Hey all (three of you? Four, maybe?),
While you were out in the sun perfecting the running throw to first base from short, I was sitting inside selling comic books.
"Wow, that sounds pretty radical!" the hypothetical crowd responds. "You sell comic books?"
Well, yeah, but that's not the point. It took a herculean effort of willpower to keep myself from tossing a pristine stack of Dark Avengers #2 in the air, effectively turning it into a glorious pile of makeshift ticker-tape confetti, joyfully bounding out the antiquated wooden doorway until reaching that great shrine--no! Mecca--to the perfect Sunday afternoon known as Tommy Lasorda Field of Dreams. It was harder than kicking my opium habit a few years back, that's for sure.
It is my hope that these short profiles in wont and desire will ease my suffering the next few weeks as I finish up my current occupation, thereby making my glorious return to the playing diamond all the sweeter. Indulge me, fair readers, as I use this outlet to stymie the reasonable urges of a man possessed to play some alcohol-influenced, four outfielder-altered motherfuckin' softball.
Best,
Evan
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1 comment:
Evan writes better posts than me. We missed you dude!
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