CHICKS DIG THE WIFFLE BALL...

With all this Biscuitry (The Great Baseball Exodus detailed below) afoot, I almost forgot to give a worthwhile CB shout out - but not a text message, since that would cost me ten cents - to one of my favorite pastimes - WIFFLEBALL! [I acknowledge that the above picture would not be something that one would generally associate with Wiffleball, but it was by unanimous consensus of one the coolest picture available in Yahoo Images for the sport, and I'm more than happy to help raise the profile and mass appeal of Wiffleball. For anyone offended by the above picture, please cheerfully disregard it, and enjoy with my compliments the gratuitous nudity of a wiffleball in its natural habitat...

Anyways, what good would a naked wiffleball lying suggestively in the grass be without an accompanying story? Worthless, so here goes.

Kudos to Tarrantino wannabe Mike Baffes, movie producer extraordinaire (we'll take a moment to plug his May 3 movie premiere at the Normal Theatre at 7 PM - even a Cheap Bastard® can afford the $5 ticket). At around 3 AM during our recent all-night Relay 4 Life fundraiser, the enterprising Mr. Baffes would not be denied a wiffleball game at any cost (speaking of cost, my ears perked up when it was revealed that a wiffleball set costs only $3). We rounded up some usual and unusual suspects until we had a contingent of eight, and then set about setting the ground rules, as follow:

Home Plate - a Reggie Redbird frisbee
First Base - a concrete lightpole next to a foreboding manhole cover
Second Base - three glow-sticks
Third Base - university fire hydrant #93

There were no balls, so you either hit the ball or struck out. If your hit grazed the leaves of a tree hanging over just beyond second base, you had yourself a cheap home run. Pitcher's hand rule was in effect here, so you had to get to first base before the ball was back in the pitcher's possession.

Baserunning proved perilous, as the morning dew had taken full effect by game time. Worse, one of our players attempted to leg out extra-base hits in flip-flops. I fell four times myself, and was thankful that no one landed on my while I slipped trying to catch a flyball. Body aches for the next three days aside, one hell of a good time!

I'd expound further on the wonders of Wiffleball, but Mother Jewel beckons the CB to stand at a self-checkout for five hours and metaphorically watch paint dry.

Expect a post on yet another of life's thrifty pleasures after this weekend's slip-n-slide fiesta.

IT'S ON! (SEE YOU SOON, MONTE)

Biscuitville, here we come! The Great Biscuit Odyssey of 2006 is officially in the works. A seven day, six night adventure of bad baseball and the deepest fried food at every turn promises to shave five years off the lives of Señor CB and Big Mak and permanently affix giddy smiles to our faces.

Ever since I found out that there existed a team with the name "Biscuits", I have been obsessed with attending one of their games (and picking up truckloads of their souvenirs, naturally). When I saw their logo, shown above in all of it's glory (FYI for the unenlightened, that's a tongue of butter!), I became instantly aware that nothing must stand in the way of my sacred pilgrimmage.

This is not the only reason this trip is so tasty, though. Below, I detail the itinerary - with all-important random details:

May 14: Houston, TX - Astros vs. the hapless Rockies (wherever I am, I can never seem to escape the Rockies on Mother's Day)
May 15: Mobile, AL - Padres' AA affiliate at "The Hank"; find a deep-fried catfish dinner to clog our arteries
May 16: Birmingham, AL - White Sox AA Barons in action; 25-cent hotdog night (we miss $5 Little Caesar's Pizza night by one day)
May 17: Montgomery, AL - Cubs' AA team vs. Biscuits AND biscuits drenched in butter and syrup to get my Biscuit swag (souvenirs) sticky; does life get any better than this?
May 18: Tampa, FL - White Sox vs. D-Rays; cheap $8 tickets (and free parking, too!)
May 19: Tampa, FL - Marlins vs. D-Rays; someone has to win the battle for Florida (we think) - $8 tickets suddenly seem overpriced
May 20: Tampa, FL - late flight out, too much time on our hands to run amok in Tampa; any suggestions?

I readily acknowledge that this represents a radical departure from my usual cheap bastardry. But remember, when it comes to religion (baseball certainly qualifies as such), people often foresake their sanity and better judgment - just look at Christmas decorations. The cost breakdown for this exodus is as follows (all prices are per person):

Plane tickets $180 (god bless mommy, daddy, and Southwest Internet Specials)
Rental car 300 (includes taxes, fees, and "don't let Alamo rape us" insurance)
Gas 100 (assuming $3/gallon @ 25 mpg - if we don't get helplessly lost)
Hotel 180 (cheap dives all the way)
Food 150 (our taste buds give a hearty nod of approval)
Tickets 80 (upper deck, here we come!)
Souvenirs 100 (Biscuit hat, Biscuit shirt, Biscuit undies, Biscuit tie, Biscuit...)

Grand Total $1,090

Decidedly un-CB, I acknowledge. However, come fall I will be shaking many a steak, and had better blow my dough while I have the chance. I should mention at this time that anyone looking to get in on the action with us is more than welcome to do so - right now, our back seat in the rental car is empty - and should contact me at rhfiala@ilstu.edu if interested. Like misery, Biscuits and D-Rays love company, and we love the idea of splitting the rental car and hotel three ways.

More Biscuit-infused updates to come shortly!