I was enjoying a lovely night of volleyball at the gym on Friday night... (Some of you can see what's coming here, because you already know I was trying to enjoy a sporting event.) Since Holly was back in town for the weekend, we opted for "skybox seats" instead of our usual bleacher seats... Skybox is a Hollywood tradition!
It should be noted that the youngins who don't really care about the game have a tendency to gravitate towards the skybox, because ... well... the skybox is cool like that. So, being a supportive fan, and being in close proximity to youngins, (read highschoolians) who don't care about the game, trouble is brewing.
Two games into the match, I have gotten incredibly fed up with their constant bouncing of a practice ball on the track... I have tolerated being distracted from the match for as long as I can muster, and the less than rhythmic thumping of the ball is more than a little bit irritating... basically, I've decided someone is going down.
[C-Murda can attest to the factuality of this, as she was present.]
So I turned to these boys, and I asked them, "OK, SERIOUSLY, do you guys want to get stabbed in the heart? because that's about as fucking irritating as it can possibly be, and if it keeps up I'm going to stab one or both of you in the heart with my heel." (I was wearing stilleto boots.)
They apologized, moved away a bit, and stopped for a few minutes, but before long they started it up again... and this time the ball got away from one of them and bumped me in the back. Of course this prompted the death stare from me, and profuse apologies from them. I looked at them and said "KIDS, that's really fucking irritating, and all I want to do is watch the damn game... But I can't because you guys are fucking annoying me. I don't want to stab you, but I will."
They stopped.
The game ended.
We left and watched the NCAA hoops at a suburban sports bar. (For which I admittedly owe C some money.)
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