November 3, 2000
It’s funny, no matter how well you plan things something always comes up. Sometimes, that happens quite literally. Last evening, Trina and I went to do a little shopping and found ourselves out during dinner. Rather than go home and fix something, we just stopped at Boston Market and had a turkey dinner. I used to eat at Boston Market on a regular basis as I really like their stuffing and mashed potatoes with gravy. Tonight, it looked especially inviting and I quickly snarfed up the order so we could continue our shopping. I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary while eating my dinner and felt fine for most of the evening. By the time I got ready for bed, my head was spinning one direction while my stomach was twirling the other. Somewhere around my mouth, the centrifugal force of these two rotating orbs collided and I got sick. I cannot imagine being much sicker than I was last night. I couldn’t have felt worse if Bud Selig himself came to my door to tell me the Diamondbacks were moving to the American League. As I lay on the bathroom floor, hugging the porcelain, visions of the designated hitter danced in my head making me even more ill. By morning, I was more exhausted than watching a 4 hour American League game. Through this experience I learned a valuable lesson, Boston Market and thoughts of the American League are a recipe for trouble. Important safety tip, friends don’t let friends designated hit.