Make IJAG Smile And/Or Giggle Thread

Y'all,

I've been warned by Zeke not to start the thread I wanted to start out of fear of someone on here using my struggles and insecurity against me.

So instead I'll just say anything anyone else can say on here to make me smile would be appreciated today above even last week.

IJAG

 

Brook Jacoby standing on top of a pile of shingles, masturbating.

 

Neither 93D nor DD's second showed up, so I quoted and went to the links. Awesome (though I'm much more a CapAle girl than I am Bottom's Up. Never really dug deep dish.)

Much love, as always, to wcv. And Sam, good memories.

MisterC: Very few memories.

 

You are an unmatched combo of savvy and psychosis.

 

Speaking of memories ... yours frightens me.

 

I wasn't sure how to approach. I never am. I mean, I could approach like a ground ball. Get in front of it. But I've taken some pretty nasty bruises in some pretty nasty places that way. And I'm not sure that would be the most effective way to greet a lady, anyway.

So I did it anyway. I sort of made a rounding motion. I put my right hand out. I shook her hand. She said she recognized me. I said I recognized her byline. She smiled. I smiled. It wasn't awkward at all.

I mean, I'm not much. I'm not particularly good at my job, but I suppose it's a pretty cool job. She's not sure about what she's doing these days, but I told her I appreciated it. I liked looking up the standings and not getting all confused about the wild cards. We were a wild card last year. That was pretty cool.

I started to mention that I was from California. She knew that, too. I guess she liked me, but I couldn't tell. She's the sarcastic sort, and she really was more focused on her crispy bacon than my crisp white smile. No man can compete with bacon. I don't know why I was trying. I told her I liked "Fast Car." She rolled her eyes. She always rolls her eyes. It's OK. I'm a switch hitter. And a utlity man. I can adjust.

She smiled. At me, I think. I'm not really sure. She said her favorite baseball player was Dooley Womack. I'd read Ball Four. She said she hadn't. She told me she was fucking with me and that Joe Mauer was a dream boat. She liked catchers. I was one in Little League, I said. She smiled. At me, I think. I'm not really sure.

She wanted to go out. I said Italian. She said she preferred thin crust. Not what I had in mind. I smiled at her. No response.

I wore my championship ring to the date. She wore something that wasn't frumpy. It was better than Michelle Williams' Oscars dress. We talked about Michelle Williams. I told her I didn't much care for movies. She smiled. I'm pretty sure this one was directed my way. She said she liked the Indians. I said I liked Jacobs. She smiled.

Modern Family was on in the background. Fuck that man-faced bitch Sofia Vergara. I told her I knew Mauer. She said she was fine here with me. Here together.

We sat. Watched a few left turns. Watched a few Real Housewives. Watched a few episodes of the Muppets. Watched Jon Huntsman. I was watching his daughters. She wouldn't know the difference. We ate steak that night. Well done. I showed her my Cardinals jersey and my second baseman's mitt. I showed her my silk ropes.

She smiled. And giggled. Hopefully.

 

God, I am willing to trade in BYH and make you my new online bestie. Say the word.

 

What up, bitches?