The ballgame.

Poli Sci Guy and I went on Saturday to the Braves game, and the only part about it that I didn't enjoy was calling the bookstore to tell them that I wouldn't be there for my shift.

I'm bad at lying. Terrible. In fact, I know I shouldn't be writing that here, and I'm tempted to remove it.

But it was a good game and a good time with Poli Sci Guy, and I feel like writing about that. (I've been asked already, and it was not a date.)

Poli Sci Guy, who enters contests constantly and once won a guest appearance on the final episode of "Baywatch Hawaii," won tickets through a giveaway at Publix, so he and I headed down to Turner Field. Of course, he had four tickets, and there were only two of us. So he sold the extra tickets to this couple who approached me, asking if we had extra seats.

And Poli Sci Guy sold them his extras, not knowing at the time that the two seats he gave them were completely separate from both each other and from our two seats. (Way to go, Publix! Lucky we didn't have a party of four.)

I got a baseball cap and Cracker Jack. There was complimentary food as part of Poli Sci Guy's prize pack, so we wolfed down some barbecue sandwiches, hot dogs, chicken wings and beer before actually finding our seats.

And when we did find our seats, the guy we sold our extra tickets to had some words for us. Because he'd had to get someone else's seats since the ones we sold him weren't together.

So Poli Sci Guy refunded him part of his money and apologized. ("Just because they're comped tickets to me doesn't mean I should comp them for them," Poli Sci Guy justified to me, and I actually agreed.)

At one point, a foul ball headed out toward our section in the left field, and it bounced into the hands of the guy sitting RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. It was the closest I've been to a foul ball in my life, and it was awesome.

Poli Sci Guy kept pouting (I think he was half-joking) that the ball could've been ours if those people hadn't been sitting there.

"You mean, it coulda been mine since it was the seat in front of me," I clarified.

And he stopped pouting.

The game went scoreless for the majority of innings, which wasn't particularly engaging to watch even though it means that both teams are playing well defensively. Luckily, we were sitting right in front of these enthusiastic, completely drunk fortysomething guys who kept shouting, dancing and trying to start The Wave. ("THAT'S HOW WE DO IT IN AT-LAN-TAAAAAA!" was their chant.)

During the sole home run of the game, those guys high-fived everyone on our aisle.

After the game and some browsing in the souvenir shops, Poli Sci Guy and I ended up both in line and on the MARTA Stadium Shuttle with a cute, young groom and his cute, young groomsmen - who were engaging in the second night of a bachelor party.

Watching women pile on the shuttles ahead of us, members of the bachelor party yelled out such lovely words to them.

"HEY, SWEET TITS! LOOK OUT THE WINDOW!!!" The Groom, as I shall now call him, shouted to a girl in a tank top.

When Sweet Tits did in fact look out the window at the groom, the guys all howled until it was clear that her father sitting next to her was unpleased by the attention.

One of the groomsmen shouted at the groom, "DUDE, THIS ISN'T WORTH THE $700 I SPENT THIS WEEKEND! DID I EVER THANK YOU FOR MAKING ME SPEND THAT?"

"DUDE," The Groom shouted back. "THIS WEDDING'S ONLY COSTING YOU $700. IT'S COSTING ME MY FREEDOM!"

Oh, the soon-to-be-married are such good role models.

We ended up on the shuttle with those guys.

That's when I found out from one of them that it was a bachelor party.

"You took him to a Braves game?" I asked the guy. "What about the strippers?"

"That was last night," he said. "And the night is still young."

I laughed a bit as Groom and Best Man, stumbling while holding on to the aisle rails of the bus, first accidentally and then jokingly began play-acting gay sex positions upon one another.

"Dude, quit ramming into me," the Cute, Young, Drunk Best Man said to the Cute, Young, Drunk Groom. "I don't want that end of you."

The Groom obligingly turned around and faced the Best Man.

"Is this more your style?" the Groom asked the Best Man.

Poli Sci Guy looked at me all embarrassed, but I laughed out loud and tried to imagine what they looked like naked.

They kept walking with us, and the Groom pontificated on the bus and in the subway station about the possibility of getting hot chicks to make out with him.

The last thing I heard from The Groom was directed toward a 14-year-old girl.

"Damn, in two-plus years, I could so hit that," The Groom said, his eyes following her ass as she walked by.

And today's his wedding day.

"I feel sorry for the girl marrying him," Poli Sci Guy said to me.

Before dropping me home, Poli Sci Guy used his scalped-ticket windfall to treat me to dessert at the Buckhead Diner, where I had the famous white chocolate banana creme pie.

That pie was so good that I immediately decided to serve it at my commitment ceremony. Whenever the hell that's going to be. If ever.

(Mental note: Have some guys take me to a Braves game the night before my commitment ceremony.)