bunt sign

Saturday, October 22, 2005

It takes a lot to get me going. I have a lot of tolerance for other peopleís actions. Most of the time I donít judge. Maybe Iím just afraid of seeing any stones I cast come back at me, but I think itís a little more than that. Iím willing to overlook someoneís faults and weaknesses (or at least see them as quirks and foibles).

I donít have to work hard at not being offended. It just comes naturally. I know plenty of people who live their lives at hair-trigger readiness to punish anyone who looks at them sideways. If you make a mistake with someone like that, watch out. You might get cut off at the knees, or cut out of the herd and sacrificed. I couldnít be that judgmental if I tried. I laugh it off. I let it slide.

There is one thing you can do to me that will get me to call you all kinds of nasty names. And it happened today, twice. The phone rang, I answered it, and there was silence on the line. I hate that so much I canít even tell you. To me, thatís the rudest thing you can do, hanging up on someone without even a word. I can take all kinds of abuse, but thatís over the line. So to speak.

If I have to stop my life to answer the phone, the least you can do is say something. It doesnít even have to be something nice. Just donít leave me hanging, because Iím going to have to take it out on the telephone. Thatís not really fair, but itís all I have.

So if you tried to call me this afternoon and got a busy signal, Iím sorry. The second time it happened, I made sure it wouldnít happen again by throwing the phone across the room without hanging up. Blame the fool who pushed me over the edge.

26 September 2005

Cloud puffs.

Now, Iím not saying that Iím the soul of patience, especially when Iím short on sleep (which is almost all the time). But itís not people who get to me. Usually itís inanimate objects. I get mad at things like the printer that mangles my envelopes, and the toilet that wonít flush and the DVD that skips and a thousand other petty annoyances that wonít feel hurt if I think badly of them. Maybe thatís why I go so easy on people, because Iíve already taken it out on gizmos and gewgaws.

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The Astros must have thought that once they got into the White Sox bullpen, theyíd have a chance to come back. After all, even though it was the eighth inning, they were only one run down. No reliever had worked for the Sox since game one of the ALCS, eleven days ago. They had to be rusty, right? And then as soon as Jose Contreras became the first Sox starter not to finish a game in that long a time, Lance Berkman greeted his replacement with a single that left runners on first and third with no outs. A fly ball ties the game. Heck, a double play ties the game. But then Neal Cotts struck out the next two hitters and Bobby Jenks retired the last four Astros to end the game with a 5-3 win by the White Sox. And if youíre the Astros, youíre thinking youíd better win game two tomorrow night, because itís the only way you have a chance to win the Series at home. Being down 1-0 isnít so bad; going back to Houston behind 2-0 would put you in a big hole to dig yourself out of.

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