To my hacker,
I would like to say thank you for hacking my Gmail account.
Thank you for not being too smooth about it so that I was able to catch your work and stop it fast.
Thank you for not emailing anything perverted to my parents. That was classy of you.
Thank you for reconnecting me with an acquaintance who happened to have Cubs tickets for this Sunday’s game that he couldn’t use.
All the best,
P.S. I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I’ll be at Wrigley.
Turns out my plan of staying in and being good on Friday night was an excellent idea. I was able to get a good night’s sleep and consume pretty much the only veggies that I ate for the entire weekend.
Well, unless you count the veggies on my sandwich from my 3 am Subway stop.
And yes, the story about the Cubs tickets is legitimate. An aquaintance of mine (whom I hadn’t talked to in about 4 years) received spam from me because of the Great Hacking of 2011 and wrote back, mentioning that he had these tickets for Sunday and would I like them? (complimentary, no less)
Why yes, yes I would!
Have you seen my shirt?
Amy (<— read her recap of our weekend here) joined me in the city on Saturday night, and after a little of this:
and some dancing, and some late-night Subway eating, we weren’t sure that the Cubs game was actually going to happen.
You see, Chicago got 1.8″ of rain on Sunday. Most of this rain came down between noon and 3 pm. The game was slated for a 1:20 pm start time.
Good thing we waited it out because Memorial Day weekend just doesn’t seem complete with a big dose of baseball and nacho cheese coursing through my veins.
They played the whole game and even won. I told Amy that my sole wish for the weekend was to sing “Go, Cubs, Go!” at Wrigley.
Granted, I don’t sound nearly as good as Harry.
Luckily, the weather held out yesterday and I got to break this bad boy out:
The beaches in Chicago were packed. Packed, I tell you. I got there early, thankfully, and got a few good hours of sun before the teenagers swarmed in and invaded my personal space.
Earlier in the weekend, Susan was wondering what Americans consider to be traditional Memorial Day fare/activities. I told her, “grilled meat, beer, baseball and beaches.”
I didn’t have much grilled meat, but I got my other 3 in a big way.
Ahhh, nothin’ like some good old Americana.
And now, it’s back to the grind and back to my kitchen.
Vegetables much? Count ’em: brussels sprouts, carrots, broccoli and cauliflower.
Yup, I’m back, baby.