My left one is James Westfall and my right one is Dr. Kenneth Noisewater Here's my first random nighttime blog in Milwaukee.
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Working on very little sleep so far. Those of you who know me are probably thinking: "sure, it's hard to sleep when you close all the bars in town..."

Wrong. I've been a model citizen thusfar.

Sleep has been a precious commodity, due in large part to the location of the deluxe apartment. It is situated directly below the "chiller room," which basically means that I'm sleeping below the heating and air conditioning unit for the entire 18-floor high rise tower.

Imagine living below a neighbor that is a neat-freak. And said neighbor runs his industrial sized vacuum 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Yep, that's the rub for me.

So if you're looking for a short-term, get-rich-quick stock to buy, consider Walgreens. Because I'm loading up on ny-quil. As Leary says, "capital N, small y, big shampooing Q."
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There is a long-term solution to the insomnia predicament: I will be switching apartments. But the vacancy will take a month. Oh well.
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While strolling around, I stopped by the campus library and, lo and behold, they provide you both with free internet complete with headphones.

Dial up redsox.com, please.

Log on and the Red Sox (check!) were down 3-0 but, lo and behold, the Yankees were down 5-1 to Seth McClung and the Tampa Bay Devil Rays.

Leave it to Trupe to, well, trupe the Sox with a long fly ball (out) by Captain Varitek and then mention that Cano was up with the bases loaded and no outs.

Skip ahead 15 minutes. Sox still down 3-0. Yanks now up 7-5. The HVAC sound in apt. 1804 sounds pretty good right now.
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Still don't have TV, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Really. Seriously.

Been listening to the Brewers on the radio at night, as Bob Uecker does their games. High entertainment.
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Tried to find a grocery store today but got hopelessly lost, so I said "shampoo it," stopped off at some barbeque joint and had dinner. Delish. Must remember to bookmark it in the mental internet explorer.
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What the shampoo? WEEI now does the MOST ANNOYING THING IN RADIO - the cut away to the moviefone voice guy for updates. So moviefone guy just played John Sterling's call of the granny by "whattya know, Cano." (John, please, make sure you get your whole face in front of the shotgun.)
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Ok, enough baseball talk for the moment. I've just been handed an urgent and horrifying news story. And I need all of you to stop what you're doing and listen: Renee Zellweger and her boyfriend split up.

Man, if I thought I had trouble sleeping before, this, well... Who was her boyfriend? Oh, Kenny Chesney.

Right. Well, I hate NASCAR.

Oh, he's a country singer? I still hate NASCAR.
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Shampooing Trupe just truped me again with a long...fly...ball...deep to left...way back...way back... and off the glove of Nick Swisher. Well, it's a start. Baserunner on third with less than two outs in the sixth. Papi drives him in with a SAC F8, if you're scoring at home.
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Grabbed a local weekly and saw that Ray Lamontagne is playing my new hometown. Yes, I will be in attendance.
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Google just introduced a blog search. Yeah, milk is chillin', Biz is chillin', what else can I say? Not quite top billin'. There is a "Bats Left, Throws Right."

That's all kinds of crap. Here I am, me bein' me (and Rickey bein' Rickey), and this guy has to get all Wade Boggs and Curtis Granderson on y'all. Well, give him a read.

But I'm so much wicked bettah.

Thankfully nobody's asked me (or axed me) to say typical northeastern things like "pahk the cah," "wickid pissah," or "nomah gahceeahpahhrah."
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Well, I'm going to grab a cup of tea and read a book. This is a library, you know.

Nicest darned library I've ever seen. But considering I only visited Nyselius five times during my undergraduate career (once for a study group for sophomore macro, once to meet this girl I had been hooking up with (she was wickid smaht, like my boy Will. And Opie.) one other random time and then twice on graduation day: once to meet and line up and once to return the cap and gown) and Ryan as a grad student, um, pretty much never, maybe these mysterious quiet places with the books ain't so bad.

One.  ¶ 9:34 PM