Sick

I hosted a home poker game on Sunday and subsequently caught a cold. Now I'm feeling sick as fuck (and not like the usual sick wid' it that I feel on the regular).

I have to say that I can only really blame myself in this newfound ill-stricken state that I'm in. Let me explain.

Yesterday I could feel it coming. I can usually fight a cold off (doesn't everyone say that?) and I did make an effort by seeking out some "Emergen-C" last minute Vitamin C re-enforcments but it wasn't enough.

After work I headed to the valley of porn to play some softball. We were facing the Diablos and most of you are familiar with the notoriety of that team. Yes, the team manager is a fine young lady and there is some history with us.

So in a shit-talking email, I told her that whoever gets less hits in the game has to buy drinks after the game. She basically called me a pussy and said she is down to drink before, during, and after the game. This is how it gets started (read from bottom):



I do believe that she was calling me out.

So we met up in the parking lot before the game and I got my first taste of "Modelo Especial."



The funny part about this scenario is that our softball field is (for a reason unknown to man) behind the Northrop Grumman space testing plant. I 'm not sure what they do there, but they have some gas truck that drives around spraying "liquid oxygen" in the air.

As usual, she was in her skin-tight stretch pants and today she had a low-cut tank top. Solid.

I couldn't really even determine what taste this beer has. As Ms. Diablo said, it tastes like the yeast her mom used to use when she made bread.

We both got two quick ones down before the game. The problem with this was that I got the full blown Asian glow going aka the Red Bull aka the Red Monster and now known as Maroon 5 (my number is 5). My team happens to have about 5,684 newborns, toddlers, and infants at every game because my teammates are in some sort of baby producing competition. It's kind of like day care. So I felt bad because I smelled like beer and had the glow going. I sat on the furthest bench from the moms and kids.

First at-bat, single. Ms. Diablo, short fly-out.

I faked like I had to take a piss in the third inning and met her at her car to down a quick beer.

Second at-bat, single. Then, in the bottom of the inning I robbed their clean-up hitter of a three-run homerun to end the inning (we have fences). I think I actually made it look harder than it was but I'll take the kudos.

Ms. Diablo's second at-bat ended in a ground out. I'm looking good here.

We met again for some more beer.

Third at-bat, single. When I got to second base, she (playing second base) gave me the finger and said "Don't talk to me until after the game. It's obviously not affecting you."

Fourth at-bat, ground out.

Ms. Diablo was 0-2 when she hit a one-hop line drive to center field (where I play) and I really could have and thought about gunning her ass out at first base but since she brought the beer and didn't have a hit yet, I decided to just toss it lazily into the cut-off man. I guess I have a soft-spot for sexy ass female softball players that bring me beer before a softball game.

The game ends but not before my dumb ass attempts to put on my best Andrew Jones impression and go flying for a line drive when we have an eight-run lead in the bottom of the last inning. Of course I missed the ball, knocked the wind out of myself and felt like I was in a car wreck when I got up.



We eventually won 13-7 or something like that and then hit the Scion for some more drinking. I think we were the only people in that space engineering parking lot when 10 p.m. rolled around and we were pretty drunk. We stayed until midnight, each took three pisses on the side of the car (yeah she's pretty gangster) and then went our separate ways.


So here we are today and I feel like shit soup.