May 30, 2012
Because I blow all my money on lottery scratchers, what better way to begin the summer than with some summer savings. A Dodger Dog normally costs $5. That’s why I visit Dodger Stadium on $1 Dodger Dog night.
I was worried about long lines, especially without a hot dog per patron limit. How could the supply ever meet the demand when any fan could easily order 8 dogs at a time? Eating hot dogs or anything for that matter is more exciting than watching nine innings of baseball. That’s why after every pitch you have a new vendor trying to sell you “Peanuts, Cracker Jacks!” or “Ice Cold Coke here!!” No other sport bribes you like baseball.
Make no mistake, the Dodger Dog is a special hot dog. I ordered two to impress my girlfriend. Two Dodgers Dogs is like 32 inches of weiner. My girlfriend and I split the second one so we could enjoy the weiner together. The sun was so insufferable my friend Eli saw we resorted to using napkins as visors. Eli suggested we find new seats. I just ate one and a half Dodger Dogs and was wearing a napkin visor, so Eli’s judgment seemed more on point.
We walked around the lower level of the ballpark until Eli nabbed us four seats in the shade behind home plate. A young female usher guarded our section to prevent any punks from trying to steal back the seats we stole. Meanwhile the girlfriend and I shared a Blue Moon with a sliced orange and enjoyed the sun setting down upon Chavez Ravine.
Only a day earlier the two of us sipped the remaining Modelos from her refrigerator and watched the sun set atop Griffith Park overlooking the entire Southland. From our perch we looked down across Los Angeles trying to ignore the several hikers veering off the trail to relieve themselves in the bushes. One such woman popped a squat right below us. The sound of her pee was the only sound that could be heard. It was a calming waterfall, and much needed as we head into dry season. The woman stood up, and shouted at us “When you gotta go you gotta go!”
“That’s right.” I agreed.
“Boy, you lucky you have a dick,” she shouted back.
“It’s fun having one,” I replied.
She is lucky too that she could enjoy the Memorial Day Sunset in one of our country’s great public parks. To walk through nature’s path, or pee on her brush is all the same. It’s the joy of summer. You shouldn’t have to pay to enjoy summer.
If you are going to pay, find value, or a Sport Chalet tent sale. In my search for new soccer cleats I came across a pair of size 8 Addidas “Predators.” My girlfriend seemed shocked that I tested the “Predators” by running through a deep grassy meadow kicking my knees high in the air while reenacting Brendi Chastaine’s game winning goal from the 98’ Women’s World Cup. The cleats fit okay, but for $25, they fit amazingly.
I hoped to visit Home Goods after Sport Chalet but my girlfriend seemed fed up after I took thirty minutes to decide on a pair of sandals. Granted it’s hard to try them on because they are attached by a plastic string that prevents you from walking around the store. Unless you have a Swiss Army knife, you can only pitter patter around the display rack which is what I did.
I’d be more pleased by my great summer savings if I didn’t blow all the savings on lottery scratchers. At happy hour I admitted to Eli and his girlfriend, Libby that I have a lottery problem. I’m unable to visit Albertsons without buying my favorite scratchers—-Silver and Gold, Luck of the Irish, and the Sevens. When I do win, I re-invest the money in more scratchers. If I do not get a grip on my addiction soon I won’t be allowed to grocery shop. My lone source of food will be Dodger Dogs. Fortunately, I know the night to go.
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