Beer for dinner.
I arrived home tonight to this little view. Two menus from Mi Famila Pizzeria on the stairway to my condo. Presumably, one for me (on the left) and one for my neighbor. Four steps from the bottom. C'mon, dude - show some initiative. At least the Chinese places have the gumption to walk up the stairs and hang the menu on my doorknob. Interestingly, the menu proclaims WE DELIVER . One assumes, from the way they deliver menus, that they take the food to a point about a quarter mile from your house and make you carry it the rest of the way. Meanwhile, tonight is the Home Run Derby. The Home Run Derby falls under the category of "Junk Sports." Summer fluff made-for-TV events with guys competing for the title of "Best Batting Practice Hitter." I can't get worked up over it. Are they home runs if there isn't a game and you don't run the bases? It's like T-ball for grown-ups. And I really can't handle listening to Chris Berman scream for 3 hours. O...