To review

Mar. 13th, 2011 08:59 pm
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (winning pitcher & his catcher)
I've had this picture open in its own tab all weekend. )

My favorite part is the caption that ran below it in the New York Times:

Hair by Dennis Lanni at Art Department for Redken

I'm tickled that someone took the time to actually ~*style*~ him, and that his hair looks exactly the same as it always does, despite their efforts.

---

It was a good weekend of mostly-baseball. Friday night was amazing out in Peoria—Giants fans everywhere, perfect weather, good seats near the mound, Tim "displaying his night moves" as the Giants' website awkwardly put it. Long way to drive to get out there, but it was worth it for sure.

Saturday was Padres/Rockies out at Talking Stick. We arrived fashionably late at the start of the fifth inning, grabbed some hot dogs and hamburgers and ate on a ledge by a Coors Light cart, then sprawled on the grass, beer in hand, around the eighth inning or so. It's a beautiful ballpark, very impressive. I admired the architecture and the players in their high socks and slowly dehydrated beneath the sun.

After the game we went to the casino and had a couple of drinks and a couple of cigars in one of the lounges. We tried to go to the bar on the 14th floor to watch the sunset, but were turned away at the elevator because we weren't in compliance with the dress code. (I wanted to point out that this was Casino Arizona, not the Wynn Las Vegas, good god people, but it didn't seem worth the effort.) We ended up taking our money to Old Town and had pizza and wine and had to fend off some random persistent guy who thought a member of our group was a reality television star and could not be convinced otherwise.

I got home around 9pm and passed out on the couch, then came to my senses a while later and watched tennis. Tell me how it gets better than that.

Maybe if Rafa had been playing, as opposed to Sharapova, but I suppose you can't have everything.

---

Randomly, where are The Typewriters? Are you guys okay? I get worried when the radio silence stretches too long. I'm nervous and forever paranoid that this story will be abandoned because Tim's bloody and justifiably upset and Buster's sleeping with Kristen and Zito's vaguely orbiting the entire situation and the world needs to know where this is going.
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (Default)
Today was the second day of Spring Training, and I wanted to be there so badly that I rode a bike to Scottsdale Stadium. I didn't necessarily have to, but my friend really wanted to, so I figured I'd do it, even though I can't even remember the last time I was on a bike. At least five years, maybe more. It could be as much as ten years since I've ridden a bike.

But, hey. ~*It's like riding a bike.*~ So I hopped on and immediately and unceremoniously pedaled myself into a grassy curb. Which was cool. (At least no one saw me.)

An inauspicious start, but I got my sea legs shortly thereafter and we biked to the stadium, which was a beautiful ride for the most part, down pretty streets and along the canal and then through Old Town. Stressful at times, though, because my friend (who's Swiss) still rides her bike like she's in Switzerland and doesn't really follow the American rules of the road, which left me in a vague panic at times. Crossing Scottsdale Road in the "European style" without a streetlight wasn't my idea of a good time, but we made it.

Aaaaaaand I brought the zoom lens for my camera this time. Did I mention that I got a new camera? Digital SLR, couple of different lenses, shoots HD video, an amazing little machine. I'm in love.

Except of course Tim pitched yesterday (when I didn't have the zoom lens with me), so instead of obsessively snapping photos of random stretching poses, today I played around and got a bunch of pictures of people like Nate Schierholtz and Dude in a Sweatshirt and players who I'd never even heard of in my life.

Some pics. )

I ate garlic fries (with ketchup on the side—do they do it that way in SF?) and drank an enormous can of Corona, and the security dude in our area was AMAZING, and we met a few cool people (locals as well as visitors from CA), and it was Giants vs. Dodgers and it was generally a great day.

So tired, though, I can't really explain it. It's been crazy for about four weeks; tomorrow is the first free day I've had in a while, and I can't wait to sleep <3
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (they might be giants)
And I was there!
Photobucket

It started off kind of precariously, as I didn't have time to go home and change and get organized before the game like I'd planned. Instead, I left work late and headed straight for the ballpark, making a stop at Circle K along the way for some sunscreen, then got to the stadium and went to the team shop for a t-shirt and visor, which I changed into in the women's restroom. It was in general a strange outfit—all business on the bottom, sleeveless Giants tee on the top. But then I dangled over a rail and took a bunch of photos of Tim warming up, so there was no more time to worry about fashion.

Photobucket

It was a beautiful day—sunburned shoulders and alarmingly-large Giant hot dog and like-minded fans all around me.

Going back tomorrow <3
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (Default)


I could watch this at least five or six more times before I'd grow bored of it, I think. The sound of baseball, it's a beautiful thing.

And so different, these two. Tim throwing = <3. Barry throwing = I don't even know what that is, but I hope it works.
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (Default)
Tim is here! (Along with about a bazillion other baseball players.) The proximity, I can't even. I've been enamored with local boys in the recent past (Steve, Boris, Larry, etc.) but this is somehow a different feeling entirely.

So anyway, he rolled up for the first day of spring training like so:

Photobucket

Why anyone would dress like that—on the most spectacularly golden, sunny, 80-degree day—is beyond me. But the moustache is gone; therefore, I consider this a win.

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horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (Default)
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