(no... get your mind out of the gutter)
It just so happens that my Smelly Partner in Blogging/Crime/other various activities works as a bartender at a rather classy downtown establishment. I innocently suggested to him that if he ever happened to serve drinks to Justin Morneau, he should take advantage of the situation to slip him a roofie and leave him unconscious on my front doorstep.
(Obviously this would have to occur during the offseason, since I would never put my own well-being before that of the coolest baseball team ever to walk the planet.
And on a completely unrelated note, the first pitch of the game last night ended up in the left field seats. If it had been hit by the Twins I'd have been doing a small victory dance around the couch...but it wasn't, which is both a good and a bad thing: 1) it put us at a deficit before anyone had even cracked their first peanut.... however 2) nobody had to see me dance.
Unfortunately we never made it up. We got a run off their closer (yay?) but it wasn't enough. And poor Opie Everett hurt his hand while resting innocently in the dugout. Hopefully tonight will be better.