Summer is about yea close. Lovely high-80’s day here in Philly, yo. I am home from work toiling on a number of extracurricular projects. Took a break for my daily diary read and noticed that for two days straight, Lees™ has been orating upon the erstwhile unheard of subject of Les Sports.
I for one am floored. I very nearly deleted my bookmark for this traitor-Lisa-chick on the spot, but thought better since one entry was saying why she hates volleyball, and the other divulges the punkrockitude inherent in kickball.
Though sports are, au fond, noisome (I only like to compete with myself), she did mention two that I actually enjoy.
Not to be a bandwagon-jumper-onner, but perhaps today would be a good day to just get sports out of the way once and for all, ‘cos all I require is one diary entry and the subject will be closed forever.
So here they are. The four sports the Marquis doesn’t mind:
- Though I have no right to be any good at it whatsoever, I’m actually a decent volleyball player. No clue as to why. I don’t even want to consider the implications of that. Turns my blood right cold.
- Kickball, tetherball, big-red-rubber-ball-in-the-four-squares, and the rest of the grammar school playground games. That must be a common, tepid sense of nostalgia however, so let’s scrap that one.
- Bowling. We covet a white trash lifestyle, ev’n as we are self-appointed members of the aristocracy.
Or, for us space-agers of the 21st century, Glowbowling. With a two beer buzz, I can break 200. One or three beers and my score suffers considerably.
The real key to bowling is to try to maintain a perfect two beer buzz. It can be as difficult as balancing 8 poles with spinning plates while walking a tightrope as clowns below do stupid clowny-clown things with their dumb little hats and polka-dotted polyester ahn-sahm-blahs as calliope music toots and whistles gaily and … am I tangenting?
- Drinking games are the other good genre of healthy sportsmanship. Many may argue that drinking is not a sport, but I would point out that if the omniscient editors of Trivial Pursuit put so much drinking into the sports section (“What is a martini with an onion called?” “A gibson! A gibson! Give me orange pie!”), then it must be true. Far be it from me to argue with the Trivial Pursuit gurus.
“I’ll take Sports n’ Alcohol for $200, Jack.”
So the other day I was making flight arrangements with some dude at American Airlines and he started quizzing me on sports:
DWAYNE: “What city are you departing from?”
MARQUIS DÉJÀ DÛ: “Philly. And don’t end your sentences with prepositions.”
D: “The city of brotherly shove. Hey, whadd’ya think o’ them _____[fill in whatever little “teams” or whatever are in Philadelphia. I forget.]?”
MDD: “Oh, you are to be asking me the faire les sports question? I’m sorry I’m going to be a big disappointment on this subject. Would you care to discuss cheesesteaks instead?”
D: “Oh. Not a big sports fan eh?” [wounded]
MDD: “Not a big one, no.”
He then went on to map out my flight using special airline codes for airports that I’ve never heard. I’m not talking about the three letter codes. I know most of those. There is apparently a new secretspecial airline code for city names:
DWAYNE: “Sooo… leaving ‘The City of Brotherly Shove’, destination ‘Tinsel Town’.”
[I was okay up to this point.]
D: “Would you rather go through ‘Gusty Gussy’ or ‘Fajitaville’ for a stopover?”
[I wagered “Gusty Gussy” probably meant “Windy City”, which is Chicago of course, and we all know how the Marquis feels about the Midwest.]
MARQUIS DÉJÀ DÛ: “Um, is ‘Fajitaville’ San Francisco?”
D: “San Francisco!? No, Dallas! Duh! Though there’s a couple of Chevy’s in San Francisco, if I remember. They make pretty good fajitas at Chevy’s.”
MDD: “No, look, the best Mexican food in America is made in San Francisco. I’m not sure why.”
D: “Nah, man. Dallas. I’ve never had good Mexican food in the ‘City by the Bay’.”
MDD: “No, ya gotta go to the Mission. Skip that Chevy’s shit. That’s Mexican food for white people.”
D: “The Mission. Okay. I’ll make a note of that. Mexican food for white people. Heh. That’s pretty funny. So which is it?”
MDD: “Sorry?”
D: “For a stopover.”
MDD: “Oh, umm, ‘Fajitaville’, if you please.”
|
