In the Ghetto...

Here I am representing Morneausey alongside the statue of Elvis Presley as a boy. This was taken in Tupelo, Mississippi outside of the shack where Elvis was born. Yeah...I saw his tiny little itsy bitsy shack that he was born in. Poor Elvis...note my sarcasm. His "shack" was the same size as my first apartment.

How can I follow up my last post where I had a brush with fame (on the Jumbo-screen) and rockstar seats? I don’t think I can so I will just stick with what I know…nothing exciting.

Rewind to Tuesday:
Okay, I said it a million times yesterday…If Baker pitched well I would eat my words.
Well, here I am sitting down to a plate of smack-talk with a side of proved-me-wrong. It doesn’t taste well but I would rather eat my words than lose a game.
Well, enough of turning me into the victim and on to the hero of the game, Baker. He pitched well, he didn’t look freaked out, he seemed stable and managed to keep it together. Great game!!! I wasn’t at the game but I sure watched the whole event (all 12-innings) on the television. When it became stressful I would log onto Pulling a Blyleven and follow their baseball banter.

Fast forward to present time:
It is 9:30 p.m. on Wednesday and I am watching a 5-4 game with the Blue Jays in the lead. I missed the fifth, sixth and seventh inning due to yet another accident on 36th & Park Ave (the suicide corner.) No one was hurt but there was a lot of mad people and a fire truck full of hunky firemen. I was very tempted to bust out my baseball binoculars to watch the action but decided that I would look suspiciously like a freak.

Risa is at the game tonight and I know she is doing me proud by cheering and yelling. I am going to head back to the television to watch the last two innings unfold.