you sold me a gay giraffe!

Baseball. A game best enjoyed in Sepia (as per every baseball documentary ever made).






Actually, too much Sepia baseball and next thing you know you'll be complaining about interleague play and the DH ruining the purity of the game. From there you're only one step away from Billy Crystal getting in your face and talking about the Yankees with that faraway look in his eyes.

So Saturday night I went to the Bees game. The occasion? The return of the Rivercats, our hated rivals and the opponent for last year's Greatest Game Ever Played.

Okay, I think this might be the best picture of me ever taken.

If I ever die, I want this picture to be the "1980-20xx" picture. Not trying to be morbid or anything, it just never hurts to make this kind of thing known (see: future blog entry for more coverage of this topic).

Nearly all my friends turned out for this game.

The stands were packed, thanks to a special visit from this guy.

It's been the same guy in that suit for thirty years now. Way to go, Chicken.

His act was entertaining, but kind of weird. There was a scene with a sadistic lynching by those hated Rivercats. And this part was pretty baffling.

If you recall, we had a lot of fun at last years game because we were able to heckle away and make the Rivercats players sad (by "we" I mean, "the other guys" because my voice is too quiet to do any real damage). We had high hopes this time too, but the family sitting in front of kept giving us dirty looks and muttering bad swears in our direction. I guess I can understand. I wouldn't like it if a bunch of jerks sat behind me and made loud noises, but... come on. It's a sport game, not yoga time.

Here's the lady shooting a dirty look in Natali's direction (It looks like I'm speaking to this lady but I'm just watching the game. It's a trick of perspective)

So, you're offended by our loud talking? Well I'm offended by your prominently visible ass-crack and amateur lower back tattoo. Also, nice job buying beer for your 17 year old tramp daughter and her dorky boyfriend. I hate you so much!

Only one way to work off this aggression. Shootin'.

Just kidding. Discharging firearms should only be done in a cool headed and responsible way.

This was more of an exploratory trip, so we didn't go to any of the usual spots. Headed east, Park City way, to see what there was to be seen.

Here's a gas station out in the middle of somewhere. The locals sitting on the porch were very unwelcoming.

Lots of driving. Went through Hoytsville which I didn't even know had a main street. It did though.

The cemetery there is very old and has nice views in all directions.

Times were tough back in the 1800s. So many people died before the age of 12. How could you even handle that? Strength to persevere I suppose.

Had a hard time even finding a place to shoot, because so much of the open space was "owned" by somebody. How you can you even own land? That's ridiculous. The Native Americans are right. I mean, just because some jerk two hundred years ago walked a thousand miles and then put up a fence, and suddenly that land is "owned." All so decades later some jerk could decide that he'd made enough money insider trading and wanted to settle somewhere peaceful, so he can "buy" the "land" and "live" "there." Ridiculous.

Just outside of Echo we found some land that welcomed trespassers and decided to drop a few rounds on the other side of that hill there on the right.

I pushed my Scion to the limits, but it just doesn't have the wherewithal of Betty, my old Explorer. This is as far as we made it.

That reminds me. The Scion needs a name. I'll take suggestions here.

I didn't post any pictures of shootin' cause by now you know what that looks like.