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Monday, November 14, 2011

Monday Miscellany

One of the hardest things I've had to deal with since moving to California from New York is lack of access to my favorite sports teams.  Except when the New Yorkers are playing their Bay Area rivals or manage to find themselves in a nationally televised venue like the World Series (and I'm a Mets fan, so, y'know, good luck with THAT), I must suffer the profoundest feelings of sports-related deprivation.

Yesterday, therefore, presented a rare treat: BOTH New York area football teams, the Jets and the Giants (no, the Bills don't count), were featured on local television.  The Giants played the 49'ers, and the Jets played the Patriots on the nationally-televised Sunday night game.  Seal up the ManCave, WOS, I WON'T be out for dinner. . . .


I know dealing with loss is a part of the whole sports-fan experience (see above: Mets fan).  But I can't shake the feeling that both teams owe me something for such a crushing disappointment.  Season tickets would be acceptable.

The other day, I went to my local Moby-Dick-character named coffee establishment.  I ordered quite a few items: a couple of breakfast sandwiches, a few pieces of coffee cake, a caffeinated beverage or two.  The cashier called out my sandwich order to her colleague--presumably the specially-trained, pretentiously-titled operator of the microwave (Irradiatista?)--retrieved my coffee cake, and rang up my order.  "$3.67," she said.

That did not sound right.

"Um, did you charge me for the sandwiches?"

"Yeah."  She could see my confusion.  "Oh, I gave you my employee discount."

Now, I know I'm cute as a button and all, but I doubted that this accounted for this girl's generosity.  At the risk of getting my nose bitten off by a gift horse, I said, "Well, thanks, but. . . why?"

"Well, you're Libby's dad, right?"

"Uh. . .no?"

"Someone told me you were Libby's dad."

"If I'm not Libby's dad, do I need to pay full price?"

"Well. . . .No, I guess not."

I guess I really should have asked about Libby's mom.  I mean, if she lived in New York back in the mid-90's, there's at least a biological possibility, I suppose.

Overall, my happiness at getting an extremely inexpensive breakfast is tempered by the fact that I apparently look like someone who would name his child "Libby."

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