The Bald Truth
Sign in the window of Amigos & Us, a funky store on Clark about four blocks south of Wrigley:
Though there wasn't another sign, I'm pretty sure they would have paid me to take their Bradley stuff.
The Balder Truth
Words screamed by an irate fan at The Cell yesterday:
"Hey Ozzie! Typical Sunday afternoon White Sox, huh?"
Maybe the dude was drunk. And maybe he was a loud jerk with the social skills of a goat. Still, his point had merit.
The Sox have lost their last 6 Sunday games, are 6-16 on Sundays this season and are 2-9 in Sunday home games.
If not for Sundays, Ozzie's lads would had a comfortable division lead. Damn schedule-maker.
THE BALDEST TRUTH
The missus and I walked downtown the other day to grab a bite to eat and catch a movie. As we walked on a side street from the theater to the restaurant, a Good Humor truck pulled up and parked fairly close to us.
The driver got out, but not without a great struggle. He grunted and groaned and, to us, sounded kind of like Krusty the Clown. So, of course, we chuckled.
Seeing our reaction, he yelled (again as Krusty might have):
"You think being an ice cream vendor is easy? (pause) Try it!!"
He was not laughing, but we were. Quite hyterically, in fact. However, just in case he was packing an AK-47 and was about to scream: "I GOT YOUR GOOD HUMOR RIGHT HERE!" ... we picked up the pace and high-tailed it out of there.
Can't beat fun in the big city.