Dropping the ball

It was a long weekend and although it's only Tuesday, it's been a really long week too. The big event of my weekend was Saturday's Brewer game against the Giants from San Francisco, led by the Giant head of Barry Bonds. Former Roomie B was out of town for a wedding, so I would be joined by two guys named J and former neighbor K. I got up early on Saturday to prepare for the tailgate party that was precede the game. But first, I had to stop at Borders to get my reserved copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.



Yeah, that's right, I'm a male attorney in my late twenties and I've read the first six books, I love them, and I was eagerly awaiting the latest chapter in Harry's life. While I was waiting in line with various children and girls that appear to be in the education field, I see Former Roomie B walk in to pick up his copy. [I should note that Former Roomie B is the manliest man I know. He has a freezer full of meat that he shot, he has several items of furniture that he built, he's a former rugby player, and last year when we went camping one of our canoes was plastic and it filled with water when the outside layer of plastic got a crack and therefore weighed several metric tons more than it did before it cracked and Former Roomie B carried it every portage after the crack (Hey, shut up, I still carried the other canoe). He also won our "who can throw that big rock the farthest" contest.] We had a good laugh at our own expense, then he left for the wedding and I left for the grocery store for some brats and Italian sausages.



I picked some winners from the meat department at the Metro Market by my place and went home to boil them. Now, you may not believe this now, and you surely won't believe it by the end of this story, but I am an excellent tailgater. I use charcoal instead of gas, I can open beer bottles with my teeth, and I pre-boil my brats in the best brat-boiling beer ever: Miller Highlife. Some people may tell you that you should use a dark beer, like a stout or a porter. These people are liars. I drink stouts and porters like crazy and I love them, but Miller Highlife is second to no beer for cookin sausage in. So I boil the brats and the italians and put them in bags marked "brats" and "I-talians" and put them in the fridge while I fill the cooler with beer.



Soon after everyone arrives and we're on our way to the game. I take the secret 41st St. entrance to Miller Park and in no time I have some perfectly burning coals in my little red grill. And then I realize that the meat is still in my fridge.



FUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!



The lack of meat, along with the car alarm that went off every ten minutes made the tailgate situation less than ideal. But we still had fun, and ate plenty of grub in the stadium. But as we'd soon find out, I wasn't the only one that dropped the ball that day. The Brewers looked awful. I won't recap the game, but I'll just say that there wasn't a single moment of that game that was worth getting excited about.


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Speaking of the Brewers, I'm going to take a second to plug an awesome blog. So, the Crew took the next game and then went on the road to face the Cincinnati Reds. Last nights game was a pitcher's duel between Chris Capuano and the Red's humongous ace, Aaron Harang. The game was tied at the end of nine and went to extra innings. This looked promising for the Crew because the the Reds' bullpen blows. But we loaded the bases in both the 11th and 12th and couldn't cash in on either. In the 12th ( I think) Johnny Estrada grounded into a double play to end the inning. My reaction is forever memorialized by a true artist, here:



That about sums it up. Go read Kate's blog. She really has a way of summing it up... with stick figures.

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That's all I got today. I'm going to go read Harry Potter now.