That’s an awesome title.

I had an awesome weekend.

I’m concerned at how much I actually use the word, “awesome,” lately.

Awesome.

This weekend’s awesomeness included a trip to Baltimore. Baltimore isn’t really that awesome, its actually pretty bleak and can be somewhat foreboding, but if it was good enough for John Hughes, its good enough for me. I finally got to another baseball game, an event I uncharacteristically love even as I laugh at the weirdness that sports inspire in people. Freedom, Emo Boy (formerly Talker) and I headed north to see the Orioles get their asses kicked by the Red Sox.

Melia, please, give us your sportscasting magic. You know you wanna!

I am not a sportscaster. In fact, there have been a couple of job ads lately calling for someone with sports knowledge. That is not me, sadly. But, I’ll give it my best shot. Ready?

Until the sixth inning, it was sweaty and much beer was consumed. After I got up to pee and score more Bud Light (don’t ask), the Red Sox scored 4 runs (I’m beginning to wonder if it was personal) and by the ninth, the score was 6-0.

And there you have Melia’s baseball wrap-up. I hope you enjoyed.

Boooooo!

Shut up, haters. The game was awesome. I’ve tried for years to take Emo Boy to a baseball game, and finally got him there. Mark that one off the list, yo.

Anyhoo, we spent yesterday afternoon (and evening) at my friend’s house for a cookout/party. Good times, good food and lots of chill time. Awesome.

There are two more weeks of school for the boys, then Emo Boy heads to Arkansas and I have to figure out this big trip again. I need to call my aunt, my grandmother and figure out how much time I actually want to spend in Little Rock. Little Rock sucks, and there’s never really a reason to be there, except that my BFF from high school just found me on Facebook and I really want to see her. Freaking Pisces. She’s the reason I ended up at a Bryan Adams concert at the tender age of 17 (the things I do for my friends!) She was there when I lost my virginity (well, in the other room), introduced me to Strawberry Hill and a whole lot of really disturbingly “Arkansas” boys, including the BFF of her husband, who was a pathological liar and made my prom a nightmare. She always called me, “Bean,” for reasons I’m not sure I understand (but love), still. She was really close to my mom and knew my stepfather. She was the first person I told about their HIV status. Sigh. I’ve missed her.

What else? I’ve pretty much determined that as soon as I make a hotel reservation, I’ll start getting calls for job interviews. The blasts from the past are doing a fantastic job of reminding me of who I am, and I’m so ready to start over with a future that I’m constructing, not one that just gets tossed my way. Oh, and terrified. But, whatever. Its time to slow dance, yo.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CTfIr_euGTs