This is an Odd Feeling

Here it is, the day before the first meetup with the feckless Fenway fuckwits, and for me, it does... nothing. Whereas usually such an occasion would bring forth that sweet mixture of glee, rage and dread in my head, all I'm thinking is:

"Fuck the Sox. I want the Mutts and I want them NOW, while the hitting and bullpen are so smoking hot it don't matter who the hell Torre hands the ball to at the beginning of the game."

It's very weird. I look at the standings and see handing out a beatdown in Boston this weekend puts the Yanks in first place, and while I dig the idea, in my heart I don't really give a shit. I'd much rather see hellfire rained down on the Mutts so my next door Mutt fan neighbor has to shut the fuck up.