Book Report: The Food Taster
In Which Your Humble Blogger doesn’t even remember the Italian word for asshole.
In Which Your Humble Blogger doesn’t even remember the Italian word for asshole.
In Which Your Humble Blogger does not really expect it to become an annual tradition, although…
In Which Your Humble Blogger realizes that he is still three months behind on the book reports. Seventeen books, which probably means that a few have just been forgotten and will be lost in the mists of proverbial.
In Which Your Humble Blogger should note that it would be insane for MLB to arrange itself for me. Not only would it go out of business selling games only to people who think like YHB, but I’m addicted anyway and in their pocket already.
In Which Your Humble Blogger brings his empathy to bear on Christine O’Donnell and Rick Sanchez, believe it or not.
In Which Your Humble Blogger was thinking all through that ninth inning that sooner or later Bob Dernier would come in and hit an inside the park home run.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has his own issues.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is, on the whole, happy we didn’t let the Padres claim Cody Ross.
In Which Your Humble Blogger made the error once again of heading for the front leg, when taller and burlier guys grabbed the back legs.
In Which Your Humble Blogger goes back to that special time and place, whether he likes it or not.