Baseball and Women

Despite my best efforts, the end of this 3-day weekend, which I actually enjoyed to the fullest extent of the law - not a drop of work done or even thought about since 4 pm Friday - has arrived. I managed to squeeze in 3 Met games. Friday night and Sunday afternon against that other New York team. We kicked their asses. Swept them like Bourbon St. after Mardi Gras. This evening (Monday Night), Papa LiAps (thanks Daz) and I Amtraked down to Philly to see the Mets take on the team that plays there - what are they called again? Anyway, not quite as successful. Finally the boys score some runs for Tommy Glavine and he manages to give up 6 himself. I personally believe Art Howe should be fired today for not pinch-hitting for Glavine in the 6th. If that happens, somebody owes me a drink.

Oh, the women part. I did not manage to squeeze in 3 of them this weekend (though, in fairness, I wasn't really trying). My point was only this: women look hotter when you leave your natural habitat. There are plenty of beautiful women in NY, relatively few of whom I know. (That's not a comment on how unattractive my female friends are, it's just about numbers, so no complaints from my female readers please. What? Hold on, they're telling me I don't have any female readers. In that case, to all my women: Why aren't you hotter, and why don't you want me?) Still, I went down to Philly, a mere 90ish miles, and the stadium was chock full o'hotties. Do you think it's just something about having a whole fresh pool to work with? Even though you haven't even left the shallow end of the pool you dip into most often? Thoughts are welcomed from all you freakin' married people who make up probably 95% of the people who know this blog exists.

Fuck. Now to make all the links.