Scenes from a Thursday night, watching the hometown Rangers attempt to win Game 6 of the World Series. Stream of consciousness thoughts, presented in sequential order.
Joe Buck needs to SHUT THE BUCK UP. Seriously - he's jinxing this thing.
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The Rangers are hell-bent on giving up their lead and going into extra innings. I blame Joe Buck.
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Missing: One happy place. Must find it. Offering a reward.
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Jumping jacks and jogging in place are not working. I’ll check Facebook. Hey, what do you know? One of my law school friends just posted that he, too, is doing jumping jacks. They aren’t working for him, either. Moving on to Plan B.
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Just poured myself a glass of Glenlivet. You know that I’m desperate, because I’m a Glenfiddich girl. (Didn’t discover that I was married to a Glenlivet boy until we were already married. Thankfully, we were already married, or I might have backed out.) How you also know that I’m desperate: I am drinking Glenlivet out of a plastic tumbler. On account of how the DOF’s are in a box somewhere in the belly of the Blackmon Mooring beast.
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Hey, we just scored two runs in the 10th! More Scotch is in order.
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Just witnessed a highly private moment between Ian Kinsler and Josh Hamilton in the dugout. Had to avert my eyes.
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Scotchy, Scotch, Scotch. How it goes down, down into my belly . . . .
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“Anchorman” is a highly underrated movie. Such a wealth of great movie lines. Not unlike “Fletch.” Apropos of largely nothing, I got to use a “Fletch” line at Lowe’s on Sunday. We were looking at an oven, and the sales dude pointed out something involving ball bearings. Inspiring me to say, “It’s all ball bearings nowadays.” Sales dude looked confused, but my husband laughed appreciatively. Our mutual love of “Fletch” is part of that which allows us to overcome the great Glenlivet/Glenfiddich divide.
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Oh, crud. I kept drinking Scotch, and now the Cards are surging. Apparently, the Scotch mojo works both ways. Switching to wine.
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Damn . . . we sure do like cabernet. Seriously. How much cabernet does one couple need? I’ll open a bottle of Waterstone. Nah, I think I’ll save the Waterstone. I’ll open a pinot noir instead. Oh – that’s why we have so much cab. Because we’re saving it for – some undetermined special event that, apparently, hasn't happened yet. Like a World Series win, perhaps.
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This is not going well. Why do I even care? It’s not like I grew up in North Texas. I grew up cheering for the Astros. And I’m not even a baseball person. I’m a basketball person. Seriously, I need to get a grip.
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Wow, this is a great bottle of wine. For a pinot noir. Need to remember this one.
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Exit kitchen, enter master suite. AND . . . the Rangers are peeing it away. Again. Need to move into another room.
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Letterman is interviewing Johnny Depp in the living room. They are both amazingly calm, given that the world is ending.
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Oh, Craig Ferguson is hosting Raj from “Big Bang” tonight! Love Raj. Have a sort of weird crush on him.
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Okay, now we’re tied. Again. WHY DO I KEEP WATCHING THIS? Just keep swimming, .just keep swimming . . . .
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Wow, again. We have a LOT of TV’s. How many TV’s does a family of four need in one temporary 1,200 square-foot residence? Answer: Apparently, one per 300 square feet.
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Oh, hey – “Puss in Boots” is coming out tomorrow!
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Just passed my spouse. On his way to the liquor cabinet.
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Spouse wants to know why I drank his Glenlivet. Answer: The Glenfiddich was towards the back.
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Back in the living room. This just in: Foster the People has a song other than the “Pumped Up Kicks” song which I really, really dug until I listened to the lyrics and realized that it basically describes a Columbine High School scenario. So now every time it comes on the radio I have to be THE RESPONSIBLE MOM and turn off the song that is encouraging my children to use firearms on their classmates. You know, the ones with the pumped-up kicks.
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Sometimes I hate being a responsible mom.
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The other Foster the People song kind of sucks.
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I have now completely blocked the Rangers debacle out of my mind. Am surfing the Internet, looking for charcoal gray polos for the boys to wear in our family picture.
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Hey, Lands’ End has a new art director!
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Craig Ferguson is channeling his monolog through a white rabbit puppet.
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Still with the puppet? Seriously? BRING ON RAJ!
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Spouse confirmed that we officially peed away Game 6. I mean, THEY peed away Game 6. I am officially not from North Texas again. Yup, I’m a Houstonian. The NBA lockout needs to end so I can resume cheering for the Rockets. The Rockets who, back in the day, loved to give up penultimate games and force ultimate games.
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Buck it. I'm becoming a cricket fan.
1 comment:
You truly are a great comic mind. Hard to believe you went to law school, and didn't write for a great tv comedy show like the dick van show, or I love Lucy. Oh wait a minute that's because there aren't any. Sorry. Showing my age. But I totally get the Anchorman and Fletch. Seriously funny. Hang in there, and hey; let's do this again tonight. Xoxo!
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