About paulmittendorff

The doctor said I need a backiotomy!

2016 MLB Predictions

AL West: Rangers

AL Central: Tigers

Al East: Rays

Wild Card 1: Royals

Wild Card 2: Astros

AL Cy Young: Archer

AL MVP: Trout (duh)

AL ROY: Mazaro

NL West: Dodgers

NL Central: Cubs

NL East: Nats

Wild Card 1: Mets

Wild Card 2: Giants

NL Cy Young: Kershaw (double duh)

NL MVP: Haper

NL ROY: JP Crawford

ALCS: Tigers v Astros

NLSC: Dodgers v Cubs

World Series: Astros over Cubs




2015 MLB Predictions

MLB predictions:

Order of finish

AL East: Boston, Toronto, Baltimore, New York, Tampa

AL Central: Detroit, Cleveland, Chicago, Kansas City, Minnesota

AL West: LAA, Seattle, Oakland, Houston, Texas

NL East: Washington, Miami, New York, Atlanta, Philadelphia

NL Central: Pittsburgh, St. Louis, Chicago, Cincinnati, The Good Land

NL West: Los Angeles, San Diego, San Francisco, Colorado, Arizona

AL WC1: Seattle

AL WC2: Toronto

NL WC1: St. Louis

NL WC2: San Diego

World Series: Detroit over Los Angeles Dodgers

AL Rookie of the Year: Betts

NL Rookie of the Year: Soler

AL Comeback Player: ARod

NL Comeback Player: Votto

AL Cy Young: David Price

NL Cy Young: Matt Harvey (its Kershaw but that’s boring)


NL MVP: Matt Kemp

Bonus Pick:

WCB Champ: Patrick

2014 WCB Mid Point Awards

MVP: Nelson Cruz

Runners Up: Jose Abreu, Mike Trout, Edwin Encarnacion

CY Young: Kershaw

Runners Up: Waino, Felix, Sale, Cueto

LVP: Bryce Harper

Runners Up: Cargo, Prince, Kipnis, Chris Davis

Cy Yuck: Verlander

Runners Up: Danny Salazar, Cingrani, Mike Minor

Manager of the Year: Drew

Runner Up: Spinelli

Manager of the Poo: Paul

Runner Up: Obviously mother fuckin Greg.

Second Half Predictions:

Playoff teams: Patrick, Spinelli, Thomas, Justin, Josh, Drew

Eventual champ: Patrick

Eventual runner up: Josh


Anyone else?


Another sandwich post

Eating a mediocre 7 dollar sandwich today got me to thinking.

Do people have no tastebuds?  This fucking place has a line out the foor every day and it fucking blows.

How does your cheddar cheese taste like american cheese?  Also, when I ask for mustard, it shouldnt be mayo with a yellow tint.

How hard is it to put condiments on a fucking sandwich in which i dont have to wipe globs of Mayo off the sandwich like cleaning up after Kalifa’s bukkakke.  I asked for light mayo dick.

Yes, I know there are mayo haters here but I hate dry sandwiches more than mayo.


I mean fuck this place.  I am looking at my sandwich right now and getting more and more depressed.


2014 WCB Draft and MLB Bold Predictions

Welcome back everyone and welcome Drew to a new season of WCB.  I cant wait to see all of you people this weekend.  It is gonna be a blast.  So with no further ado, I present my list of WCB and MLB predictions for 2014.  Due to the fact that everyone is already hurt, there will be no sad Padre game in which we guess which player dies or is traded.

MLB predictions:

AL East: Sox

AL Central: Tigers

AL West: Texas

WC: Rays, A’s

NL East: Washington

NL Central: Cardinals

NL West: Dodgers

WC: Pirates, Reds


World Series:

Cardinals over Rays in 6

NL MVP: Bryce Harper

Al MVP: Mike Trout

NL Cy: Strasburg

AL Cy: Darvish

NL ROY: Baez (just do it Cubs)

Al ROY: Bogaerts


WCB Predictions:

Justo will spend less on Albert Pujols than he ever has before.

Spinelli will make sure to spend all of his money by adding 21$ to the top Mike Trout bid.

Costen will draft Kevin Youkilis.

I will claim victory half way through the draft and bet somebody something stupid that I win the whole thing.

Ariel, Wes, Pat go batshit over Dodger players and drive overpay for Puig and Hanley by about the amount of Puig’s blood alcohol level after his first DUI in June.

A bunch of Padres are drafted and not one of them is worth it except for Benoit.

Buster Posey is the cheapest he has ever been and has the best season of his career.

Xander is quiet and makes the fewest in season moves.

Josh is overwhelmed by babies and loses his mind in June, sending him to the Hickman Hideaway.

Greg complains and people laugh. 

Thomas struts and preens in Vegas, FAILS miserably in the season and Paul gets his fucking revenge for last season, asshole.

Patrick is the most sober he has been in three drafts and actually, maybe, kind of does well.

