(Original post date from Frankenberry’s Attic @ Blogspot: 07-28-19)
Well, I did it again.
Years ago, when I was living in Pittsburgh I drove back near home to Long Island for an old Grade School/High School friend’s wedding, David Readyoff, to be “in” his wedding as a matter of fact.
When I arrived at his place all hyped up from the 6 pack or so of Mountain Dew I had drank on the ride and was hurriedly getting ready for the rehearsal dinner that night I discovered that I had forgotten to pack pants. Yeh, I know…pants. Not my toothbrush or deodorant or even socks…pants. Figuring the sweats I was wearing from the road wouldn’t fly at the dinner, though I tried to argue that it would make for one of those funny little anecdotes you’ll look back on and laugh at years later, it was off for a fast trip to the mall. I REALLY wasn’t a fan of spending some of what little money I had (a common Frankenberry theme if you hadn’t noticed) in the men’s Department at Macy’s I can tell you that.
So, though not in the same ballpark (see what I did there?) as forgetting pants for a trip to a wedding, a wedding you’re in, I did a similar thing this weekend for my trip down to Jeremiah Johnsen and our double shot of Buccos/Mets games. I forgot to pack pants again or, in this case, another pair of shorts.
At least here I don’t have to head to the store and spend money I don’t have. I’m not going to a rehearsal dinner this time around where the parents of the bride and groom would have surely frowned upon sweatpants, funny little anecdote notwithstanding. No this is just a ballgame. I think I can get away with wearing yesterday’s shorts, and they passed the butt sniff test so I’m cool…oh, c’mon…like you’ve never held up pair of something for the butt sniff test to check if you can wear ’em again? I you say you haven’t you’re lying. Plus, and a bonus, I didn’t do my usual yesterday and act like I’m 5 around any foods and beverages. I did not spill, drip, or pour anything on them so these shorts will do for a day two (I did spill the entire contents of a 13 dollar and 50 cent beer though, after just one sip, down the outside of Citifield from our seats in the heavens during the game. Alas dear 13 dollar and 50 cent beer in a “collectible” souvenir cup, I knew you not well (enough) my friend, but I at least didn’t get any of YOU on ME.
I have a feeling no one will notice my shorts redux for game two but just in case someone cute and female throws a look or two my way? Don’t tell ’em please. I wouldn’t want them to think that I possibly do the same with my underwear (only in the direst of circumstances). We’ll keep it as our little secret Ok?
JJ, Ace & Sonny in his little back yard earlier. My boy has some nice digs here in Yonkers and, yeh, he’s a cat guy like me. No wonder we get along so famously.
Well, off to the ballpark. Just give me one baseball Gods, alright? It’s not that much to ask.