We finally got a piece of the pie

March 1st, 2026, 3:00 PM by Goddess

Kelly texted yesterday to say she didn’t know I am a baseball fan.

I said the Pirates were my grandfather’s team.

In fact, as I sat in literally the BEST seat in the ballpark …

I said let me know if you’re able to see your team, Grampy.

Not a moment later, they played “Movin’ on Up” on the loudspeaker.

Not the techno one we used to dance to at Pegasus.

But “The Jeffersons” theme.

Grampy always called Gram “Weezie.” When they moved out of the ghetto and to our beloved house on Castle Drive, he loved to sing that they were movin on up to the East Side.

So, that was nice to hear. God is a DJ, indeed.

Alas, to answer Kelly, it’s more that Pirates baseball was a Grampy thing. And Nats baseball was a Mom thing.

Still, K said she was jealous. Not of the baseball, but that I seem to be finding myself better than she is right now.

As I said, it seems we take turns. And we keep each other going when the other isn’t.

I like having her as a friend.

I mean, really, I don’t have many people on my Board of Directors. But boy did I get lucky when that one wandered into my life.

She’s applying to grad school right now. She got a couple rejections already, but one just called her and said your work history makes no damn sense but we had to talk to you because your references were ridiculously good.

I’ll take some credit for that. I gave her a shot and never regretted it. I just wanted them to do the same.

Maybe she won’t be so lost after all, soon enough.

Now, if I can just find my dee-luxe apartment in the sky, I won’t be either.



Perfectly imperfect

March 1st, 2026, 10:59 AM by Goddess

Yesterday, I forgot my phone cord for the car for the umpteenth time.

Managed to get to the ballpark, via Pedophile Beach International Airport.

What the hell is even happening there?

Had a lot of fun at the Pirates game.

Had literally the best seat at the stadium.

We were up 5-1 over the Astros before the skies opened up.

As they covered the field, they played “Purple Rain” and “November Rain.”

The rain delay turned into a rainout.

They said they’d make good on the tickets.

But I bought on StubHub and paid for parking on my own. So I doubt I’ll get anything.

But that’s fine. I had a half-smoke and a lot of vodka seltzer at Cacti Park.

Never heard of Cacti … but apparently it’s the preferred drink of the stadium.

Which will always be The Ballpark of the Palm Beaches to me.

Till the fat orange fuck who just BOMBED SCHOOLGIRLS IN IRAN buys the naming rights and forces the county to name it after him so he can collect royalties, as he’s done with Pedophile International.

In any event, drove my happy ass up to Jupiter to see if I could spot a Swift or a Kelce.

No luck but I did spot a peanut butter martini or two at The Woods.

It was happy hour, and I enjoyed the goat cheese and the tuna.

But my beef tenderloin was not delivered to me.

The nerve.

Hope they enjoyed it. No I didn’t pay for it. That tip went dowwwnnn tho.

So I cashed out while I was sober enough to not have to rent a room at the Wyndham.

And my dessert of Subculture Coffee and a blueberry thyme scone was better than that delicious looking tenderloin.

I’m sure there’s more to say but I would take this kind of “imperfect” day over any other kind.