okay, i crack myself the hell up every time i yell “PAULIE!” at my guy in the number 14 jersey, mostly because for some reason i have no fucking clue why i always pronounce it like i’m from new jersey. PAWWWWWWLIEE!

also, apparently i talk a lot to the ball players on the television after most of a bottle of wine. teehee. … oh, fuck you, walker. i thought canadians were supposed to be polite. trying to hit two of my guys, that’s not polite. dick! … how to tell a nerd baseball fan: “oh! the font, on your jerseys? for your name? FUCKING UGLY!” … you know, kim, it occurs to me that we ought to have some sort of baseball chat room, so we can bitch at someone about our respective teams’ games, even when we’re not actually playing each other. at least we’d have another nerdy baseball fangirl to talk to. … okay, one thing i’m going to miss after i move to wicker park is the ability to walk across the street to pick up a bottle of cold kriek lambic and a pack of MCDs between innings. … i do not approve of the outcome of this evening’s outing. stupid canadians!