Monday, May 9, 2011

Money, Meet My Mouth

Morning Readers,

     Covered in relish, ketchup and all matter of condiments that make hotdog-eating somewhat of a sideshow act, my dinner looked down right seductive. "I love you", I whispered. Preparing to take a Sasquatch-sized bite, I opened my mouth and instead of welcoming hot dog utopia, was promptly "shanked" in the ribs by an elbow. Husband had begun to point at someone coming up the stairs of the ballpark. "Now's your chance", he laughed. "Go one and tell him what you think." And just like that, he was staring me in the face...and I....I was armed only with a hotdog..

     A running joke between me and Husband, my annoyance with a certain baseball announcer is no secret. Loud-voiced, rotund, and down-right goofy as hell, this particular wielder of the microphone does his very best to make sure I question whether I can sit through another game with Husband. Baseball's considered America's favorite pastime, but somewhere along the line, Mr. Announcer decided it America's favorite time to listen his mouth run..
     Here I am I'm trying to figure out how one player got from first to third base and wracking my brain trying to pull the definition of "outfield", when Loud Mouth grabs the camera and starts rambling about nothing in particular except how he managed to match his pants to his shirt that day or how the players are "feeling" before the game. Time and time again I'd tell Husband, "The day I meet that man, I'm gonna give that chubby Bob Barker a piece of my mind."
     And so it came to pass. Sunlight glinting off his silver hair and playing off his neatly-matched, navy suit, Mr. Annoucer Man made his way up the concrete steps towards me, Husband, and my hot dog. Camera men in tow, he moved faster than my brain had time to lock quips together like tiny, sarcastic Lego pieces.   
     "Here's your chance. Now, when he gets here, really lay into him. You may never get another chance. I'll flag him down." Husband couldn't contain his excitement. With horror, I watched the man I married flag down the mad man I despised, all in the name of putting my money where my mouth was. I was never spooning with him again.
     "Hey! How's it goin man? Really nice to meet you. This is my wife." He motioned towards me, the moment of truth smacking me harder in the face than a baboon with boxing gloves. And what did I do, Readers?...What did I do?...
      I nodded. That's it. Like a Puritan minister channeling a mime, I nodded and half smiled. All the hours of waiting to tell him off and I was a wiener, no better than the hot dog looking up at me. Announcer Man smiled a toothy grin. "Thanks for coming out guys. Have a good one."

Husband looked over at me. "Oh yeah, way to give him a piece of the old mind. Very intimidating."

"Whatever, I was just being nice. Did you see the way he smiled? He's lucky he didn't a hotdog to the face. A little thinner than I imagined, but then, the camera does add ten pounds...or 200."

"Your being mean. Eat your hotdog."

     And so I sulked and ate my hotdog in silence. I'd ruined my chance, but maybe it was for the best. If I'd laid into him too hard, he would've spent the rest of the night crying on camera. I would've dwelt on it longer if the guy next to us hadn't picked a fight with Husband...but that's another story altogether....

Until Next Time Readers!