Big Chicks! I think you're not good! I'll never be your best friend!

Q: How can you tell that the drinking establishment you are in is not a sports bar?
A: When they turn off a four-all home-team game in the MIDDLE OF THE FRIGGIN' 11TH INNING!

I couldn't believe it! One minute I'm waiting with bated breath for Hancock to strike out a Cubs batter, the next I'm looking at static. Then, a bit after that, some campy 50s scifi trash. WTFF? I whinged, I complained; it got me the sympathy of the owner, but not much else.

I can hear what y'all're saying: That's what you get for trying to watch baseball in a fag bar, and you're probably right. But there are compensations: Even if I could've gotten such well-mixed cosmopolitans in a straight bar, I might not have had the cojones to order them. (It's hard enough already being a Cards fan in this city without opening myself up to more abuse.) And I would've had to listen to some dire classic rock rather than being treated to The Editors, New Order, and Tom Tom Club.

The game's still going on, btw: Top of the 14th and the Cubs how just now pulled ahead by one run. What I wouldn't give to be watching this with someone who gave a shit how it turned it out.

One for the legal eagles

Last time we had ottr4bear and Rubeus over for dinner, we were discussing the new monstrosities across the street (one almost finished, another still in the planning stages) and a ticklish question came up: monshu has full-length windows in his living room. If he and I were having sex there--say if we hung up a sling right up against the window and went about banging each other in it morning, noon, and night...

Where was I? Oh, right--if we decided to go at it in plain view of the new neighbours across the way, is there a legal basis on which they could force us to desist? ( Rubeus' opinion )