God, I was in such a bad mood earlier. All hormonal and feeling sorry for myself and thinking no one liked me. Inexplicably, I feel much better now. Not that I shouldn't or anything, it's just that I haven't done anything in particular to make myself feel better. I just do. Well. Best not look a gift horse in the mouth. Whatever the fuck that means.

So how much do the fucking Cubs rule? SO much. I'm so excited! We're in the play offs! We actually have post-season play! We actually have a pitching staff! And hitters besides Sammy Sosa! It's all so overwhelming. The Braves aren't going to be a cake walk or anything but I really think we have a chance. I mean, we get hits and score with two outs; we bring in relief pitchers who actually strike out the hitter they were brought in to get rid of; it's like we have a real team. It's awesome! It's like real baseball!

So I ventured into PackerLand last night to see Springsteen at Miller Park in Milwaukee. Of course Bruce and the band ruled. But Miller Park sucks my fat white ass. It's too big and it wasn't full, which I don't get. I mean, what is wrong with Wisconsin? Plus, the concert? Started an hour and a half late. What the fuck is up with that? I have been to a lot of concerts, really, and I have never waited that long for anyone. And the acoustics were so bad, I think some people actually left, or at least went to complain. You couldn't understand any of Bruce's crowd banter. And if you didn't know the lyrics to a given song, you were just in the dark as far as last night went. I mean, I'm glad I went because they did Rosalita and nothing has made me so happy, well, ever, I think. It way more than made up for no Thunder Road. But it was not a good concert experience overall. Especially since D and I were supposed to hightail it over to Whitewater to hang with P Doody and his 21-turning friend to buy copious amounts of alcohol for said friend. But we ended up being so late that, by the time we showed up, 21 Year Old was puking his guts out every five minutes or so. Actually it was pretty funny. As we drove up to the bar they were standing out in front of, P and his Other Friend were averting their eyes from 21 Year Old, who was hugging a public garbage can and spewing into it like there was no tomorrow. Hee. I wish I'd had a camera. I would have captioned the pic "College Life." Sorry. That was lame. Anyway. The trip north was a mixed bag. But later on, after 21 Year Old was tucked into bed, empty of everything he had consumed in his life ever, me and D and P got a little high and laughed our asses off for about an hour. And that was before we even threw the Family Guy DVD in. It was a good time. Until I got into an argument with D about whether we should stop for gas on the way home today. It isn't bad enough that we could only sleep for about 3 hours, but I couldn't even relax and go to sleep in the car because I was sure we were just going to roll to a stop in the center lane of 290. Fucker. I swear, that car kept moving by the sheer force of D's will. There was no way he was going to let the universe let his older sister be right. We were coasting on fucking fumes. He stopped for gas after we got into The Suburb We Call Home - I mean, what the fuck? He wouldn't stop for gas 'cause he was in this huge hurry to go to a meeting he never told me he had and then, right before we get where we're trying to go, THEN he decides to stop for gas. I cannot fathom how this man thinks. But I'm over it (can't you tell?).

I got an awesome tour t-shirt and two E Street Band pint glasses that I simply couldn't live one more minute without. I'm glad I went and everything but fucking Wisconsin has a lot to answer for. No signs for ANYTHING, ANYWHERE. And fucking Miller Park. Don't get me wrong. It's a wonderful ball park and I would love to see a game there but they really need to re-think having concerts there, I think. And if it was just a consequence of our comparatively shitty seats, well, that's just not acceptable. Just like waiting for 90 minutes. But Rosalita, Born To Run, Dancing In The Dark, and She's The One were so worth all the aggro. And, dude, they played a polka. Apparently Wisconsin is associated with the polka. And I believe I was the only person in the park that didn't know that. Even D knew what the fuck was going on. And what the fuck does he know about polka dancing?? I was baffled. But, now I know a new thing. Experience is the best teacher, my friend.