*10 a.m.* Wake up, slight hangover.
*10:15 a.m.* Realize I'm not at my friend's house I'm going to the game with. Puts on pants.
*10:45 a.m.* Get to my friend's house. Prepare a breakfast rum and coke. Don't judge me, it's a holiday.
*11:30 a.m.* Pour rum into flask. Leave for the game.
*12:30 p.m.* Spew profanities at Atlanta traffic. Get cut off. More profanity.
*1:10 p.m.* Park.
*1:20 p.m.* Miss Chipper Jones' homerun waiting in line at Will Call.
*1:40 p.m.* Visit the 755 Club and enjoy air conditioning for the last time ever.
*1:50 p.m.* Arrive at my seat down the third base line. Immediately regret my decision to wear pants. Drink hot rum out the flask.
*2:00 p.m.* I try to take a picture of Tommy Hanson.
*2:05 p.m.* I die of heat stroke.
*3:14 p.m.* The Phillies score 3 to make it 6-3 Braves. I discover why I'm not a beat writer. I missed a lot.
*3:23 p.m.* I take this picture of my buddy who got a ball during a cigarette break. Don't be impressed, I'm pretty sure he stole it from a small child.
*3:41 p.m.* Miss Troy Glaus' homerun standing in line for a $13 bottle of Powerade. It was blue.
*4:30-ish p.m.* Braves win and take over first place in the NL East.
*5:20 p.m.* I die of heat stroke and dehydration. You thought it was going to be dysentery this time, didn't you? Oregon Trail'd.
*5:35 p.m.* Beach Boys concert kicks off. Their lip synching makes Ashlee Simpson proud.
*5:37 p.m.* Remember I don't like the Beach Boys. Leave.
*6:12 p.m.* Do that thing where you nod off and catch yourself and try to play it off.
*8:30 p.m.* Nap.
*10:00 p.m.* Write this post.
*10:18 p.m.* Make a rum and coke, turn on Wii.
*11:20 p.m. in the future* Hot girl's car breaks down in front of my friends house.
Sorry, I can't publish the rest of the night but I hear Cinemax got the rights to it. How was your Memorial Day?
No comments:
Post a Comment