Lost Day

Roll out of bed around 10 a.m. Take a shower. Go to McD’s for a cheeseburger Happy Meal, plain, with a large Coke. Meet the girls to carpool to our tennis match. Suffer matchus interruptus at 3-4 in the opening because of rain and hail/snow/sleet (no one knows, really; I say sleet, but to be perfectly honest, the white stuff resembled tiny little snowballs). Head to another town, 20 minutes south, to resume the matches. Get rained on, again. Postpone match to Monday night. Return to town. Take The Lovely to Wal-Jack. Eat dinner. Come home. Mess around on the computer. Watch TV (Cold Case, World Series and whatever else I can find). Blog for a few minutes. Go to bed.

I have to say, the hail/snow/sleet was a first. And it makes a funny noise when it hits your cap, kind of a Thunk! Thunk! sound.

: )

Is it just me, or is the Chicago White Sox logo a classic example of “subliminal seduction”? You know, from that book from the 1970s, in which it was revealed that advertisers were putting sexual images and the actual word “sex” in everything from Farrah Fawcett’s hair on that famous swimsuit poster to the top of Ritz crackers? (Yes, according to the book, “sex” was baked right into the cracker — giving new meaning, I suppose, to the catch-phrase, “Everything tastes better when it sits on a Ritz”!)

Anyhoo, when I see this White Sox logo, all I see is sex. All I can think about is sex. Baseball does not usually make me think of sex, but ... I dunno.

Much as I generally dislike the American League, I can root for a team with sex as its logo.

Go, Sex!

: )