A few weeks ago I wrote of my experience watching the Brewers game from a luxury suite. Today, I will be writing about my experience in section 203. On Friday night we had tickets to go to the game, again with my husband's department at work, and I didn't get the tickets to see where we were sitting until we were on the way to the game. Section 203. Well, I've already admit that I don't go to the game very often so I had no clue where these seats were. My mom, who was sitting in section 437, in the upper deck, informed me that I was on the field loge level, and that I had "good seats".

She was so wrong.

As we walked around the stadium, in search of section 203, we passed homeplate, first base, and the outfield. Huh? And then we came to Section 203. The bleachers. The freaking bleachers.

Are you kidding me? I can't sit in the bleachers. I realize that coming from the luxury box the only way to go is down, but this is the bottom as far as I'm concerned.

We found row 10, and needed to get to seats 6, 7, and 8, but they were in the middle of the row and the people who were on the end offered to just scoot on down. So they scooted down, Zoe sat down first, right next to a guy in his 20's who had clearly shaved his legs. The (drunk?) girl in front of us then turned around, stroked his legs and said to my 7 yr old: YOU PROBABLY THINK HE'S A CRAZY MO-FO.

Whoa. Did she just say "mo-fo" to my child?? So I said to her: CAN WE NOT SAY MO-FO TO MY 7 YR OLD PLEASE?

I think she gave me an eyeroll, whatever.

Then a very drunk guy comes back to the row in front of us, and as he trying to get back to his seat, the (drunk) girl notices that his fly is down -- and then she reaches inside his fly and pulls out his privates. Right there in section 203, row 9.

But wait, she wasn't just about public nudity for others, she whipped out her breast for a group photo, which I think my family may have been in the background for.

My husband got security, and then we left the section, watching the game instead from section 437, chair hopping among the 20-some seats that my family was in for my grandmother's 82nd birthday celebration -- where life wasn't quite that of a luxury box, but at least everyone was properly clothed and no one used "mo-fo" in a sentence to my kid.

Yesterday, before I left for work, I put the sheets and our duvet cover into the washing machine. I stripped the bed, throwing the sheets and pillowcases onto the floor, and then when I had the duvet off the down comforter I picked up everything and put them directly into the washing machine. When my husband got home he flipped the laundry into the dryer, so when I got home from work at 5:30 p.m. the sheets were clean and dry.

As I'm emptying the dryer, first the pillowcases, and then the sheets, which I carefully shake out because there is usually a stray sock tucked into the pockets of the fitted sheet, I find my husband's hiking shoe. It's just sitting there, in the dryer, as if it's on display or something. And it's warm, so I know that no one is playing a trick on me by tossing the shoe into the dryer when my back is turned. I hollered to him: WHY IS YOUR SHOE IN THE DRYER?? And he, of course, hollers back: MY HUH IS IN THE WHAT?? So I took his shoe to him and said: YOUR SHOE. IT WAS IN THE DRYER.

Now, I have to tell you that he's totally opposed to washing his shoes in the washing machine. According to him, that'll ruin them for sure. And I don't really want to admit that I washed his shoe. It would be better if I admit that he dried his shoe. But from where his other shoe was located on the floor in the bedroom, I'm pretty sure that when I threw the sheets onto the floor in the morning and then scooped them up, his shoe must have tagged along. I don't know how he didn't notice his shoe when he put the sheets into the dryer, but he did say that he wondered why there was a thunking noise when he turned the dryer on.

So there you have it, he's got one clean shoe. And it's one of the shoes that he wore when he used a sledgehammer to help my brother demolish his kitchen a few weeks ago. It's considerably cleaner than the other shoe. CONSIDERABLY.

This past Sunday we had tickets to the Milwaukee Brewers baseball game, and let me tell you this, I’m sooooo not interested in baseball. In fact, since the Brewers have gotten the new stadium, Miller Park, I’ve only been there twice before. I can’t even begin to tell you how many tickets I’ve given away because I just did not want to go.

So my husband survived the downsizing at his job, and as a celebration he and others from his department were treated with tickets to their company’s suite at Miller Park. Tickets to the luxury box? Oh yeah, I’m totally going. I didn’t care if I didn’t watch any of the ball game, but I was going for the experience.

Parking was prime, and then once we found our suite — which happened to be on the field level right behind third base – I settled right in to life in the luxury box. The suite was like a hotel, and who wouldn’t want to watch a sporting event live from their own hotel room? There was wi-fi, there was our own potty, and best of all there were bottles of wine. DECENT WINE. None of that Little Penguin crap. I poured myself a glass of cabernet sauvignon, and okay, so I couldn’t find a wine glass and I had to drink out of a plastic cup, but I lived.

