SELFABSORBED.ME

This is exactly how I feel about baseball too

Last year when all the world seemed calm and serene and Britney Spears still had an ounce of dignity left, I myself spent a fall season learning some important lessons about a little thing I like to call "sports"...now being that I live with all women and think eating cookie dough at 3am while crying during a cotton commercial is normal, sports in essence is never really a big topic...that is of course, until a couple of us went and did the unthinkable last year and got boyfriends. The minute you get a boyfriend you suddenly realize not understanding sports is like not understanding how to unzip Levi's high waisted black Jeans...you don't really want to know, but eventually you are just forced into it.

I had wandered down the street into a little sports bar where there was a sea of team jerseys everywhere and men with arms outstretched in the air, waving them frantically at the TV screen. It was so packed if my seat got pushed any closer to the bar I would officially have been able to rest my boobs on top comfortably. It was an enchanted day of baseball and I was revealing in all its glory next to hundreds of men who were drunk and spilling beer all over themselves…it was a magical moment.

I yelled just like how they yelled, I booed how they booed, clapped when they clapped...peed how they...wait, what?...Essentially, I had no fucking idea what was going on.

I remember earlier in the summer being at my friend Jeff’s apartment, watching the Yankees and trying to play this little game I like to call 'pretend like you know what is actually going on'.

They flashed Chris Ray’s profile across the screen and I began yelling, “Go Chris! Yeah yeah yeah!” I could see my friend Jeff staring at me as though I had just cut off his left testicle. “KIM…Do you LIKE the Orioles??” (Umm, who? what? Oreos? Yeah I like Oreos why?) What was I supposed to tell him? I was cheering just for the sake of cheering? Because I thought it was the right moment to scream something?
Our conversation went something like:

“KIM, why are you cheering for Chris Ray, stop cheering for Chris, you don’t even know what the fuck you’re cheering about and he is not even a Yankee.”

“Well fine, if you put it that way, then fine I won't cheer anymore, I just thought that…”

“How about you cheer for the Yankees, Kim?? How about that one? Can you just follow the color of the uniforms? Is that too much to ask? Kim, the Yankees have on the uniforms that say NEW YORK…can you follow that?”

Now I wait for the cheer. I see a game going on and I sit there thinking.. wait for it…wait for it…wait for it… and then as the bar beings to roar all of a sudden I am screaming, yelling and throwing my shoes at the TV just like everyone else… people throw shoes, right?