll tell you what, Marichal's lucky Sandy's got a pretty face and doesn't want it all jacked up. Me, psshh--look at me--do I look like I give a damn? I'm a choad, for God's sake--Ill go rabid on that ass.
Do you know that you're a baseball player?
You, though? You're soft.
How do I mean? Well, let's see. You collect stuffed animals, you carry around pink satin pillows, you've got a shrine to Sandy Koufax over your bed when, if you had any sense, you'd have a sex swing with hot sluts in it over your bed; you dyed your hair blue, you spend your off-days playing tribal groove guitar in Golden Gate Park like some brain-fried noodler in the parking lot of a Rusted Root show, you...
No, I didn't cry after their encore at Bonaroo. Moses on a whale, what on Earth is your problem? Do you even know that you're an alleged baseball player? You're lucky Don Drysdale's choad isn't here; he'd suffocate you right there where you're sitting in that god-damned Lotus position.
No, you do not want to get into it with Drysdale's choad. Besides, he usually only talks to righties. I think he's with Brad Lidge right now.
Look, Zito, Sandy likes you, in that way that it sort of makes you feel better about yourself to be friends with a retarded person. Personally, I think you're a milksop meatballer who's lucky he hasn't been exposed for the pansy he really is.
Oh, you pitched 221 innings last year? Oh, well shit--I didn't realize you were such a workhorse. Let me tell you something about Sandy. Even with his elbow the consistency of goat snot, he racked up 323 innings in '66.
What's wrong, Barry? Choad got your tongue? That's right, put those quartz crystals away and get this through your head: We're done. You will, from here on out, sever all ties with our camp. Not just you and me right here, but you and Sandy--every last bit of Sandy--from his toenails to his pubes to the highest hair on his head (although I have to be fair, Sandy's dingleberries think your version of 'Golgi Apparatus' is spot on...God, I hate living next to those idiots. But this is it, Zito. We tried and we tried and you betrayed our trust and disrespected our expertise and got all our clothes smelling like a Jethro Tull fart. You've shown zero initiative, and that curve of yours is starting to hang a little before it falls off the table, buddy.
Barry, put your pants back on!
Ok, Barry. What are you doing? Zito, put your pants back on. Now, that's just insulting. Do not for one minute think that by you showing me your choad you and Sandy will re-establish some kind of connection, and you'll be off the hook and all this shit with will blow over. Oh my God, what is that thing on your choad? Is that a fucking piercing?
That's it. You want this thing to get personal? 'Cause I got a whole cadre of choads just waiting to rain down some fury on the likes of you, Zito. You think I'm bad? Nobody does that to a fellow choad, I don't care if he is attached to your punk-ass body. I got Drysdale, Gibson, Seaver, Ryan and that crazy motherfucker Mordechai "Three-Fingered" Brown's choads in my T-Mobile fave five, and those crazy bastards don't play. You want me to make a call?
to express this part of you... maybe you should look for a site more suited to your ummmm, preferences. Thanks for giving it a try and I'm sure creating an afternoon full of gay jokes.
I'd like to clarify that the aforeposted photo of an ass/choad is not mine--it's Barry Zito's...we have to keep a little journalistic integrity here...
Posts: 908 Rank: 8 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
Buffalo, NY
Posted: 5/8/2007 11:40:34 AM
I don't know why your "ass horns?" comment is so amusing to me but I can't stop laughing...I don't know if i should say Good eye, or gay eye, either way that's funny.
Posts: 693 Rank: 3 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
Los Angeles, CA
Posted: 5/8/2007 2:01:49 PM
1. No one says 'choad' anymore. Well, at least not in the circles I run in. It's 'gooch', 'taint', 'sweet spot', or nothing at all!
2. Barry Zito is hawt! I met him once when the A's were playing the Dodgers. We had a lovely evening eating Peruvian food underneath the Hollywood sign. He played guitar while I laughed at his jokes. We talked about the future, and what we envisioned a perfect universe to be like. Then we made love without saying a word. It was beautiful. Two of the best 'pitchers' going at it. So please don't disrespect him anymore.
3. I don't care who the person is in the last picture. Motherfucker needs a wax! I wouldn't touch that with a 6 and 1/2 inch pole.
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