January 4, 2005

Helluva Birthday

So, yesterday was my birthday and what an exciting day it was!

I'm still sick from last week and my sore throat was made worse by the fact that I spent Sunday night in a smoke-filled restaurant/bar with a bunch of Twins fans as a blogger-who-shall-remain-nameless-because-his-wife-doesn't-know-he-smokes puffed away on cigarette after cigarette right next to me. I'm one of the rare non-smokers who doesn't mind people smoking around me in a bar, so I'm not really complaining aside from the fact that I've been coughing and hacking up all sorts of wonderfully disgusting things for the past 24 hours.

So what did I do on my 22nd birthday, with my cough, sore throat, and alternating runny/stuffy nose? I stayed home, of course. I spent the entire day working on my articles for Rotoworld's upcoming fantasy baseball magazine, which is set to be published by Beckett Magazines in the spring. Coincidentally enough, my several thousand words worth of material was due 22 years to the day after I was born. But wait, it gets even more exciting.

After my mom came home from work and saw what a spectacularly uneventful birthday I had just had, she offered to pick me up my favorite food for dinner -- mostaccioli with sugo sauce from Cafe Di Napoli in Minneapolis. Never one to pass up a good meal (or any meal, really), I agreed. The only problem, I came to find out, was that Cafe Di Napoli wasn't answering their phone, which made it awfully tough to place an order for takeout.

Instead, I settled for some chicken and macaroni and cheese from the Boston Market down the road from here, and went right back to work on my Rotoworld stuff. A year ago I spent my birthday losing far too much money in Las Vegas, so the good news about this time around is that I spent the day actually making money. Of course, there's something about Las Vegas that makes losing money there a lot more enjoyable than making money anywhere else.

Today at The Hardball Times:

- Leveling the 1930s Playing Field, Part 2: The Careers (by Steve Treder)

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