Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Perhaps you remember me regaling you with stories of past attempts (it's been at least 3 years), of me trying to play co-ed softball with Heather. It was ridiculous. It was an epic fail. And it will never happen again. So, a couple of years ago we decided to stick our toes into the adult kickball pond. Whenever we passed by the kickball field, they seemed to be having so much fun...giggling...drinking...prancing around like elegant gazelles.
Surely. I could kick a big red ball.
And I can.
However, something happens to grown folks when they are placed in competitive situations, fueled by Bud Light and testosterone. People act a fool. And after several seasons, our team, 99 Problems But Our Kick Ain't One, had to retire. Or take a year long, self imposed timeout. See, there are actually rules to kickball...many of them are similar to softball...so basically...I have no idea what they are, nor do I really care, as I am really just playing so I can do cartwheels amongst friends and flirt with the tall skinny black man who plays first base for one of the other teams and bought me a drink after one of the games which led to a lecture from Heather about not accepting drinks from men who like my butt, which was confusing because she is always saying we need to save money and clearly this man just wanted to be my friend and was helping me succeed in my thriftiness. I call him Slim. Sometimes he let's me get on first base...probably because he would like to get to at least third. Bahahah....
Anyways, last year our team and another team got into a fight. It was just a word fight, but was close to being a fist fight and Heather did challenge some big dude by saying "You want to take it outside the fence"? But that's because he called her a bitch, (she was playing catcher and I was sitting on a cooler drinking and giggling and heard her say..."DID YOU JUST CALL ME A BITCH? YOU WANT TO TAKE IT OUTSIDE THIS FENCE?" And my head snapped in her direction and I went into protective domestic partner mode and he said "I didnt say YOU were a bitch, I said your teams always BITCHING"...but it was too late. Red fury clouded my vision and I started screaming "WELL YOUR TEAM IS ALWAYS DOUCHEBAGS"....possibly...over and over again.
Sigh. Which brings us to one of the reasons we retired. It can get ugly.
So we are back. New team name: Attitude Adjustment.
No fighting last week. We did lose. We did have to remind Heather "We aren't THAT team" (you know...the team that argues every call bc it's not inline with the rules because my girlfriend is a total rule follower and likes to carry a set of the rules around with her)...
And perhaps I overdrank just a smidge. I only have 4 beers, but they were 8%...so that's really like 8 beers. Sigh again. Tonight I will be drinking water. Just water. Um...yes. That's my plan.
Posted by Amy W. at Wednesday, January 28, 2015