2003-09-11 - 4:30 p.m.
This weekend is *insanity*! Dinner with friends tomorrow night at my place. With the girls Saturday morning/afternoon. A big social dinner-type thingie Saturday night. Sunday football and bbq with more friends. When am I supposed to bike? Sleep? Watch the A's get their sorry butts kicked again?
On that note: I know that I'm not allowed to bitch, since both my teams have made the playoffs the last couple of years, but sheesh. Lately I've seen some terrible playing by both the As and Giants. Ken Macha, do NOT leave Tim Hudson in when he's already thrown 120 pitches! Just because your lame-ass pitching coach believes in looking at pitches thrown over an 11-day period does NOT mean that a man's arm is meant to hurl a tiny sphere 120 times in sequence! This is what your bullpen is *for*! And I don't even want to talk about Edgardo Alfonso. The man is useless. Useless! Hello, Edgardo, have you heard of run production? Or hustle? You know it's bad when Andres Gallarraga, who has ten years on you, can beat you to the bag!
Okay, I'm done now. Whew.
I've decided that I need a dating tutor. A little fairy* to live on my shoulder and nudge me when I should be paying attention to somebody. Or when to give up. Right now there's somebody whose body language I just cannot read. What is this touching my shoulder thing? This leaning closer all the time thing? What am I supposed to do with any of it?
Bah, who cares. The weekend will clear up some of it. Either the weekend or the accompanying sangria. Mmm, sangria.
*No, doofi (doofuses?), not a gay man. I have plenty of gay friends trying to explain men already. Not that it helps.
Comments: Speak your piece!
former / latter