Friday, October 15, 2010

Poor Ian ... and KEGGER AT GLAVEN'S!1!!

We signed Ian up for a Fall baseball league this past week. The season is already half over, and we heard about it only because Ian is friends with this other kid who seemingly plays baseball all year long1, but Ian is currently obsessed with baseball so we signed him up (at a 50% discount) and last night was supposed to be his first game (the team's 7th), but of course ... it rained.

So ... no game.

Needless to say, Ian was disappointed.

On Tuesday night, Teh 'Bride's late night at the library, Ian was telling me about all this stuff he had to have for baseball. Now, we'd e-mailed back and forth with the guy who runs the league and he'd told us the only required equipment was a glove. They recommended a heart-guard (which is essentially a compression t-shirt with padding over the heart) and a cup but neither was required.

Well, Ian, though slight, took it into his head that he wanted to be a catcher. A cup is a requirement for a catcher2. So he and I went to Sneakers Plus and found him a cup3, a heart guard, and some red baseball sox.

And his friend, who if anything is even more slight than Ian, lent him some baseball knickers, so he was all set. We somehow managed not to get a picture of him in full uniform yet, so I'll just recycle this one which is as close as I can get:

Today (Friday), Teh 'Bride is headed down to DC for the weekend to help a friend clean out her house, which is full of piles. Now, we're not talking Hoarders4-level piles, but she has some piles. Now, Teh 'Bride herself is really more of a pile-generator than a pile-eradicator, generally speaking, but when she gets into de-piling mode, she's pretty good, And even better when it's others' piles because she has no emotional attachment to their piles and so she can be remorseless when it comes to slaying them.

Sadly, our friend in DC and her two kids were essentially abandoned by her husband, their father, and he himself was a bit of a pile-generator, too, and now she needs to get rid of their mutual piles and start afresh.

But the point here is this'll be Bachelor Weekend here at Chez Heisenberg and so you're all invited, especially if you're a skirt and especially especially if you're a sexually wanton whoo-wer of a skirt because what's a kegger without a few whoo-wers?

Directions: Just drive around Joisey till you pick up that unmistakable farty scent and follow it. You'll end up either here or in Newark. 

Also, that smell? Not me. Or Ian. It was the dog.

But seriously, don't fucking come here. Because that keg? It's for me!

Ian, already disappointed that his first game was canceled (he has another on Saturday, though, and the weather should cooperate this time), is not happy that Teh 'Bride is leaving for the weekend. Mostly because she mentioned she'd have to take a train (he's fine with that) but then she has to take the Metro, and apparently the last time we were on the Metro we mentioned this accident (because it had happened  like two weeks previously) and Ian, typically, locked that away in his brain and the equation "Metro = Death" is pretty unshakable now and last night at bedtime he was crying and trying to convince Teh 'Bride not to leave.

I'm hoping to take his mind off things by concentrating on sports: Texas v. Yankees tonight on TV; Ian's game Saturday morning; Phillies tomorrow night; a 5k race (me) and 1-mile fun run (Ian and me both, our first together) on Sunday morning.

Teh 'Bride should be home Sunday evening.

1 Last year he came to Ian's birthday party straight from a game, still in uniform; Ian's birthday is November 19, but we, being the excellent planners/time-managers we are, didn't have the party till early December. The kid was still playing baseball in December. To give you an idea of where that puts him fanaticism-wise: The freaking MLB World Series ends in early November at the latest.

To translate this into terms Keef would understand and care about: Kilometre Kilometre, Right-wing Alberta Separatism, zed zed, poutine, slow swimming lane-hogging bastards.

2 We intended to get him one anyway. In fact, earlier in the week, he and Teh 'Bride had gone to Dick's to look at cups (Dick's, of course, being this place one goes for all one's Penile and N*ts@ckal needs, just as you skirts go to Pussy's for your all Vaginal and Uterine needs because don't look at us, your husbands, because we worked all day and we're tired and we have a headache) but came back empty-handed because when Teh 'Bride saw Ian's size's name — viz., "Pee-wee" — she couldn't stop giggling and when they got home both she and Ian were still going: "Pee-wee! Tee-hee-hee-heeeee-heee!" And this behavior was evidently a carry-over from their behavior in the store, which I believe they were both ejected from.

3 Size: Pee-wee! Teee-heee-heeeee!1! O, Teee-heeeee-fucking-heeeeeee!1!

4 Hoarders being yet another freak show on some cable channel that Teh 'B. watches to make her feel better about her own pile-generating tendencies. I personally would rather jam my O-My-God-Are-You-A-Porn-Star?-sized genitals into a Pee-wee cup than watch this show, which totally grosses me out. 


  1. Hoarders is one of my guilty pleasure TV shows (the main other ones being Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making the Team and tosh.0). Watching Hoarders makes me want to clean my house. Indeed, last week, I was moved to clean both of my bathrooms at 9:30 PM after a doubleheader of Hoarders.

    It also makes me feel better about my own pile-generating tendencies. My heap of unopened mail is NOTHING compared to what I have seen on that show (and its sibling, Hoarding: Buried Alive).

    You have a keg? I'll be there at 7:00.

