Kickball team extraordinaire El Guapo got together last night for our end of season kickball team party. It was REALLY the end of season party, since the season ended, um, back in October.Most weeks when we played, it was freezing-ass cold outside, so we were layered up like Randy in "A Christmas Story."
Why does this matter at this juncture?
Because when we got to the party last night, I hardly recognized anyone. No one was wearing stocking caps, sweats, gloves, and four coats. People look really different when their heads aren't covered, you know?
It's almost like we're Kickball Superheroes. Mild-mannered young professionals who sometimes enjoy playing Rock Band by day, but come Thursday nights, we jump into the phone booth and miraculously change into uniforms for kicking some kickball butt.
I enjoyed some really good homebrew, and Adam and I both got to eat smoked ribs and brisket.
And, as with any party of twenty- and thirty-somethings in 2009, after dinner, the Rock Band was fired up. Seriously, what did we do with ourselves before that game was invented?
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