It's rare that I blog about the inter-workings of my rugby team. And, if I do, I always veil it as something else so unless you REALLY knew what I was talking about you would have NO clue whatsoever. This time, however, I can't be as vague.
I'm working on our team's third annual bachelor auction and trying to do my overachiever best to make sure that people who need stuff for their auction date package get what they need. There are a few that are terminally clueless, creative-less, and lots of other "less"-es that seem to need a little extra nudge to get things moving but usually I'll come up with an idea that they will love.
Not so with this one guy who shall remain nameless.
One of the guys on our team has season tickets to the Mets. Now, I know, I know, I know. It's the Mets. But who cares since the guy is donated four tickets to a Mets game. FOUR! That's TWO DATES worth! That makes my life so much easier.
So...I went up to one of the guys who is of the clueless, creativeless sort and told him that I had Mets tickets for him. He hemmed and hawed and gave me the traditional, "Eh...I dunno, Brian" shrug before he said, "Well...I just don't like the Mets."
Now this, of course, I can totally understand but for the love of all that's holy I came about as close to blowing up as I ever had. "You don't like the Mets? Who cares? It's one game! It's not like I'm asking you to trade in your Yankee pinstrikes! IT'S FREE FUCKING TICKETS, FOR CHRISTSAKE!!!" After more hemming and hawing, I finally gave him my traditional "whatever" signoff and proceeded to pass them off to the super hot British guy. You can't understand a word he's says but when he takes his shirt off you just want to lick him from head to toe.
I may blow my entire tax return on this one...*insert evil grin here*
Nah...I'll be good....