If you have no interest in hurricanes or the Peyton Manning Dynasty, don’t turn to baseball to entertain you right now. Nothing’s going on.

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…how bad are they? The Mets are so bad that Mr. Met is going to replace the Zoloft egg as a mascot for depression.

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With the bear economy and difficult job market, I watch my finances like a hawk. I live in fear of losing my job as I see more and more co-workers packing their bags each week. So when it’s time for a major purchase, I buckle down, trim the fat and evaluate the situation. Times are tough, but I found a way… to afford a pair of tickets to the May 6th Mets/Phillies game at the new Citi Field.

Single-game tickets go on sale this Sunday, but fortunately my season-ticket-holder pal (aka “Really Rich Friend”) had early access. I am now the proud owner of two nosebleed-section tickets currently worth more than my 401k.
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