So The Boy won a free pass to a Carolina Mudcats game this year because he read a bunch of books for the Muddy Buddy Book Club. Hublet realized last week that the last time we'd have to use the ticket would be this week, and specifically tonight, so he called and got us 3 tickets for tonight's 7:15 game.
How hot is it here? So glad you asked! It's 100 degrees. And with the heat index, it's more like 105! Perfect weather for sitting outside at a baseball game! Not.
I wonder if it's possible to attend the game naked, with a giant, portable, battery-operated fan? Because there's not enough fresh squeezed lemonade in America to keep me sufficiently hydrated and cool, people.
But because I'm always thinking of you, dear readers, if the giant Catfish mascot, Muddy, passes out while doing a dugout dance, I'll take a picture for you.
Posted by Big Arm Woman at August 7, 2007 02:01 PM | TrackBackConsidering that he's a catfish, and bearing the humidity in mind, he should feel right at home.
Posted by: Jonathan Elliott at August 7, 2007 08:44 PMSo, did the fish pass out from dehydration?
Posted by: John at August 7, 2007 10:59 PMMuddy did not pass out, but the wimpy Big Arm Woman made us leave after six and a half innings, instead of the full seven we had agreed on. The Boy tried to stick with me, but eventually she wore him down. I mean, geez, where's the love for the game?
I obviously have work to do in my household.
Posted by: Hublet at August 8, 2007 09:26 AMI'll tell you where the love of the game went - it leaked slowly out of my pores, ran down my legs, and pooled at my feet, where it came into contact with the steaming hot surface of a concrete bowl that had spent all day accumulating solar energy, only to release it onto unsuspecting spectators during the Baseball Game from (or Held in) Hell.
Then my love of the game evaporated into the ether, where it may fuel a vicious thunderstorm later this week.
Not that I'm bitter.
Posted by: BAW at August 8, 2007 02:34 PMNo - it turned into bad cosmic karma, which probably tipped scales to the evil side just enough to allow Barry Bonds to hit that dreaded homer last night. Nice going.
Posted by: Hublet at August 8, 2007 03:49 PMDo not blame Captain Steroid on me, dude. Seriously. And if by some stretch of the imagination it was my evil karma, it's totally your fault for making me go in the first place.
So to sum up - Barry Bonds is all your fault. And if you give me a minute, I can probably come up with other stuff to blame on you, too.
Posted by: BAW at August 8, 2007 03:52 PMI think this is the first time I've seen a matrimonial argument in the comments section of a blog. Beautiful.
Posted by: Emily at August 8, 2007 05:10 PM"I mean, geez, where's the love for the game?
I obviously have work to do in my household."
Yup. Sounds like you'll be doing your own cooking and dishes for now.
Posted by: PersonFromPorlock at August 8, 2007 05:42 PMUh... er... actually I already do both of those - a little deal I worked out so I don't have to do any other indoor chores. Just don't tell anyone, ok? I don't want to lose my street cred.
Posted by: Hublet at August 8, 2007 06:18 PMYou have no street cred, dear, but you do make a fabulous risotto. And since I would much rather scrub a toilet than cook ANYTHING, our little arrangement works out fine.
Posted by: BAW at August 8, 2007 11:15 PMRisotto? Risotto? Chili, yes. Steak, yes. BBQ, yes. Bur risotto? Migawd.
Posted by: PersonFromPorlock at August 9, 2007 07:51 AMWhat can I say? He's a Renaissance dude. I do most of the chili cooking.
Posted by: BAW at August 9, 2007 09:55 AM