Dear Alcohol: You Suck

The July 4th weekend was fun but I now owe some people apologies. While at the time of my transgressions I did say I was sorry, they will be more permanent in blog form.

1. To the Mayor of Port Republic: I apologize for losing your good yellow fishing lure. Come August, when the water is low, you will find it snagged under the large log about thirty feet upstream of that old sofa. I am not sorry for punching you in the rhomboideus minor, though, just as you are probably not sorry for punching me in the face.

2. To friend and wife-friend: I'm sorry for splitting one of your new croquet balls. But with all due respect, that ball was, in theory, designed to be struck by a mallet. Upon said striking, it should have maintained its wholeness. On the plus side, I think the yellow spray painted softball blends in seamlessly to the rest of the set.

3. To the family of National's catcher Brian Schneider sitting in our section: Although paying fans have a right to voice their disgust with a botched pop fly, your son is not the "piece of garbage" I may have labeled him. Thank you for setting me straight.

4. To the guy and two girls in front of me at the Meredith Bragg show. I wish I could say that in the excitement of the performance people were jumping up and down and I spilled some beer on you. In reality, it was before the show started, it went down the wrong pipe and you were unlucky enough to be the subject of a Miller Light aerosol spray. It was one of the grossest things I've ever done and I'm terribly sorry.

Fun weekend, wasn't it? And next week I'm attending an open bar, out-of-town wedding of a never-before-met god-brother-in-law. It should afford me plenty of opportunity for future apologies.