Myself, Samantha (roomie) and Myrtle are taking a stand. Against baseball. Yes, I said it. Don't get me wrong, I love the sport and all things that come along with it (sunshine, hot dogs and beer), but my enjoyment for it has taken a slight hiatus since living across the street from the OSU baseball field.
Loud music. Allllll the time. Stadium lights regularly on until 3am. Baseballs constantly hitting our house/roof. Loud music. This one gets a repeat because the constant stream of rap and country rattling through my windows is getting a little old. Though the Michael Jackson tracks aren't so bad when I feel like doing a little jig.
So sorry guys, but we've taken a few balls hostage. They willingly came into our backyard, but they aren't leaving until you crank the tunes down a few decibels, turn those floodlights off by midnight and limit your gazillion-yard drives to say, one a week?? That's reasonable, right? When these conditions are met, you can have your baseballs back. Sadly, one has--er--suffered a few deformities. Myrtle took it upon herself to skin it. She's brutal, I know. So I wouldn't wait too long...who knows what she'll do next.
Ransom terms aside, I really do love you, Baseball. You're the only socially accepted sport I thoroughly enjoy watching. Mostly because of the hot dogs and beer, but those are mere details.
Cheers, SK
