through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered . . .

Baseball scorecard thus far: Red Sox beat the Rangers, 6-5. Should have been 6-3, but Foulke isn't quite back to normal yet. Astros got a substantial win over the Cubs 3-9, so you all are spared the complaints about one-run losses, at least for today. And the Yankees lose to the Blue Jays, 8-6.

The Tigers have not, technically, lost yet, but at 8-0 in the ninth with two outs, I'm not holding my breath. Stupid White Sox. Oh, wait, now they've lost. Sigh.

Oh, well. Three out of four is a distinct majority. Also, the Yankees have a 10-15 record. Just saying.

I don't know where to start on this craptacular day, people. It has been so wretched in such outstandingly varied ways that I don't know where to begin. Do I tell it chronologically? Do I divide it into sections like "Baseball Bullshit" and "Personal Bullshit?" Do I give up entirely and shotgun my Heineken? Or should I pop the Heineken into the fridge and just go to bed?

Okay. I have consulted my Theo icon, and we have decided that chronologically it is. Makes a better story. And I have a feeling this'll be hella long, so I'll do my friends a favor and cut it.

( A day which you merely spend enraged is not a bad day. A day which you spend helplessly amused at the stupidity, until you give in to the numbness pervading your soul? That's a bad fucking day. )

So, here I am, emo-ing in LJ, drinking Heineken, talking with my friends, and waiting for the next bad thing to happen. Because it's not done yet.

. . . aaaaand the Astros lost by one run. I had a feeling that would happen; the score was 7-8 went I went to bed last night, and I thought, "That's not gonna change, is it?" And it didn't.

*sigh* I predict that the Astros will lose by one run tonight, too. (The fun of this little ritual is that either it works, or I'm right.)

OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU PUDGE.

The Tigers were ahead for a while. And then the Twins tied it up. And then the Tigers were ahead by one. And then they put in the second relief guy, who promptly gave up a homer. And then it went into the tenth inning. And then Pudge got a homer. =D The end! Tigers pull it out, 5-4.

The awesomeness of this is magnified by the fact that my other teams aren't doing so hot tonight. The Astros are behind the stupid Cardinals 8-1 in the sixth (well, at least it's not by one run), and the Red Sox have apparently decided that the best way to celebrate a shut-out two-game series is to lose to the Devil Rays. Eighth inning, 2-4. I am not feeling the optimism here.

On the other hand, the Yankees are losing a whole lot to the Rangers, 5-1. Which reminds me: Maybe we're losing to the Devil Rays, but at least we're not doing it by four runs with our big scary overhyped ace on the mound.

But, overall, the Tigers are (not for the first time this season, either) the reason for my distinct lack of grumbly depression. I love the Tigers. And I love Pudge. =D

And if they don't fucking pull Mantei ASAP I am going to scream.

Edited to observe that A-Rod's primary contribution of late is to walk a whole lot. When he's not striking out. Too bad I love Bellhorn to pieces, because otherwise it might be funny to call the Princess Alex "Bellhorn" Rodriguez for a while. Boy, he sure is earning the hell out of that twenty-five million he'll be getting this year.

Oh yeah, and Mantei got a runner to hit into a double play. So I won't scream.

And the Astros did NOT lose by one run this time. In fact, they won by two! 5-3. (Sorry about your Braves, hoedogg.)

Yep, this day definitely tips into the plus column. But tomorrow is going to suck if I don't go to bed now. I'm going to be permanently sleep deprived all season, aren't I?

I just got back from meeting up with a friend from high school. I have a story, but first: I just checked my e-mail and found an Astros postgame alert. Me, clicking on it: "I bet they lost by one run yay!"

Score: Astros 5, Reds 6.

Me: "I WAS KIDDING."

STOP IT ASTROS.

Okay, story. Aubin and I had agreed to meet up in a parking lot. I got there first on foot, and so sat down and lit up a cigarette to wait. She pulls in seconds later and aims for a parking spot next to a van.

