Once upon a time, the newf signed us up for water aerobics, resulting in an epic standoff from which it seemed there would be no victor. I said I would sooner busk the streets of suburbia doing the helicopter, he said I was being dramatic, I said there has not been a day on this earth that I haven’t maintained a cool and calm demeanor and how dare he insinuate otherwise in some form of relationship mutiny. Then other stuff happened but I never ended up in a pool so let’s assume I won.
Two years after this incident, I had grown, matured, relaxed, and other nicer ways of saying I stupidly let my guard down. So when our lesbians joined a recreational dodgeball league and needed at least two men on the team, I got caught up in the excitement. I thought back to how fun elementary school was, how awesome dodgeball gym days were, and how it’s one of those activities where it doesn’t matter how good you are. And then I said yes.
Now, obviously I could write a whole post on the many reasons why this was a foolish decision on my part. But let’s just assume that five years of posts on this blog have basically covered that ground in abundance and just power through…
The first of many struggles started when it came time to pull together the outfit. Which, if I may educate you all for a moment, is apparently not called an outfit when it comes to sports. So, to prove that I can belong in the world of athletics, what is and will clearly always be ‘the outfit,’ will now be referred to as ‘the uniform.’ Just know that calling it ‘the uniform’ instantly reduces my enthusiasm by thirty-five princess-points.
(And yes – I just invented a whole new scale of measurement in order to replace the homosexual whimsy that we lost in the renaming of ‘the outfit.’ Consider the playing field evened.)
For our first game night, I was told to bring a black tee and a white tee and before you get too excited, no – it wasn’t for fashionable layering purposes. Again, athletes don’t seem to appreciate the value of casual layering in their leagues which I’m afraid is going to cost them another fifteen princess-points.
(Seriously, for people who have a proven interest in competing to win, it’s like they don’t even care about earning enough to win a free My Little Pony at the end of the season.)
As it turns out, I don’t have many sport-friendly t-shirts. I know. You’re shocked. Their easy solution of just grabbing any black or white shirt out of the closet would have been much easier had they asked for vests. Or hats. I still maintain that team hats would have looked super sharp and intimidating.
Still, I managed to find a white v-neck and an old black tee with a distinct ‘leotard-esque’ quality that would just have to do even after spilling toothpaste on the shoulder, leaving a white stain that I was not entirely comfortable with. Meanwhile, the newf thought he found the perfect solution in a white and black striped, hooded tank top that was about two sizes too small.
Oh yes. We would be dodging balls. That much we knew for sure.
[Read on in part two: Space Jam beginnings and teabagged endings.]
Photo Credit: themarkpike
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And to be clear: the fact that my two-part epic tale of dodgeball is already 50% dedicated to the fashion of it all has not gone unnoticed.
Calling it a “uniform” is the only way that it’s acceptable to wear the same outfit as your friends in public. 30 princess-points to whoever looks best in it and makes the others look like dumpy referees.
Yes!!! The princess points are catching on!
I hope the follow-up post has pics of both ‘uniforms’!
We’ll see…but probably not.
There are some shames that just shouldn’t be shared.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with calling what you wear to dodgeball an “outfit”. Then again, this comes from a girl who is constantly chastised for saying things like “I’m rooting for (insert athletic team name here) because I think they have the prettiest costumes.”
I have totally picked teams based on outfits. In fact, much of my picks for NCAA final four tournament is based on the following (often in this order):
- colours
- mascots
- team names (Banana Slugs are winners in my books)
- which animal would win in a real fight/which animal is cuter (based on team names. Badgers vs Gophers?)
- coach’s choice of ties and/or suit jackets
- W-L record for the year and standing in their conference (okay, I know a teeny bit about college basketball).
Well, in that case, you should both know that our team name is Get The Hell Out Of Dodge and our uniforms are a blend of white and black tees plus whatever the gays manage to come up with fifteen minutes beforehand.
Best. Name. Ever.
I was recently asked to select a hockey team to root for, so I chose Nashville because it’s Carrie Underwood’s (husband’s) team.
The boyfriend was not happy.
Well, clearly you were giving him the perfect opportunity to root for Hilary Duff’s boyfriend’s team so that you two could have a wonderful rivalry. Not your fault that he didn’t pick up on it…
Wait – Hilary Duff’s boyfriend plays hockey right?
That’s the one with the sticks?
Yep. Her husband and soon to be baby daddy, actually.
Anything – ANYTHING- that utilizes outfits instead of uniforms, My Little Pony promises, plus PRINCESS POINTS leaves me waiting with bated breath for part deux.
And I’m the same way. I get really excited about something then freak the fuck out when it comes down to it because HOLY FUCKING MOTHER OF GOD WHAT WAS I THINKING?!? The acceptance of this self-realization has me leading a life of saying ‘no’ a lot. Others think I am missing out on ‘fun’, but I know there is no real ‘fun’ for this bitch to be had in athletic activities of ANY sort. Fuck that shit and let’s go get froyo will always be my response.
PLUS TEN PRINCESS POINTS FOR ENTHUSIASM AND HONESTY!
and the use of the word “fuck” in many many parts of speech.
Those points were a given.
