The sun was beatin down on my baseball hat...

What's the best way to recover from two straight days of drinking and sports? Why, another day of drinking and sports, of course.

I've never exactly been Johnny SportsGuy (I knew him in college though. Good dude. Well, except for that time he pantsed me in front of that sorority house. Not cool, Johnny SportsGuy), but when it comes to NCAA football and Braves baseball, I just can't get enough. That's why my friend Jordo and I spent our Sunday down at The Ted watching the Braves.

Nothing manlier than two dudes watchin' baseball and drinkin' beer. Of course, right before we left, we really enjoyed watching Ghoulies 2. We felt it was a good balance of dorkiness and adulthood.

We arrived at the stadium and headed to the ticket window to buy our usual outfield seats, in close proximity to food, beer and possible homerun balls, but a cop approached us and asked if we needed tickets. This was confusing for many reasons. Was this some sort of test?

We didn't know whether to take the tickets, run away or tell him "No thank you officer. We are not, and have never been, involved in any sort of illegal activity. Could we aid in any investigations by pointing you towards local crackhouses and opium dens?”

But we ended up taking the tickets. I figured we could easily claim entrapment if it came to that, so we’d be in the clear. Plus, the seats were on the first base line, right beside the dugout. There was a clear view of the outfield seats I normally get, so we could point and laugh at the poor, unfortunate souls who weren’t as awesome as us.

(Note: After writing the previous sentence, I immediately thought of The Little Mermaid. The Rowdy Bowden Manliness Meter has hit a new low.)

Once we got our beers and hot dawgs (which must be pronounced that way, just as MaryJane pronounces it in Half Baked), we realized that Turner Field had an infestation problem.

Girl Scouts had taken over, invading the PA Booth, singing the National Anthem and attempting to start ill-fated cheers.

Before the game, what seemed like an endless line of every Girl Scout troop from here to Fallujah paraded around the field, waving at the crowd.

Cue uncomfortable moment.

Being a guy, you never want to cross the line from being nice to a little girl to being that creepy guy who’s being way too nice to a little girl. So, the question is, when these Girl Scouts are ten feet from you, waving and looking you straight in the eye…Do you be a jerk and ignore them or risk being that creepy guy who’s waving at little girls?

I opted to be a jerk. Jordo waved. Luckily, we pulled off both approaches without any charges pressed or emotions scarred.

But we did get two good puns (which are pretty much the highlight of any outing for us) out of their march around the diamond.

As one troop lollygagged behind the rest, Jordo exclaimed "Look at those Tagalongs."

To which I replied, "Man, everytime I think I've seen the last Girl Scout, there's Somoa."

Yes, folks. Never go anywhere with us.

And we wonder why we don't have girlfriends.



From our vantage point, we were able to see all the Braves hanging out around the dugout, including Jordo’s favorite player, Marcus Giles.



Unfortunately, he didn’t notice Jordo’s “I jizz for Giles” poster.


I was also able to catch a picture of these arms and head that are floating above some jeans. Either that, or it’s the best camo shirt ever. You never can tell when the patterns are this intricate and ornate.



Right before the seventh inning stretch, I headed up to buy one last beer, then go to the bathroom. As anyone knows, that was a poor scheduling choice on my part. Here I was with a brand new beer, standing in a bathroom with nowhere to put it. I had some options.

1. The Ground - This one is risky because the ground is disgusting and you risk some splashback landing in your beer. Not for me.

2. Holding The Beer Under Your Arm - If you can pull this off, it's the best move. But if your beer is full, you can risk spillage, plus a condensation mark under your arm that looks like sweat. I didn't think I could pull this off.

3. Sitting Your Drink On The Sink - And risk someone walking off with my newly purchased libation? I think not.

4. Improv - This was my choice. I went into a stall and placed my beer on the back of the toilet. Not the best way to treat my frosty friend, but at least I didn't end up with a giant sweat stain, drinking tiny amounts of my own urine.

As the game went on, the sun roasted us like a hack comedian at the Friars Club and in the end, the Braves pulled off a five run bottom-of-the-tenth to claim the victory, Giles knocked in the scoring run, Jordo made his poster come true and I contemplated just how long I could make this run-on sentence last.

Now, if I could only find Critters 3 on TV, my weekend would end in perfection.