Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Beer League softball with a side of hangover

For those of you too clueless to know all about me yet, I live by a pretty simple Life Mantra...

..."I don't run unless I am being chased and I don't lift weights because they are heavy."

I have gotten away with this slice of life for the better part of a decade, despite my best intentions to ruin it and perform some form of physical activity a few times over the past few years.

I don't know where I am headed with this other than to mention that last night I actually went out, ran, used some of my remaining agility and performed athletically at a pretty decent level. Yeah, no shit. The Kid has returned.

How did I do this, you ask?

I played in a beer league slow pitch softball game.

Yep. I was that guy last night. Out there with grown men in full uniforms, running after fly balls, fielding grounders, waiting on flourescent green softballs to float my way harmlessly while at the plate, heaved by some dude wearing a head band and a pink shirt, undoubtedly wondering if he could pull some (male) ass at a local watering hole called "Sneaky Pete's".

I played a flawless shortstop, went two for three at the plate, could have easily stretched a double out of each hit, but why be greedy? I stayed at first because it wasn't Game 7 of the World Series ( I was fucking winded), just a friendly game played by grown men who are desperately trying to gasp for air in between gulps of brew. Besides, we crushed the other team 12-2 in a game that took all of 45 minutes. Perfect.

Then I went out on the town and watched the Detroit Red Wings snatch defeat from the jaws of victory and come 38 seconds from winning the mother truckin' Stanley Cup, only to lose in the third overtime to those rat bastard Pittsburgh Penguins.

All of that meant that I ended up schnockered. I mean, I had to have had at least 12 Old Styles, a few Oberons and one misguided shot of Tequila over that time, which led to me making a complete ass of myself in a drunken stupor all the way around, in the company of many others that were equally douchebaggish.

Ahhhh...soy un perdedor.

It felt good to be like a 21 year old again...last night.

Because today I feel like I have been fucked by a train.

Stupid tequila.

Any questions? No? Good. My head hurts.