Several years ago, I was involved in organizing a kickball team for a group from work. It was a fantastic team compiled of only my friends. We named ourselves "Big Red Balls" and had an email alias of slownbouncy (further proof of why it's good to be in with the helpdesk guys). One of our team mates designed shirts and we were basically the shit. As in the shittiest team in the league. I mean, we looked good but that doesn't mean we played good. We thought we were awesome but I definitely don't remember actually winning a game. I do however remember Kim and I getting into a verbal altercation with the bees from the chuck norris team. I also remember getting told by my teammates if I didn't quit socializing, and actually start playing, I was going to have to leave the team. Needless to say, Big Red Balls didn't last past that season that I can remember. But not before I rewrote the lyrics to Big Balls by AC/DC and supplied everyone with their own copy of lyrcis. Kinda like a Cameron Crazie getting ready for a Dook game.
I've got big (red) balls
I've got big (red) balls
And they're such big (red) balls
fancy big (red) balls
And he's got big (red) balls,
And she's got big (red) balls,
But we've got the biggest (red) balls of them all!
And speaking of big balls, that brings me to my next little nugget. And to be honest, I'm quite surprised (and disappointed) at myself for not blogging about this sooner. Balls make everything awkward, especially when you're in 7th grade Speech and Debate class in the ghetto of Charlotte. My teacher was this very large woman; I believe her name was Ms. Mason but I really don't remember. Every day she gave us a topic for us to debate or give an unprepared speech about. With absolutely no direction at all. You may ask why we never got any direction and that is a very good question. I can only surmise that it is because every day, while we had to get in front of the class to give an impromptu debate or speech, she sat in the back with an 8 inch tv and a box of fried chicken. Y'all. Not even I can make this up. And while we gave our impromptu speeches or debated horribly with one another, she sat in the back of that room, watching day time tv and sucking on chicken bones. The only commentary we got from her peanut gallery was when she would look up and yell "LET ME SEE YOUR BALLS!" I finally got the nerve - err, balls - to ask her why she kept screaming that at us. She responded with "well, how else are you going to learn to make eye contact?" To this day, I am completely bewildered as to how screaming at a bunch of awkward, puberty stricken 7th graders to show you their balls seemed like a good idea.
One thing is for sure, every time I give a presentation, I imagine that woman sucking on her chicken bones in the back of the room while screaming at me to show her my balls.