IT'S ME, BASEBALL HALL OF FAMER WADE BOGGS, WELCOMING YOU TO WADE BLOGGS. THIS IS WHERE I WILL REGALE YOU WITH MY INTIMATE FEELINGS AND ALSO SOME TALES FROM MY DAYS AS BASEBALL'S SEXIEST LEFT-HANDED BATTER.
HERE IS A PICTURE OF ME AT THE PLATE LOOKING DOWNRIGHT DAPPER IN MY FAVORITE PAIR OF SPECTACLES. INTERESTING THING ABOUT MY SPECTACLES: THE DAY THAT I FIRST GOT THESE SMOOTH FRAMES, I WAS STRUTTING MY STUFF ROUNDABOUTS THE BOSTON HARBOR, REMEMBERING WITH FONDNESS THE FAMED TEAPARTY THAT TOOK PLACE IN THAT VERY BODY OF WATER, WHEN A WOMAN APPROACHED ME AND COMPLIMENTED ME ON MY SPECS. I THANKED HER AND DOFFED MY CAP, WALKING AWAY WITH A SPRING IN MY STEP. THREE YEARS LATER, I WAS MARRIED TO THAT VERY SAME WOMAN. THE VERY SAME WOMAN THAT WOULD EVENTUALLY RUN ME OVER WITH HER JEEP. THE VERY SAME WOMAN NAMED DEBORAH.DEBORAH DIDN'T SPLATTER ME ON PURPOSE THOUGH. IT WAS ENTIRELY AN ACCIDENT CAUSED BY HER PUSHING ME UNDER THE TIRE ACCIDENTALLY. WE HAD JUST EATEN A FINE STEAK-AND-POTATOES DINNER AT HOSS'S STEAK & SEAHOUSE AND I WAS FEELING A TOUCH OF THE ESCHERICHIA COLI, SO I GAVE DEBBIE THE KEYS. THE NEXT THING YOU KNOW, I WAS IN THE HOSPITAL WITH A SKID MARK ON MY ARM AND MORE THAN A SKID MARK IN MY BRIEFS. I DECIDED THEN AND THERE THAT I WOULD NEVER EAT AT HOSS'S STEAK & SEAHOUSE AGAIN. HOSSPITALITY MY ASS!
STAY TUNED FOR FUTURE POSTS WHERE I WILL ELABORATE ON THE GREAT FOLK MYTHS OF OUR TIME. DID I REALLY DRINK SIXTY-FOUR BEERS ON A PLANE? HOW DID I ESCAPE FROM THE DREADED PIRATE GHOSTS AT SKULL ISLAND? WHAT WAS IT LIKE BEING A GUEST STAR ON THE SIMPSONS WHEN IT STILL MEANT SOMETHING?
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