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I spent Sunday afternoon at the SkyDome with some of my favourite people from the Internet. No, not porn stars. My Twitter family. We watched, and some of us drank Bud Light Lime, as the Toronto Blue Jays laid another beating on the Baltimore Orioles. Thanks, Baltimore. This summer was truly a pleasure.

I can't remember how the discussion began. That's not to say I'm surprised it came up; we're from the Internet, after all. (Be sure to let us know how cool we are in the comments.) Anyway, here it is: what is the proper pronunciation of "GIF"?

I've been calling it "jif" since I learned to speak the majestic English language. "Gif," pronounced "jif," was actually my first word. Crazy, I know. And I'm right. I'm also, it seems, in the minority. To the Internet, nerds.

From the creators of the GIF graphics file format, CompuServe, back in 1987:

"The GIF (Graphics Interchange Format), pronounced 'JIF', was designed by CompuServe and the official specification released in June of 1987."

From Bob Berry, the author of CompuServe's CompuShow, in an email:

"GIF has always been pronounced "jif", since it was first released in 1987."

Oh, hell, it's even on Wikipedia. And when has Wikipedia ever been wrong? Never, that's when.

"According to Steve Wilhite, the creator of the GIF format, the original pronunciation deliberately echoes the American peanut butter brand, Jif ..."

"Jif." Like the damn peanut butter. Deliberately. And, look, I get that language evolves, that the Oxford Dictionary deems both pronunciations correct, and that perhaps more people pronounce it "gif," like "gift." But that only means more people are wrong. The Internet has spoken, nerds.

Much love to the Twitter fam. Sunday's festivities -- baseball, beer, and the finer workings of the Internet -- were a blast, and make the soon-to-be-over Blue Jays season that much more depressing. Thanks, guys and gals. Was a riot. 

On your way out, please do show some love to Baltimore. Even though they're a classless bunch who throw at Jose Bautista. Twice! Nothing like a 61-94 team sending a message on a Sunday afternoon in late September, eh? Pathetic. Anyway: Toronto's 15-3 record versus the OrioLOLes is a big reason why the Jays will finish above .500 -- they're on pace to better my 82-80 prediction!!!1 -- in Cito's swan song. And that's exactly how The Manager should go out: a winner.

Stealing Home: Birds of a feather flock together

"Man, I hate the f**king Yankees."

- Random Baltimore Orioles fan

Those were the words which had me feeling, almost immediately, as if I belonged at Oriole Park in Camden Yards; as if I was, in a way, at home.

Read about how for one night, and one night only, I rooted for Baltimore's birds at GlobeSports.com.

And, yes, the baseball amphitheatre down in Maryland is just as magnificent you've imagined her to be. I'd highly recommend the Baltimore baseball experience.

Philly, Friday night. I'm not going to lie: it's going to be rough seeing all those Roy Halladay jerseys. Definitely not looking forward to that part.

Chicago on Saturday. Minnesota on Tuesday. #TBRTOAL continues ...

You Are Appreciated

Mission: Doc, to watch every start Harry Leroy Halladay III makes at the Rogers Centre this season, continued last night. I'm three for three, my friends.

After giving up an un-Halladay like six hits and two earned runs over his first four innings, Harry settled down. Like I knew he would.

With the 8-4 win, the Toronto Blue Jays are back in first place, where they belong, and Halladay improved his record to 5-1. With an offence that continues to pound the baseball (I know, not so difficult against the mighty Baltimore Orioles pitching staff), Doc's piling up the wins. So far this young season, the bats are making up for all the times Halladay pitched well in years prior, and didn't get any run support. It's a beautiful thing.

You know, I hate talking and writing about Halladay's future. Will he be traded? Will he leave in search of a ring, or even just a playoff appearance? Who knows. I don't have the answers, that's for sure. But I'm taking nothing for granted. No matter what happens, Mission: Doc means I'll have no regrets; it means I'll never wish I had made more of an effort to head down to the Rogers Centre and watch Doc do his thing.

Roy Halladay, you are appreciated.

The Cito Effect

In the 8th inning, with Scott Downs warm in the bullpen, and men on first and third with two down in a 6-4 ball game, out stepped Cito Gaston from the Blue Jays dugout. 

We, Jays fans, rose to our feet as well. It was the end of the line for Roy Halladay and, as always, he was deserving of a farewell worthy of his effort.

Only Doc didn't get the hook.

The Gastonian one reached the mound and instead of taking the ball from Halladay, who'd thrown more than 110 pitches, told him he'd see Doc in the dugout after he retired Ty Wigginton.

