There Is A Time And Place For it After All.

Weekend was absolutely drowned in baseball. Yankees trounced the Red Sox 10-3, and then 14-3 on Saturday afternoon wasting Jesus knows how many runs in the process before just getting tuckered out and succumbing to the Red Sox last night in a haze of a game wherein they lost 9-3. One could say they could have used some of the runs from the nights before, but I'm not going to say anything even if I already kinda have. I'm just going to sit here.

Did the courtyard planting as well as my small herb garden in the back with lovage, oregano and chives. There was the tiniest ever drunkest shrew on the sidewalk who wasn't long for this world. Kept walking sideways. Once he stopped breathing Annonymous D placed him in the dumpster with what I hope was an appropriate degree of ceremony.

Yesterday was the very first day of the Summer Freak Show (Farmers Market) and everyone was in a deliciously foul mood. Flaunting their respective personality disorders about and throwing what emotional baggage they had around for the whole neighborhood to see. Just delightful!

I scored some blue and purple potatoes (no lies) as well as some enormous cucumbers. Really I said I wanted two so they gave me the biggest ones they had! Grabbed some tamales which are gross and just what you might expect on Capitol Hill oh well. I imagine the tamales in Ballard are just as vile. They come with a side of inexplicable grilled vegetables. Beets, turnips and God knows what else.

Rolled into work this morning where this mindless dip-fuck insists on trying to have a conversation with me (like actually while I'm trying to write this) and it takes a fierce & dizzying barrage of "I see"s, "You don't say"s & "Oh My"'s to make him disperse. Exhausting. Fuck, the phone is ringing.