Sex & Sox

My passions: Sex and the Boston Red Sox!

Thursday, January 27, 2005

Almost a Bride, in Mourning

Well, it's taken me til now to be able to type out these words: Goodbye, Minty. I will miss you.

I could try to be poetic and classy, but the way I feel for you is a bit more raunchy than that. I've said it before, but I'll say it again, now that you'll be in New York, which is, as we all know, closer to Toronto than Boston is (though infinitely less interesting): please feel free to swing by my place and use me for some stress relief. I promise I'll even lock the chihuahua out of the bedroom so that his cold, wet little nose doesn't poke at all your manly bits (that's for my warm, soft little fingers and tongue).

I know, I know, you hear this from all the women, and the wife seems like she's pretty badass and would probably beat the snot out of me for putting these thoughts out there for the world (Mrs. Mientkiewicz, e-mail me to discuss; I promise you that we can be friends, but please note that 'friends' has a different connotation in my world than it does in more upstanding circles), but there are some feelings a fine Russian lass such as myself cannot idly dismiss.

I'm considering Mets fandom, though word on the street is that it's agonizing. I can deal with that, I think, but I don't know if I can put up with watching Pedro bat. It was funny in St. Louis, but I don't want to remember World Series Pedro, because it just makes me sad to think of how crankily (yes, that is a word, even if it isn't!) he left us.

So, darling, know that there is at least one heart (and various other parts) in Red Sox Nation (admittedly, not one that's officially registered; one might say I have not been authenticated, but you can come authenticate me anytime) aching for you, and wishing you only the best. Kentucky Fried Kevin may be funnier, but I don't need a man to make me laugh when I'd rather he make me moan.

As always,
Your not-so-secret admirer,