And as far as updating the blog goes, it’s now or never.
When we last left our hero, he was mourning the loss of his grandfather and visiting home. In the following weeks, he:
Returned to Boston and moved to Brookline (getting the swanky zip code without the swanky rent),
Moved four people in four days–the first three being not so bad, but the fourth nearly destroying him…and the fourth person is in Montana! He’s only “storing” his stuff (which would require a couple U-Hauls, were the company able to define the word “reservation”), which just happens to be more stuff than the two people actually living in the apartment have combined,
Spent a day and a half moving in before leaving on a road trip to Los Angeles, but not before:
Swearing destruction to RCN, his former cable company, whose incompetence rivals only U-Haul’s. Our hero called RCN in early August in order to get an early hookup date for cable/DSL in his new home. He even postponed his LA trip a day to be around when the cable guy came. On 9.3.03 said cable guy informed our hero that something was wrong (something’s ALWAYS wrong), and he couldn’t hook up shit. He offered to come back on the 18th (his next open date), over two weeks later–this is exactly what our hero had been trying to avoid when he called a month before moving in. RCN then promised to visit and fix things twice, failing to show either time. Finally, near the 18th, someone came, and they informed our hero’s roommates that RCN could NOT in fact provide them with cable and DSL. Our hero’s roommates ordered Comcast, and it was hooked up within three days…after our hero had already returned to Boston.
Our hero set off for LA, stopping in Albany to drop off boxes, in Jersey to meet a friend’s parents and see their large, possibly mafia-financed mansion, and in NYC to eat dinner at a tasty Thai place (managed by one of our hero’s friends) and to have a drink at Mickey Mantle’s Restaurant (at which tables are waited by another of our hero’s friends). The first sleeping stop occurred in DuBois, Pennsylvania. It’s foggy there.
Our hero intended to arrive in Chicago the next evening around 10pm, but was sidetracked for nearly five hours by the Football Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio. When it’s the Hall’s 40th Anniversary and admission is deeply discounted, one shouldn’t concern one’s self with when one told one’s aunt one would arrive in Illinois. In addition, our hero and his faithful partner Bob snuck onto the Hall of Fame Field and kicked field goals deep into the afternoon.
The next day brough our hero and his trusty sidekick Robert to Minneapolis, the city of our hero’s birth. After speeding across Wisconsin (and ogling copious amounts of underclassmen in Madison), our hero arrived at the Metrodome just in time to meet his father and stepmother and see the Twins beat the Rangers, 10-7.
Roberto, our hero’s shorter buddy, wanted to see the (in)famous Mall of America, so our hero ventured to Bloomington the next day. They rode the rides and set off for Milford, Iowa, home of our hero’s grandparents and Buy Rite Foods, the best grocery store on either side of the Mississippi.
The next day found our hero outside the Mitchell Corn Palace. He had seen it as a child, and it impressed him even less this time. After a stop at Doo-Wah Ditty’s Diner, our hero found an FM station that allowed him to hear his Vikings beat the vaunted Packers on opening day in refurbished Lambeau Field. The awe of Mount Rushmore later that day helped offset the anger he felt listening to Dubya’s speech asking for $87 billion in funds to help fight/save Iraq. Bobbert enjoyed Wall Drug and purchased a cowboy hat, which then became the “driver’s hat,” topping the noggin of whoever was at the helm.
Our hero spent the night in Cheyenne, then proceeded on to Salt Lake City, where he and Robbie the Great played catch outside the Olympic Stadium, which is also where the University of Utah plays their football games.
That night, he met a big Weiner at the Port O’ Call. The Weiner annoyed our hero, but he got to watch Monday Night Football and he saw the funniest damn commercial he’s ever seen. The Trunk Monkey is wonderful, and a testament to local advertising.
The next day they hit LA, but not before our hero took Vegas (and the Bellagio) for 15 big ones. That is, 15 big one-dollar bills. Not bad for a $1.50 investment. He then gave Vegas most of the money back by putting $10 on the Vikings to win the Superbowl.
Our hero played whiffle ball, video games, and beer pong in LA. He and his friends Jeremiah, Anthony, and the aforementioned Bobbaloo invented a game called “fisting” that involved a football and a pool. It’s not as dirty as you think. In fact, it’s not dirty at all.
Our hero returned to Boston via airplane, thanks to his compatriot’s parents, who are travel agents in Vermont.
He hasn’t blogged in weeks, so you won’t want (or get) to hear his thoughts on the untimely deaths of Bobby Bonds, Johnny Cash, John Ritter, and the Maytag Repairman. You won’t read witticisms about the first three weeks of the NFL season, and you won’t find any insights into the second anniversary of 9.11.01. You’ll find plenty about the Twins and their amazing end of the season run, but not in this entry.
You will hear (right now) how funny he thinks it is that Blair “Whiny McTired” Hornstine was awarded a scant $60,000 in her ridiculous, frivolent lawsuit not to have to share her title of valedictorian. Most of this money went to Ms. Hornstine’s lawyers, who no doubt know her judge father quite well–but not well enough to work pro bono. Ms. Hornstine did save $130-some grand by not attending Harvard, but that was neither her nor her parents’ decision.
It was nearly a year ago that our hero started this blog. Since then, he has had ups (emails from a high ranking executive from a Major League Baseball team), downs (including his recent demotion from the Hall of Fame section of Aaron Gleeman’s blogroll), and two extended hiatuses (hiati? Haiti?). He’s also had over 15,000 visitors–roughly 13,000 more than he ever thought he’d get.