Pretty much sums up how I feel about going to the gym… and also, when I first started watching football (american football, idk what the hell they call it in Canada… ) I picked who I liked watching based on the “outfits”; I am a lesbian, not a girlie one either, but I really prefer outfits over uniforms. (Sidenote, that year, before I was “corrected” I liked the New Orleans Saints because their outfits were black and gold and oh-so-pretty.)
1) It’s just plain football here in Canada! Or, ‘that sport that all of our teams suck at’.
2) Outfits trumps uniform because it sounds more fun, less stodgy and militant. I feel like we could make a reasonable argument to switch everyone over to ‘outfit’ officially.
3) I’ve never been more thankful for lesbians than when playing dodgeball on a team full of them. God love you caring, athletic, rough-and-tumble chicks for making up for us flighty, emotional, would-rather-be-baking gays.*
*It’s okay to wax stereotypes so long as you hit both sides.
LOVE THIS!! And just as a note, I pretty much ride ponies for the outfit. And yes, that’s totes what I call it. It’s my pony outfit and I love it! Tall boots, blazers (which, because we’re fancy, call hunt coats), stretchy pants, what’s not to love? I’m pretty sure that your athletic endeavours should really switch to ponies.
WHEN CAN I SIGN UP FOR THE LOOKING HOT ON PONIES LEAGUE?!
Oh man if I didn’t know you were gay before, this post certainly cleared up that question =)
Also Dodgeball as a sport? Really???
100% agreed on both points!
“The first of many struggles started when it came time to pull together the outfit. Which, if I may educate you all for a moment, is apparently not called an outfit when it comes to sports.”
Best sentence of my entire week.
Hidden within the organized sports coal, we still manage to find diamonds.
Or something more scientifically plausible. I don’t feel like doing research on that one.
Obviously, we are now in a fight because I couldn’t even get you to join my FANTASY sports league and EVERYBODY knows that The Gays are practically contractually OBLIGATED to participate in things that include the word “fantasy” because it holds the promise of glitter & chiffon.
Plus it would’ve been less efforty and sweat free, PLUS “the outfit” is entirely up to you.
But whatevs. It’s cool.
And GG will be expecting a My Little Pony in the mail. Just sayin.
We are NOT fighting about this again. NOT in front of everyone!
We need to go back to couples therapy.
Oh dodgeball. Here’s where we run into trouble. I’m assuming this is the type played with large rubber playground balls that leave bright red waffle shaped marks on the skin, and not the fun, almost anyone can play it, type with nerf balls that I played in school? You kind of lost me as soon as you said sports. My entire interest in sports ends as soon as the guys start wearing too many clothes.
Also, how many points until you move from princess to pretty princess, and to the ultimate level of pretty, pretty princess?
You know, the balls are halfway in between both options. Meaning, it’s not painful when you get hit, but they’re also impossible to throw. Meaning meaning, I basically throw like a princess the whole time.
But the most important thing: How fabulous do you look while throwing? Or is that part of the next entry?
We could write an entire series on how predictably poor I am at throwing.
But yes. Next post.
I think this calls for photographic evidence of said “uniforms”.
We didn’t get any. Luckily, this is a weekly thing until DECEMBER. Meaning there is plenty of time for photographic proof of embarrassment!
L O L
Thanks!!
There is nothing about this post that I don’t love. I am waiting in rapt suspense for the next part.
I’m not even sure if I used “rapt” correctly but I think I did, either way, it seemed like a situation that called for it.
Oh right. I need to get on part two, don’t I?
Also, I didn’t look up the appropriateness of “rapt” but I’m willing to go with it if you are!
[Insert favoured greeting here.] Because I can’t do greetings; I really over-think them, and then decide that if I can’t even manage a greeting, I absolutely have no business attempting to talk to people on the internet.
I’ve actually been banned from dodgeball. I forget that I’m only supposed to aim for the lower half of people, and then just aim for anything that looks like it might chuck a ball my way. Children may have been involved…though really, children, you are the lower half of some people. And WHY are you hanging out on dodgeball courts anyway? I suddenly feel as though I’ve taught them a valuable lesson.
And you are brilliant, sir. Brilliant. Even while miserably failing, you do it brilliantly. I’ve always thought, if you’re going to make a mess of things do it in a way that people will remember. It garnishes sympathy, and then people will love you all the more. Just look really pitiful when it’s all over…I’m pretty sure if I leaned that way, I could have a harem.
There’s aiming in dodgeball? You can actually help determine in what direction the ball will go?? WHAT TREACHERY IS THIS?!
Also, thank you for reminding me I should probably be playing against children.
Not treachery. Witchcraft, pure and simple. I had to sell my soul in a ritual involving the eating of a couple…ahem. Never mind. Point is, I gained the ability to control inanimate objects through tactile contact. And red hair.*
Tips for playing against children? Don’t. They are vicious and cheat. Adults at least are willing to stick to rules. The cheating calls for absolute decimation, and seeing as I got rid of my soul, I no longer have qualms against forcibly eliminating children.
*Sidenote A: I know at least one ginger I believe most certainly does have a soul. Doesn’t mean I won’t use them for my own humour purposes. Goes along with the selling of the soul thing, again. Apparently this selling the soul thing has many unexpected perks.
Oh please. As if I have any qualms about exercising my grown-up advantages over children. Just yesterday I moved a kid’s toy out of reach just for funsies.
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