Guest blogger: Husband

I had a particularly long stretch of no blogging which I will attribute to my cat's recent brush with death constipation. For those of you have not yet heard the sob story, Nuni was a little under the weather, I took her too emergency services, they threatened her with the possible diagnosis of cancer, we brought her for extra tests at her normal vet, she was instead diagnosed with constipation and stool softener brought her back to normal.


In other news, I had Adam document his recent (mis)adventures in order to be featured as a guest blogger, i.e. compensate for my own neglectful behavior. Also, this is probably a little bit more....PG-13...then my own writing.
  
  

I have played baseball for my whole life, through little league, high school and eventually for my college club team for three of the five years I was there. My first two years the team did not exist. Also I went to a five-year program because I attended Northeastern University which has its students do a year and a half of work intertwined with schoolwork. This isn’t the five-year program your freshman roommate did because he wasted his first year of college doing blow off of a $10 hooker. What can you get for $10? Well she will touch you anywhere for 5 seconds with one finger. Also, for this story to work, she apparently will allow you to do cocaine off of her wasted and soiled body. Rick went through some rough times, but he likes to tell people that he came out the other side stronger. I like to tell people not to touch him because he has the icky all over him.

  

Now college ended for me a couple years ago and since then I have not picked up a bat and tried to hit baseballs with it. Don’t ask what I usually use it for, that’s my own private business. So when my friend invited me to go to the batting cages I was excited. I assumed I would be able to step right in and do fine. I had played all my life, what was a 2-3 years away from the game? Well apparently when you get cocky and jump in there with a wooden bat you do this almost immediately:

  

  

 

That’s always an enjoyable sound when you feel $50-80 worth of lumber snap in your hands because you are unable to perform simple baseball activities in a controlled setting. The dull thud sound of the ball hitting the bat in just the wrong place makes you really feel like a man. And you know without even looking you have done something horrible. So that is how I started off my batting cage adventure. This is how it ended:

…With my dainty hands all blistered up because I work in an office and have switched over to playing basketball as a physical activity because I can do that alone. Ah the wonders of living in the suburbs. Oh and don’t worry, that blister on the left side that is unpopped totally burst the following day when I played pitch and putt. Yet another sport that I used to play quite a bit and have not done in a long time. My seventeen year old self would be appalled at what I have become.  Although he would be pretty jealous of the picture below, but mostly because that would be the most money he would have ever seen in one place.