NO, I am not becoming Mr. Marshall. Just like I am not Scot Pollard, I am not Donny Marshall (ladies, skip that bio and go here for some of the only internet pics I could find) but I could almost play him on TV. Or at least on the radio. I've taken to saying "again" in the midst of a conversation. Often. Like, A LOT.
To Balcony Princess: Again, you need to wash your hands after you potty.
To Balcony Baby: Again, you need to stop hitting your sister. Or at least stop laughing about it and pretend you're sorry.
To Balcony Memere: Again, thanks for Balcony Sitting the kids so Balcony Guy and I can trek in for another game. Again, there's mac and cheese for dinner.
To Balcony Guy: Again.
Oh, get your mind out of the gutter. I meant again, you can change a diaper or again, you can cook dinner. Really (Balcony Guy, refrain from commenting so these people who read this blog won't learn too much about us, k?).
In other Balcony News, I just completed our taxes tonight. I've been refraining from posting my Balcony antics until the taxes were completed. I don't know if I'm relieved or depressed that I owe the IRS more than the cost of my Balcony Seats for the 2008 NBA playoffs. This means that I may be done complaining about the cost of my seats for the playoffs since I'm now complaining about the large self employment tax I've been levied. Perhaps I can still convince the Celtics that they need some of these self employed services?
Dear Celtics Front Office,
I originally went to college for sports casting because I wanted to work around your organization. Well, things changed and I don't exactly do THAT. I do get paid to talk and, again, I apparently can talk like Donnie Marshall so maybe there's something there? You know, if he's sick, I can fill in.
OR, better yet, how about if I just become the yoga instructor for the Cs? I can probably get KG to add an eighth of an inch to his size. I can help Big baby lengthen those really nice muscles he has. I can help Tony Allen learn to trust himself and focus. Just that last one alone should get me in the door, no?
Call me. Again, my name is Balcony Gal.