Opening Day Rays Starting Lineup, Democracy, Cocaine and strippers...

Ah yes. Opening Day for baseball. Nothing smells/feels truer to the American spirit than the sound of balls hitting the leather, the sound of bats cracking and a twat right in your face for Sunday morning breakfast. I woke up hungover from a near all-nighter at this strip joint just outside of Ybor City. "Strawberry" was my usual girl I'd go to due to the size of her breasts, the curly dark hair she has and this really nice Australian perfume she wears. Needless to say, we have been seeing each other for some time now and generally wind up back at my crib after a heavy night of snorting, drinking and throwing dollar bills. Roughly speaking, I get paid on Thursday afternoon and nearly burn up half of my wages by Saturday night. Truth be told, one knows he shouldn't do it but one also knows that one has to live. Furiously.
"Honey, can you make me some coffee?" Strawberry asked.
"Sure baby,"
I prepped the machine and sat down to open up the Tampa Bay Times. Their overweight star, Marc Topkin, wrote a bunch of nonsense about what he heard through the grapevine. Some other worthless drop of sperm wrote a negative prediction about how the Rays were projected to continue doing bad and will carry on as such.
If I wanted  a prediction, I'd read the weather report or go to church. Where do they find these bums? "Can you put some milk in there too baby?" she whined.
"Of course sugar,"
The line up is as follows:
1. Dickerson
2. KK
3. Longo
4. Brad
5. Souza Jr.
6. LoMo
7. T. Bex
8. Mallex
9. Chuck Norris
Then my man Arch getting the start against a pretty stacked New York Yankees lineup with Tanaka getting the ball for them. I saw this same match up exactly one week ago and it was a brutal affair. Luckily drafts were 3$ so I drank my sorrows away and wrote the tears off in my notebook. Just to see Mallex and Archer get starts is enough for me to want to drop more money into the American economy. Mallex is truly a guy who will develop as a player and one that is humble and has something this team hasn't had in some time...swag. I met Mallex in Port Charlotte one hazy Sunday morning while under the influence. He strutted down the walkway like a monk. Happy and content as he strolled along. My brother yelled immediately when seeing him and snapped selfies. "MALLEX YOU MY BOY!" became our slogan.
"Can you make some eggs baby?" she asked.
"Sure honey,"
I read more into the Tampa Bay Times and felt more anger surge through my veins. This clown Martin Fennelly (he is probably from Boston) wrote a distasteful article about how the Rays are still bad and how this will never end and of course the perpetual reference to his God, Joe Maddon. Fan boys never die. I guess the question that arouses in thought, while I get distracted by Strawberry bending over, is how is the local newspaper going to hire a bunch of cynical (and overweight) alleged "writers" to talk about our team in such a discouraging and helpless sense? As Strawberry begins to take off each article of clothing before pounding my American dream into her, the thought comes into play yet again, is Tampa Bay full of self-centered culturless honkies that have the rule of the day? While Strawberry rides me and screams, I envisioned a walk off win today or Archer goes nine scoreless and then she climaxes. We clean up after fornicating, sniff a couple of bumps and sip our coffees.
"You ready for the game baby?" she asks.
"Rays up," I retort.