par for the course

First, I'd like to thank Edana at Skin Mama for making me just about the most perfect template ever. Now I'm actually going to have to write well enough to match up to the super keen look. Sadly, that's not going to happen tonight.

I went to a minor league baseball game here in town, and that was all well and good. The home team lost, but it was a close game, albeit sloppily played. The weather was nice and warm, and I had money for a hot dog, a bag of peanuts and a few beers. I got the tickets from work (comps), though, which meant I was grouped together in a section with local businessmen, as many of them also have tickets behind home plate.

This town operates on the good ol' boy network, as I guess many small towns do. And behind me sat a row of men who reminded me why--at times--I hate it here. Speaking in demeaning words and vaguely racist sentinments, the respected local business folk behind me drank and loudly proclaimed how they were going to tell everyone at the golf course about whatever it was they were talking about. They even pulled a prank on one of their friends by getting one of their good ol' boy police officer buddies to come up and threaten one of their group to stop throwing things or else he would get kicked out of the park.

The jovial cop returned moments later to ask, "Did you believe me? Did I sound convincing?" because, really, the cops in this town don't have anything better to do.

The businessmen got increasingly drunker (I did, too, I'm no better) and made underhanded passes (I'm sure they were all married) at the pretty young waitress who brought our section drinks. They scoffed at the baseball players when they made mistakes and talked about golf as if it were an actual sport (it's not).

But beer and baseball conquer all, and I was able to tune out the shaved monkeys sitting behind me to enjoy the game. I left the stadium with a head full of pale ale and set out for my local bar for a concert performed by assorted local dignitaries. Living here isn't so bad after all. I listened to a wide variety of music and watched a beautiful young woman with gorgeous legs dance the robot as I talked to some dude about California's bogus crackdown on cannabis clubs. He even showed me his card which allows him to grow and possess marijuana. If only I had one of those cards. Just for a conversation starter, of course.