Any trip anywhere with Michelle is going to be an exercise in figuring out what you’re going to eat and how you’re going to transport the leftovers afterward. One time she tried to take a bowl of soup into a Broadway musical but was not allowed to, and the only other time I’ve ever seen her so outraged was when a crazy person threw a rock at my car and cracked the windshield on the first day I had it. She wasn’t even that upset when someone stole the whole car. Anyway, the journey began today a half hour before first pitch, when she wanted a crab sandwich (which I knew exactly where to find thanks to Jess Jess) but decided the line was way too long (it definitely was). We passed on the crab sandwiches, but sitting in my seats, she started agitating for some food now to tide her over until we could get some food. I recommended waiting until the second inning, when the lines would die down, and she agreed, under protest. Shortly thereafter, I found some peanuts in my bag and offered them to her to keep her occupied, which was when I discovered yet another unsavory aspect of her character: she chews up roasted peanut shells. I said to her “You’re a monster,” and I just meant that chewing up peanut shells to suck the salt out was a deviant act that only a savage would perpetrate, but then I remembered the salt succubus from Star Trek that can take on the form of much more attractive creatures to lure in their prey.
The second nut-related malfeasance of the day occurred in the eighth inning (which also saw the Giants give up the only run of the game for either team). Michelle, who is usually a good girlfriend, went off to buy a sundae from the Ghirardelli stand, and came back with one containing almonds. I am very much in favor of almonds on their own, or in a very limited selection of candy bars, but I draw the line at sundaes. Because I am a great boyfriend, though, I accepted her occasional spoonsful of delicious sundae, which she had carefully curated, until I discovered not one, not two, but eleven pieces of almond concealed in a bolus of chocolate fudge and ice cream. She had gotten lazy and was no longer catering to my whims. She pointed out, cruelly, that I looked like I had broken teeth when I was showing her how many almonds I had found.
On the plus side, we saw this kid, who really went above and beyond in the outfit department. For those of you unfamiliar with the genre, that represents Lou Seal, the Giants mascot. I feel like if my own personal nieces were inclined, they could come up with something as great as this, but unfortunately the older one is at college learning important stuff and the younger one is way better at playing baseball than she is at making a big deal about it. Still, I can look forward to the day when this kid is a professional mascot and my younger niece is a famous baseball player and my older niece is the hidden power behind the President of the United States.
On a different plus side, today was Lou Seal Splash Hits Counter Bobblehead Day at the park, which is a lot. For those of you who don’t know what that could possibly mean, there’s this wall at the ballpark which is so hard to hit baseballs over that it has only happened 99 times since the ballpark opened in 2000 (by which it is meant that it has only happened 99 times for Giants batters; we do not acknowledge the 59 times it has happened for non-Giants). So if you hit a ball over that wall, it’s called a Splash Hit, and there is also a guy named McCovey Cove Dave who kayaks in the Cove and picks up home runs – close to 50 of them at time of press. So today, the Giants gave away this bobblehead showing Lou Seal (remember the kid in the costume? Yes, that seal) sitting in a kayak with a manual counter that you can change as the numbers go up. The counter will go up to 999, which means that at the current pace it will be obsolete after the 2253 season, although it is possible that by then ocean levels will have risen to the point where any ball hit in the Park will be a Splash Hit. That, however, will be an issue for my nieces’ great-great-great-great-great-great-grandchildren to rule on, since I am counting on that branch of the family to pass my Lou Seal Splash Hits Counter Bobblehead down as a treasured heirloom.
In conclusion, McCovey Cove Dave was on the arcade this afternoon, and he signed my bobblehead, and I invited him to come to a ballgame with me sometime when he isn’t in a kayak. Stay tuned!
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