She misjudges the location of the lines and brushes the van. And I mean brushes. Like there was a small paint exchange, but that was it. I was about twenty feet away and saw it clearly.

So she tries again and parks successfully.

Meanwhile, there's this guy getting out of the van and checking the damage. I walk over as Aubin's getting out of her car; she immediately goes over and apologizes profusely, embarrassed by making such a goofball move.

The guy goes off on her. He's ranting on about how she had all this space, and how did she manage to hit his van, and blah blah blah, and pretty much makes out like she did it on purpose. Aubin, upset now, explains that it was an accident and apologizes some more.

He keeps going on about the same crap. I am standing there smoking my cigarette and getting truly pissed. I really want to jump down this guy's throat, but I hold off to see if a) he's going to get it out of his system and chill, or b) he's going to get even more worked up, in which case my jumping in would only make things worse.

He keeps on the same self-righteous level, gesturing indignantly to the minimal scrape: "What was the purpose of this?"

ENOUGH. I'm usually very non-confrontational, but for fuck's sake. "Are you not listening? It was an accident!"

Blah blah blah all that space blah blah blah how could she blah blah blah yelling at a girl so much smaller than me sure makes my dick feel big.

Then he asks Aubin how old she is - she's eighteen, but looks like she could be younger; I bet that if she'd been a big guy he wouldn't have said a single word - and who the car belongs to. Aubin, near tears at this point, says that it's her mother's.

He pounces. "How do you think your mother's going to feel about this?"

HEAD ASPLODY. Aubin is not a child and her mother is none of his goddamn business. "That was not called for, sir," I say sharply.

"Well, this wasn't called for!"

"It was an accident! Bringing up her mother was very much deliberate!" I cannot tell you how pissed I was at this point. It takes a lot to make me snap at anyone, let alone a stranger. Ripping the skin off one of my friends, however, does the job nicely.

Since I was right and he was out of line, he has no answer for this.

Aubin goes off to the side a little and starts crying. At this point, I'll admit that I sank to a level just a bit lower: "Oh, nice going. You're such an asshole." Then I go put my arms around Aubin.

Meanwhile, the guy's wife or whatever has called the police, so while we wait, Aubin calms down and we take a look at her bumper, which is every bit as damaged as his. That is to say, just barely. Maybe a layer or two of paint came off. So I assure Aubin that it's no big deal. She seems much more okay, and we even joke around a little. I finish my cigarette and light another immediately, because that's how angry I still am.

The police officer arrives and could not be nicer. He makes sure everyone's okay, looks at both vehicles, sees the teenytinyness of the damage, and also assures Aubin that there's no problem.

He talks to the guy for a while - or the guy rants at him, they were too far away to hear. Aubin tries to decide whether or not she's going to end up puking. I work on a third cigarette.

Once the guy leaves, the officer calls Aubin over to his car to be nice at her some more, which makes her cry again. He wants to know why she's so upset, and I explain that the guy was an asshole, only this time I manage to check myself and say "jerk" instead.

Aubin: "He just got out of his car and started yelling at me."

The officer cements his title as Awesomest Police Officer Ever by saying, "Why didn't you tell me? I'd've ripped him a new ass." LOVE. I must remember to call the department and tell them how cool this guy is.

He continues by explaining to Aubin that she just needs to call her insurance company, that they won't care about such a minor accident, and just generally sets her at ease by being very clear about what happens next and that there won't be any horrible consequences. Officer Kevin Haley, you win.

And I've been saving one little detail till last. You want to know the best part? The punchline? The icing on the cake? The part that made me smirk when I first got a look at the asshole and the hat he was wearing?

He was a Yankee fan.

And I was wearing my Varitek shirt. So I bet when he tells this story, he'll be saying, "And the bitch that yelled at me was a fucking Red Sox fan!" HAHAHA.