Farther north than Ikea (and they said it couldn’t be done!)…

Dear Kelly,

I wanted to meet you and your darling little girl, and was sad that you left immediately following your comment to Trevor about how your baby was no longer leaking.

Alas!

Also, just incase you were wondering why Trevor isn’t a father yet, he:

• Only thinks your daughter’s name is “Madeline,” and promptly followed his guess with, “But don’t quote me on that”.



• Told me that your baby was “something like eight months old.” To which I responded, “Wait. Isn’t Kelly your coworker that gave birth last June?” Why do I know this and not Trevor?

Of course, the Boy Wonder does have his redeeming qualities. For example, the first thing Trevor told me when I FINALLY found him tonight (I had been walking aimlessly around the stadium FOR-EV-ER) was, “Guess what?! I got drooled on by Kelly’s baby!” He was absolutely thrilled (in an “awe-cute-Trevor-likes-babies” not “ew-weird-Trevor-is-a-baby-stalker” kind of way).

Anyway, I was sad that you left before I could be drooled on by maybe-Madeline as well. I only got a brief glimpse, but she was adorable.

Hopefully, we will meet someday soon.

Sincerely,
Deals

P.S. If Trevor ever tells you that there are two sides to every story, please (please, please) call his bluff and ask him what his side actually is. Because, when it comes to Trevor, I never need to exaggerate.

P.P.S. I think the ROUGHRIDERS won. Trevor and I left at the conclusion of the seventh inning. The score was something ridiculous like 14-0.

The bottom of the seventh and the bases are loaded...

Am I the only person who has never heard of the so-called "famous" chicken?

And exactly WHY was it such a big deal that the chicken was in Frisco tonight?