So you guys might not know this yet, but I am famous. On Saturday, I sang the national anthem at the Indians game. Okay so it wasn't me by myself. It was me, my sister, my parents and Drew. And like 40 other people. So really I am just a nameless faceless generic singer in a group of many. But still. I was three feet away from Grady Sizemore. Where were you?
My parents sing in our church choir. I do periodically-like at Christmas and Easter when I actually go to church. Our choir director is the son of a choir director from another church. This other church choir sings the national anthem at an Indians game every year. This year they invited our church choir to join. Diane, Drew and I are not in the church choir. So how did we end up singing with them? Blame that on my parents who signed us up to sing without even asking us. We just got a phone call a couple days later like, "Oh hey-we signed you guys up to sing the national anthem at an Indians game. Cool?" Um...wtf?
Drew was very nervous because he had to sing bass and didn't think he would be able to learn the part. My parents were determined to help him practice yet there was never a time for him to go over their house so my mom could play the piano for him and help him learn it. So what did my parents do? What would any parents do in this situation but send me over to Diane and Drew's place with the giant Casio keyboard we got in 1986 that still sits in their basement. Oh yours wouldn't do that? Well guess what-mine would and did.
That's right, we practiced the national anthem at Diane's dining room table on the Casio. I have never felt cooler in my life*.
Actually singing at the game ended up being kind of cool. I thought we were going to suck, but we were actually pretty awesome. Plus we got to be on the field and right by the players. When we walked back in we walked right by the Indians dug out, and I pushed old women out of the way so I could be right by it. I was trying to decide how to behave. Do I yell stuff out like "Have a good game"? Do I smile seductively? I went with the "just stare like a complete creepazoid stalker lady" because honestly who the eff cares. I'll never get to stare at them again nor will they even remember so it's fine. I just wanted to drink in as much as possible. I'll say this right now: we have some hotties on our team.
So that's what I did on Saturday. Well also after the game I got really trashed and danced with my sister at a bar that doesn't have a dance floor or any other people dancing. But that's really not out of the ordinary.
*Actually this is not true. I felt a lot cooler later on at the game when we were standing at the bar in centerfield, and all of a sudden for absolutely no reason at all I fell over. We were literally just standing in a circle. I shifted weight to my left foot, and my ankle gave out and I was immediately on the ground. I wished I had been acting really drunk and obnoxious beforehand because I could then easily explain the incident away. But no. The explanation is that my ankle-and possibly even the universe-hates me.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Oh say can you see
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10 comments:
That is awesome, I love that you contemplated how you should look at the dugout and went with staring.
I am so jealous.
Funny, I would have pictured you walking behind the team smacking them each on the butt saying "Good luck out there"
Oh.. and maybe making out with one of them on the field.
You certainly could've found a better pic of Grady.
Also, it's probably a good idea for you to attend this event and report back.
Sarah-I went to the Indians-Angels game on the 9th. Jordan's uncle works the AV and we got seats four rows up from the Indians duggout. I was in heaven, of course i was the only one with my Indians jersey rooting for them. Also I realized that Cleveland has the best fans in the world. Games are so much more fun in Cleveland than anywhere!!
Love you, miss you!!
Squirt
I've never been, but I have it on good authority that Cleveland rocks.
Indians...that's baseball, right?
I can only assume that the finale of Lost killed you...
do you think Locke is in the coffin?
do you think Christian is alive? Jack's conversations with the pharmacist and the head surgeon seem to point that way. So WTF??
O schnap, Carly! I missed that!
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