Ass Scratch Fever
To all the people at Liberty Park last night, I was not dancing in anticipation of playing kickball. I was only jumping around trying to get my pants to itch the back of my ass and legs for me. I’ve learned my lesson about putting my hands down my pants in public. I really, really have.
Remember being a kid and thinking that if only you had a certain kind of shoes you’d be faster on the playground? I’m here to tell you it’s a giant lie!
Believing in the magical power of my pink KangaROOS tennis shoes I wore them to my kickball game last night.
My turn up to kick was comedic gold. I kicked the ball and started running for first base, albeit a little slow. Hey, I was very busy admiring how cute my shoes looked kicking the ball. Don’t give me shit, even the catcher commented on the cuteness!
The pitcher grabbed the ball and tried to tag me out. I wasn’t going down without a fight. I ran outside of the baseline avoiding him while screaming, “Don’t you dare hit me with the fucking ball!” I was called out. Apparently you’re not allowed to run outside of the baseline or something?
I played right field, which I love because it’s typically very uneventful. Last night was the exception. Someone kicked the ball my way and as I watched it in slow motion flying through the air I screamed, at the top of my lungs, “NOOOOOOO!!!!!” Thankfully my personal MVP, Melissa, caught it for me. Whew.
We lost.
And despite all this, I had fun. Which in my book is way more important than winning. Now if I could just talk my friends into feeling the same way.