I've got some 'splainin' to do...

I realize it sounds odd. Girl who lives in Texas...was born in Detroit... has never been anywhere NEAR New England... is a die hard Sox fan and is in love with Boston?

In baseball of course there is always a story. Sometimes its where you grew up or who your parents rooted for, another friend started following the Yankees because it was the closest stadium to him and he got his ass beat if he didn't like them. My VBF inherited her love of the Reds after a divorce from a fan. Ditched the husband- kept the team. That? Is awesome.

My story begins with a boy...er, boys. In 1987, I was 12 years old and became infatuated with New Kids on the Block. They were from Boston and as was my vice at the time, I wrote about them. In fact, I wrote a book. Like any good author that I wanted to grow up to be, I did my research. I spent days in the library looking up information on Boston and looking at pictures. I wrote their Convention and Visitor's Bureau asking for information. They sent me books and maps and coupons... and a Wade Boggs baseball card. Red Sox, huh? Okay. More research. Wade Boggs and his moustache were amazing.Was he cute? not so much to a 12 year old girl who already had her wedding to any of the New Kids all planned out. But he was AWESOME. I counted myself as a Sox fan.

But more than that, I feel in love with the city... The Emerald necklace, the Freedom Trail, the history, Beacon Hill, learning all about the different neighborhoods, the ocean, Newbury Street, Harvard Square. All of it. I wanted to read everything I could get my hands on about it and see as many pictures as possible.

There was some mystique to it...Something so romantic and beautiful and historical andandand.... Not only that, but I LOVED the way the boys sounded. Boys from Boston and their incessantly dropping R's put me through puberty. I still cannot hear it without getting giggly and my knees getting weak.

Of course, years go by, and I went through years not taking ANY notice of the baseball world, put my posters away and wanted to go to BU. I was a budding journalist and decided that was it. I got all the info on the school- pamphlets and brochures, pictures and forms and more forms to fill out. I was ecstatic...but quietly. I was panicked- how the hell would I ever pay for this? I had okay grades, but could I get in? I was in the mess of trying to figure that all out when I got pregnant with my oldest daughter.

And that answered that for me.... Married, kids, work, life...until, of course, another stupid boy reminded me of the Sox and I fell again- HARD.

So I threw myself into baseball. Stats, scores, history and autobiographies... I wasn't born into it, but all four of my children damn sure were.

I am still in love with the city. As much as I have wanted to go and see there had to be a reason or money or time...or someone who gave enough of a crap to go with me. And now all those things have fallen into place and I WILL go...next year. No more excuses or waiting, or planning or dreaming myself into photographs. I will be there breathing in Boston. And crying- there will probably be crying.

I am in awe of fans who were "Born Into It". I usually annoy them with questions of "Did you see this or that game? The All Star Game where they wheeled Ted Williams out? What about when this happened or that?" I've only read about these things- I want to know what they felt like. I want to know what it's like to live where they happen. I always feel a little inadequate- "Oh you're from Texas.." and I feel like I am immediately branded with an invisible "Bandwaggoner" label.

And you know what? Fuck it. Call me what you want. I know who sets her alarm to get up at 5am to watch games from Japan. I know who leaves GameDay up because she is so afraid she'll miss something. And I know who will be the Future Ex-Mrs. Papelbon-Varitek-Beckett-Lowell. And we'll have a beautiful wedding...in Boston... where NKOTB will sing just for us each time...

Rubbing It In...

.... but just a little, I swear. I don't normally like to do this, because payback is always a bitch, but really- a Sweeping 18-5?!? That's not just a W, that's like an ass-whooping on some of Giambi's leftover 'roids! It's like the boys lined the Twins up, held their hands on the way to take 'em to school, then beat their asses like motherless schoolyard bullies. Did anyone even tell the Twins there was a game yesterday?

Do you have any idea how hard it is to contain that kind of joy at work when corporate is in and you've got Gameday up?! Willing your body to not do your own personal Happy Dance that it instinctively goes to in times such as those? It was painful how difficult that was!

Have a well deserved day off, my boys. Well played.

One a Day...

So lately everybody I've read is doing this dedicated "X,Y, Z Days of Blogging". And while I hate writing just to say I wrote something, not necessarily anything of substance, I think it might get me over this whole 'whatever I have to say is probably stupid' thing I've been having lately.

So here's what I have to say today, regardless of it's substance:

* I am o-v-e-r planning other people's shit. When the f is someone ever gonna plan something for me? I mean really? Seems like anyone gets knocked up or engaged in this state and a phone call is made to this girl. I do it all day for other people then get hit up for friends and family and strangers too! I seem to remember having the world's Most Craptacular Bachelorette Party Ever and oh yeah, 2 baby showers that none of my actual friends held for me. I don't owe anybody shit. OVER it.

* I hate anyone who drives a racecar whose last name is Busch. A lot. A really lot. Apparently so much that I am avoiding watching NASCAR now because of it. Is this how Gordon haters felt in the late 90s?

* I have always lived by the rule that brown fat looks better than white fat, which is why I like to get a little brown in the summer. But if my butt is the fattest part of me, how the hell am I gonna get THAT part brown without exposing it in the light of day? I look like I am wearing a cream colored bikini when I'm naked!

* I am on day 2 of working 7 days in a row. This blows.

