Back-to-Back Brushes with Death
Friday, I was almost killed – twice -- in under 38 minutes. At 2 p.m., I was leaving a meeting at the Hancock tower and heading toward the Back Bay garage. For reasons unknown, I made like I was in London; I looked the wrong way on Clarendon Street and almost got plowed down by a Town Taxi when I stepped off the curb. We’re talking inches from death. The driver swerved and screamed something in Haitian. I almost had a heartattack. Strangers – normally indifferent -- were aghast; people were running up to me. Oh my God! Are you OK? Yes. Thank you. That was close. Whew. Wow. Damn!
I sat in my car for a few minutes, dealing. I took some deep breaths and tried to stop my heart from racing. Recovered, I was heading toward 93 over by the Boston Herald. I had a green light at the Harrison Ave intersection when out of nowhere, an ambulance came flying at me from the right. I didn’t even hear the sirens until it was right on top of me. (probably because I was blaring Blur -- Wooo Hoo! -- and blasting the AC.) Considering my sub par driving skills, I still don't know how it didn't hit me. In that instant, I was possessed by Lightning McQueen. I slammed on the brakes and turned the car 180 degrees as the ambulance wizzed by. The fact that there were no other cars on that road on a Friday afternoon is amazing unto itself. I pulled into the Herald lot to do some yoga stretches and more dealing before getting on the highway. Friday the 13th ended up being my lucky day.
I was still rattled by my back-to-back brushes with death but I sucked it up and took the traveling circus to the Common to watch the Renegades' game. These softball outings have been gigantic failures over the past few years, full of whining, sherpa loads of gear, and vein-popping hypervigilance. I've left some games crying and even abandoned a stroller on a quick getwaway during Caroline's historic "Gotta take a turn" meltdown of 2005. Then: Life takes a turn. Suddenly, things are much more chill. There were no heavier than thou diaper bags, just a couple of wet naps and a cooler packed with Cavit ponies and juiceboxes. I even whipped up a mobile snack plate for the bleachers. And instead of running on the field or expecting a turn at bat, the kids put on a Wizard of Oz sideshow, played freeze tag and served beverages to the adults. Some scenes:
(video: Oh, this was weird. The game was interuppted short-term by some bizarre parade of undead winding its way thru the Common. WTF was this?)
Apryl wasn't drinking Sangria...
...at Nate's 1st birthday party on Marina Bay yesterday. Why? Nate has a new baby brother or sister on the way. Yup - Apryl is expecting again which means we can expect to see the mama boobs in full effect again soon. It also means Pete is going to have four kids. Pete. Four kids. Say it.
Scott Baio is 45 and Single
They're totally ripping off High Fidelity with the "revisiting of the exes" premise but if they weren't, we wouldn't get to watch crazy-eyed Erin Moran tell Baio that he has a small penis. Wow. In this delicious car wreck of an episode, Baio opened up about his past relationships, including an anecdote about losing his virginity to Moran on a corduroy couch where “mistook” the couch for "her." It's an image I didn't need. Still, I was pleasantly surprised that Baio's ego doesn't preclude him from ripping on himself a little. During the show, he's trying a little too hard to create some chemistry between himself and the life coach that is guiding him on this path of self exploration. No Tony/Melfi thing happening here. He acts annoyed by all the self analysis, repeatedly rolling his eyes at the life coach as if he's not getting paid. Also, I don't know if it's dirt or fine hair but he's working some pubescent-looking 'stache. It's kind of pervy looking. Yet I'm strangely drawn to him.