I’m finally back in Redondo Beach after four days at the home of Ron, my writing partner. We’re currently trying to woo a producer with a brilliant, never-seen-before story idea, and we wanted to email him an outline before Easter.
Ron is an obsessed sports fan. For the last two days, all he watched was NCAA basketball. I need to talk to my therapist about being more assertive with the TV remote control. I use to blame Sophia for hogging the TV because we always end up watching HER shows (how do you think I got hooked on All My Children?) Now, I’m realized that it is MY fault, not Sophia’s. I’m always letting the other person make the TV decisions. When I’m with Sophia, I watch “The Bachelor.” When I’m with Ron, it’s the NCAA. It is the exact same pattern. Mark my words — one day soon, I’m going to grab the remote control first. If I ever get married again, god help that woman. She’s going to be watching BBC America and “The Simpsons” all night long.
Last night, Ron brought me to his friend’s home for… guess what?! — to watch a college basketball game. The house was jammed with male alumni of Cal State Fullerton. The “Titans” were playing in their first championship game in 30 years. Everyone was wearing an orange Titan cap or a Cal State Fullerton t-shirt with the team mascot, which looked, at least to my eyes, like a weird caricature of Ganesha, the Hindu God of Success (or maybe it was just a really ugly elephant).
The living room was cramped. I ended up sitting next to an athletic-looking guy whose name I don’t remember. Let’s call him GUY.
It was awkward sitting next to Guy. He was yelling and screaming “Pass the ball, F**ker!” a lot, and didn’t seem interested in much of what I had to say. I definitely have been spoiled by my female readers. I relate to you. I feel that you care about every word I write. I may be wrong, but I’m pretty confident that I wow you with every post — even a dumb post about eating a Pop Tart for breakfast — and a good 72% of you will still be imagining what it would be like to take me on your kitchen table like a tigress in heat while your kids are at school. We click that way.
Women are easy for me. It is talking with men that requires the work.
First Quarter of Cal State Fullerton Game
Neil: “How many of these players make it to the pros?”
Guy: “Very few. Maybe 1%.”
Neil: “It seems as if these schools are using these players. The schools make a lot of money with these games and the kids make nothing. And since so few are going to make it in the pros, shouldn’t the schools be pushing them to spend more time trying to get into law school?”
Guy: “What do you care? Are you their mother?”
Second Quarter of Cal State Fullerton Game
Neil: “Recently, I read that female professional cheerleaders make fifty bucks a game. Did you know that?”
Neil: “I couldn’t believe it when I read that. The players make six million dollars and the cheerleads make fifty bucks. Even the Dallas Cheerleaders. I wish I was a union organizer for the cheerleaders of the world. The guy selling beer in the stands makes more money.”
Guy: “Maybe they like cheerleading for the team.”
Neil: “Nah, would YOU want to wear a skimpy outfit and bounce around for NOTHING?”
Guy: “Huh? That’s weird. What are you talking about?”
Third Quarter of Cal State Fullerton Game
Neil: “You want any of these “Sun Chips?”
Guy: “Ha Ha, Sun Chips are gay.”
Neil: “I’m not crazy about them either, but gay?”
Guy: “You know.”
Neil: “Yeah, I’m not being politically correct or anything. I sometimes say something is “gay” too, even though I try not to, but I usually say it for something that is considered feminine, like the ballet. I can understand someone saying, “Going to the ballet is gay,” but really — “Sun Chips are gay” just doesn’t make any sense.
Guy: “OK, forget it. Sun Chips are not gay.”
Neil: “And frankly, some of those gay ballet dancers are pretty strong. They could probably kick our asses.”
Guy: “I doubt it.”
Neil: “Do you want any potato chips? They’re straight.”
Fourth Quarter of Cal State Fullerton Game
Ron pulls a chair next to the couch.
Ron: “Hey, Guy, have you met Neil? He’s my writing partner.”
Guy: “Oh yeah? I heard about you. You’re the one who writes the blog, right?”
Neil: “Well, yeah…sometimes…”
Ron: “You should see how many women come to read his blog. There’s hundreds!”
Guy: “Cool. Have any of them ever shown you photos… of their tits?”
Neil: “Well… uh, actually, uh… yes.”
For the first time of the evening, he actually looks my way, as if I now exist.
Guy: “I’m gonna get a beer. You want a beer, Neil?”
The perfect icebreaker! My new friend, Guy. Thank you, Blogosphere! I can’t wait for BlogHer.
Unfortunately, Cal State Fullerton and their Ganesha mascot lost the game. (so much for the Hindu God of Success)