I like bowling. Turns out I like to wear other people's shoes and hurl balls at little pins far away. Turns out the stale air is good for me. Turns out I am a far better bowler than billiardist (word?). Turns out I am better at each of these things under 2 circumstances: 1. Drunk (but I wouldn’t know about that, since these were fieldtrip/parties for my munchkins.... Although one of my students COULD speak to that.... In the form of his spiked sprite bottle.... He got maybe two sips before I nailed him.... Its not like I was born yesterday) and 2. Not paying any attention to what I am doing. Turns out I somewhat belligerently don’t understand why bowling balls can be all sorts of glittery glistening colors but pool balls are never pink or turquoise or lime or brown....
Turns out that I am a SAP because I even love these pain-in-the-ass ball-and-chain children in JUNE, even while I was singing the "go home go home sarah needs to be alone" song at 10 or 11 or who knows when on Thursday night after a long ass week with so many of them kicking some peer education ass at conferences, etc. with me almost taking a nap on a pool table during our never-ending-year-end party despite loud music, big big boys surrounding me babbling in my ears about god know what and who, schooling bad-decision boozer-boy, gaggles of cute teens playing pool and eating pizza and being sweet to each other in the weirdest ways by saying things like....
R to B- You KNOW I mean you KNOW T_________ wont play me cuz she's hella scared, man.
B to T - T_________! Ya know what? R__________'s over there saying you're scared to play him cuz he's that good.
T screaming across 4 tables to R - WHAT?! R________! You say I'z SCARED to play you?
R- I sure did! (fat grin)
T- R_________! I'ma gonna to kick ya ass. And then I'm gonna kick ya ass at pool, boy. (oh, pizza! can I get a slice? Thanks, sarah.) R__________! I kill you. Don’t make that face boy. I'll seriously kill you. I won't even use this pole.
Me: (Audible) Sigh.
THREE more days ....
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