So it's official. Mr. Drunk-in-the-trunk is having a baby girl. Found out on the ultrasound today. For those of you who haven't witnessed an ultrasound of your own child, it's quite weird. It's like some freaked out H.R. Geiger dream. Tons of bones, skeletal figures, coming in and out of focus is a black and white cocoon-like fleshy mess. Then, BAM! You get to see a cute little footprint, no bigger than the tip of your pinky.
Must celebrate...
Monday, July 11, 2005
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Softball
My company recently decided to start a Softball team to play in a LOW-KEY Co-ed leauge. Our first game was last night. We found out about the game the night before last.
Thankfully, the majority of our company's team is a bunch of young overweight people, who felt like reliving the glory days of baseball. (myself included) So we show up at the field, with no uniforms, three balls, one bat, and some carpet remnants to use for bases.
The other team is wearing matching uniforms, and warming up briskly in the Cali sun. After throwing the ball for five minutes and getting really stupid damn hot, I began to cut the carpet to regulation size. Meanwhile the other team is shagging balls and looking pretty fucking good.
Long story short, we felt like the bad news bears for the first part. I was the pitcher, and having one hell of a time lofting the ball in the air like some horseshoe playin' granny, and trying not to hit these overweight secretaries. But as play resumed, we started kicking SERIOUS ass. Boyband ass. Then the other team starts crying like a fatass Oprah about all these bullshit rules, and how we're being "too competitive". Probably because I was charging home and had to jump over a Volkswagen of a woman in order not to collide with her and risk shattering my bones.
Thankfully, the majority of our company's team is a bunch of young overweight people, who felt like reliving the glory days of baseball. (myself included) So we show up at the field, with no uniforms, three balls, one bat, and some carpet remnants to use for bases.
The other team is wearing matching uniforms, and warming up briskly in the Cali sun. After throwing the ball for five minutes and getting really stupid damn hot, I began to cut the carpet to regulation size. Meanwhile the other team is shagging balls and looking pretty fucking good.
Long story short, we felt like the bad news bears for the first part. I was the pitcher, and having one hell of a time lofting the ball in the air like some horseshoe playin' granny, and trying not to hit these overweight secretaries. But as play resumed, we started kicking SERIOUS ass. Boyband ass. Then the other team starts crying like a fatass Oprah about all these bullshit rules, and how we're being "too competitive". Probably because I was charging home and had to jump over a Volkswagen of a woman in order not to collide with her and risk shattering my bones.
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