Manic Monday Blogarrhea: The Baseball Edition

I have a problem. I think it either requires therapy or a support group, though I'm not sure either exist for this type of... thing. When I am a spectator at a professional sporting event, during that oh-so-important moment when the team is being introduced (I feel like there has to be a more ceremonious description of the event), I am the one in the bleachers crying. Yup, big ol' fat tears rolling down my big ol' fat cheeks.  Why? I HAVE NO IDEA!!! Since I am a Minnesotan, I am a Twins fan. Have you ever heard the Twins theme song (is that what it's called)? It's as cheesy as all get out. Still, I'm a virtual puddle during that campy tune while the team takes the field.  It doesn't matter if they win or lose, or if they're good or bad, and there is no other time of the game that I have this reaction. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME???

While I was at a game the other night, I witnessed a disturbing trend. Short Jorts.  In other words, short jean shorts.  The kind that are so short that there is a constant fear of a stray butt cheek.  What is with our recent inability to keep buns covered? If it's not the short shorts with the butt cheek falling out, it's the low ride with the butt crack peeking out.  I have news for you, there isn't a part of any person's butt that I (or anyone else) want to see. If I were to be in a pageant, my platform would be keeping the buns covered. My talent would be putting together Ikea furniture.

I would also like to take this moment to publicly thank Mr. Lindstrom for not proposing to me at a sporting event on the jumbotron.