  at singing! This I learned the painful way when he led all of Wrigley Field on the most tuneless version of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" in the entire history of bad tonality.
He was so bad and so off that I couldn't even find the notes myself. And I've sung this shit professionally. He was our choral leader tonight because apparently the Cubs have theme nights. And tonight's theme was washed-up TV stars with poochy tummies '70s Night.
Which was actually kind of fun -- there were tons of people there in hideously authentic disco costumes. And there was even one little anachronism of a kid sitting next to us in a hysterical Austin Powers getup, complete with wig and glasses and frilly shirt sticking out of an elfin velvet coat. The "us" in that last sentence was me and my very cool co-worker Andrew. We decided long ago that we needed a Cubs night together so 1) we could do something fun that didn't involve direct mail and 2) he could teach me everything there is to know about baseball.
Because I used to know a little about it, but I forgot. And I feel like there's this whole world of "normal" (i.e., not gay) stuff to know out there and I've let it pass me by for the last 36 years.
So I'm catching up. Naturally, the one night I have a social life planned, I get stuck with a project at work that is due out the door tonight and is 1) way understaffed and 2) way behind schedule. Which, ironically, is right on schedule in the strange and mysterious world we call My Office. What's more, it's for a client team that I'm not even on. What's even more, I'm catching a flight to NYC at 8:00 tomorrow morning to present it to that client. What's even even more, it's midnight as I'm typing this at home (after watching the Cubs get CLOBBERED in the six innings we made it in time to see) and I would bet money the rest of the team on the project is still at work scrambling to finish everything in time for our early flight.
Ah, the glamorous world of advertising. All the permed Larry Tateness of Bewitched . All the sex-on-the-boardroom-tables social fun of Melrose Place . All the jaw-dropping stupidity of What Women Want . 
