Thursday, May 14, 2015

Cold Beer Here

Inspirational song: Cotton Eye Joe (Rednex)

When someone offers you free tickets to a baseball game, you usually say yes. When that baseball team happens to be the one part-owned by Bill Murray, in the town where he frequently shows up at random gatherings, just to offer another viral video to the insatiable maw of the Internet, you go, just on the longshot hope that he is there, mingling with the crowd. We were not so lucky this time, but we have seen him before, being charming and patient with fans at a basketball game here, so perhaps that was our one lucky break. It would be fun to brush past him one last time before we move away. I'm afraid I'm running out of opportunities, though.

The home team did not win the baseball game, but we had fun anyway. I think the man had a case of the wiggles more than the three year old kid who was seated near us, close enough to play games with Mr S-P. And the people watching was excellent, as always. The Mr didn't go with me when I went to Citadel football games. He wasn't familiar with the particular variety of young female sports fans around here, and he was a little taken aback by them. These ladies don't tend to go to sporting events to watch the action. They go to BE the action. They are dressed to the nines, and they are looking to be caught, but they are playing the long game. As surely as the girls in An Officer and a Gentleman were on the prowl for aviator husbands, these girls are on the hunt for Citadel grads. Tonight a few of them were less subtle than usual. We couldn't help but notice that one girl's low-cut, loose, white tank top would have been a whole lot sexier if it had not revealed 50% of her latex stick-on bra. Perhaps a camisole would have given her a better silhouette. I'm fine with flaunting what you've got, but that just took the romance off of it.

After weeks of stress and waiting, we finally have cleared another hurdle, and we have our pre-qualification amount, and the letter declaring it ready to go with an offer on a house. We are on the starting blocks, quivering, poised on our fingertips and the balls of our feet. It's time to start running, throwing elbows and trying to trip up the competition. Time to fight dirty, and use every weapon in our arsenal. Mama needs a house. I just need one to come close enough to catch.

No comments:

Post a Comment