Honest, no seriously, I will eventually finish posting my journal entries from Spring Training…

Life has, well, become somewhat more complex… no, intricate, that’s a better word, for me lately. Maybe I’ll write something hilarious about it in a few months. Right now the laughs are purely accidental. And most of the time I’m not laughing, so it’s best we sorta skip to the next bit.

Like it says above in the headline, I have every intention of posting the rest of my Spring Training journals. I really do. I’m just getting to the good stuff, and there really aren’t that many left, and, well, we’re in the third week of the season so if I don’t get them up soon I’m going to feel like a reheated dog poop.

In the meantime, all you baseball fans should check out this entry from Tomato Nation. If you haven’t checked this site out before you’re in for a treat. I have the lovely missus to thank for pointing me in the direction of this one. I used to tell people that how I knew my wife really loved me was that she not only moved to the cesspit that is the US of A from a much nicer place to be with me, but she also became a baseball fan. Beat that.

I’m currently getting halfway shellacked in Fantasy Baseball this year. That’s a huge improvement from last year when I got completely shellacked. I got so shellacked that if you looked in Webster’s Dictionary under shellacked you’d see my picture. I’m wiser now. I understand that in fantasy baseball starting pitchers do nothing but give you stomach aches and brilliant fielders who cannot hit are worthless. I’ve also very recently learned that Major League Baseball is filled with catchers who couldn’t hit their way out of a wet paper sack with a bat covered in razor blades. In real world baseball everyone just shrugs and says, “oh well, at least he’s a great receiver.” That doesn’t cut it in the fantasy baseball world. Oh no. In fact, if someone’s a lousy catcher who hits .300, he’s the best catcher in the fantasy baseball universe.

Reading over that last paragraph I realized I’ve stated the massively obvious. Go figure. A blog that states something that ought to be obvious to someone with the IQ of a guppy? Who knew?

In other news I’ve found myself a new band to supply my bass playing skills to. They’re called Fracas. So far I’ve played three shows with them and the following have happened…

* We stop at Home Depot on the way to the show and purchase four sections of chain-link fencing to put on the stage in front of us while we played. The crowd loves the fence and instantly tries to tear it down. Halfway through the third song in our set, Joe, the singer, assaults Dan, lead guitar player with a broken bottle and receives a deep laceration to his right temple. This was quite literally a show-stopper and ended with said guitar slinger being rushed to the ER to have his face stapled back together (Ok, I’m exaggerating a bit, I’ll admit it. His face only sorta came off.). After this we name the chain-link The Fence Of Death.

* We played at an outdoor parking lot that someone had turned into a self-storage center with several of the storage containers being used by bands as rehearsal spaces. In spite of the fact each band has posted by the management in their container a rule that specifically declares putting on shows or parties at the facility a no-no, this is in fact what goes on there fairly regularly. For this incarnation of The Fence Of Death we wove rags soaked in lighter fluid through the chain links and fastened a roman candle to the center of the fence. Mid-set Joe, our singer, set the thing on fire. The kids went nuts. Nothing like drunk kids and a chain-link fence that’s burning and shooting colorful projectiles into the air. Once the fence stopped burning the kids knocked it down and danced on it a bit. When our roadies (they’re not really roadies, they’re just nice guys who offered to help out) took the fence away the kids started to wander off to find more beer.

* At the most recent show we secured The Fence Of Death to the stage better than we had previously, thus making it more of a challenge for the kids to wreck it. Damn. Did they ever wreck it. I haven’t seen that much metal go flying in that little time since the time the engine of my step-dad’s car blew up driving through the Caldecot Tunnel because it had no oil in it. Before completely demolishing The Fence Of Death the kids did manage to bash Joe in the head with it.

So, to summarize, me and The Fence Of Death had our first show with Fracas at the same time. The Fence Of Death has bled, it has burned and now it has itself died. I’ve come out of this, so far, with a nasty cough. Not bad.

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