Am I Turning Into Donny Marshall?

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.

I Am Not Scot Pollard

All of the pictures in this post were taken by me, Balcony Gal. I hope you like them. In case you didn't know, you can click on them to make them larger. It's very exciting.

I love my Balcony seats. I enjoy MOST of the people around me. Like the guys in front and the ones just to my left. There is a guy who sits in front of me who often comes with his pretty wife. This guy is really smiley and happy and loves that he's a Balcony Person. He even had these seats last season when, well, we all wondered why we had seats. I'd like you to meet Super Nice, Really Smiley Guy:


I enjoy the Celtics Dancers. I didn't enjoy them last season when their moves were rough and the only thing in sync was the music. Really, I wanted to like them but it was tough to watch. And then this season they broke through. They got it together. And it's fun to not only watch them but to listen to the men around me who are sitting with their men friends and talking about the girls. And constantly look at their pictures. Notice here is not just one guy looking but two. They weren't the only ones but I couldn't get everyone in the same shot.


When Rondo was poked in the eye with 1:57 left in the 4th by Fred "Pokey McPokster" Jones I thought he was going out. It looked like another of our good men was going down. But after Pierce knighted him Sir Rondo The Great Gaurd he rallied with blurry vision.


We got a pleasant surprise at this game. On the drive in, while stuck in the traffic (see previous post), we got a call from our friends . They scored tickets from work and wanted to see us. YIPPEE. We love these friends and don't get to see them often enough. When we finally made it to our seats we got to be THOSE people and called the friends on the horn and said "we're here." Then we waved like fools and pointed and waved some more. Then the guy friend popped over for a quick visit. It was a warm and fuzzy time.

And now the moment we've all been waiting for. This is where I talk about Scot Pollard. I like Pollard. He makes me laugh when he does those little TV skit thingies. And his hair makes me laugh, too.

I didn't have the white headband. All I could find was the black one I use when I wash my face. And I couldn't decide where best in the house to take the picture so I have at least 40 versions. Should I even admit that? This is not a proud moment for me but it was too good not to share. This is not a look I recommend.

I will not wear it on a plane. I will not wear it on a train. I will not wear it here or there. I will not wear it anywhere. No, Scot Pollard, I will not wear your hair.

The end.