Hifalutin Hijinks

American flagNothing says Memorial Day weekend like baseball, patriotism and trying to figure out just how the hell I got home last night.

Obviously, dear readers, this year is no exception.

Stumbling home at 4:30 in the morning, it took a good twenty minutes of frustration before I realized I was trying to get inside my neighbor’s building instead of mine.  Whoops.  No wonder the key wouldn’t work.

Quizzing myself on what actually happened the night before — piecing quipped memories together one by one to reassemble reality — is the basic tenet of any three-day weekend.  Like, did the Cardinals’ Todd Wellemeyer really throw six-plus scoreless innings last night?  Indeed.  Did Nancy Pelosi actually run out of things to say?  You betcha.  Did I really overhear the following conversation at the bar last night?

Pretentious Woman #1:  I had the Pinot.  He had the Shiraz.

Pretentious Woman #2:  I didn’t know they served wine at the Cell.

Pretentious Woman #1:  They do.  In our section anyway.

Pretentious Woman #2:  I’ll have to try that next time.

Pretentious Woman #1:  Yeah, I mean, what else you gonna do?  Watch the game?  Ha!

Yes, folks, such tragedy is not made up.

You wanna drink wine?  Fine.  Go ahead.  Nothing wrong with that; but I don’t care who you are, the ballpark ain’t no place for wine.

Or maybe I’m still languishing over John C. Reilly’s intriguingly accurate characterization of me at last year’s Memorial Day cookout:

I may be no angel, but I do know that there is a time and place for everything.

Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

7 Comments

Ahhhhhhhhh,
How I miss the post-game orgy of selected brews and concotions that made my 20-30’s a blur to me, but photo opportunities for others.
Best part of drinking wine, you can look a bit more sophisticated before you fall from your barstool. Oh, and every single spill get a reminder stain somewhere on you or her.
I have not had the horror of trying to open a neighbor’s house at 4-ish in the am, but I did accidently pee in the neighbors koi pond and it killed two fish once.
Ahh memories!

Rays Renegade

http://raysrenegade.mlblogs.com

You’re right…wine has no business at the ballpark. And it’s entirely possible that I could have the same adventure you had last night very soon. I’ve ben at the bar for an hour and I’m thiiiiiiiis close to starting my third drink. Hooray for Memorial Day weekend!!!
Jen
http://ajroxmywhitesox.mlblogs.com

Haha.. Damn, I love Reilly, lolz..
– V [ http://flairforthedramatic.mlblogs.com ]

That could have been considered breaking and entering there Jeffy and with John Cochran gone who ya gonna call? I’ll be in Chi-town mid June and I’ll look to see any wanderers at 4 am trying to get into other folks homes!
Tom
http://rockymountainway.mlblogs.com

When I went to Fenway – my husband had the never to ask if I wanted a glass wine! That is just SO wrong at a baseball game!

Julia
http://werbiefitz.mlblogs.com/

I have to admit – please don’t kill me! – that I sometimes drink wine at the ballpark. I do. I hate beer, so what can I tell you?

http://janeheller.mlblogs.com

RR — You probably did those fish a favor. They can live for a hundred years. That’s a long time to be a fish.
Jen — Have one on me!
V — Reilly is somethin’ else indeed.
Tom — My excuse: all the brownstones look the same in my neighborhood.
Julia — Glad you’re on our side.
Jane — You get a free pass. We like you!
–Jeff

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