out like a lamb

I heard some street noise today I hadn't heard in a while: the sounds of joy—kids screaming, basketballs bouncing, people laughing & calling out to one another.

damn, dude.

here's an addendum to my never-change-your-first-answer rule: never change your first answer, unless your first answer is completely and utterly fucking stupid.

realiterally?

the next time anyone says "I literally had to..." or "it was literally...," I'm going to ask the person, "when you say 'literally,' do you mean that literally?"

priorities

when your softball team wins two close games against two lesser-division teams, don't give Coach shit for missing a bachelor party to be 100% for the next game.

Marwencol

a documentary I just saw on TV won myriad best-doc awards, but I wonder if it wasn't the subject matter—not any technical aspect—of the film that merits a kudo.

sleepwalking

I just woke up from a four-&-a-half–hour "nap." the dream that I had while "napping" seemed more real to me than the way that I feel now, which is drunk-groggy.

the Man in the Yellow Hat

it occurs (and has occurred) to me that it's nigh impossible to post something "of substance & import" on this blog every day. I am not the freakin' Dalai Lama.

happy boitday to da Oit!

happy Earthday to you./

happy Earthday to you./

happy Earthday, dear planet./

happy Earthday to you.

and many more! I'm sure no one else has come up with that.

literally, amazing!

I thought up what seemed like a good drinking game: take a sip when they say "amazing" on American Idol. bad idea: 6 minutes in, I'm being hauled off the floor.

F-N M's

leave it to the M's to win—and win big—when no one's paying attention because of the NBA & NHL playoffs—not to mention every other goddamned who-cares ballgame.

buzzed texting is drunk texting.

thankfully, I've never been accused of "sexting," but I'm afraid that I am guilty of what I call "textual harassment"—that, or TUI: texting under the influence.

pregame jittering

sitting here; poring over tomorrow's Opening Day lineups; not knowing what to do with myself, otherwise—knees bouncing, drinking yesterday's coffee and smoking.

the great Neanderthal novel

I wonder who wrote the first work of fiction that was intended for popular consumption. what caveman scribbled the first words and said, "you should read this"?

the wisdom of Yogi

I read that Berra used to keep a steak in his mitt, both to protect the palm of his hand and to pound the meat for his wife. (those last six words sound dirty.)

why I missed the batting cages

dear bus driver,

what is wrong with you? if you miss a scheduled stop time, it should be because you're late—not early. and the next time you're early, wait up!

the Sports Hater

Friday night, an M's game; Saturday afternoon, a Sounders match; and Sunday, a softball tournament. (can you blame a gal for taking two days off from blogging?)

"stop whining!" (who, me?)

what's worse: two wheelchairs on one bus, or a bratty little kid crying on the bus? (at least, it isn't a bratty little kid crying in a wheelchair on said bus.)

Unicorns, Scrub-Jays, and Ratz—oh, my!

I fear my posts "of substance & import" will be taking a backseat the next few weeks to musings on the upcoming Industrial Softball League season. my apologies.

to the break o' dawn

sorry for not posting last night; I was up till the early morn' typing up, formatting, and e-mailing the 2011 Industrial League Softball schedule—a work of art.

get your own damn bus.

on my bus today, not one but two wheelchairs are loaded within stops of each other. what're the chances of that happening? (why can't they wheel down the Hill?)

hunkering down

the time for taking practice cuts & infield drills is over. now we hunker down for the live fire that awaits us & use what we have learned to vanquish our foes.

softball roolz

rule #1: the night before the game, the player will abstain from indulging in debauchery & other lascivious activity. rule #2: the player will follow the rules.