After watching Chris Reitsma predictably toss the Braves' comeback chances into an incinerator tonight -- and believe me, given his piece-of-crap effort in the 2nd half of the season, it was predictable -- I thought it'd be good for me to find something else to be pissed about, just to get my mind off of this...... this...... this horrible, horrible moment in my life.

Somebody hug me.

No, don't hug me. Leave me here so I can be miserable.

No, OK, come back and hug me.

This hurts my heart so much.

So very much.

I can cry.

I'm cold, and I'm in pain.

I feel sick.

I have to get my mind off of baseball.

THE WNBA, KOBE'S FACIAL EXPRESSIONS, VOTE OR DIE, PUFF DADDY'S MOHAWK, COCKROACHES, URINE ON A TOILET SEAT, CHRISTINA AGUILERA, FAT PEOPLE WHO BREATHE HARD WHEN IT'S QUIET, NICOLAS CAGE'S PERFORMANCE IN SNAKE EYES, ASHANTI AND FABOLOUS REMAKING I'M SO INTO YOU, THE WNBA, THE WNBA, THE WNBA, THE WNBA.

That didn't work. I'm still sad. I'm sad because the Braves played about as terribly tonight as a playoff team in a win-or-go-home situation can possibly play.

It's the 8th inning now, and the Astros just scored two more runs and now lead 10-3.

My supposed "friend" Nirmal just called me on my cell to rub it in, but I didn't pick it up. I'm gonna pray that he tears his ACL this week.

Beltran just singled up and the middle and drove in two more runs. It's 12-3.

There's nothing I can do about this.

I just have to sit here and take this ass-whoopin' like a man.

And cry.