  2. A kegger. How about that. Presumably filled with home made beer. I'm good for that. I'd bring wine, except that that the airport Nazi's would confiscate it. Oh, and I have a breakfast date with friends tomorrow, and an art show to go to. To say nothing of having to wait around today for a trades-person to show up. And a Sunday am spin class. So as you can see, despite your kind invitation that I'd really, really like to accept, I'm afraid I can't. Besides, with the time it would take to get there, from here, starting now, you'd have the keg empty. And since I'd be, or could be, going past LuMu's house to get there, who knows what might happen? And no, I don't need to follow the farty stank.

    And this is why I think baseball is such a weenie game. They stop for rain. How lame is that? Sports played outside should go on regardless of weather. Hmmm, maybe coming soon to a blog near you, a rant about how to liven up the current suite of sports popular in Amurka.

  3. Sweet! Road trip to G's!1!

    Sadly, I am not a skirt or a whoo-wer skirt so you will probably not open the door...

    Damn, baseball in Decemeber in Joisey??? That is dedication considering the cold and the smell.

    I keep waiting for the Hoarders film crew to show up at my in-laws. My house, of course, is spotless

  4. hmmm, kegger...sounds like fun. Just let me perfect my keg stand.

    Huge match up coming-Lincecum vs. Halladay, finally something worth following this post season!

  5. I've never found a good answer to this, but you might know: why the heck do baseball players wear that second pair of stirrup socks (called "sanitaries" I believe, making it more obfuscatory)?

  6. @SteveQ - Well, the easy answer would be they don't ... anymore. But that's ducking the question.

    I don't know why, but Wikipedia offers this:

    Stirrups are uniform socks commonly worn by baseball players up until the mid-1990s, when major-league players began wearing their pants down to the ankles, setting a trend soon picked up by players in minor and amateur leagues. Until then, stirrup socks had been an integral part of the traditional baseball uniform, giving them a distinctive look. A high sock was needed because baseball players wore knickerbockers ("knickers"), worn by many boys in the late 19th century and into the 20th century. The stirrup socks served to display team colors, stripes or team logos. For example, for several years the Minnesota Twins wore navy-blue stirrups with "TC" on the side, for "Twin Cites". The Houston Astros wore navy blue stirrup socks with a white star on the side. The stirrup sock colors were also the basis of team names, including the Cincinnati Red Stockings (later the "Reds"), Boston Red Sox, and Chicago White Sox. For these reasons, traditionalists lament the recent "sockless" look in baseball uniforms.

    Stirrup socks are worn on top of long socks called "sanitaries," usually white in color. This is because early color dyes in the outer stirrup sock were thought to pose health issues, as well as the fact that the inner, less expensive white sock could be changed more frequently. The stirrup sock lacked a foot, instead having a loop ("stirrup") which fits within the instep of the foot, exposed part of the white undersock underneath. Over the years, the stirrup loop tended to get longer, exposing more of the white undersock, thus creating a look unique to baseball.

    So looks like the reasons, whatever they were, were pretty lame.

    Note that the statement "until the mid-1990s, when major-league players began wearing their pants down to the ankles" is incorrect. Most major league players did, but not all. Blanton and Oswalt on the Phils. David Wright of the Mets. Alex Rodriquez of the Yankees. Just to name a few.

    But ... it seems that at least two of these guys (Wright & Rodriquez) used to wear the long pants, then reverted to the knickers later.

    So, maybe Wikipedia is technically right: In the mid-90s, everyone did go with long pants, and then a few reverted back?

    I didn't follow b-ball back then so I don't know.

  7. O, my last point being - the guys who wear knickers today don't wear stirrups.

    Forgot to include that part.

  8. Aww, shucks. I will have to miss the kegger. I am going to the spa with my Run Buddy for a girls' weekend.

    Too bad, though. Nothing beats a "kegger" held by a 50 year old man. Especially when he spends the day prior rambling around his house lost because his wife is out of town and he does not know where the extra toilet paper it kept.

    I hate to point this out, but this the second time you have scarred poor Ian with tales of terror. I distinctly remember you telling him the toilet of the Ocean liner you were cruising on would rip his buttcheeks clean off if it were flushed while he was still seated. You may need to learn how to make your stories more child friendly. I am just saying.

    I hope you boys have fun, 'cause let's face it, no 'skirts' are going to be showing up to your geriatric kegger.

  9. Great. I've become so dull-witted I now have others checking Wikipedia for me.

  10. @SteveQ - I'm an Online Reference Librarian on QandA-NJ ... checking Wikipedia for others is what I do.

    That ... and wanton whoo-wers who have a thing for geezers!1! Yeah, I do THEM too!

    So in YER FACE, RBR!1!

  11. Well, yeah, but I'm not a Joisey Shore whoo-er who wants to know what "faceboob" is (Urban Dictionary says it's the same as motorboating).

  12. While I'm at it, in my list of various comedian's best jokes, David Letterman's involves baseball and candy bars: there's the popular ones... Baby Ruth and the Oh Henry... and then there's the less popular Pete Rose Nut Cup.

    Kip Adada's: "I took my car to get repaired. The guy said, 'You've blown a seal." I told him, 'Yeah, but let's leave my personal life out of it.'"

    [yeah, slim pickings]