Poop Shute

Names have been changed to protect the innocent... guilty... whatever.

Last night I played volleyball with a bunch of friends. Good times.

Anybody who has ever played volleyball, or any team sport for that matter, knows that trash-talking is half the fun of the game.

And I don't mean yelling obscenities at each other. I mean nice, light-hearted, witty jabs.

Beth, for example, was on the other team and kept hitting it out of bounds. I kept joking that she was my team's most valuable player. She laughed. Nice girl.

One guy had no clue.

We will call him Muppet.

Between games a few of us were messing around on the court while others took a break, and this girl Lucy was taking on three of us by herself and doing quite well. Muppet runs on to her side to "help" and hits it straight out of bounds.

"Oh, we almost had 'em, Lucy." says Muppet.

With a big grin and a chuckle I say "No, she almost had us until you stepped in."

Everyone chuckles a little. Everyone but Muppet.

"What the hell was that, man?" says Muppet

"Just a joke." says I, losing my grin.

"It wasn't funny."

"Okay. Sorry." I said with a tone that said
I'm-not-really-sorry-and-this-is-your-problem.

After that I took every opportunity to pick on poor Mr. Sensitive Muppet. I figure if you're going to be an ass about it, then so am I.

All's fair in love and trash-talking.

Muppet: I got the lightning and I got the thunder. (referring to each arm respectively)

Me: Why didn't you bring them with you?

More laughter, but not Muppet.

I found out later in the night that I was not alone in my distaste for him. Boston fired a particularly hard and fast serve right over the back of the court out of bounds.

I gave him a what-the-hell look.

He looked upset and muttered "I was trying to hit the f**ker in the back row."

That "f**ker in the back row" was my good friend, Muppet.

So, kids what have we learned today?

That's right! Trash-talking can be fun as long as you're not an uptight ass.

Today's lesson was brought to you buy the letter four. And cheese.


*******************************************

Tomorrow morning I leave for the UK. I'll be back in two weeks. Hooray!

For those that read this stuff I ramble on about, I'm terribly sorry about the erratic nature of posting this summer, but I've spent a great deal of time elsewheres these past couple months.

Wish me luck.

Hopefully I'll have lots of glorious stories when I return.

Stories involving absinthe. And boobs.

Yeah. That sounds fun.