What was blue heaven to me, back in the day, was my years as a Tar Heel at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Blue heaven to Oliver, though, is Dodger Stadium. I went with him to a game tonight and admit that I had a great time. I used the hashtag motheroftheyearwhohatessports when I posted some pictures from the game. Oliver and Henry received a whole series of tickets from Uncle Tony last Christmas, all in the outfield section where there's an All You Can Eat theme.
Lila Downs sang the National Anthem, and I will admit to shedding tears.
I ate a Dodger dog with ketchup, spicy mustard and sweet relish. Although I'll maintain that they look nasty, I'll admit that they taste damn good.
I ate some tortilla chips and nacho cheese. I admit that I like this disgusting fake food.
I shared an ice-cream cookie sandwich with Oliver that cost $4,987,632 and was thankfully not in the all you can eat category. I admit that I really didn't need to eat it.
I drank a Diet Coke.
I did not drink beer although it looked tasty despite the plastic cups that I, admittedly, drank too much out of back in my blue heaven and thus feel a gentle snobbery toward --
The guy at the end of our row kept standing up and shouting insults at the opposing team's outfielder. When I expressed dismay, Oliver reassured me that they are "trained" to deal with the insults, that they don't care about it, and that they are making millions of dollars to stand out there so I shouldn't feel sorry for them. I admit that he had a point, so I texted with my friend Lisa a bit as a distraction.
One of the rookies is a guy that looked pretty darn cute, and when I asked Oliver who it was and said how cute he was, Oliver told me that he was twenty years old and that I was weird. Whatevs, as the youngsters say. I admit to a boy crush.
I have to wear my glasses for another ten days because I have some sort of inflammation under my eyelids. I can't believe that I wasn't picked to appear on the GLAM CAM, although the prospect of appearing on those giant cameras that hang in the LA skyline rivals the archetypal nightmare of walking down your middle school hallway nude. I admit to my vanity, particularly when it comes to glasses.
