Last night, we went to an Indians game in Cleveland. With one of Matt's coworkers and *gasp* a new friend.
Yes, Pink Shoe Audience, I have a new friend. The new friend (Joy) and I made friends with the little twelve year olds sitting in front of us. When we were in a good mood, theire names were Shaggy, Spikey, and Curley.
When they were annoying, we called them Mullet, Crew, and Backstreet.
Joy and I spent a lot of time admiring Blake's butt. Why do baseball players have such cute butts?
My hometown hosts the Junior College World Series of Baseball, and when I was in middle school, I'd attend the games with my girlfriends, making sure to check out all the player's "batting averages." Because batting average was one of the only baseball terms we know. And really, we were just there to check out their asses.
But when Blake wasn't on the field, Joy and the chilluns tried to start the wave. Which made Joy (and her accomplice, me), look like drunk girls.
Friendly visits from our favorite beer man probably added to this vision of us.
Now. I've been gorging myself on Gooey Butter Cookies that John sent me - I've almost eaten the entire batch in one day. By myself. Thanks, John, now I'm getting fat. And now that you've sent me the recipe? Um, I'm going to get really fat.
But before I get so fat I can't leave the house, I'm going to have some fun. As in, I'm headed up to South Bend for the Notre Dame game this weekend (all y'all who are headed to the game? Send me an email and we'll catch up), and up to the Tiger's game in Detroit for Sunday. And I get to take about a million pictures. And possibly post them on the internet.
And, um, what are all you doing this weekend? Besides cheering for the Irish tomorrow afternoon.