Hodge Podge

I am cranky. I’m currently on a plane, headed back from Southern California, where quite frankly we shoulda taken all three games, alas, we only got one. It’s also the middle of the night. Did I mention that? Yea, it’s not awesome. We are set to land in Atlanta at 6-something in the morning, yes that’s right. We overshoot the Boot because that is smart flying then I land at MSY at 8:10am if all goes accordingly. So I’m not in the best of spirits. And I did I mention that my stomach hurts? Kelly would say I’m a ray of sunshine right now.

I had a whole plan worked out for the red-eye flight, where I was gonna sit by our first baseman so I could finish watching Cocktail, a movie we had started on the way out. Then I didn’t get seated next to him, but our second baseman is a nice guy too and said I could sleep on his shoulder if I was next to him. Then I got bumped out of my good seat by a freshman. A freshman. Absurd. And my first baseman and my second baseman are sitting together. It’s ironic.

In other news, I have not blogged because, well it’s baseball season and I have been working seven days a week. Yes. That translates to everyday. Now, granted—some of my work includes going to baseball games but I haven’t even been able to do loads of laundry. I actually resorted to just buying more clothes so I could have clean ones. Which brings me to another phenomenal fun fact. The people that make jeans are jerks. They either need to produce more 6 short or figure out a better thigh circumference to leg length ratio. Apparently the circumference of my thighs would warrant that I have longer legs. But I don’t. I am short. Jeans that fit in length don’t even go past my knees. Awesome. After my whirlwind shopping trip that began at 7pm (because that’s when I left my office) and I was bent about not finding any jeans, I did what any respectable girl who doesn’t have body issues might do. I went to Cane’s and got fried chicken. Take that American Eagle, Gap, Express and Fossil. I hate your faces.

I guess it’s also somewhat blogworthy to note that I don’t have red hair anymore. I have black hair. Yea. It was a little darker than I anticipated but it’s starting to grow on me. This was me, post-haircut two weeks ago.

I absolutely have nothing new to report. I have been trying to think of a good video post but really, I got nothing. I was hoping we woulda won today (yesterday?) so I could do a cool video blog and get dual posts out of it, but not so much.

While in CA, I did enjoy some good wines (that’s odd), especially the Concannon Petit Sirah. Very fruity, which was a pleasant surprise. I also had a Levendi Stagecoach Vineyard Cab which was not half bad. Mom and Dad had driven down to visit and took me out to dinner Saturday night and we ate so much food I didn’t even need breakfast this morning. But my filet mignon, black truffle mashed potatoes and asparagus with hollandaise were incredible delicious.

This was also my first roadtrip and Anne is my roommate on the road. She doubles as the trainer and can tape a mean ankle. We thoroughly enjoyed the hot tub on Thursday night. That was a highlight. Of course, that was after my bathing suit debacle. As in I didn’t have one and had to find one. Thus I got in a cab to go to a Target, where I was approached my two men who were creeping me out by hanging out in the bathing suit section of Target. One of the men proceeded to ask me if I thought the long, mumu-esque bathing suit cover up was his size. He was not kidding. I know he wasn’t because he then asked me if the bathing suit he had in his cart would look good underneath the mumu. And he was dead serious. He tried to explain why he would be wearing the aforementioned ensemble, but he had a very thick accent and if I were to have assigned a nationality to it, I would have guessed somewhere in the Middle East.

I told him where the fitting rooms where and that he could take it from there.

But once I had my new suit, I was ready to enjoy the hot tub. Which I did. Until they turned the lights off on us. And we were discovered by out assistant coach and a former player, who happens to be dating a cast member of Laguna Beach whose name is an antonym for high. It always neat to meet someone new wearing nothing but a bathing suit. [Shaking my head in disgust]. It had actually been our goal to Jacuzzi it up without being seen by anyone who may be on the bus the next morning. Fail.

Fast-forward to today, when we lost a very exciting game and top that off with having to kill three hours in a place where water costs $5.00 and then catch a red-eye back home. You see why I’m cranky. Now I’m sitting at the Atlanta airport, never wanting to see my bed more in my entire life.

PS- Don’t call me tomorrow unless it’s an emergency. And even then, it had better be a good one.