TKO

Somehow I am super-swamped with things to do today, but I wanted to get in a quick note on last night's Ultimate Frisbee game so that people who see me don't think I was involved in some kind of school yard fist fight. The bruises on my head, arms, hands, and legs are not the result of a brawl, they are the unfortunate product of playing a game with foolishly competitive men.

I feel that I should mention here- this isn't even a real league we're talking about. This is just a rag tag group of people who feel like running around with a bright green disc. Nevertheless. Some of these rag taggers need to chill the eff out.

One such man was so tall that when he leaped into the air to tackle the innocent frisbee his sneaker actually clipped the back of my head. This same man wore white tube socks and white Reeboks, and a too-short shirt, and I have it on good authority from a friend that he giggles when he kisses. Are your theatrical leaps trying to make up for something, sir? Hmm? So I couldn't suppress a snort of derisive laughter when he collided with one of my teammates and his white sneakers (and even whiter legs) got dirtied and a bit bloodied.

Anyway, if I appear a bit roughed up, you now know why*. NPW plays contact frisbee, yo. Don't front.


*Except for the ring of bruises around my knees, which are the result of having a glass table in your living room that you can't get rid of because it was a gift from your parents.