Or: I. Hate. Everyone.
(photo from Yahoo! Sports)
Who wants to venture a guess as to whether or not Johnny Damon ran into the wall after this attempted catch? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
I best keep this short lest I inadvertently start an international incident with Canada by saying something uncharitable about their…everything.
Good things that happened today’:
My baby brudder turned 22! To celebrate this, we went to a steakhouse and had a gigantic dinner. However, the best part happened when my brother’s girlfriend informed the waiter that we would be needing some sort of celebratory dessert. We expected the customary singing and dancing waiter bit that is always more embarrassing for the wait staff than it is for the customers, but this guy outdid himself. He didn’t sing and he didn’t dance, but with the strawberry dessert concoction, he also brought a tinfoil donkey hat, constructed out of approximately eight yards of aluminum foil, with sparklers in the giant ears. He then proceeded to place said hat on my brother’s head and light the sparklers. My brother, who didn’t see this coming, sat perfectly still with an “I’m’a kill you all” look on his face. It was, quite simply, the funniest thing I’ve seen in a good long while. I laughed for a good twenty minutes. Oh, and you better believe there will be pictures of this forthcoming. Bloody brilliant, that was.
The new Star Wars movie? Bit of ass kickery, that is. Seriously, it rules. We killed some time earlier today by scoping out a theater and catching a matinee. It’s easily the best of the three prequels and made me remember why I loved Star Wars in the first place. Hayden Christensen can’t act his way out of a paper bag but neither could Mark Hamill so perhaps it’s fitting. However, all due credit to George Lucas but would it perhaps have been possible for him to write an ending that didn’t remind me quite so much of the “It’s just a flesh wound!” scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail? No? Those of you who’ve seen it know what I’m talking about. But that’s a minor issue. So, in short, Star Wars=teh rawk!
This conversation happened at dinner:
Bro’s girlfriend: The white jerseys don’t have names?
Bro: Nope. Just the gray ones.
Me: Except for the Yankees, they don’t have names on their home or away jerseys.
Bro’s girlfriend: How come?
Me: They’re just that cool.
Bro: It’s like a code. Jeter is number two which clearly means he likes it in the ass.
Me: Bwahahahaha! (cue Keith’s India Pale Ale shooting out of my nostrils)
The hilarious text messages I received from no fewer than four parties requesting that I get my ass out of Canada posthaste. I will comply as soon as humanely possible.
My brother’s ingenious heckling of Gregg Zaun and his hockey mask: “Atta boy, Belfour!” (so…three of you got that, eh?)
Bad things that happened today:
Pretty much everything else.
Home tomorrow night, kids. And like Jennifer Love Hewitt and her giant…hair, I can’t hardly wait.