beulahbondo's Diaryland Diary
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Number Five
Last night was the going-away party of Mr. Ron Coe of East Cambridge (soon to be of New York City alas), and enticing as the lounge band and salmon sandwichettes and pretzels and open bar were, I left on the early side to motor up to Salem to visit Nancy Drew and go hear Preacher Jack at his new gig at the Roosevelt.
This was a good time. Most of the other eight patrons were in their eighties and so ready to rock. I watched the Red Sox beat Anaheim, drank a whiskey and soda, and drummed on the bar while Preacher Jack played Jerry Lee Lewis and Fats Domino. (For an earlier review of Preacher Jack, by Nancy Drew, go here.) A guy named Vinnie from Malden sat beside me for a while. "You a Red Sox fan?" Yes, I replied. "Huge?" he asked. "Um, medium," I replied. I sensed a challenge coming on, and I am not the kind of statistics-chewing fan he wanted to chat with.
Yet I've had Nomar on the brain all day. Today, Saturday, I went in to my office, and my co-worker Stephanie was there too, wearing her weekend attire of sweatpants and the "Legalize Cloning" t-shirt with the photo of the shirtless Nomar. We fantasized quite a bit on this beastly rainy cold day about Nomar coming to our office with Dunkin' Donuts munchkins and no shirt, just his batting gloves and wrist guard. He would scoop-and-flick the munchkins at us like he was closing down a base hit, and then do his OCD Nomar thing with the gloves and the wrist guard and turn his filthy Georgia Tech cap around and get freaky with us.
Then I went to see "A Mighty Wind" with the Greyhound and the Taller, and now all I can think about is Fred Willard.
10:57 p.m. - 2003-04-26
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