Greetings, ladies and gentlemen. I am pleased to report a piece of happy news. I, Manny Ramirez, have taken the liberty of hiring a recorder/editor to improve the quality of the content in this weblog. I hope to engage my audience at a more visceral level, providing more accurate and entertaining descriptions of the follies that befall me in my daily life. In addition, I seek to make this “blog” more accessible to new readers, to bolster my readership. Mr. Ivan Teetpize has agreed to serve as editor of this blog, and for this I am very grateful.
Verily, a tale of woe befell me this very morning. Bathing in the tub in my home, I was struck with remembrance of my dear friend LMonstro, who remains hospitalized and in a coma. At that very moment, I clasped my hands together to form an orison to our Lord, beseeching Him for a quick recovery for LMonstro. Since my eyes were closed, I was unaware when my beloved son Manny Jr. entered the bathroom with a Super Soaker filled with motor oil.
There I lay, in the bathtub, suds caressing my shoulders and back, mouth wide open begging Jesus for help. Just three feet away, the fruit of my loins, whom I and my beautiful bride created from dust, took aim at my open mouth as if I were a common, clown-shaped carnival amusement.
When Manny Jr. fired his petrochemical payload into my gaping maw, I was instantly roused from my reverie. My taste buds revolted, having never tasted such vileness before. I exclaimed, “Pluh!” I then hopped out of the tub to chase my son and give him a taste of his own medicine. However, I slipped on a rubber duck toy on the floor, and fell backwards onto my head. Words cannot describe how unfortunate I felt at this moment. As I slowly lost consciousness, I cried out for help, but none came.
I awoke to the sound of my cellular telephone, and somehow managed to crawl over to the sink to answer it. Terry Francona, the Red Sox manager, beckoned me to Fenway Park to play against the Kansas City Royals. Luckily, I was able to find the keys to my car and make it in time for the first pitch. Thank Providence! I never did find my son, and I intend to speak with him when I get home. I will make sure to inform you of the proceedings.