Why There's No Olympic Medal For Body Builders (And Other News about Baseball)

Conversation Du Jour between Kelly (who loathes Baseball) and Dave (who Loooooves Baseball):

Kelly: Wanna watch the Olympics?
Dave: Oh, please no! The entire Olympics are comprised of people sliding from one place to another... They slide down hills. They slide on ice. They slide down ice chutes... They slide lying down. They slide standing up... They slide big rocks...
Kelly: Kind a like Baseball?
Dave: What?
Kelly: They slide into first! They slide into second. They slide into third. Sometimes they slide feet first. Sometimes they slide head first. Slide, slide, slide.

Then, Dave just looked at me, kind of cockeyed. Then he didn't say anything else. He did, however, make me watch, in lieu of the Olympics, a TLC story about a female body builder who didn't *exactly* deny steroid use. "No one gives us credit for the exteme athletecism body builders exhibit..." said the she-male, deep voiced, waxed and polished woman with 2.8% body fat and breast implants.

I just want to watch someone slide down a hill. Badly.

Burger Zing

Occasionally, I try to make my 'unmarried-till-buried' friend, Jeremy, feel better by explaining things that might make him less upset about being unattached. Truth be told, he's probably looking for someone so perfect they don't exist, but I feel badly for him nonetheless. I saw him today, and was thrilled to give him another installment in the continuing saga of Kelly and Dave. (BTW, Dave gave me permission to tell y'all about this).

Dave and I were on our way to band practice last night. I hadn't eaten, and asked him to stop at a Burger King on the way. He pulled up to the drive in. as he lowered the window down, he looked at me in a panic. "You talk, honey." I asked him if he wanted anything. "Um, no."

"You sure?"

"Oh. Ok. Um. I'll take a burger."

The little metal speaker asked if it could help me - so I asked it to get me two Whopper value meals. Dave turns to me and whispers "I don't want that!" Why he didn't correct the order by speaking directly to the little metal speaker, I'll never know. He then drove to the pay window. "Scott'll eat the burger."

"But you just said you wanted a burger, David..."

"I didn't want that burger. I wanted a little burger."

"You don't have to eat the whole thing."

"Scott can have the burger."

"Fine."

As Dave drove to Scott's, I ate half of my Whopper. I wrapped the other half because I was full. I stuffed it back in the bag. Dave parked the car on Scott's street. He looked at me and said, "You didn't even give me a bite!"

That was all I could take. I reached into the bag and handed him the wrapped half Whopper. I said, "Ok. First you want the burger, then you don't want the burger because it was the wrong burger. Then you wanted to give the burger to Scott - and now you're upset that I didn't offer you a bite of the burger you told me you didn't like... Stop confusing me!"

He took the half burger and asked, "Can Scott have the other burger?" "Yes," I replied, "Scott can haved the other burger."

Dave swallowed a bite of the burger he initially didn't want. "This hits the spot, Kelly..." I gave him that look. I can't describe - but you know the look I'm talking about... kind of a 'deer-in-headlights-meets-the-all-work/no-play-jack-the-dull-boy' look.

Meanwhile, I present Scott with the remaining uneaten burger. Scott pipes up, "Kelly, I can't eat your burger!"

(Apparently, no one can.)

I looked at Scott and said, "Sure you can." He asks if I want half. I assure him I do not.

He walks towards his refrigerator. He wasn't hungry. He'd already eaten dinner, but Scott is not the sort who looks a gift cow in the mouth. "Is it okay if I save it for later?" he asks. "Totally okay with me," I replied.

Today, he e-mails me after lunch to thank me for the Whopper. "Don't mention it," I replied.

I really meant it, too.

So, for Jeremy and all of you Jeremy's out there - This was just one of those ridiculous nights that happened because Dave probably didn't want a burger in the first place, but said okay because I was offering and then the whole burger zing just got out of hand... Tonight, I asked Dave if he actually wanted the burger in the first place. (I have this feeling that I often talk Dave into doing things he doesn't want to do) "Well, no, but the little one sounded good."

"Oh," I said, "Well, why didn't you tell the little metal box what you really wanted?"

"Well," answered Dave, "It was kind of an authority figure. It was a done deal..."

I just laughed. Honestly, after I finish writing this post, I'll never ever mention Burger King again.... Although I will store it up as material for my book!