"Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt."
While briefly discussing Maikerus expectations for his date with Claudio, it became apparent that neither of us can fully make sense of sexual baseball metaphors. After some fumbling about whether crotch groping is two different bases depending on whether it's over or under the underwear, I offered that what I do know about the rules of baseball is that the first base is the only one that can be overrun. This led to the following discussion:
My sister: I thought you're supposed to run to all of the bases.
Me: Yeah, but you can only run over the first one, the others, you're supposed to dive.
Maikeru: So what is it, kissing?
My sister: It's the rules of, you know, the actual game.
In fact, could this be incorporated into the metaphor? Wikipedia informs me that first base is indeed kissing.
Mom emailed to tell me that one of her workmates had been walking through our neighborhood on Saturday and seen a bunch of cops and a dead body within something like a hundred meters from our place. It reminded me somewhat nastily about what happened last Spring. I haven't been sleeping very well lately. I didn't sleep very well last Spring, either. A few days after seeing that guy being pulled out of the river, I left my house and, as I stepped off the stoop, had a strange thought. I thought, hey, what if, instead of that guy, I was the one who went missing a month before and it was my dead body they fished out.
And it wasn't like realizing that it could've just as well been me, but actually realizing that, at that moment, maybe I was dead. I took a couple of steps and the first few didn't feel real at all, but then the feeling wore off.
Why are Springs so damn hard on me?
My sister: I thought you're supposed to run to all of the bases.
Me: Yeah, but you can only run over the first one, the others, you're supposed to dive.
Maikeru: So what is it, kissing?
My sister: It's the rules of, you know, the actual game.
In fact, could this be incorporated into the metaphor? Wikipedia informs me that first base is indeed kissing.
Mom emailed to tell me that one of her workmates had been walking through our neighborhood on Saturday and seen a bunch of cops and a dead body within something like a hundred meters from our place. It reminded me somewhat nastily about what happened last Spring. I haven't been sleeping very well lately. I didn't sleep very well last Spring, either. A few days after seeing that guy being pulled out of the river, I left my house and, as I stepped off the stoop, had a strange thought. I thought, hey, what if, instead of that guy, I was the one who went missing a month before and it was my dead body they fished out.
And it wasn't like realizing that it could've just as well been me, but actually realizing that, at that moment, maybe I was dead. I took a couple of steps and the first few didn't feel real at all, but then the feeling wore off.
Why are Springs so damn hard on me?