Is there some reason it's impossible to find breaking news on Boston? Jes called to tell me that downtown is covered in smoke.

I checked the big three television stations and their websites, and there's no information on anything.

But, you know. Pitchers and catchers have reported. So I can see why the city covered in smoke would be a slightly less important news story.

Update: 1:30 pm - Still nothing on the big news websites ("Catch Spring Fever" was updatated at 11:48 am), but I found via Universal Hub that there was a grease fire on Boylston Street. So, not surprisingly, blogs are actually more informative for breaking news than news websites. Rock on.

I'm sorry, are there any people that aren't 20-something, scruffy white guys with webcams that think Aqua Teen Hunger Force is awesome and everyone else is stupid? 'Cause they're really starting to annoy me. I get it, Boston overreacted. I agree! Shut up already, you are not vindicated in your loserness merely by knowing what a Mooninite is when other people don't. Go away. I love marginalized geekiness as much as the next marginalized geek, but the snottiness has got to go.

In a related note, I've discovered the MetroBlog (?) for Boston, and it's written by two guys. Cool. Now I'm going to search around for blogs about Boston that offer a more diverse viewpoint. Not that I won't read the MetroBlog, just that I there must be something else. Right?

Right?

I feel better prepared than I did at this time over the summer. But still not prepared enough. I just want to pass this damn thing so I can move on to the next stage of avoiding an adult life.

Meanwhile, the best part of today's bomb scare is that these devices sat around for weeks without anyone saying anything. I don't know about you, but I feel safer. I realize that it's easy to say in hindsight that the Boston authorities are insane/dumb/foolish for thinking these little moonite (or... whatever) guys could be bombs, but if I were a terrorist (I am not) I certainly would want my bomb to look like something that's not a bomb.

Clearly it worked, since they sat around for weeks without anyone saying anything.

So much for "if you see something, say something." Which, upon googling, is apparently the safety message of every major city's transit authority.

Anyway. Obviously it was one person who had no idea what the hell this weird thing was calling the police and everything got out of control. No shock there.

Okay, I'm back.

Seriously, I hate traveling. Well, that's not exactly correct. I have a love/hate relationship with it. I would like to take just one trip in my life in which the plane is not delayed. Maybe I did when I was a kid? I don't remember. I like going places, and I enjoy the idea of cruising around five miles about the surface of the earth (in case anyone missed that I'm a geek), but I hate the non-communicative flight attendants, the computers that tell you everything's okay when it's not, the fact that you can't get a meal on a plane anymore, and the stupid security measures that aren't that secure.

Oh, and JFK Airport? For the love of snap, your food court sucks. There's a reason Burger King and McDonald's do well: it doesn't cost $9.50 for a bad burger and bad fries (even in the airport) with no drink. I should've gotten the not-so-cheap cheap "Chinese" food, but the "bourbon chicken" scared me. So I guess I should've gotten the not-so-cheap cheap Italian food instead.

Alright. I'm calm now.

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One of the best parts of traveling is coming home.

Oh man. So I get a call at 8:30 this morning. It's Jes. I go: "omg830omgsotireddontwannaanswerwhatifit'sanemergency?" in my head and pick up the phone. (Sidenote: I actually went to bed relatively early last night. 2:30/3ish.) Her friend, whose partner had won Red Sox tickets yesterday from her law firm had an extra ticket now (her partner couldn't go... in-laws or something) and would I like to go?

Gee, me go to a Red Sox game for free in what will probably be fantastic seats? No.

Actually, though, I had to call the other room mate, 'cause she moved in today. At first I didn't succeed. But time was of an issue, so I tried tried again. She confirmed that she'd be in by noon and I could give her the key, help move a few things, and bolt.

Of course, this is Life and in Life nothing ever goes as Planned. Also, please remember to liberally sprinkle inappropriately capitalized words throughout your Life so that People know it's more Dramatic.

Anyway, she was late. Ticket-Benefactor left the ticket for me at the will call window. I walked briskly to the T, zipped through the "always two seconds away from dismembering me" charlie card reader (TM) and got to Ruggles in time to miss the last shuttle. Therefore, I had to walk. I bumped into Lydia on the way, so I just had to stop and chat. Had to. Really. Mandatory.

I really only missed the first half of the first inning, because we gave up two runs and that takes a little while.

Great game, though. Great game. God I love baseball. And it was such a perfect day for it. And the seats were awesome. I one day aspire to be married to a high powered attorney, so she can get me season tickets in a loge box. Actually, we all know I aspire to one day be married to Billie Piper, but since she could afford season tickets in a loge box, I think it'll all work out in the end anyway.

I went to my sister's afterwards, in the hopes of avoiding moving a couch and other such large pieces of furniture. She got a beer ball yesterday. On a whim. It fits in her fridge. Bah! Anyway, we drank beer in chilled beer chalices (no, seriously, her boyfriend bought them at an antique store... they're from the 50s or something) on their roof deck overlooking the city. God I love Boston.

Then it got a little chilly (because the weather is completely and totally normal and please buy more gas, thanks) so we went in to her nice new apartment with a panoramic view of the city. God I love Boston. And we played with her boyfriend's lizard thing.

I came home to find that all the stuff had already been moved. Woot. And now my TiVo is set up, and as soon as I find my switcher thing, I'm going to set up the DVD player, and I can finally catch up on my Netflix. Or watch more Doctor Who. The Ninth, you know. Probably both.

