Sit down, you bum!

I’m a little behind on my posting here. I’m a little behind on a lot of things, actually: my thesis, the freelance work I have due soon, fashion, the eight ball, the curve, the times…well, you get the idea. So I thought, what better way to catch up than to waste — ahem — spend some time updating my blog.

For starters, this weekend I went to a Giants game. It was rather ho-hum as games go — the Giants lost (2-0) and Barry Bonds apparently had the the day off. But we did have good seats; the tickets trickled down through the hierarchy of Billy’s company and somehow landed in Billy’s lap. They were right behind home plate, which was awesome. Also awesome was the guy sitting behind us who was for the most part quiet, but every so often would yell out to the Giants batters (“Come on Sugar!” to Ray Durham) or the pitcher (“Strike him out Noah!”).  And every so often, he would yell to the opposing team’s batters.  (“Sit down, you bum!”) Being so close to the players, you were definitely aware that they heard. We were so close, in fact, that there was a net in front of us so we wouldn’t get hit by the flying bats, balls, hats, and so on.


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