Is there a cure for “I fucked up” days?
Yesterday was Murphy’s Law laughing at me from a funhouse mirrors set up. No matter which way I turned, ducked, or stepped I was running into something verbally or physically. Maybe Adam Sandler’s “remote” movie has a working prototype not used on the set so I can rewind and pause before running my knee into a wall not once, not twice, SOLD three times while performing activities that require extreme athletically inclined moves such as “bringing my workbag into the house” and “pouring a glass of milk”. That carried over to softball at which I blew a gorgeous night on the diamond by making Timmy Lupus look like Willie Mays in the outfield.
Hit the cut-off man?
Naw, lets over throw him by 30 feet and mock him for not having Michael Jordan’s vertical.
Run around the bases?
Simple, but lets make sure to twist an ankle while running hard around third and the base coach is telling you take it easy.
Catch a fly ball?
TOO EASY! But making it pop off the top of your glove and letting the go ahead run come in. You can’t buy that sort of talent folks.
Hitting a 12 inch ball that’s lobbed over the plate?
Its commonplace to hit a pitch that goes over the plate, but swinging at one that hits the opposite side batter’s box gets you on Chris Berman’s “Plays of the Week”. I rule.
Maybe I was too shocked about the calm, crisp weather or worried that the guys were going to drink all the Milwaukee’s Best in the parking lot before I got there.
Am I petty for writing up a night like this?
I chat up about little things like this and my buddy is over in Iraq working half the week (literally) in 110 degree heat, makes me wonder how can I enjoy living the “soft” life I have knowing people are putting themselves out there to help another nation (don’t see this as a forum to state “we shouldn’t be in Iraq etc. etc.” take that somewhere else please). Personally I think it’s great for things our armed forces are doing, and it’s too bad that more of the humanitarian efforts are glossed over or left out by the mass media. Everyday we read “civilians blown up by roadside bomb” or other assorted cruel headlines; instead how about a story on how a village got a new school built?
I just wrote back to my friend wishing he was here to tip back some beers, have his cute daughter play with all my other friend’s kids, and curse at buttonhooking a 3 iron off the tee which almost took out another foursome (we won’t mention my awesome golf skillz though).
Is it selfish or petty to want a friend back?
Come home soon.
Thanks for dropping by, now I can’t promise but I’ll attempt to keep my poker blogging card by actually playing poker sometime this week, maybe even throw some hardly earned cash at a WSOP satellite. That depends if Kyra decides against a moonlit dinner at 2am.
One can only hope.