My daughter was busy filling herself up on potato chips, chocolate chip cookies and fudge brownies. Seeing as she wouldn’t touch a hotdog to save her life (can you blame her?), I called the concierge to see if I could order her a kids meal of chicken fingers. SURE, they said, WE’LL SEND YOUR ASSISTANT OVER WITH IT.

My what? My Assistant? Well, okay.

Sunday’s paper was waiting in the luxury box, so while the crowd cheered I read all my favorite sections: Cue, Entree, Business, and Metro. My husband and I have this thing where we try to guess if the house of the week in the Entree Section will be either IN DOOR COUNTY or NOT IN DOOR COUNTY. We both picked Door County this week, and the house wasn’t, so we both took a drink.

Next thing I know the assistant is there (My Assistant?) deliverying not one, but two huge pizzas. The first thought that came to my head was DID I ACCIDENTALLY ORDER PIZZAS WITH THE KIDS CHICKEN FINGERS? My Assistant assured me that I did not, and then handed me the kids meal.

Okay, how come I never got one of those kids meals whenever I went to the ballgame? It was in a paper bag with comics on it and came with chips, Oreos (more cookies!), a juice box, and a Topps baseball card for some Suppan guy that I’d never heard of. (Even though I’d never head of him, I had to admit that the baseball card was pretty cool.)

During the 7th inning My Assistant came in and boxed all of the food up into containers so we could take home any leftovers. She even labeled the boxes with what was inside too.

Lets see, we had visitors in the luxury box: Bernie Brewer, the mascot, stopped by for a visit! And a face painting lady came around to paint the kids faces too.

Midway through the game some of the people who were sitting outside got up and came into the suite, so we moved from the indoor bar area to the outdoor seats. That was when the game started to get pretty good. I don’t know what got into me, but I even stood up and cheered the team on when the bases were loaded and someone hit the ball way out into the field and no one caught it!

The game was tied 4-4 after the 9th inning, so it went to extra innings, which meant we got to see NOT ONE, but TWO Sausage Races.

We left at the top of the 13th, the score was still tied and there was no end in sight. Of course, as we were wandering around in the parking lot trying to remember where we parked, the Brewers hit a home run and won the game! We missed Bernie Brewer sliding down his slide, and the fireworks too.

I’ve decided that maybe the ballgame isn’t so bad after all, but what I really want is the life in the luxury box. Now that, I could totally get used to.

Last night we went to the State Fair where Zoe actually asked if she could do the bungee jumping slingshot thing. HELL NO! I’m still slightly afraid that she’ll slither through the slots on the safety gate while on the sky ride that takes us from one side of the park to the other.

What did we do? Well, let’s see, we ate, I walked through the Wisconsin wine tasting bar, we had ice cream sundaes, Zoe milked a fake cow for 60 seconds (4 oz worth), and then we took the sky ride. We meant to look at the animals, but somehow got sidetracked in the Expo Center where Zoe made a beaded lanyard thingy at the kid’s “make it and take it” art table, and we watched a Chinese acrobat show.

And then, *we (and I use that term loosely to mean *my husband) found what we came for: Magicloths. It was the Magicloths booth, his Holy Grail of the State Fair.

Ever since the water tube to the refrigerator sprung a leak a few weeks ago and soaked the wall, the floor, and the carpeting, all he’s talked about is Cham Wows and Magicloths. I’m not sure why he decided on Magicloths over Cham Wows, but whatever. Our daughter is a sucker for any and all wonder-gadgets (MOM, YOU KNOW WHAT YOU NEED? IT’S MUDDY PUDDY. AND ROLL N GROW. AND GREEN BAGS.) so it was no wonder that she was mesmerized by the Magicloths demonstration. I walked around a bit during the demo and came back just in time to get hit-up for the moolah by my family. Just as I was pulling out my last $20 from my wallet, the vendor says: OKAY, COME IN CLOSER, I’VE GOT A DEAL FOR YOU. SHHHHH, THESE ARE LEFT OVER FROM THE FIRST DAY OF THE FAIR AND I THINK I’VE ONLY 5 LEFT, AND IF YOU COME BACK LATER AND ASK FOR THEM I CAN’T GIVE THEM TO YOU, BECAUSE THEY’LL BE GONE, BUT INCLUDED IN YOUR MAGICLOTH PACKAGE FOR ONLY $20 (+TAX) IS THIS…

And then she pulled out a mop.

A MOP! And folks, that’s where I draw the line on what I will and what I won’t be buying (or getting free) from the State Fair. I turned to my husband and said: I CAN’T DO THIS. I CAN’T BE A PART OF THIS. A MOP?

And then I handed him the cash and got as far away from the place where a mop is included with purchase as fast as I could. When the coast was clear I did turn around, because I just had to get a picture of this. (Excuse the quality, I had to use my cell phone)

As it turns out, he explained to the vendor that his wife said NO WAY JOSE to the mop, so she gave him an extra package of Magicloths instead. I’m cool with that.

But I made him carry it to the car.