Think Blue

Earlier this week I went to a Dodgers game. My work thought that my coworker LG and I did a good job, well...at our job, so we got rewarded with some kick ass seats at a Dodgers game. When we got our tickets, the Dodgers were still in the running for a spot at the playoffs. We were stoked.

Oh boy-what a difference two weeks makes. By the time our game rolled around, the only way the Dodgers were going to go to the playoffs was if they won every game AND Arizona loses the rest of their games AND San Diego loses the rest of their games AND Colorado loses the rest of their games. Hold on...the Dodgers still probably don't have a chance.

Oh well.

But here's a pic of LG and I at the game. This was how close we were! 13 rows from the bottom!!!

Here's the thing about baseball games-they're actually not boring. Its a whole different world when you're at the game than when you're camped out in front of the tv watching. So LG and her sister left during the first or second inning (I can't remember which) to get food. They come back and the Rockies have scored two.

Legalmisfit: We're losing
LG: OMG what happened?!?!
Legalmisfit: I dunno. I was too busy looking for David Duchovny.

Yes, that was our actual conversation. And David Duchovny really was there. I have to give credit to HB-he's got hawk eyes. Me? Not such much. I didn't even believe him at first. So I'm going to add him to my list of celebs I've seen.

The parts of the game I saw were good. This meaning, yes, I wasn't watching the whole game. But I have A.D.D. so much can't be expected of me in the first place. Between looking for David Duchovny, eating a Dodger Dog, eating garlic fries, trying to find the damn malt guy (note to the uneducated like me-malt IS NOT ice cream), getting whiplash from trying to find the wave, and eagerly anticipating the 7th inning stretch, I really wasn't concentrating on the game. But it was fun and I had a blast.

Fight or Flight

You know that civilian who will run into a burning building because he see grandma on the second floor trapped? Or the guy who will run into the street to save a dog when a car comes barreling down? Well, I am neither of those.

My brain and body aren't equipped for 'fight or flight.'

A decade ago I visited my brother up in Washington state and we went white water rafting. I distinctly remember the instructor telling us not to hold onto anyone if they're falling out of the raft. On the raft floor are flaps that you put your inside foot in so you won't fall completely out. So if you grab onto someone by their arm, he runs the risk of dislocating a joint. Ouch. I remember the instructor telling us this before we began rafting.

Halfway through we hit a pretty big wave. Lo and behold, my brother starts flying out. Of course his foot is secure in the raft. And of course I lunge and grab his arm. I'm holding onto him for dear life. And of course I remember the instructor telling everyone not to do exactly what I am doing. But duh-I'm not letting go.

I CLEARLY DON'T FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS.

Last night I cooked for the first time in my new crib. Roomie wasn't around, and I told him that I'd get a fire extinguisher, but I didn't, which means I had to be super careful. I did, however, buy a small bag of flour. It had the capacity to put out a match.
I like searing chicken first and then dumping it in the oven to finish cooking. Especially with white meat-it keeps it from drying out. Before I start cooking the chicken on the stove, I go to see if I know how to work the oven. It has all over three knobs, but trust me, these things are difficult. I don't know when to preheat, but I think now is as a good a time as ever, so I turn the temperature to 350. Immediately I smell gas. Not gasoline like at Shell (that smells good), but the natural gas smell. Uh oh...and then there's a little ticking sound going on. I'm not sure what it is, but it can't be good.

I think most people would have immediately turned off the oven and ran. Either or. Both would be fantastic. Me? What do I do? I stand five inches away from the oven and count each tick I hear, similar to counting sheep at night. After counting to 45, I'm bored, so I walk to the stove, poke my chicken a few times with the pasta scooper, and throw it on the stove.

I'm surprised I'm still alive.

You Know I'm Bad, I'm Bad-You Know It

I've ordered a knife set and a spice rack from Amazon. It shipped Friday, and should get here by the 17th. I don't know why anything shipping from inside the US to another place also inside the US takes more than 2 weeks, but hey-I don't make the rules here. I got the spice rack because I was appalled that Roomie didn't have one. The apartment apparently doesn't come equipped with salt and pepper either. Well, now that I think about it, the spice rack doesn't come with salt and pepper. So I guess in two weeks I'll still be in the same boat. Hummm...
I sprung for a knife set because Roomie doesn't have one of those either. When I asked him, he replied, 'I have a knife or two.' Oh boy. One day I was digging in a drawer for said knives, and almost walked away sans 3 fingers thanks to his uncovered bread slicer =(
So knives and spices it is.

I tell Roomie that I bought these things when we're out at lunch. My life is so mundane that buying spices and knives is considered news. I give him hell because he doesn't have salt and pepper. And he responds with something along the lines of, 'I'm a guy-I don't cook. That's your job!!!!' So I fired back, 'Boy-I can poison you so fast...'

So let's now assess my two week stay here:
1) I've warned him of a possible fire as a result of my culinery skills
2) I've threated to poison him

I see the wheels in his head turning, wondering what kind of mess he got himself in by signing me on.