Really tired. Good day, though. Good day.

It's like pulling teeth to get from JP to the World Trade Center. WTF. The trip planner gave me two options: bus to commuter rail (!) to bus, or bus to green line (ew) to silver line (from north station??). WTF.

So we're doing orange to red to silver, and we're just going to see how that works. I have a feeling it'll suck, but we can be late for the practice exam. Not so much for the real thing. Though I'm sure people will be. I still think it'll be faster to get off at Downtown Crossing and walk. And you know if I'm suggesting walking, then it must be a less restrictive alternative (muahaha, Con Law joke! I know Con Law enough to joke about it!).

Is it August yet?

There's a person that I go to school with that has managed to say something negative about the city of Boston and/or its inhabitants almost every single time we manage to have a conversation. She accepted a job in Boston next year, even though she could have gone somewhere else. Interesting.

A lot of people I talk to are fond of saying things like "that's such a Boston thing" or "that's so Boston," but always negatively. They never attribute any kind of positive behavior or attributes to the city or citizens.

Anyway. I just got into a stupid fight with Kate (who says I take it too personally, which I'm sure I do, but she said it arrogantly which means I'm unlikely to listen) about that. 'Cause she does it a lot, but so do many people, some of whom are my friends, and I took it out on her. Rock on, mature Sam.

Boston is a great city. It's not the best city in the world, but it's not the worst. It's got great stuff and great people - and crappy stuff and crappy people, like every city - and maybe the people who spend time going to their fancy Bostonian institutes of higher education ought to stop and appreciate it for a little while, instead of just trying to mention all the ways it sucks.

Eh. I'm angry because I'm cranky.

Well, I got an interview for the Department of Labor job. Shimmy. I also lost four pounds. Shimmy. Then I got completely soaked by walking through the nice impromptu monsoon we had today. Less shimmying.

For some reason, Sully and I decided to walk back from the WW meeting. That's not a bad walk (Downtown Crossing to the MFA, approximately, which is about two miles). I actually rather enjoy walking in the rain. Of course, that's normal rain. Not rain during a "fast moving wind storm." There were, the article tells me, gusts of about 85 mph in Haverhill. Boston wasn't as bad, except in Copley Square where there were gusts of about 900 mph. At one point, I almost got knocked backwards. And then I remembered my aerodynamics lesson from How Things Work (what?) and put my arm up. This served two purposes: it cut the wind resistance in front of me, and it stopped the angry pellets of rain from lacerating my flesh and eyeballs.

The next gust was worse, and we had to stop. Then we started in again, only to be gusted at from the opposite direction. Seriously. Anyone in Chicago can kiss my ass. Sully's hat proceeded into the intersection of Boylston and Clarendon without her. I had my hand on my own hat, and was attempting not be knocked onto my face (slightly worse than the other gust, which would've knocked me onto my ass).

Sully retrieved her hat, and that was when we decided it would be a good time to take the T the rest of the way. By this point, my entire body was wet, my shoelaces had turned pink (because my red courdory shoes were running dye), and I could squeeze a good cup of water out of my hat.

Needless to say, sitting through EU Law was terribly fun. Once I finished my soup (purchased, while still dripping, from ABP), I started shivering and didn't stop until I got home and peeled off my clothes.

Now I'm going to have a snack and nest into my couch for a bit.

I think etoilepb may find this particularly funny, but anyone who's ever had to deal with the T in Boston will get a kick out of it (particularly users of the green line).

Because today's a beautiful day, and because I didn't feel like going to the gym (Kate says it doesn't count and that I still technically didn't exercise today) I walked downtown during my ridiculously long break. I ended up buying shoes (like these, but grey and blue and orange and only $20 at TJ Maxx) and some books (Siddhartha and something else I can't remember that was $4, one of which I already may have lost) and eating lunch in Chinatown.

I accidentally went into a religious bookstore for a minute. I was like "woo, non-corporate bookstore" and went in and then realized that, oops, probably not the books for me.

So in Barnes and Nobles, I was browsing through the Science Fiction section (which was sort of disappointing) and ran across Star Trek: Voyager; String Theory Book One: Cohesion, which appears to be a 10th anniversary "adventure" for the crew. Anyway, without giving away anything that wasn't inside the front flap, Seven "assimilates" B'Elanna (to save her) and they become connected. I was intrigued enough by the idea to consider buying it before I realized that I could either read or write (should it not exist) fanfiction that ended the way I want (Seven and B'Elanna, you know... become connected winkwink) for free, or I could shell out $8 for the officially liscensed book and get annoyed at B'Elanna's inevitable return to Tom Paris. And just because Trek is a cruel mistress, Seven would probably end up making out with Chakotay or something. Though it takes place after Hope and Fear, so that crap, at least, is a few years later.

So, anyway, I didn't buy the book.

Also, no less than four people (one of whom was a young girl that couldn't have been older than twelve) attempted to hand me pamphlets telling me why I'm going to Hell. Well, maybe not. I could give them the benefit of the doubt and think that maybe they were telling me how to get to Heaven. Through Jesus. Which is fine, and all, but a terrible waste of paper and I was just going to trash it, so I decided against taking the happy, cross-covered pamphlets.

I love Downtown Crossing on a summer day.