* Can someone PUH-LEEAZE tell me why anytime Josh Beckett picks up a baseball and pitches spectacularly for the Sox the offense takes a nap, but when m-fing Dice-K shows up and threatens to hand the game to the opposing team with a nice big, fluffy bow on it, my boys step up and get HIM a "W"? I mean really... My poor Josh.

* I want Nachos and Mexican Martinis. STAT.

That is all....

Breaking Up is Hard to Do...

Breaking up is never easy... even if it is with men you've had a very imaginative, pretend relationship with. It still hurts. but the above men have crossed me personally in ways that are unforgivable. So, they are being cut from the ranks of my Pretend Boyfriends. It's sad, really, but then, you could look at it as time to start a new roster! So, without further ado...

Most of you know about Adam & I... We actually broke up a few weeks ago when I saw this, this THING on his head.... AGAIN. The first time I can overlook, but really, this is too much.... I'll miss him and our Thanksgiving/Hanukkah/Red Hooded Sweatshirt songs, but we are o-v-e-r.

Dear, sweet Brad... It will never work if that's how you want to raise my kids once you adopt them. It just won't. We would've been an awesome little Brady Bunch, you and I... what with my 4 and your 6. But whatever. I'm over you and your hotness if you think I'll ever let my kids wear a Yankee hat. I'd rather they grow up to be hookers and garbage men...

Et tu, Brady? Really? When I saw this last year, again, thought it was a joke. But repeatedly, over and over? How could you? Ditching your pregnant girlfriend for some skinny model is one thing. THIS presents an entire different set of issues. No wonder the sports gods saw you unfit for 19-0....

Oh Jeff.... Where do I even begin? I thought after 12 years we could make it through anything together. The wins and losses, the devastating Winston in the Chrome Illusion car, the divorce, your random hookers on the yacht, even the Yankee cap I know you just wore to keep from getting your ass beat when you moved to New York. But partying with Paris Hilton?! At an event you invited her to? Now we have a problem. Stupid is as stupid does, Jeff. And I can't be the next Mrs. Gordon knowing you're cool with hanging with stupid. Maybe on the off chance you totally made fun of her when she walked away, we might have something to fight for. If not.... sigh, I'll miss you the most.

Cincy...

Pics will have to wait until probably this weekend, but I have lots. Left for the 3 game series on Thursday and got back on Monday. Had an awesome time- fabulous seats and serious eye contact with Tek. Sat in a seat previously occupied by Mr. Josh Beckett and even asked the manager what he had so I could have it too. Yep. My kind of hero worship knows no bounds and cannot be constrained by your definitions of "not cool"....

Sox took 2 of 3- one in a nail biter of an extra inning (which anyone reading this already knows because they were there with me OR they watched all 3 anyway). Went to BP, on a stadium tour and actually made words to our 3rd base coach DeMarlo Hale, met a 60 year old Sox fan who went to 88 games last year and has had Fenway season tickets for 35 years. Spent 3 hours drinking and listening to stories from said man and asked so many questions that I've always wanted to know from guys who were there back in the day... I really think he loved it. That or looking down my dress and oogling my friend as well. Maybe both, but I digress...

I got video footage of Coco trying to start a fight with the Gapper, Cincinnati's fluffy mascot. Not really, just trying to swipe at him from the dugout, but still... What else? Took pictures of Tek from 6 feet above his head when he was in the bullpen warming guys up because he was out of the lineup.

So many other side notes and stories, I think they will end up being posts of their own... But thank you to all of ChaCha's amazing numbers that I met, thank you to Allen from Boston for all the stories, thank you to Dan the tour guide for letting us on the field, Dan the guy in the bar who had us laughing for hours and gave us no less than 3 one liners that will stick forever ("I wanna touch her where she pees!!!"), thank you to my Dad for driving down from Detroit to see me, thank you to Paul, the manager at Rock Bottom Brewery for letting 2 cute girls skip the 2 hour wait and bringing me Josh Beckett nachos. Thank you to the cute boy from San Fransisco for being cute and flirting with ChaCha, and thank you to my boys for an awesome weekend. See you in Houston!

Somewhere in NASCARland....

Dear Angela,

I can't help but notice the lack of support lately... I don't feel your intense concentration on me every Sunday anymore and my finishes are showing it. I don't know what I've done... okay, maybe you're a little upset about the whole Ingrid thing. I know, I know. I teased you with the divorce, but I just couldn't wait for you anymore. Then the whole baby thing happened, and I knew that would upset you. I swear it was an accident, and yes, I know she would be cuter if she were yours. What can I say?

If I am to ever get this damned 5th championship, I need you back. I know that now. And I'm feeling inadequate knowing I have to compete with the Red Sox for your love and adoration. What do I have to do to win you back? I need you to follow me lap after lap- you were my lucky charm and I was too stupid to notice. I took you for granted and I'm sorry.

Sandler called and told me about the breakup for the Yankee hat thing- he's a mess, btw... and I know you busted me once for the same thing and gave me another chance. I just need one more. Then we'll have another big Championship trophytogether.

Let's do it again for old times sake, okay? I miss you...

Love,

Jeff

Over 500....and Counting

The Man is a BEAST! A crazy, adorable, hilarious beast.

Well done, sir. Well done.