Take me out to the Ball Game

I’ve been promising my buddy Kowski that I would make sure her name got into a future blog entry. Little did she know it would be all about her. The majority of my vast readers do not know Kowski so I better start there – with some history. Kowski and I worked together at one of my former employers. We had an immediate bond because we were hired just two weeks apart, went through training together, and were then placed in charge of a most unusual group of 25 employees - affectionately dubbed "the island of misfit toys". I’m sure there is a reason we were placed on this particular team – no doubt we also fit the requirements to be shipwrecked on that island. Kowski and I became quick confidants, went to lunch together, supported one another and figured out, what I viewed as, a great team approach to managing our group of employees. Over the three years that we worked together, Kowski also filled in as my "little sister", since my own siblings live so far away. I got to push her around, make fun of her, be bossy, and do all of those things that big sisters get to do. And, like a good little sister, Kowski took it well and of course dished it right back at me. It was not uncommon to hear the old "I’m rubber, your glue…" statement, have paper wads flying over the cubicle walls, or see Kowski do one of her infamous "booty slap" dances. Oh, and she makes a mean Boston Butt Roast that led to many requests whenever we would have a work pot luck. Non age-appropriate comments were the norm and included: "Kowski, you better get your butt in here tomorrow for the pot luck", or "Kowski, your butt smells so good!" or "Kowski, how do you get your butt so juicy". As you can imagine, when I left my former employer, I missed my day-to-day interactions with Kowski. But I would of course never tell her that to her face because that would be way too sickie sweet for a big sister to say.

Now that I’ve been at my new job for over a year, Kowski and I still get together every so often. Usually we go to baseball or football games since we both like to drink overpriced beer out of plastic cups and drop peanut shells on the floor beneath us. One of my most enjoyable sporting event memories was going to a Falcon’s playoff game with Kowski. All of the fans were revved up from tailgating and many had been drinking heavily even before the kick off. So when Kowski and I got to the game, we got in line for our dogs and beer so that we too could join in the fun. After paying the vendor way too much money, I carried the snacks, while she juggled a glass of beer in each hand. As she turned away from the vendor, a fan from the opposing team stumbled into her and splashed beer onto the front of her Falcon’s jersey. He apologized profusely, with slurred words, and promptly began using his bare hands to wipe off the front of Kowski’s chest. Just try to get the visual of her trying to maintain a hold on her two beers while this drunken man is rubbing all over the front of her shirt. Kowski tells me that, in what was to be expected, I was laughing too much to try to do anything to help her. She looked like she was in too much shock to do anything either.

We went to a Braves game earlier this week with Kowski’s friend "Stella" (name changed to protect the not so innocent). Stella and I both live in town, but Kowski lives OTP (outside the perimeter). Since Kowski would be driving ITP (yes, inside the perimeter), she decided just to take the afternoon off of work so that she and Stella could make a day of it. They began their day by bobbing and weaving Kowski’s Nissan Altima through the immigration rally at the State Capitol – final destination: the new aquarium. The plan was that they would tour the world of fish and then call me when they were on their way to my house. So I get a call around 5pm that they are waiting for AAA to show up and take care of Kowski’s battery. Apparently, when you leave your lights on while you are in an aquarium for five hours, your battery can go dead. First, I couldn’t believe that they had actually spent five hours there, but second, why weren’t they just asking someone to use some jumper cables? Well, as I was getting ready to hang up, I could hear Stella in the background saying she’d found someone to jump the car. She moonlights as a club dancer so you can imagine that she probably didn’t have any problem finding some guy to jump her, errr, the car. Stella is one of those annoyingly skinny girls who can eat whatever I eat and then some, without gaining a pound. Shoot, at the game, she ate a hot dog and a half, drank a beer, munched on peanuts, and then still had room to flag down the cotton candy guy for some of that pink, gross, sugary stuff. After they got the car started, they arrived at my house and we hung out on the porch. We chatted a bit before the game to catch up on each other’s lives. During our conversation we, as usual, kept the compliments to a minimum. But speaking of butt, Kowski did tell me mine looked smaller. Thanks for always making it fun Kowski!