In basketball. Tonight was the season opener, and since Joey talked me into purchasing season tickets with him, off we took ourselves to the game. They properly creamed Long Island University, aka “the Blackbirds.” Fighting Irish so trumps blackbirds. Anyway, my attention is not hugely captivated by basketball, so I spent the time supplying helpful (or at least interesting) commentary to my patient boyfriend. For example:
“Those coaches’ suits must be so sweaty by the end of the game with all of that arm-flailing and random squatting. You would think they would be so uncomfortable.”
“You know the teenage son in Little Miss Sunshine? He so reminds me of that kid from high school!”
“That one kid on their team has really baggy shorts. It makes him look even shorter than he already is.”
“Look at the band! I LOVE the band!” (accompanied by arm clutching and desperate pointing)
Poor Joey. Good times, though. And I got to wear my snazzy student section t-shirt. Some soda-like product found it fitting to soak my reclining bookbag and its contents while we watched the game; I’m not a fan, soda-like product. Not a fan. But such is life. I’ll take cheering my heart out in a basketball game over homework any day.