You know, sometimes rules are meant to be broken. And no, I don’t mean get back to drunk driving, or flash your naked sausage in public. I mean all those rules no one needs, but are there, because someone wanted to feel useful for once in their miserable life, and created them.
I was watching a volleyball game the other day (for like 5 minutes total..) and it made me remember of my own volleyball experience. We used to have gym classes in University. People were saying that the classes were like concentration camps, but I never believed them. So I got myself signed up for volleyball. Biggest mistake of my life!
There was a handsome, extremely tall guy there, who I kept staring at, until he approached me and we talked a little. So me and my vagina, were looking forward to those classes!
I don’t know why, but I always thought, that volleyball meant “try to hit the ball, without breaking your arm” . So this is what I was basically doing my whole life and it was fun as hell.
But of course, as most things in life, when you have high expectations, they’re quickly and painfully demolished, and you’re violently smashed into the cold and salty ground.
Everything went, as smooth, as my social skills when I’m on my 4-th beer, until we had to actually play some volleyball.
The teacher, with a bored and tired expression, kept shouting out all of the rules on how to properly play the game, but they were so many and so boring, I couldn’t keep track of them.
“Place your feet slightly wider than your shoulders, your weight should be forward on your toes, bent the knees. Bend the elbow, stretch your hand, straighten the elbow, hit the ball. No, we don’t do that! We don’t hit the ball with the bone, this is wrong! Okay, now learn to attack. Go on, attack! You mean you don’t know how to attack? Basically you have to run to the ball, bend the knees, stretch your palm, straighten the legs, stretch your back, make a slight 180 degree, hit the ball . The ball should make a sharp triangular trajectory…. ” etc..etc..
At first I tried to be productive and do as the woman says “Bend the
knees, stretch the…what now?…serve the ball… I wish I was at home eating doughnuts...” I tried to have a glance at other people and this made me slightly happier, because no one knew what the fuck they were doing. There were some girls that were prancing around like beheaded chickens, a guy who was venting all his anger and frustration on the ball and kept hitting it with such might and ferocity, I thought he would kill an innocent bystander, the handsome tall guy was a professional obviously, but he was one of the few.
Needless to say, after seeing my abilities, he was majorly disappointed. He must have thought I was someone who did sports and lived healthy…don’t be too quick to judge mate! After the game, he did smiled again, but there was this specific look in his eyes. A certain look your parents make when they see you laying drunkenly on the couch with vomit all over your shirt…the look of disappointment.
Have you guys ever had negative experiences with some kind of a sport? Do you like sports? Are you good at them?
Anywho, time for fashion!
My mom jeans are getting really useful during the cold winter days. I got this sweatshirt from Nowistyle, which is perfect for layering. It has a zipper on the side and you can unzip it to uncover a floral button-down, a chiffon top, or a plaid shirt underneath. It works with everything!