Wrapped Up Like A Douche

Wrapped Up Like A Guest Blogger: Roger Cedeño
Hi, everybody, I’m Roger Cedeño. You may know me from my days as the wacky, fun-loving right fielder of the New York Mets. But since it seems those days may be coming to an end, I’ve decided to try my hand at a few other trades, and WULAD’s board of directors was kind enough to give me a shot while I consider how to make use of the months of inactivity to come during which I will be earning five million dollars. Thanks, guys! Hope you enjoy the Beluga I sent over!

Now let me start off by saying that when I’m not dropping easy fly balls or driving recklessly, I always make it a point to chow down on as many PowerBars® as possible. Mmm, PowerBars®. They’re like a 95 m.p.h. fastball for your stomach. No, that's no good. Maybe a shot of tequila that doesn’t get you drunk and is made out of nuts and grains instead of whatever they use to make tequila. In any case, PowerBars® get my full endorsement until March 31, with renewal option at fifty grand per year. OK, thirty-five. Call me.

Anyway, I’m really here to inform and entertain in much the same manner as your usual WULAD editorial staff—I want my Ferrari back in the same condition I left it, bizotches—so I’ll start with a little round-up of current events:

According to Some Government Guy, the U.S. is under imminent threat of a terrorist attack, with Washington D.C. and New York as likely targets. Lucky for me, I’m wintering here in my native Venezuela. To all of you who booed me at Shea Stadium: Good luck with that, fellas! But seriously kids—terrorism is no laughing matter. And neither is my batting average! Ba-dump-BUMP! Stay in school.

Looks like Michael Jackson is having some problems with the law again. Having been there, I can only tell him to be strong, Bro, and don’t resist when they want to do the cavity search. It’s no fun driving a Maserati on a donut cushion! Also I have a demo tape, maybe you could pass it along. [Sings] “I’m an… OUT-fielder, GLOVE-wielder, SONG-stealer, don’t ya mess around with me..” What’s that? Copy-what Infringe-what of the what now? OK, never mind. Call me, though, Mike.

And I heard that Joe Namath told some sports-news chick that he wanted to do the quarterback-sneak back in her hotel room—hey editor dudes! I came up with that one! I told you it'd be a riot! Anyway, as Joe and I have both been professional athletes for New York teams ending in "-ets", I can say that the temptation is always there, although I've seen quite a drop-off since I became the laughingstock of the league. But the trick, Joe, is to wait until the camera's off, big guy. Then you can let the love... flow.

Lastly, those WULAD dudes—who best be taking good care of my car—would like me to remind you to check out the Bach Festival. You know, my soon-to-be former teammate Mike Piazza really likes that classical shit. Now I know what they say about him, but let me tell you, he never did anything like that around me, and I consider myself a handsome man, you know. And so what if he keeps a shirtless photo of Richard Marx in his locker? I told you the man loves music.

So that’s it for my first stint as guest blogger here at WULAD—if you like what you’ve read, be sure and let the management know, so they can present me with an offer that doesn’t insult my intelligence and the intelligence of my agent. I mean, let’s be reasonable, people—I know Giambi’s getting $2.5 over at his guest-bloggin’ gig, and I’m much funnier than him. Call me, though. Peace out.

Disclaimer: Parody, not really written by Cedeño, blah blah, any similarity with crappy outfielders living or dead coincidental and not affliliated with blah blah blah, etc.