The scene: Chan and I out front, loading the last of his stuff into the apartment (at 1:30 AM).

Chan hands me a long metal object with grating on the sides and a flat base.

Me: "Ooh, the Ionic Breeze?"

Chan: "No, just a regular breeze."

This, like many things that really aren't that funny, sends me into a fit of laughter. I start to carry it upstairs, and Chan shouts from about twenty feet away: "The ironic breeze!"


Later, Chan tried to tell me that the whole thing wasn't funny, and the ironic line made no sense. Terrible job, Chan. It was great.


2 AM, bedtime. Tomorrow I will talk about the 17-1 win over the yanks (pessimists, I hope you're done with that nonsense now), and the inevitable part two of my stalking adventures--this time with a fellow blogger/co-stalker.

Actually, I can't wait any longer on this: Terrible job, McCarver, on trying to use the "short porch" excuse on Edgar's slam. Way off the line and five rows deep. That reminds me-- last night, on the Sheffield left field upper deck homer, Kay and cronies acted like only two people had ever done this, conveniently forgetting that Manny Ramirez once hit a ball up there that went several rows deep, and was off the line, as opposed to Sheffield's front row, right down the line shot.