That was an exceptionally cold night at the ballpark last night. Tim Lincecum on the mound, sadly got his first loss of the season. I’m pretty sure that ump blew that call on the balk, but it’s hard to tell from the center field bleachers, you know. It’s all OK, though, because at least I got to go to the game. Also, I got to yell at some Dodgers’ fans. Seriously, the Giants were playing the Rockies. Where’d the Dodger-blues come from? AB got a kick out of some of my random baseball utterances. “Run you slow slow slow . . . .little man!”
You know what’s really hard? Sending text messages when you hands are frozen solid. But I managed, and I have to say, I’m becoming much more of a fan of text messaging and picture mail. Especially when I get random ones in the middle of the night that make absolutely no sense from what I can only assume are very drunk friends. I hope some day to get one that is actually important, something along the lines of “water broke. baby coming.”
Anyway, by the time the game was over, my feet were completely numb. It’s so weird to walk around like that, and to have to assume that you’re touching the ground. When I got home, I went right into the shower to try to warm up. Went to bed around midnight. Woke up at 1:35 by random text messages. Two within a minute from two different friends. Then continued waking myself up every other hour for no apparent reason all night long.
I’m tired. I’m crabby. My throat is a little sore from the hollering.
Monday I’m going to an A’s game. Crazy.