PMGU #2: Support
Here's another Post-Marriage General Update category (PMGU, if you didn't pick up on the acronym from the title, I'm lazy and didn't want to type it all out this time.) Today's topic: supporting your husband when he does weird things you don't understand. It happens.
Today specifically, I'm talking about that weird thing guys do to make themselves feel tough, manly, and vaguely Bear Grylls-like... That's right, flag football.
Flag football? Yeah, I get it. Just stay with me.
Okay. So I've been to football games. Many football games. Want proof? Here!
So yes. Football. I get the general gist of the game. Offense, defense, touchdowns, rah-rah-rah, annoying cheerleaders, over-pampered student athletes running around with a ball, big fat Polynesian guys on defense mowing people over, trying to get the ball in the end zone, shooting cannons, fourth down, whatever. I got all that terminology down. (Although funny story, having to explain football to all my coworkers back at Broadcasting made for a really long discussion... Even longer than the time I tried to explain what offsides was (in soccer). I swear people, I am not the sports guru. Really. I'm not. Just because I knew the most in the office doesn't mean I like it. Nor do I want the "sports girl" reputation. *groan* Doesn't help that I had to type five million old football games when we ran out of stuff to do at work. I swear. If I ever see a televised football game again it will be waaaaaaaaay too soon...)
So anyway, I get the basic idea of the whole thing. So when C is like "Oh hey, got an intermural game tonight, you want to come?" I go through this process in my head:
Q: Is it Wednesday night?
A1: If so, no. So You Think You Can Dance is on, man!!! (I can't believe I haven't written about that yet. Let me sum it up with three words: RICKY RICKY RICKY)
A2: If no, might as well. Wife of the year, right here!
So this last week it was on a Friday, and I was like sure, why not. I understand football, right?
Ohhhh no. Turns out flag football is a whole bunch of weird stuff going on.
For starters, there is no tackling, really. I mean, there's the accidental "sorry I tripped you and made you belly-flop to the turf and lose your mouth guard" every once in awhile, but definitely not enough sports violence to keep me interested. All you have to do to "tackle" someone is pull their flag off, which leads to a lot of awkward grabbing in the butt area if you ask me. Just... no.
Then, there's the whole "you can't tell how big the field is" problem. So I'm watching this game, and I'm like "Yay, C's team is winning! They're so far down the field, there's no way they're not making touchdowns right?" Wrong. Those field are a lot bigger than you think. And it turns out that all the times I thought they were scoring? Nope... Just turning over the ball. I wondered why no one was excited... I definitely need a cannon to go off every time they score just so I can actually tell they've scored.
Bonus: No annoying cheerleaders! But not a bonus: Annoying blondes coming to games and cheering "Go Boyfriend!" every five seconds. I think I'll just take the cheerleaders. Yes, you read that right.
And there are no big Poly guys on C's team, at least. Just a bunch of skinny little white boys with synthetic flag-belt things gently waving in the soft Utah breeze. Man, it's a good thing there's no tackling. C's little skinny-man team would be total toast.
I think the whole downs situation is the same, although it's difficult to hear the three refs over all their shrill whistle-blowing. I swear, I'm going deaf thanks to these jokers. If I wanted to lose my hearing, I'd go to an ACDC concert. I thought I was safe at an intermural game. Lies. Lies! I'd be better off going to a concert and trying to keep my cochlear hairs intact then sitting in the maximum whistle exposure area at one of these games.
But hey, it's kind of fun to go watch C run around and feel manly, even if he is wearing a technicolor plastic flag belt. I just get to sit in my camp chair and play Frozen Free Fall (Addiction is real, kids. ABORT) while he gets to yell "Yes!" when he does something helpful or "gaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh" when he does something unhelpful. Makes him feel all Bear Grylls-y, and I get support points! Woo!
I'll keep you posted on how well his team does... They're in the tournament now. (There's a tournament for these things? Whaaaa?)
-K
P.S. You made it through all that text? Give yourself a self-five, Barney Stinson style!
And another for the road?
Today specifically, I'm talking about that weird thing guys do to make themselves feel tough, manly, and vaguely Bear Grylls-like... That's right, flag football.
Flag football? Yeah, I get it. Just stay with me.
Okay. So I've been to football games. Many football games. Want proof? Here!
 |
| See! Proof! I'm at a football game! With M! And I'm smiling! (And no, I wasn't smiling because we'd just gotten Costa Vida...) |
So anyway, I get the basic idea of the whole thing. So when C is like "Oh hey, got an intermural game tonight, you want to come?" I go through this process in my head:
Q: Is it Wednesday night?
A1: If so, no. So You Think You Can Dance is on, man!!! (I can't believe I haven't written about that yet. Let me sum it up with three words: RICKY RICKY RICKY)
A2: If no, might as well. Wife of the year, right here!
So this last week it was on a Friday, and I was like sure, why not. I understand football, right?
Ohhhh no. Turns out flag football is a whole bunch of weird stuff going on.
For starters, there is no tackling, really. I mean, there's the accidental "sorry I tripped you and made you belly-flop to the turf and lose your mouth guard" every once in awhile, but definitely not enough sports violence to keep me interested. All you have to do to "tackle" someone is pull their flag off, which leads to a lot of awkward grabbing in the butt area if you ask me. Just... no.
Then, there's the whole "you can't tell how big the field is" problem. So I'm watching this game, and I'm like "Yay, C's team is winning! They're so far down the field, there's no way they're not making touchdowns right?" Wrong. Those field are a lot bigger than you think. And it turns out that all the times I thought they were scoring? Nope... Just turning over the ball. I wondered why no one was excited... I definitely need a cannon to go off every time they score just so I can actually tell they've scored.
Bonus: No annoying cheerleaders! But not a bonus: Annoying blondes coming to games and cheering "Go Boyfriend!" every five seconds. I think I'll just take the cheerleaders. Yes, you read that right.
And there are no big Poly guys on C's team, at least. Just a bunch of skinny little white boys with synthetic flag-belt things gently waving in the soft Utah breeze. Man, it's a good thing there's no tackling. C's little skinny-man team would be total toast.
I think the whole downs situation is the same, although it's difficult to hear the three refs over all their shrill whistle-blowing. I swear, I'm going deaf thanks to these jokers. If I wanted to lose my hearing, I'd go to an ACDC concert. I thought I was safe at an intermural game. Lies. Lies! I'd be better off going to a concert and trying to keep my cochlear hairs intact then sitting in the maximum whistle exposure area at one of these games.
But hey, it's kind of fun to go watch C run around and feel manly, even if he is wearing a technicolor plastic flag belt. I just get to sit in my camp chair and play Frozen Free Fall (Addiction is real, kids. ABORT) while he gets to yell "Yes!" when he does something helpful or "gaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh" when he does something unhelpful. Makes him feel all Bear Grylls-y, and I get support points! Woo!
I'll keep you posted on how well his team does... They're in the tournament now. (There's a tournament for these things? Whaaaa?)
-K
P.S. You made it through all that text? Give yourself a self-five, Barney Stinson style!
And another for the road?
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