*KEYSMASH* *FLAIL*
I'm home. Pizza is on its way. I have beer.
All of this pales, pales in comparison to the following (this is bearing in mind how fucking STARVING I am and how glad I am to no longer be in refiltered air from the plane):
There is baseball on my television.
Tim Wakefield is throwing a baseball, Josh Bard is catching, Pedroia just made a catch just past first (that Youk couldn't nab, damn), and Ellsbury is trotting around the outfield. Though I haven't seen him yet, Tito is chilling in the dugout being adorable.
BASEBALL. RED SOX. ON MY TEEVEE.
I may have just returned to this blissful 30-something degree weather (brrrrr), but it is SPRING.
ETA: MOTHERFUCKER. Come onnnn, boys. I know this game really, really doesn't matter, but a win would be a lovely way to start off my baseball-viewing season. *basks in the dulcet tones of Remy and Don*
ETA 2: THERE HE IS! TITO! Eeeeeeee!!! ......I has a sickness, y'all. I LOVE THAT MAN. And I still want his jersey. *shakes fist at MLB Merchandising*
All of this pales, pales in comparison to the following (this is bearing in mind how fucking STARVING I am and how glad I am to no longer be in refiltered air from the plane):
There is baseball on my television.
Tim Wakefield is throwing a baseball, Josh Bard is catching, Pedroia just made a catch just past first (that Youk couldn't nab, damn), and Ellsbury is trotting around the outfield. Though I haven't seen him yet, Tito is chilling in the dugout being adorable.
BASEBALL. RED SOX. ON MY TEEVEE.
I may have just returned to this blissful 30-something degree weather (brrrrr), but it is SPRING.
ETA: MOTHERFUCKER. Come onnnn, boys. I know this game really, really doesn't matter, but a win would be a lovely way to start off my baseball-viewing season. *basks in the dulcet tones of Remy and Don*
ETA 2: THERE HE IS! TITO! Eeeeeeee!!! ......I has a sickness, y'all. I LOVE THAT MAN. And I still want his jersey. *shakes fist at MLB Merchandising*