If I Had a Twitter Account...

... I'd have posted something along the lines of:  Dan Cathy has offered Todd Akin Chick Fil A for life.

Lose/Lose

I knew when I answered the phone that I was screwed.

The husband of my wife's friend called and explained that another husband of my wife's friend (not the same friend.  Although one couple is Mormon.  I've always contended that the women should have a shot at multiple husbands if they really wanted to.  What d'ya say, Handy?) had expressed an interest in seeing a baseball game and they wanted to know if I wanted to go with...

The answer, of course, is no.  Not because I dislike these husbands - perfectly nice individuals - but rather because my tolerance for crowds has greatly diminished over the years and, frankly, I just don't enjoy it any more.  But, of course, I couldn't say that because I knew there'd be recriminations at home - "why did you tell Bocephus* that you didn't want to go?  They're my friends too and they're going to think you don't like them if you keep rejecting them..."

*sigh*

So I said yes.  And prayed that maybe, just maybe, the Gods would intervene and something would happen to get me out of it: the game being sold out, a sinkhole swallowing the stadium, hurricane Zasu** flooding the city.  Hey, it could happen.  As the day approached though it became evident that there would be no deus ex machina for me.  I would have to go.

I will confess, in my own passive/aggressive way, that I could have left a tad earlier.  But, still, I was pulling up to the stadium a full 40 minutes before the game started.  What I wasn't prepared for was a change in the traffic patterns - the route I normally would take was blocked off and I was shunted with startling speed south of town before I knew it.  A series of left turns got me back on track - now on the other side of the stadium - where I promptly got stuck in traffic.

And it's the worst kind of traffic - you know, folks changing lanes then changing back, people jumping out of vehicles, car door to car door sales folks offering to buy or sell.  There were police waiving folks in various directions: I think their sole job was to keep us all circling for as long as they could without giving us an opportunity to park.

So it was that at the end of the second inning I was STILL stuck in traffic, behind the Incredible Expectorating Man***, when I saw my sign.  No, it didn't say 'Parking,' it said "this way to the interstate."  Eff it, I thought, I'm going home.  So I texted the husbands, jumped on the freeway and watched the last four innings (we lost) from the comfort of home.

Yes, I did catch hell the next day but, as I said, I knew I was screwed from the very beginning.

*Not his real name.
**Also not her real name.
***If it's not his real name it should be.  I wonder if his date was impressed.

Twitter

After a brief foray into the twitterverse I once again chickened out. 

Well, not necessarily out of fear, I think.  It's more of an obsessive thing.  "This tweet was funny, dammit, why didn't anyone reply to it?" or "Is this tweeter being sarcastic or serious?" or "You're being stupid tweeting at that quasi-celebrity" or "Gosh, she's cute."  And so I find myself thinking about tweets and checking in way too damned frequently.  There's something in my make up that makes me unable to do the digital social thing in moderation.  LOL  It's much safer being here where no one reads.

I have low expectations and it's best, apparently, to keep it that way.