I'm awesome at procrastinating.

Tomorrow I'm heading to my first out-of-state baseball games of the year, then rounding out the weekend with my good friend's wedding. Congratulations Ev and Kimberly! I can't wait to party!

Rockstar, me, and a few other peeps are heading off to Missouri for the Phillies/Royals game on Friday, then the Angels/Cardinals game on Saturday. All week I've been saying "Push, push in the bush." and wondering why Missouri is the "Show Me" State. Sack? Tits? Why?!?!?

I suck at geography. It's not that I'm stupid, I just don't care. Pennsylvania was the west coast to me for most of my life. It wasn't until I decided to go on the stadium tour that I made it pass that fucking boring ass state. I'm sorry, but driving on Rt. 80 is awful; I've never been more happy to see Newark, NJ in my life.

Think I'm packed and ready to go? Nope and nope. When I got home I had dinner, straightened up, watched Mean Girls, talked on the phone, and then decided to write. I will most likely shave, give myself a pedicure, dance around in my outfit for the wedding (pretty, pretty!), and read Anna Karenina before I even take out my luggage. I thrive on procrastination.

I've had an entertaining Boy-Week. Haven't heard from FB, although he did say he was busy. I hate busy. Everyone's busy. I'M busy, but I really liked how his kisses taste so I'd probably ditch this whole weekend if he was free. Yes they were that delicious. And yes, I am that much of a pathetic, desperate, horny loser.

I had a softball game last night with two interesting boy events. Donovan and I travelled to the game together. I think that was the longest we ever talked sober. I don't like him anymore, but if he wanted to give me oral pleasure I would not stop him.

After the game I went to meet Rockstar and her company's team at Dive Bar on 96th and Amsterdam. (Warning, Dive Bar is SO not a dive. Total false advertising. ) I ended up leaving the game with this dude I'll call Harold. Harold works at Company, but this was the first time we met. He seemed really nice so I invited him out with me. We immediately hit it off since we both have a sorta random sense of humor and much love for wings and beer. In fact I was slowly starting to dig him when he dropped the bomb...he was only 23.

23? 23? I have an old Gonzo flag thingie from The Muppet Show ON TOUR! back in 1984 that is as old as he is. What the fuck? Yes I know I was only born in 1978, but hearing people were born in the 80s is weird. Hearing that people I have/could have/may have sex with were born in the 80s is even weirder. I mean Rippie was born in '81, I can't go younger than that and still look at myself in the mirror, right?

Right. At least that's what I told myself when we are on the subway home and I was getting off (literally you perv). He gave me googly eyes, kind of puckered up, and actually said (looonnggg pause for effect) that he usually dates women over 30.

AAAIIIIIIEEEEEE!!! I'm 29, you fuck! "Women over 30"?!?! WOW. I mean, WOW.

Now I rarely feel old mainly because I have freckles and still really enjoy picking my nose, but I gotta tell ya, I felt really old last night. He emailed me today something semi-cute, but I kind of blew it off. Harold's a really nice guy and I know he didn't say that statement to insinuate I'm a hag, but I am too young to feel like Maude.

In fact I've decided I can never bang someone in their early twenties, at least not until I'm in my forties. Apparently a big age difference is only acceptable when they are young enough to be your child. Thanks Demi!

I did rub one off to get it out of my system though, but now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure I was picturing the wings more than Harold...

I guess I should go pack now, huh?