Posed with the juggernaut duties of maintaining the integrity of offering only decent comments when under the influence of alcohol, I invoked my inner iron to rid my wrinkled words before I spoke and slurred some nonsense.
But thinking before speaking proved to be a futile effort.
I suspect my trenchant tongue could taste the humor-laden comment that shot out and I viewed it as a fitful prelude to good times, laughter and donkey-punching drunken kickball fun. Which it was.
Girl on other team that I did not know said: "I suck at catching balls."
Me: "That's what she said"
And thus, 'Team That's What She Said' was born. The most awesome, rubber ball kicking, non-athletic assemblage of beer guzzling dope asses ever.
Keg ball is kick ball, only there are kegs for bases and everyone must hold a cup of beer during play and if you drop/spill it, your play doesn't count.
Fairly simple. Right? Hells naw, yo.
There was no water (but lots of beer) and it was mad hot, with the sun beating down relentlessly. The temperature climbed over 100 and because I particularly enjoy uneven farmer tans, I employed the use of a tank top to unequally distribute shades of brown to my body. To
I hate myself for that move today.
We started at 3 p.m. and we were greeted by people who already wreaked of alcohol and lawn mulch. I'm not quite sure why they smelled like lawn mulch though. But after playing the first game, downing a couple beers hit me hard.
And I gathered through painstakingly dull logic, that drinking more beer would cool me down and offer a jump start to my team on the field of play.
Beer was my Gaterade.
So I had consumed enough beer to keep me steadily breaking game action every ten minutes to urinate and shuffle, stumble and stagger back to the diamond. Not to mention inform everyone how amazing my experience answering nature's call truly was. Enlightening.
The sun wasn't wrecking my world anymore, and I began to draw connections to the game and what was at stake.
In my mind, a lot. I evoked my competitive side. I've never been so impressed with not only my own, but others' timely 'that's what she said' remarks.
I kicked balls into outer space. And even even washed myself with warm beer as I crossed home plate repeatedly and obnoxiously moonwalked back to the dugout. I'm so dope at kickball it's vomit inducing.
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1 comment:
We play a form of this game called "sloshball" where it seems the only difference is that you can't leave second base without chugging half of a beer. No way to play this game for more than 3 hours in dead heat without hallucinating, falling down or getting a beer thrown in your face for tagging someone out. Best game ever.
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