Something's Rotten in the State of Florida

Husband and I went to a Marlins v. Mets game at Dolphin Stadium last night. We were pleased to find that at least half of the audience consisted of very vocal Mets fans. The Mets also smashed the Marlins to tiny pieces of stinky fish, winning 11 to 3. It was fun.

However, the Marlins have desecrated baseball. Problem #1: they don't have vendors wandering around in the seats selling food or beverage. What is baseball if no one comes by to sell delicious hot dogs in steamed buns, Cracker Jacks, Diet Whatever (for me), or Beer (for normal adults)? It is crap, that's what it is. You have to get up off your lazy ass and go to a concession stand, where the hot dog has been roasting on those stupid heater roller things and is overcooked and nasty and mustard does not come in packets, but in a big vat that your squeeze onto the tray. Harumph.

The other abomination perpetuated by the Marlins to the good name of baseball is so horrifying I can barely bring myself to write about it, but I must be brave and bring the truth to the masses, who are probably here looking for Jewish (or lately I've had some hits for Hindu) pussy anyway and won't care. But I digress… The Marlins have cheerleaders!!! Cheerleaders! To paraphrase Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own, one of my favorite movies, there are no motherfucking cheerleaders in baseball! Have you ever heard of such a thing? These ladies wore tiny little short shorts that were smaller than the bikini underwear that I was wearing and bizarre tops with their tits hanging out. Sexist, not sexy, and not cool. Every time they appeared with their stupid silver pompons and shook their asses, I felt the spirit of baseball die just a little bit more.

Regardless, Husband and I were in a very good mood at the end of the game. Mets won (yay!), and earlier that day I finished a chapter of a memoir about puberty and other medical disasters that have befallen me. (That's my progress report tucked into this complaint.) Unfortunately, we almost lost our rental car in the parking lot because there are no signs so we wandered around aimlessly. Once we found it, we discovered how truly fucked up driving in southern Florida is. We had to go through a tool booth, which didn't indicate until it was pretty much too late which lanes were open or closed. Thus cars kept swerving across four lanes of closed toll lanes to get all the way right tot the two that were open. Most merged at the middle of the line, but an uncountably large number of drivers drove to the very front of the line and attempted to cut in. It was madness, I tell you! Madness!

On a positive note, grocery stores in Florida sell the most ridiculously delicious concept in 100 Calorie Packs: Hostess Cupcakes. Yes, you get three mini cupcakes, complete with frosting and cream filling, for only 100 calories and 3 grams of fat. I have no idea how that works, but it is scrumptious genius. They must start selling this shit in NYC immediately.