Sunday, August 30, 2009


Went to a baseball game yesterday which was fun-- but chilly. It doesn't help that we were so high up that I'm pretty sure our seats were somewhere in Iowa. And the wind was pretty brisk.

It was fab, though, except for the group of women sitting behind us until about the seventh inning. Apparently, they thought it was a good idea to pay $50 per ticket and then sit there and let one woman talk the entire time about every detail of her gynecological life. Seriously, I know more about her girlyparts than I know about mine. I suspect, based on the age of the group, that she's the first one of the girlfriends to have had a baby.

News flash: not only are you not the first woman in history to have had a child, you could have all gone out for a lovely lunch for $50 apiece OR LESS and had the very same monologue converstion over some bruschetta and a nice glass of wine.

Plus, no one wants to know about your c-section, or other things I won't mention here that you discussed in great detail. NO ONE! Based on some of your friends' actions during the game, I am pretty sure they didn't want to know either! Shut up!

I love baseball, especially live. I like watching the game. Watching the fans. Criticizing the pitcher who, even when he sucks, is a zillion times better than I could possibly ever be. Cheering when things go well, and commiserating with fellow fans when they don't. I think the smooth green expanse of the outfield is mesmerizingly beautiful. Plus, they sell soft pretzels.

Why would you go and not only not watch the game, but talk to people about your girlyparts in great detail while surrounded by strangers?

I don't get it. But it was a great game regardless.

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