Doc, never one to let his manager down, did just that.

Amazing. Ladies and gentlemen, The Cito Effect.

Fret not, The Blue Jay Hunter and I are working on the t-shirts.

Foul Ball Fail

Sitting about 20 odd rows up on the first base side in shallow right field, an Oriole hit one right at me. I was ready. I'd been waiting for this moment my entire life. Only the ball smashed off the ring finger of my right hand, leaving it swollen, bruised, and my nail half black.

Fail. Shame. Bewilderment.

All those years of playing cricket, for what? The ball landed a row in front of me, and into the hands of another. I still can't believe I didn't come up with it.

And, for the record, had I made the catch, I would have given the ball to the young boy behind me.

Blue Jays Fever

On the way home from the game, an old man on the subway tapped me on the shoulder, wanting to know if the Jays were victorious. I was in my powder blue jersey, and more than happy to oblige.

Indeed they did, Grandpa.

He smiled, and then asked if Halladay went the distance. A wise old man, clearly.

I told him Doc went eight, and that Scott Downs finished off Baltimore.

He smiled, again, and thanked me.

I told him it was my pleasure, and that the Jays were winning the pennant.

The Basement

Below are the updated AL East standings. Read em. And weep. Weep profusely. As I have been.

After yesterday's loss to the lowly Baltimore Orioles, the Blue Jays are back in the basement. Uh, I guess that makes us the lowly ones doesn't it? Fuck.

What makes all of this so difficult is that the Jays have allowed the fewest runs against - 396 - in the division. They've also scored the fewest - 416. Damn, pathetic, useless, offence.

And might it be time to send young Jesse Litsch down to Syracuse? He's looked Josh Towers-awful the last two months. Damn, pathetic, useless, Josh Towers.

Anyway, the series with the O's continues tonight, and I'll be in attendance at Oriole Park at Camden Yards, in the dangerous (or so I'm told by people who watch The Wire) city of Baltimore, Maryland. I'm looking forward to taking in the ball game at one of baseball's finest parks. Just pray to whomever it is you pray to that it doesn't rain, people. Thank you. Your cooperation is greatly appreciated.

My second-favourite Blue Jays pitcher Shaun "North of Steeles" Marcum is back from the disabled list and will be on the mound tonight. As much as I'd love to, I can't take credit for that gem of a nickname. That's all the inebriated ones at Drunk Jays Fans. Here's hoping Marcum puts on a show, bitch slaps the Orioles, and sends me home happy.

Awful Orioles

My momma always said life was like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get.

Ok, she didn't, but as a youth, she did always tell me that no matter how bad things got, they could always be worse. My parents' message was simple - don't take anything for granted, because there is always someone out there less fortunate than you.

Oh, those parents. How right they can be sometimes.

Every morning I wake up and, whether it's sunny or raining outside, I look out my window, and I thank God...

For not making me a Baltimore Orioles fan. The Orioles are one fudged up organization. They make the Toronto Blue Jays seem like, well, the New York Yankees.

The O's have dropped 14 of their last 16 contests, and 10 in a row at home. As a colleague of mine, who unfortunately happens to be an Orioles fan (pray for him, please), put it - the Orioles have checked out.

First there was the 30-3 pounding they took from the Texas Rangers. The box score of the game is almost as long as half a Harry Potter novel; the top of the 8th inning is an excruciatingly long chapter. The Rangers finished that game with 29 hits. That's almost as shocking as the 30 runs.

Last Saturday B-more was no-hit by Boston Red Sox rookie Clay Buchholz. The final score in that game was 10-0.

But what really made my heart ache for the Orioles and their fans was their 17-2 loss to the Tampa Bay Devil Rays on Wednesday night. Losing to the D-Rays is bad enough, but by a score of 17-2? Oh Mylanta.

Somehow, the Orioles are not in last place in the American League East division. Not yet, at least. They've got the pathetic Devil Rays to thank for that. Their season, however, has been another one to forget. I'm not really sure I can remember the last time the Orioles have been any good at all. The Blue Jays have finished in third place in the AL East for the last God knows how many years, so that means the Orioles have always finished behind them, and that's just sad.

The Jays aren't going to the playoffs, unless Santa Claus gets his chubby buttocks down my chimney and delivers the miracle himself. It's truly disappointing, it really is, but the parental unit, in all their wisdom, were right - it could be worse: I could be an Orioles fan.

It hurts just thinking about it.