And, no, I’m not talking about Casey Fossum.
I left work at 3:50pm today. Not because it was Friday and my bosses were being nice, but because some whack job called (or delivered it in person, I never got the full story) in a bomb threat to our building.
I noted the time because I figured it was important to note the exact moment I blew up into a million little pieces.
I’m kind of a tough chick, but tell me there is a bomb under my butt and I become chicken little.
So instead of working, five of us (heck, only six of us were in the office today) hit the closest watering hole for a couple of hours.
I started to watch the game and stopped after Fossum hit Papi and Manny and the Sox couldn’t do anything with it. Now, it’s still on, but I’m doing some non-blog-related writing and listening to the Brokeback Mountain soundtrack so my attention isn’t fully focused on the game. I’ll probably throw Brokeback on the dvd soon, I guess I’m in the mood. Feeling a little melancholy tonight (again, not related to baseball).
The picture in this post is one my friend Dale sent me on my phone tonight. It’s her view at the game. To paraphrase my friend Kelly, even a bad night seeing the Sox in person is better than a night NOT seeing the Sox at all. So I know, in spite of the score, Dale is having a great time! Miss you, Dale!
(That stupid Dunkin’ Donuts commercial where they say "karataaaaaaay" cracks me up. Go figure.)
4 comments for “You dropped a bomb on me…”