Underoos, maybe

(May 17, 2006)

"That is one skinny ballplayer!" I was watching the Sox game with Joe, an activity in which I partake not for the sake of the game itself but because Joe watches every game.

And a game is on, like, every fucking day.

So while I'm fairly "eh" about most sports, if I want to spend any time with Joe in the summer evenings? My choices are a)don't or b)watch the game or c)distract him with my bra or some really good steak tips.

Incidentally, my bra and my really good steak tips are two of the many vital touchstones of our mutual devotion.

But he sure does like baseball a whole lot too.

So some game or other was on and I couldn't help but notice that the guy at bat was smaller than your average ball player. I mean smaller than Casey Fossum, a bony Devil Rays pitcher who looks like he could slide under a door.

I can't remember who this player was but "Where does he get a uniform that small?" I quipped.

Joe offered that maybe they're baseball pajamas meant for little kids. "He had to cut the feet off before coming to the ballpark," he said.

I snarfed sesame ginger dressing at that one.

Feetie pajamas, oh lord.