My sister came with me to the Indians-Giants game last night. I think she was sorry she left her knitting in the car — she could have done her own personal Stitch & Pitch.
Anyhow, sometime after the seventh-inning stretch, we had this little exchange:
Me: [peering into the depths of my bag of Cracker Jacks] Are there even any peanuts in this thing?
Her: Yeah, I found a couple. Look. [holds up a small brown pellet]
Me: Hmm. Are you sure that's not just a blob of . . . . [searches for the right word]
Her: [totally deadpan] Rat droppings?
Me: [laughing hysterically] No! I was going to say a wad of sugar or carmel or something, but . . .
Her: [still deadpan] Sugar-coated rat droppings?
Both: [more laughter, to the annoyance of some people around us who wanted to, like, watch the game and stuff]
Now playing on iTunes: Wilson Pickett - Sugar Sugar