Friday, August 29, 2008

I also almost didn't make my flight because I was goofing off at Newbury Comics

Hello post I wrote on Wednesday but forgot to hit publish on so it sat on the bench while I was in Boston self tanning and giving advice to a man who has 150 million platinum reasons not to listen to it...

It was a game of firsts at last night's Nationals-Dodgers “pitchers duel.”

Foremost, it was my ninth game at the new stadium but the first win I’ve witnessed this season.

Secondly, we opted to drive and it was a terrible mistake. Metro is the superior means of ballgame delivery even if your parking pass allows you to pull up directly into the opposing team’s dugout, which ours did.

As we sat in traffic:

Me: It looks like Ryan Avent was right about this one.
The G: Bite your tongue. Avent is not allowed to be right about anything, ever.

Thirdly, we got real gentleman-like seats so we had to be real gentlemen-like. So no yelling at Manny when he half-assed it from second on a play that would have tied the game if he hadn’t jogged to third.

Speaking of which, sportscasters, just because a game is low scoring (2-1) it shouldn’t automatically get assigned the label of “pitching duel” like I heard on the radio. The Nats used 5 different pitchers. The starter hit two batters, walked two batters, struck out none and committed an error. They team walked two opposing pitchers. And the Dodgers left 10 players on base. The Nats were lucky that their one run lead held up. It wasn’t a pitching duel.

The Lizard gives the G the ol' Slimy Eyeball. Then he licked it.

Finally, I’ve complained about this before but they really need to send Screech’s head to the dry cleaners. From a distance it looks white-ish, like one of those paint chips that’s not really pure white but still not in the same paint card as the grays. Up close, however, you can tell it’s been hugged by so many sticky children and sweaty drunks that its gotten exceedingly filthy.

Unless he’s going for whatever they call the hair style that number 8 has sporting there. Blond on top, decidedly not blond underneath.

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