Geez. I've not been home since this time last week, (still not home) and I've only seen 1 game. 1? I'm dyin'. But. I had a good reason to miss all those games. I was in the National Spelling Bee. Which I obviously didn't win. I thought I was in for a beneficial experience when I struck up a conversation with a broadcaster-type woman from ESPN, but I was wrong. Very, very wrong. It all started on my journey to the Independence Ballroom. On the escalator, with my grande passion iced tea (sweetened), I heard her talking with some 8 year-olds about Boston sports. So, I thought, being the Sox fan that I am, I'd chat a little about my awesome tickets to tonights game. (Box seat behind home plate, much? Yeah. Not bad for my first game.) It started out nice, until my mother mentioned Manny's birthday. "It'd be great for Manny hit 500 tonight, on his birthday, but I wouldn't mind him hitting it tomorrow, on mine." That's not anything that anyone would contest..right? Well, not unless you're this bitch. "Oh. I wasn't aware that it was Manny's birthday." I should have known to kill this conversation right then, because I'd just noticed her 5 inch, pink crocodile heels. I can tell a lot about a woman from her shoes, you know. "Yep, he's 36 today." And with flip of her over-styled blonde hair, she said "Uhm, no, I think Manny's younger than that. I think he's 34." With that, she gave me one of those nauseating grins. My mom, never really knowing when to end a bad thing before it gets worse, goes, "Well, maybe we'll see Youk in tonight.  He's missed a few games." And of course, Miss ESPN has to correct my mother and I, who obviously know nothing about the Red Sox. "Uhm, no. Youk was never out. I think you're thinking of Mike Lowell. He hurt his thumb." Are you serious? Mike Lowell hurt his thumb? Didn't Mikey come back from the DL on like..oh, I don't know, April 29th? No? Well, maybe I've been watching a different team. Or maybe I'm just retarted. I don't know.
Anyway. I sure felt retarted watching those kids spell last night. Satyagraha? Seriously? Damn. Whatever. I don't feel like writing anymore. I'm waiting to be hit by a shittin' tornado, and I'm yelling at the weather channel for not showing "75 and sunny" as Baltimore's forecast for tonight. I hope Camden Yards is as nice as I've always heard it to be.

I don't think I'll be itching to get back to Washington D.C. anytime soon, though.
I'm starting to miss good 'ole Milford.