Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Day Two Hundred Twenty

Dear Readers,
     Happy Birthday to my old man of a brother in law, Brandon.  Okay, he is only 33 years old, but at least he will always be older than me.  He he.  I had a great time celebrating his birthday with him at Dodger Stadium today.  Even though the Dodgers couldn't get some decent hitting to save their lives.  It seemed like everyone just wanted to try and save the day by hitting a home run, but they all had warning track power, giving Colorado the easy fly ball outs.  They really know how to tick me off sometimes.  Just get a freaking base hit and string something together.  Quit trying to win the game on one big swing.  I digress.
      Back to Brandon's birthday.  It was not just getting to go to the game that was awesome, it was getting a bobble head for probably my favorite Dodger player.  Sandy Koufax.  That guy was amazing and it doesn't hurt that he had the same number that I had during high school football.  So, I got a bobble head to add to the collection, I got a program, and I got a new Dodger hat.  Which I had been wanting for a long time now.  I finally found one that fit right.  I wasn't the only one to get some new Dodger gear.  Brandon picked up a new hat, a shirt and a sweater.  Have to love getting some new Dodger gear.  I am pretty sure Brooke got some new Dodger gear as well.  I am pretty sure it is a good sign she had just bought the shirt she had on because of the tag that was clearly showing.  Maybe she had intended to take it back if the Dodgers ticked her off, which they did to me.  Maybe she got it at the stadium store, sneaking it out by putting it on like she had had it on all along.  What a thief.  She takes after her husband who did the same exact thing when we went out for Brenna's birthday back in May.  He is starting to rub off on her.
      After the disappointing game, when headed over to the Apple Pan in Culver City.  Raina and I had seen it when we were out there for the prescreening of The Dark Knight Rises a few weeks back.  I had remembered hearing about it on a show called California's Gold many years ago and had always wanted to go there.  They apparently have the best pie, including a famous banana cream pie.  So we made a plan to head on over after the game to get a little pie.  It took us longer than expected since there was major traffic on the freeway due to major construction.  We almost didn't make it.  It was 11:45PM when we got there and they close at midnight.  Just in time to get a little desert.  Unfortunately they ran out of banana cream pie and we had to settle for chocolate cream pie.  Which happened to be very good, so we can only imagine how good the banana cream pie must be.  Just means that we have to go back again.  Just a little diner with only counter top seating that serves burgers and pies.  Well worth the drive.
      By the way, Brooke made a major speech mistake in front of me.  Resorting to her old ways of saying "woof" instead of "wolf", she called Brandon the "boy who cried woof".  It was pretty stinking funny and she immediately realized her mistake of saying it and saying it in front of me, which expounded the embarrassment, because you know I was going to tell everybody via blog.  Sorry Brooke, I just had to do it. 

This Day In History: 1861
During the U.S. Civil War, Thaddeus Lowe becomes the first man to fly professionally for the American military as he performs reconnaissance over Confederate forces in a balloon.

Born This Day: 1876
Mata Hari - Dutch dancer, courtesan, and double agent during World War II, working for both France and Germany.
1979 - Brandon Piliavin - My fantastic brother in law who doesn't know how to spell Clayton Kershaw.

"If you want to get across an idea, wrap it up in a person."
-Ralph Bunche





Pictures of the Dodger game and desert at the Apple Pan.

The whole fam at Dodger Stadium.

Delicious Chocolate Creme Pie

Same plate about five seconds later.

Can you tell how excited she is?

Happy Birthday Brandon.

The famous Apple Pan


Brandon's left on tag.

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