me in yesterday's entry: (*cough* nine roster players *cough* but one is so long-term injury that I don't think he even lives here anymore)
me today: WHERE DID CODY BASS EVEN APPEAR FROM?? WHERE HAS HE BEEN ALL THIS TIME? WHY IS HE TOUCHING ME?
(The other dude is Andrew O'Brien, aka "Obie", aka "Meat". We never did get anyone to tell us why his nickname is Meat.)
(ETA: Maybe I should note that Cody has been on our roster all year but he was injured I think while called up to Nashville really early in the season? And in January he had ACL surgery.)
Other A+ Serve shenanigans: Bought 50/50 tickets from Gunnarson (an adorable child), our waiter was Kelleher (an even more adorable
child, except he's really 22 and went to college, but he's even tinier than Tiniest Mouthbreather and also could not write legibly enough for the real waitress to read our order, BUDDY DIDN'T YOU HAVE TO WRITE ANYTHING IN COLLEGE?)
re: Kelleher - please click this link because this is my favorite tweet of all time
and who are these people who have asked Roundtable Guy this question? I need to be friends with them. I feel they are my people.
Continuing: Cody and Pontus sold us raffle tickets, except really Cody sold us raffle tickets because Pontus ran off to put the candy jar I gave him somewhere safe (it was mine as a kid and it says Molly, and finally I know of a small Molly to give it to! Since it was basically gathering dust at my house, ONE MORE THING OUT OF MY HOUSE), and Cody was A+ delightful, probably because we gave him a lot of money.
Then we watched everyone wander around. Or dance around, in the case of Dougherty. Thankfully, the booster club stuck the Douchebag Creepster over by the plinko game, so he was completely out of our line of sight, and every time I saw him later he was sitting alone looking dejected, ha ha.
I successfully retrieved very tall Newfoundlander Adam Pardy from behind the bar to take terrible photobooth pictures with me and P., and managed to make some sort of conversation while we waited in line. (Instead of flipping up the bar door to get out from behind the door, he duck-walked his 6'4 self underneath it: ridiculous.) Why is my favorite always the one who is sure to leave at the end of the season?
Derek Army looks just enough like Tom Conrad that it's weird for me, but he was oddly excited to put Mardi Gras beads on us for free while we stood in the photobooth line. I had Tiniest Mouthbreather sign a puck for me later, and then we watched half of the t-shirt auction (I bid on Granberg because no one else was at first but thankfully someone outbid me). The t-shirt auction is always outrageous because the players usually start bidding on each other (Pardy and Kamenev both bid Kirkland up to like $300, uhhh, that's not fic waiting to happen), which is capital-R-Ridiculous but also sort of unfair to us plebes. One of these years I will save up and actually win someone's t-shirt and then look at it five years later and wonder why I spent the money.
In sum: those shenanigans were acceptable. (Except how someone broke into A.'s car while we were in there and stole her crochet bag, probably thinking it was a purse.) I enjoy that the Serve is basically an excuse to flirt harmlessly with the players, who mostly flirt back because we're giving them money for charity. Aaaah, objectifying.