As dictated by my Southern roots, there is no “spring”. Winter stumbles immediately into summer, with maybe 4 tolerable days in between. While I am enjoying the chance to sunbathe in the park humidity-free, I am forced to listen to shirtless redneck douche bags blast poor country music while drinking beer out of their Hooters “beer holsters” and chatting up bitchy girls in sundresses and straw sun hats. You aren’t at the Kentucky Derby, and judging by your fake tan, you aren’t wearing it to “repel UV rays”. Stop ruining my afternoon by not-so-slyly drinking out of red cups and blasting your Best of Country CDs.
Alright, I feel better already. Amanda and I spent the afternoon at the park, and I finally got the chance to play a little volleyball as well. After a few weekends of scouting it out, I decided I could hang with the guys there, so I spent about 15 minutes awkwardly pacing around the edge of the court hoping that someone would ask ME to play. Fat chance. I finally got closer and closer, asked a few people if I could play, but they all shrugged and said “That guy owns the net, I don’t know… you’ll have to ask him…” Get a backbone! If I can’t play, just tell me so I stop embarrassing myself! Net Master finally finished his game, so I asked if I could play and after chatting for a little bit, he said sure. I had the distinct pleasure of playing with Net Master, so we warmed up together, during which time he kept telling me to “Jump! Jump!” I am pretty aware of the fact that I have no vertical leap. Whatsoever. The fact that he kept yelling JUMP didn’t help matters, and only served to draw more attention to the fact that I am grossly out of shape. Apparently running a mile on the treadmill doesn’t prepare you to jump around on the sand. Who knew.
We were actually winning for a good portion of the game, but at the end got served off the court more or less. Too bad, because once you lose its like a 90 minute wait to get back on the court. I also didn’t want to risk another heart attack, so I called it quits and returned to my natural habitat: laying on the grass reading a book.
The only way to end a day like this is John Dalys on the roof, so….