Hee. Well, I'm mostly mad because one certain person is, I suspect, reading the book and thus not online. But it has been amusing to look at the list, and see that it's much smaller than usual, all of today. :)

I'd talk to you, but I think I'm going to sleep now...must get up and buy Harry Potter in the morning! Or, something.

meara, I didn't mind going to the company picnic today at all. It gave me an excuse to miss my 30th high school reunion. No way am I going to admit to being that fucking old by actually going.

Since DH has this thing about all our editions matching, we're still a week or so away from HBP, because our copy shipped from England this morning. I saw someone reading it at the ballpark before the game tonight and was filled with mad envy.

Tonight was the game with the USS Mariner blog people. One of the main posters there writes for Baseball Prospectus, so we had a pregame event featuring a Q&A with M's GM Bill Bavasi and Jim Caple from ESPN. I like Bavasi better than I did before--he answered two hours worth of questions well and seemed to have a good sense of where the club needs to be and what it'll have to do to get there. Caple brought four bats with him--Louisville Slugger saves the specs on all the bats they make, so you can order anyone's bat. He had replicas of Joe Jackson's, Honus Wagner's, Ty Cobb's, and Babe Ruth's. Ruth's was closest in look, weight, and balance to a modern bat. Jackson's weighed a ton and was almost as thick at the handle as it was at the hitting end. I took an experimental swing with it (heck, we all did, with all of them). Now, granted, I am female and out of shape. But still, I can swing an ordinary baseball bat with no difficulties. Not this one--it felt like it was pulling my arms down rather than serving as an extension of my arms.

He'd let the players use them in batting practice, and Beltre and Spiezio hit some balls out of the park with the Wagner bat. Ichiro wouldn't use them, because he didn't want to mess with his rhythm by using equipment so different from his usual so close to game time.

All in all a good evening, even if I only heard half the Q&A because Annabel wasn't in a mood to sit quietly in our laps.

Susan, I feel your pain, though mine is coming from Canada, as they have the UK cover and text, and there's no ocean between.

Oh, I pointed that out to DH. I mean, Canada is about a three-hour drive from our house!

I think having 3 paper-backs and 2 (soon to be 3) hard-cover helps me care a lot less on the "must be same version!" front. For me, it's largely a protest of the "what do you mean you're calling it the Sorcerer's Stone.? That's just silly"

My copy of HP is the UK edition. I miss the illustration, but it is more handily portable.

Off to see the David before we check out. I need coffee. (And I feel no latte will ever be the same now that I've had them here. Nummy.)

Ciao!

Back from running amok w/Perkins and Jilli.

Perkins' new hair is very cute.

I am very tired.

Unfortunatley, I didn't fulfill my dream of getting a hand on Billy Idol. They had a barracade at the front of the crowd, and there were all these tall people in front of me anyway. But I made eye contact! Yay!

First thing to know about the Vans Warped Tour. If you want to see the band, do not get up front and center. YOu will spend half your time trying to stay on your feet and the other half of the time dodging crowd surfers.

Second thing to know: Crowd surfers do not pay attention to where their feet are going. Thank god he wasn't wearing Doc or stupid platforms, the kid who kicked me in the head.

Third thing: Middle aged people are invisible. And sometimes collect weird sidelong glances, especially from kids who are trying to be sly about their pot smoking. Sunglasses are great for gazing off with apparent unconcern as you watch people.

But, Billy. Damn, the man is sex on feet. Chocolate sex on feet. Of course he took his shirt off. And he grinned a lot. But he only played for half an hour! Too many bands to fit in for anything longer. That sucked!

I'll probably be more coherent tomorrow. It was a record hot day, and Billy didn't play unti 6:30, and they weren't allowing re-entry, so I had to slink from shade to shade for eight hours. By the time Billy played, I was worried about heat prostration and just tired.

Punk bands sound alike, and most of the singers can't. Or won't. Dropkick Murphys were fun. I've never felt asphalt vibrate under my feet before.

Yay, connie! Glad you got to ogle your Idol.