I hit a home run.
Mind you, this was co-ed recreational slo-pitch, but the fact still remains that I hit a ball that went over the outfield fence. This is extremely weird for me, because I'm normally a singles- or doubles-hitting guy; sort of like a Ty "Hit 'Em Where They Ain't" Cobb approach, except without the uncontrollable rage and the hatred for dark-skinned people that fueled Cobb to the highest batting average in major league history.
(Seriously, that guy was one mean motherfucker. Apparently one year when he lost the batting-average title on the last day of the season, his teammates sent a congratulatory telegram to the guy on the other team who won it. He also once jumped into the stands to kick the shit out of a heckler, who had apparently called him a "half-nigger," and who also had lost one hand and three fingers off the other. Incidentally, when Ty was 19, his dad suspected his wife was cheating on him, so he snuck around outside to look in the bedroom window; Ty's mom thought she saw an intruder, and shot her husband dead.)
Anyway, the hit surprised the hell out of me, not only because I actually managed to hit a 4-bagger, but because I told a teammate on the on-deck circle that I was going for the fence on the first swing, which I was. It was like I called my shot; I even hit it over the right-field fence, just like I'd predicted. Call me Babe Ruth.
(I'd ask you to call me Ishmael, but I never finished Moby Dick. I tried once, but made it about halfway through. That is one boring-ass book.)
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Even though Air Canada delayed my flight coming back from Saskatoon by a half-hour on Saturday evening, thereby making me miss the last bus going anywhere near my house and forcing me to cab it from Yonge Street, I'm not mad at them. This is because their in-flight entertainment selection is excellent these days; the little screen in the back of the seat in front of you gives you a choice of about three dozen movies, a bunch of TV shows, and a selection of music samples from XM radio in a variety of genres. I saw Caddyshack for the first time since I was about 10, and holy hell, that is one funny movie.
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I get to spend three days in Toronto before heading out on the road again. I'm doing a little baseball-tour; a minor league game in Toledo, then seeing the Indians in Cleveland (after a trip to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame), and then on to Chicago to finally visit Wrigley Field and sit in the bleachers and cheer on the Cubbies and sing in the 7th Inning Stretch and get totally fucking wasted in the middle of the day (and hopefully do that two days in a row). Oh, and I'll swing by Frequent Site-Contributor ECB's place. Maybe I'll even crash there for a night or seven.
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Anyone in Toronto want a couch? I have one which is only moderately ugly, well broken-in (but not broken in any way), and very comfortable for sitting or sleeping. The cushions can also be used to make a kickass fort. You gotta pick it up, though. Inquire within.