Wes is the least sober he has been in three drafts and actually, maybe, kicks the Mr. May monikker. 


The Song of Wes: An Epic Tale of Woe and Wonderment

Gather round my friends and let me tell you a tale of woe and wonderment.

As you all know, Wes has recently taken the title for palest man on Maui. While this may be new news, the real story is how he got there.

It all started Thursday, September 12th at 5:29 as Wes made his way to visit his Bay Area friends before retiring to the islands at the ripe age of however old he is.

Wes landed in Oakland slightly before 5:29 and let me know that he was heading to the exit to get a cab. Little did he know that this would be the first fateful mistake in a long line of mistakes made that day.

10 minutes later I receive the following text:

“My cab just got rear ended.”

I immediately call him to make sure the dude is fine. He is. A little annoyed, but mostly impressed with the exemplary examples of Berkeley 20 somethings that managed to hit the cab. Apparently their crunchiness was only bested by the fact that their weed inhalation most likely had everything to do with this accident. After exchanging information, Wes is on the road again.

A few minutes later, I receive the following:

“Fucking a. Fatal motorcycle crash up the fwy too.”

Then this,

“That was fucking gross.”
“Mangled corpse.”
“They were just scooping him up.”
“His bike was lodged in he wheel well of a big rig.”

With that unsettling image in mind I welcomed him to San Francisco. Fastforward 25 minutes and we are at my house eating a little pizza before heading out. Little do I realize that Wes made a fateful decision and barely ate anything for dinner.

We head down to Rosaumnde were fellow morons Thomas and Xander awaited us. Xander had a free pass so was ready for imbibing. We past time drinking and chatting and received an awesome text from Greg ordering me to buy a round for the group on Greg. Sobriety was waning.

As we leave Rosamunde, Wes mentions that he only wants to go to a bar where we can watch the Dodgers v Giants. So we head over to Mission Bar on Mission (kinda shady bar). Xander proceeds to buy a bunch of High Lifes and then Wes says the line of the night.

“I thought you guys could drink beer. I feel like I am the only one drinking.”

Of course, we had matched him beer for beer all night and it was obvious that he was the most intoxicated. So Xander buys another round of High Life’s as we enjoy the game. Wes and I go outside for a smoke and this is where I noticed the deadness of Wes’ eyes and the glorious gait of a hobbled drunkard. While smoking, he sees the bouncer wearing a college shirt from somewhere (I was also drunk). Wes walks up to him pokes him in the chest, slightly rubbing the school’s logo, and asks “What is this all about?”

The bouncer gives him a death stare and slowly explains he went to school there. Wes disagrees.

Wes starts asking all about him and rubs the dude’s shirt again.

I decide to swoop in and take him away. We re-enter the bar to watch the last inning of the game and get another round of the Champagne of Shit Beer. At this point, the bottom of the 9th is in full swing, our sobriety is gone, and all that is left is for Wes to insult the entire bar.

Walkoff hit. Dodgers win. Wes raises his LAD hat in the air and yells Dodgers as Xander, Thomas, and I decide that maybe another bar is in order. As we march him past angry eyes, we are bid farwell with a “FUCK LA.”

Xander is drunk, and wants to drink more. In case no one knows this, but Xander is a bad influence when drinking. Especially sans kid and wife.


Xander wants to play shuffleboard. So we go to Doc’s Clock after leaving Thomas at Bart. Xander and I patiently wait for the table while Wes continues to drink. I don’t know how much during this time as I was not paying attention to him. It appears to be during this time that inebriation escalates.

After a really crappy shuffle board game, I call it quits. “I have work tomorrow” I explained. Xander calls me a pussy. Wes says something but it was hardly coherent. Xander wants tall boys and if you havent figured it out during this story, Xander gets what he wants.

He runs to the store and comes back with three 24oz Modelos for the walk home, which comprised of about 8 blocks with interspersed hills to make our out of shape drunken bodies sad with lethargy. Heading up the hill, I hear Wes say “Wait up.” I turn to see Wes try to tie his shoes, fall on his ass and spill the entire Modelo all over the ground and a bit on himself.

Xander and I break ribs laughing and realize that tomorrow is going to hurt like a mother fucker. I finally get Wes home where we smoke and talk. Wes goes to the bathroom and quietly vomits and returns. He promptly falls asleep. At 7 AM when going out the door, I give Wes one of our keys for our house and leave for work.

I receive the following text:

“You roofied me or something. Where am I? What’s going in?”

“Dude, for just drinking beer, I’m fuckin tilted today. Did I go do shots that I don’t remember?”

Thus began a weekend that would end with Wes losing the key to my house, locking himself out twice, contemplating sleeping on the stoop of my friends house while calling me 11 times at 1 AM.

It was the best of times and it was the worse of times. Actually, it was the Wes-est of times. Drunken, sloppy, and a barrel of fun.