Irony is an asshole.

Two things.

Numero Uno:
I still have a crush on TR. I think the people in charge of the softball league are secretly conspiring against me, as they continually schedule our teams on the same night week after week.

Last night, I practiced a bit of masochism and talked to him longer than I have during his previous few appearances. He even pulled out his signature "grab her attention from across the bar by enthusiastically calling her name and waving like an idiot" move.

What? It's endearing.

Ah well, though I'm a bit down in the dumps about the whole thing, I'm proud of myself for being mature enough to put rejection aside and hang out with him. Wait, scratch that, we all know I'm playing the game, and trying to be the "winner" in this situation. You know, show'em the 'ol "look at what you're missing!" bit. Ugh, how did I get here?

Numero Dos:
My fictional TR despises the Cowboys and the actual Tony Romo. And that, friends, tickles me to no end.