If You've Never Been to Fenway: the fans

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Ye Olde Bloggens are re-posts of old blogs
by Bridget Eileen - Writer in Providence, Rhode Island 

The following post was originally posted on one of Bridget Eileen’s old blogs: In the Pines, Neophyte Poetics, Bridget Eileen’s Commonplace Book, Dreaming Bridge Designs or A Vegetarian Notebook. They aren’t all fancy with photos and subheadings and search descriptions, or even that much content, sometimes. They’re here for posterity, because it’s fun to read the archives!

The Fans Make It All Worth While

There are some choice characters at Fenway on game day. Check out these fans.

This is Myrtle (R) and Karen (we all know what Karen's like). They are season ticket holders and have been coming to Fenway since 1957.
Just kidding. I have know idea what their names are or if they go to Fenway often. I just thought they both had some serious style.

This guy had a sign next to him. You can't see it but it says, "I will be humiliated at the end of this game due to my team being slaughtered. Also, feel free to beat the crap out of me." BTW, Red Sox 13, Birds a lowly, sad 5. And they lost the next night, too.

If I am ever old enough to get married, I really do want someone to do this cheesy-assed thing for me. I love baseball and I love being a ham. This sort of thing would combine the two quite well. I hope she said yes.

Apparently, it was this woman's birthday. As much of a hammy goofball as I am, I would never ever be caught dead looking like this. Though, she seems really happy (drunk?), so who am I to criticize.

Yesterday the Fenway fan camera captured three young teenage girls sitting in the Dunkin Dugout flipping their hair back and forth, applying lipgloss and generally preening. Meanwhile, there was a major league baseball game going on in front of them. But, who cares about that? I mean, haircare is essential to picking up the pervy drunk frat boys in the rows in front of them. Anyway, here is another example of young'uns not doing so well with the paying attention to the game. Hey, kid, the game's that way.

And now for the ultimate fan. This took some serious blood (literally) and probably some sweat and tears, so I was impressed and I'm sure lots of other people are, too. F*ck yeah, man.

And I try not to curse on this blog, but this definitely deserves a respectful f-bomb.

Next Fenway entry: a history lesson, also an explanation why if Mass Million numbers ever came out 1 4 8 9 27 42, it would be split 17,000 ways.