I'll Tell You Where It Goes.

Sunday brunch at IHOP is being pushed aside so that we may watch this mornings' Yankee game against the Reds. Yesterday's game saw the girls regress into a gaggle of bickering brats, and I'm afraid today's game warrants my first attentions.


I guess it probably started in the second inning when Georgie struck out with bases loaded. And he can be a huge sourpuss when things don't go his way. This is when I decided to make myself scarce, and I went to get my shirts pressed, bought a marketing basket, a new butter dish, and Cheez-Its were on special. Big mistake.


Derek shares a moment with Kenny.


RoRo spends a moment with Kenny. That's how it is.


Derek glares at the pitcher after striking out with two men on (which under normal circumstances is really hard to do) and I just think he looks like a kitty that has just lost her tuna. Growl!


And he actually lowers himself into a dispute with the home plate umpire.


And Michael of all people (who does the NYT crossword puzzle as well) has to get up all in that piss and make a spectacle of himself. Utterly beneath his dignity. And Josie isn't helping matters.

Yo La Tengo was on the crossword puzzle yesterday. Yesterday's puzzle was easy peasy. I hope today's is harder. I'll be doing it while I watch these nasty little bitches remember how to play baseball like gentlemen. Which should be facinating for me.