A day like every other day.... except that it isn't

So today I'm sitting at work, chatting with my scruffy co-blogger on g-chat and drafting trade show fliers while following the Twins game on Gameday. This describes many of my baseball season workdays over the last couple of years, and although this day appears to be the same it's actually quite different.

First of all, today's game is the last Twins game that will distract me from work... at least at my current place of employment. After tomorrow at 12pm, I will clean out my cubicle, load my peace lily and picture frames into the back seat of my Volkswagen and become, no longer a full-time employee but a full-time grad student -- a transtion that comes accessorized with expensive textbooks and little to no income. It's going to be a fun two years. Dear Target Field: please don't raise ticket prices (too much).

Secondly, my chats with Scruffy, which were normally between various locations in and around the Twin Cities, are now between Minneapolis and Bowling Green, Ohio, making Scruffy officially a long-distance blogger.

Moving on to the importantish things: the KC series.

Friday:
Bad. Bad bad bad. Ridiculously, horribly, offensively bad.
Ever had one of those dreams where you're trying to run away from something but your legs can't move, and time seems to move more slowly as your peril grows? Yeah. This was like one of those dreams but worse because it was real.

Also did anyone notice the weirdness on the jumbotron? During the fan-cam, the video was being crowded out by some unidentifiable white blobbish menace. Either the demons in our pitching staff have infiltrated every corner of the dome, or the jumbotron video shrinks in proportion with our dignity.

On the other hand, Friday night was the first and only time my dad succeded at not getting BBQ pork on his pants. It's been a personal goal of his for some time, so go dad! (I'm not kidding about this, btw).


Wednesday: Was better because a) we won and b) Scruffy and I were talking on Skype so it's almost like we can still watch games together.

Side note: When chatting with someone on Skype it's ridiculously entertaining to plant your finger on the video of the other person's nose and just leave it there. You're poking them in the nose and they don't even know it - HILARIOUS! Just trust me... please... I'm not as weird as I sound, I promise...

Today: 5-4 is better than 5-1. On the other hand, having the bases loaded with one out and failing to drive in a run is not really that good. On the other other hand, that happens a lot. Like... a LOT.

On the other other other hand... Gomez is catching for Crain while he warms up. It's like some freaky alternate universe of Gomez. Whenever something weird is going on, he's bound to be there. He makes strange things happen. He's like a wizard. Or a poltergeist. Peevesmez.

As Scruffy rationalized:
"Well...
Mauer's DH
Redmond's actually catching
And we have no other catcher
So we have the bullpen catcher down there...
and then....
Gogo
Because...
Why the F not?"

Why the F not indeed?

And in conclusion: BBQ Pork