Now friends, let’s put a few things out on the table before I begin….first, I was crabby going in. Ill spare you the details but everyone out there who has the kind of job where you really can’t take time off without coming back to messes knows exactly what kind of day I had. So maybe I was a little fussy, yes.
Second, I grew up in the 70s. There was no such thing as t-ball in the 70s. We threw hard little sacks of pain and liked it. Oh yes we did. We loved it.
Yet, even after putting all that out there? I still don’t think it’s naivety or bitterness talking when I put forward the assertion that the game is indeed called “t-ball” and not “slow pitch the ball to five year olds who can’t hit the damn ball even when it’s completely at rest and propped in front of them thus wasting copious amounts of time and continuing to piss off parents on the opposing team whose kids use the tee as directed and are already annoyed that you forced us to leave work early by scheduling a T-BALL MAKE UP GAME AT 530 ON TUESDAY and are not at all surprised (but even further annoyed) that even your own team members couldn’t make it on time causing you to STALL THE GAME BY TWENTY MINUTES IN THE FIRST PLACE BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T HAVE ENOUGH PLAYERS JACKASS-ball”.
So Dear Mr. Mom Boy Bitch Coach?
Get your head out of your self-centered ass. You have no idea how many people you annoyed tonight. Im guessing your own team hates you too. In fact, you are very fortunate I am not pregnant right now . Actually your car is lucky. As it stands I am still fighting the sore temptation to call the folks who are sponsoring your team to tell them I won’t patronize their business anymore because YOU ARE SUCH AN ASSHOLE. Please don’t misunderstand me. It wasn’t JUST your arrogant decision to hold up at least two dozen people tonight while frustrating six little children who just wanted to bat at the ball and kick sand in the field while picking their noses.* It was also the fact that when we were first sheduled to play you, you refused to call the game ONCE AGAIN INCONVENIENCING AT LEAST TWO DOZEN PEOPLE until 45 minutes before the first inning despite the fact that our coach called you several times attempting to explain that these ARE FIVE YEAR OLDS whose parents don’t feel that great about the FIVE YEAR OLDS RUNNING AROUND IN COLD SPRING RAIN!!!! You Arrogant prick. Nay Sir, I do not call you prick. You are far too flaccid. You sir, are a weenie. A limp. Defrosted. Weenie.
PS: The stained “DAD” t-shirt you wore today was NOT figure flattering. Usually I would feel embarrassed sympathy towards your complete lack of awareness of how such a shirt made you look like a fat unwashed wife beater, but today Sir? Nothing. But. Contempt.
It took several prompted efforts of Turnip doing his octopus imitation to turn the day around. Thank you little turnip. Ill hold on to that image when you wake me up for your new nightly three hour bitch session (1am-4am, it’s when Turnip let’s go of the hating and sends it out into the universe. Usually by punching and kicking me, screaming and sobbing. It’s…..therapeutic.)
* Yes there were only six. I am fairly certain the rest of your team quit in disgust because they signed up for T-BALL. You can thank my full-time job and rich personal life for the fact that I will not get your roster and start a hate group.