They're Coming Through The Door.

I wasn't able to catch the entire game last night because mlb.tv was acting uppity. The girls performed almost flawlessly I'm told. I had to chuckle during the game. The television announcer, hailing from the home team, noted that the entire "All-U-Can-Eat" section of the stadium was sold out for the Yankees series. The Yankees were playing Kansas City by the way. Yeah, a lot of Yankees fans amongst the all-u-can eaters is something else the announcer said. I only wish I were joking. They actually say shit like this while I'm trying to watch. So when I said earlier that I had a chuckle, what that actually meant is that I spat beer halfway across my apartment. Gross I know. But all-u-can-eaters? What rules of speaking have to be violated to even come up with that?

I had a somewhat light day yesterday so I was watching an interview with RoRo and I gather that as he approaches his 500th career homo he's becoming a little frustrated with the spectacle that precedes his at-bats. Three bat boys come out, and the umpire is given six new balls, and the pitcher is given a marked ball. RoRo says it's quite a jinx whatever that means. I guess it's just one of those subtle details that you have to look closely in order to appreciate I say.

Enough of that anyway. In some altogether more practical news, I think I may be developing a boy crush on one of my building's security guards. He's the most delish, and he's so nice, always saying good morning, although they are required to tell me good morning, he also stops and chats with me sometimes, and he's expressed what would otherwise be an uncomfortable interest in my personal matters. When I come to work, when I leave, etc. My head just spins with airy romanticism as I watch him securing the flags. His strapping figure filling out his pin-striped suit so perfectly. But then I snap out of it and remember that I am in no way intended for such childish foolishness.