Trivial trauma and its very real consequences

If I had even the smallest amount of pride, I would not do this. But clearly, I do not. And so now I venture into the blogosphere, a land where 45 year old lunatics with no jobs are able to publish their thoughts despite the fact that no one really gives a....can I say shit on this thing....I mean I know it's a blog and its the Internet so there are no standards, but are there really no standards? Yea, for the sake of any future employer, or date (although now that I have a blog, I can be fairly certain that this probably won't ever be a problem again) that may choose to Google my name, there will be standards on this website. But they will likely be very, very low, and I would appreciate your not asking me to raise them.
For those of you who are regular listeners of my radio Show, which basically means Grotta, Pete, and from time to time a couple of my other college buddies. There are also six Hamilton area listeners that always show up on our listener data, but because they are residents of Hamilton, New York, I feel I can safely assume that they will never, ever see this because in all likelihood they are far too poor to own a computer, much less have Internet access. Hell, I don't even know if the public library in Hamilton has web access. Actually, come to think of it, I'm not even that sure that Hamilton has a public library. If by chance I am wrong, and you are one of the six Hamiltonians and you somehow found access to the internet and are reading this right now....please keep listening to the show.
Anyway, the content of this blog will generally be rather ranty. I don't know if ranty is a word, but I really don't care because this is a blog and there are no editors. Most of these "posts" will be a long diatribe about how much I hate any of the following: The Houston Astros, The Houston Rockets, The Houston Texans, Andrew Grotta, ESPN Motion, the fact that they televise womens basketball, the existence of a drinking age, and the media. Over time, you can safely assume that this list of regular complaints will likely expand.
The major league trade deadline is obviously today, so you can expect some kind of post in the next couple of days regarding the Astros' inability/ unwillingness to finally wave the white flag and replenish what can only be described as an atrocious farm system, but before I get into that, I figured I'd fill you in on the excruciating decision making process that led me to flush any chance of getting laid ever again down the toilet just so I can spend time not getting paid to write. Basically, I maid a list of pros and cons.

Cons
1.Start a Blog= Give up sex forever- Not that I was getting a tremendous amount before, but starting a blog basically ended any hope that I have for an attractive girl to ever think I was cool. As I write these very words, I quite simply am committing sexual suicide. This one is going to take a while to get over, no way around it.

2. Start a Blog=Never get a job as a journalist, ever- With me, it's only a matter of time before I say something so ridiculously offensive that it will follow me for the rest of my days.

Pros
1. Start a Blog=Less Anger?- For those of you who are true fans of the three major Houston Sports franchises, you will understand me when I tell you that my teams have inflicted an unbelievable amount of trauma on me emotionally. To most, my life as a rich white kid with all of the advantages and opportunities that God could possibly be expected to provide, would seem pretty cushy. You might be thinking, I cannot believe he is bitching about his life, there are kids out there with abusive parents who don't feed them. Yea, sure, that situation is tough. But problems like these can possibly be resolved in time with a good shrink. I, on the other hand, will forever be haunted by Walt Weiss ruining middle school by leaping twelve feet into the air to stab Tony Eusabio's rocket in the NL Division series, and losing to a crappy Padres team in the NLDS in 98' after we traded away our entire farm system to rent Randy Johnson for a quarter of a season. I will forever be haunted by Eddie Griffin, the "troubled" young man who the Rockets traded the draft rights to Richard Jefferson to acquire. Albert Pujols ruined my senior year of high school, and Brad Lidge's career when he took Lidge deep in game five of the NLCS with the Astros only an out away from the World Series. And every time I see Reggie Bush or Vince Young on Sports Center, which will be a lot, I will feel like crying. So, while my problems might seem rather trivial when compared to the battered children, I feel like you should feel sorry for me.
Anyway, I hope this works out well, because for all intents and purposes, my life ends when I hit the "publish post" button.