An affront to female sports fans everywhere

We went to the Sox game Monday night. It was grand minus the guy who sloshed beer on me while doing the wave. He was eventually thrown out of the park for continuing obnoxious behavior. Awesome!

No, my beef is with a happy couple with a little boy that we saw on the way out.They were wearing matching jerseys. His said Schilling. Hers? Schill's Wife.

You wear a jersey, and all you can come up with is Schill's Wife? Pick a player! The women who wear pink Sox shirts and hats irk me, too. There is nothing wrong with the team colors of red, white and navy.

Here's a message for the Marketing department: It is not necessary to feminize baseball for women to be interested.

Overheard near Fenway Park

Middle-aged Scalper #1 to Middle-aged Scalper #2: They don't need you anymore. They get tickets on the computer. You're a dinosaur. The last of the Mohicans.

You know I love the scalping pun!

How appropriate

The name of the city forester in a Boston Globe story about preserving urban trees: Leif Fixen

I wonder if his mom insisted on an arboreal career in the same way that my mom suggested I study French. No use tempting fate, right?

The Boston accent strikes again

It's time for yet another report about the businesses on my corner. This one is the best yet.

As I was driving (a rarity) back from the garden center, Brian noticed that Panda Castle, one of the two Chinese food places near us, has a new awning. We have not eaten at the Panda, so I cannot speak to the quality of the food or the service. I do know that the owner is a townie. How? The new sign says it all.

It reads Pander Castle.

This is the Boston accent at its finest. I assume the order was made over the phone and when the owner was asked what the sign should read, he or she said "Pandahh Castle." Why did no one check the spelling? Why did the owners put the sign up as is?

Since I saw the sign, I have been thinking of pander as a verb : They won't serve me until I go on and on about how great the restaurant is, etc. For fun I turned to my trusty dictionary. As a noun, this mistakes gets even better. Pander as a noun means pimp.

In other news, Love Bagle, Love Bread, Love Coffee is never open. The leaves on the ficus tree have dropped. Who gives it a shot for only three months?

Man I love my neighborhood!

It Was Bound to Happen

I'm officially a Red Sox fan.

To wit:

Brian was telling me about how he had completely missed the news of Tropical Storm Alberto. He said that when people were referring to Alberto, he thought they were talking about Alberto Gonzalez.

My response: The shortstop?

Alex Gonzalez is the Red Sox shortstop. It didn't cross my mind that Alberto Gonzalez is the U.S. attorney general.

Also, I hate the Yankees. We are talking on par with Jayhawks. Maybe above since I know and despise individual players (Jeter, A-Rod). KU gets more of a blanket dislike.

They both suck.

You Make the Call

On the way to lunch earlier this week, I stopped at a crosswalk because I didn’t have enough time to get across. A woman talking on a cell phone to my right walked a few steps into the street. She got very close to a car that was beginning to move. The man in that car was also on a cell phone. His window was down.

He proceeded to angrily yell at the woman. “Get off the phone and pay attention, you stupid …!” Then he zoomed off.

Careful on that high horse, buddy.

Since I’ve Been Gone

Sorry for the hiatus. Here are the highlights.

1. Went to the gorgeous outdoor wedding of a close friend. Saw some high school pals. Visited both sets of parents. Basked in the heat.

2. Met Moose. She’s my brother-in-law’s girlfriend. Witnessed the reason for the nickname. She snores — has since birth.

3. Cut off most of my hair. I’m now sporting a modern pixie. Took Alyssa Milano as my hair model. Shocked at first but now I’m into it.

4. Found one of my lost turquoise earrings. Stepped on it while tidying in the basement. Was pulling winter stuff for storage. Hooray for bare feet season.

5. Met our neighbors who don’t shovel their sidewalk. Noted that they were drunk at 1 p.m. on a Saturday. Stopped hoping they will clean up their yard and environs. Discovered one of their sons is a landscaper. Marveled at that irony.

6. Slept through several hours of jack hammering. After being awakened at midnight by the utility guy pounding on our front door. He needed to get in the basement to use a gas sensing tool that BEEPED continually.