Guilty Pleasures
The Collective has asked yet another question, the answer to which requires more than a mere comment that would take up too much room in a comment section. The question: What are my guilty pleasures? I have only one that I can think of and I’m not even sure that it counts as a guilty pleasure. It’s definitely a pleasure and I feel kind of guilty about it, but I probably shouldn’t. Oh, wait. I have two guilty pleasures if I count the person in the pit in my basement who steadfastly refuses to put the lotion on its skin, which inevitably results in it getting the hose again. It’s a simple request, the lotion thing. I don’t understand what the problem is. Just stubborn, I guess (pffft, women).
The other less oscar-winning guilty pleasure concerns my athletic ability. I’ve always sort of kept it in check because my head is violently opposed to me in a lot of ways. Nevertheless, I’ve been pretty good at a lot of things, and very good at a few things. I don’t really spend a whole lot of time on athletic fields these days due in equal measure to time and opportunity, but here’s the back story to my guilty pleasure:
People frequently underestimate me. This most recently happened during a little golf outing, golf being one of the things at which I used to excel (long story, future post, have the hankies ready). There was one dude, as there so often is, who felt like he needed to prove himself worthy of the state-of-the-art clubs that he carried and the pleated khakis that he sported and the wrap-around shades that he probably wore in order to properly read the undulations in greens that I doubt he knew how to read in the first place. Anyhoodle, we were talking about golf, as you tend to do when preparing to play golf, and I said that I grew up playing and had competed at various amateur levels, sometimes pretty successfully, but that I didn’t really play anymore mostly for economic and time reasons. I think he saw my assertions of past talent as both some weird sort of dare and a golden opportunity to make some money, because he challenged me to a friendly little competition involving a portion of our incomes.
To make a long story medium length, I proceeded to destroy him. Actually, I embarrassed him. It was over long before the 18th hole, and I just continued to pummel him (figuratively, of course). I think I may have even forced him to question his faith at one point. So, my guilty pleasure: Publicly annihilating people who sell my abilities (athletically, academically, Scrabble-y, etc.) short.
Yeah, this would’ve been a long comment.
Sir @ January 22, 2010
pleats. pfft.
i don’t think i would ever even think to sell you short in ANYTHING. in fact, i’m pretty sure you could kick everyone’s ass in EVERYTHING.
I win at golf every time I play. My score is always the highest.
The way I remember it is that I was kicking your ass so badly at Scrable that you went and contacted Hasbro and got the site pulled down just to spare yourself further embarassment.
Wow, that’s kind of evil. You should feel guilty.
That is awesome…if you’re willing to bet be prepared to lose, suckah!!!!!
That’s completely, unabashedly, unrepentantly evil.
I’m inappropriately turned on right now.
I find it hard to be appropriately intimidated by a guy who says ‘Anyhoodle’. Bring it on.