sportysportsportz.

This morning as I was driving away from Starbucks after having ordered 1 grande skinny hazelnut latte (no-sug/non-fat por favor) and receiving 1 grande iced skinny vanilla latte... (Mind you that I didn't make a scene as many a douche will do. Instead, I giggled to the adorable little teeny bopper barista boy and said in my best and kindest, yet pushed-over, voice, "Omigosh no it's fine! They all taste the same anyway... don't even worry about it. I'll take the vanillar." I love me some good service industry mistakes.) I was thinking about my day yesterday which was chalked full of sports:

AM: USA vs. Algeria World Cup biz
NOON: Demo from the Long Drive Champ
PM: Rockies vs. Red Sox series at Coors Field

God bless America.

One thing I just lurrrv about American sports fanatics (or non-fanatics... in the US fair-weatheredness is second-nature) is what they will do A. to watch a game, and B. while they're at a game. As the diligent little HR girl that I am, I was delivering checks to Finance yesterday and came across one of the conference rooms packed full of my company's cool kids watching the final minutes to the US-ALG soccer game. So as the cool kid and somewhat fair-weatherer that I am, I stopped in and parked it in the back of the room to watch. And ohhhh mah gawd am I glad I did. I instantly turned into an American Outlaw (see: insane soccer fan base) and when the U.S. made the game winning goal at 92 minutes, I'm sure everyone went a little damp in the pants. After the giant uproar in the conference room, people came running (literally, run-ing) to see what the commotion was about and once seeing the screen, instantly melded into Outlaws themselves. It's a fever... and I dig it.

Next thing I knew, I was in my coworker's car headed out to a company picnic at our golf course to be filled with large amounts of delicious gut-rot food (which made for a very unpleasant afternoon back at my desk) and to watch a demonstration from the U.S.'s Long Drive Champion (or maybe World's? whatever). So out walks this little pipsqueak of a man in white skin-tight golf pants (secretly I was a little jealous) and he proceeds to launch a bunch of golf balls 400+ yards showing little to no effort. Insert: company underoo change #2 of the day. This was just ridiculous, but not quite as entertaining as the crowd's OOOOs and AHHHs as Pip drove the ball through a piece of plywood, 2 watermelons, backwards, upsidedownwards, onhiskneeswards, and anyotherwaywards. So I guess Long Driving is a sport these days... I know so little about the world.

The afternoon druggggggggg on and at 5:00 I scored a ticket to the Rockies-Red Sox game, making the rollercoaster day instantly spike back up. What I lovelovelove about baseball can be summed up in the following:

1. Bathroom breaks are acceptable at any and all times because of the copious amounts of alcohol consumed. People understand that when you gotta go, you gotta go.
2. People yell obscenities thinking the pitcher/ump/whoever actually can hear them... from hundreds of yards away above all of the other drunken screaming fans...
3. Balding, middle-aged men always find it appropriate to take off their shirts, rain or shine, revealing hairy beerbellies and sweaty manbizoobies, and "twist it round their head like a helicopter..." (thank you, Bloc Party). No nonsense there.
4. The Seventh Inning Stretch is undeniably an excuse for people to stand and pretend like they're stretching their legs, but rrrrreally what they're doing is airing out their swassy bits. (Definiton of swass: SEE: Heidijo and Sarahbelle circa 2008 Czech Days...)
5. The sno-cone guy believes you when you say you're more interested in him than the sno-cones... damn you coworker friend for putting me in that superawkward pozish.
6. Do people really watch the game? All I see people doing when the big screen cuts to them is... DANCING! Their eyes are glazed over in that dopey state of blissful wiggliness known to all dancers and definitely are not anywhere focused on the field in front of them. And for this reason and this reason alone, I am in love with baseball.

That is all. Thank you, U.S.A., for amusing me with your sporty things.