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Friday, April 23, 2010
A Julia Child/Julie Powell-esque Blog/Challenge
With my new server, I have set some new goals. A new friend of mine has a level 77 death knight. I want to see how fast we can level him doing nothing but dungeon runs. I of course, will lead the group as tank/healer depending on what the pug elects to participate in. But, here is my new challenge: How long will it take us to level the Death Knight from lvl 77 to 80 with the assistance of me, pugs, and double xp?
The Death Knight should have the following items:
First, Deadly Boss Mods:
So, returning to the challenge: Can I level a DK 3 levels in three days doing nothing but instance runs? The contender: Metaphoria, the Opponent: the WoW leveling System and Pug Groups. 72 Hours, and counting.
The Death Knight should have the following items:
Deadly Boss ModsThese three items are necessary for many reasons, and I’ll go through them individually.
Threat/DPS meter
Titan Panel
First, Deadly Boss Mods:
Deadly Boss Mods is required by most guilds for Raiding, and is highly encouraged for instance interaction. When a boss is about to perform a rather dangerous spell, cast or melee, DBM will warn the player. This is extremely necessary to keep the player informed of events which will ultimately cause an untimely death if ignored, cause a high repair bill, and possibly wipe the group/raid.Threat/DPS meter
Ok, so these items probably aren’t as necessary for beginning players, however, I think it is important for “noobs” to be aware of what their damage is, and how changing a spell rotation can affect their damage. I would recommend something like Omen and Recount for beginners. Some may suggest Tidy Plates, but I have yet to experience this one yet (although I begin my trial tonight).Titan Panel:
This item will be more for my use than the DK’s, but it is a very nice addition as it offers a lot of information in one central location. It will give you: time to level estimates, your total gold amount, bag space and so on.
So, returning to the challenge: Can I level a DK 3 levels in three days doing nothing but instance runs? The contender: Metaphoria, the Opponent: the WoW leveling System and Pug Groups. 72 Hours, and counting.
Hey, You, Guild Deserter!
Yes. I did it. I moved my druid over to the Proudmore Server. I feel kind of stupid for doing it. But there were several motivations behind it:
I know the last one seems a little ridiculous, but the fact is, it is really nice to chat with a bunch of people who are gay—it’s kind of like the new hang, the online gay “club” of sorts. I’m not saying that I’m in this guild in pursuit of something—I would be naïve to assume that I could find my lover in WoW, especially while tackling the new life of Graduate school. Aside from that, there is no reason for me to pursue love-life relationships via WoW with the new availability of real life potentials.
That being said, there is something irresistible about online flirting. Is it because you actually don’t know the person, so you can be slightly more… open?
Regardless, I feel guilty for just leaving my guild. I sent the present leader a quick, “Don’t hate me, I’m leaving the guild for another server,” and was gone. The transfer went through within about forty-five minutes, and before I knew it, my Druid was on a new server (which, ironically, had less lag for some reason…)
So, Motely Dragon Guildies, don’t hate me for deserting you. You still have my Paladin! And someday I’ll return to you. That’s a promise. :)
1. Proudmore is a PVE server only, which in short means I never have to deal with gankers.
2. I’m getting more social with some of the other guild members, and finally fulfilling some sort of role.
3. My DK was an attestation to me being an epic failure in game (now I can prove to them that I wasn’t jesting about having an 80, which is pretty decently geared).
4. Better flirting in a gay guild (my guild was great, but this one is better).
I know the last one seems a little ridiculous, but the fact is, it is really nice to chat with a bunch of people who are gay—it’s kind of like the new hang, the online gay “club” of sorts. I’m not saying that I’m in this guild in pursuit of something—I would be naïve to assume that I could find my lover in WoW, especially while tackling the new life of Graduate school. Aside from that, there is no reason for me to pursue love-life relationships via WoW with the new availability of real life potentials.
That being said, there is something irresistible about online flirting. Is it because you actually don’t know the person, so you can be slightly more… open?
Regardless, I feel guilty for just leaving my guild. I sent the present leader a quick, “Don’t hate me, I’m leaving the guild for another server,” and was gone. The transfer went through within about forty-five minutes, and before I knew it, my Druid was on a new server (which, ironically, had less lag for some reason…)
So, Motely Dragon Guildies, don’t hate me for deserting you. You still have my Paladin! And someday I’ll return to you. That’s a promise. :)
Monday, April 19, 2010
Encounter with Mr. So-and-So
Met with Mr. So-and-So on Saturday. He was actually ridiculously cute, and really nice. But, he was late. Once, again, the plan was that he would be down to Montrose sometime around six, and we would meet around then. Cool. It was a Saturday night, as was it also Prom for the High Schoolers, so there wasn’t much of a chance of me going out.
My mother had provided me with a non-cheap bottle of wine. I had worked on my Jeep (AKA had my friend Erik work on my Jeep for me) and then went home and cleaned the house. Not just picked up mind you. I cleaned. I did all of my laundry, and even got it folded and put away. At 5:30, I hop in the shower. I get out, still nothing on the phone, but that’s cool. 5:50—I’ve now gotten dressed and have been messing with my hair, and accessories. Still nothing. 6:10—it’s okay, it’s a 30 minute drive from where he is. 6:30—I call. “Hey, when we talked earlier today I couldn’t remember when you said you’d be down, let me know!”
7:30, he calls. “Yeah, so we’re just now leaving.” OK.
Thirty minutes later: I have completely cleaned the apartment (including mock-mopping the floor), brushed the dogs, brushed my teeth, drank a glass of wine, smoked half a cigar, been tempted to open the other bottle of wine as it is now
8:50, and he calls again. I tell him how to get to my place, and he shows up about 13 minutes later. I meet him at the door, and I kind of freeze. He’s much better looking than I expected. And then there is kind of a weird aura. Do we kiss? Do we hug? My landlady knows I’m gay, but her husband is kind of a bigot… So probably want to avoid that. I invite him down stairs, and the kids (dogs) immediately attack him. He’s friendly to them of course, but I can tell he’s a little annoyed. He doesn’t really want them to be licking him. But that’s ok.
Pour a glass of wine, we chat, learn some things about him. And tell him way too much about myself. He wants to go out and smoke a cigarette (which I did too, but I don’t because I quit) so we stand outside for a bit. Another awkward almost touch moment, but I can see the landlord’s Aunt moving around in the house next door, so we don’t.
Go back inside, and he mentions leaving. Okay, that’s cool. He has a dog also, I understand not leaving it alone for long periods of time. But then he doesn’t. We talk a little longer, and I can tell he’s losing interest. What does he want? So I offer games, and movies (which essentially would require cuddling on my bed because my TV is in my bedroom). He seems tempted but then something in him decides against it. That’s cool, not the end of the world.
He gets up to leave, and we have a weird hug/hand holding moment—and I’m feeling shy at this point because I’m confused as to why he doesn’t want to stay longer, but it’s okay. He leaves, I send him a text saying something to the effect of “Not going to lie, wish you could’ve stayed longer.” Go outside to let the dogs out and I see a car which I think is his make a U-turn down the street. Maybe he’s coming back?
Nope, the car drives on, past me.
That night, end up talking to this young man I had met on Friday who lives near Greeley. Really sweet, genuine and intelligent. We seem to have an equal balance of things in common (such as World of Warcraft, even though he doesn’t play anymore) and many things that are not in common (he trains for marathons, I am out of breath after 10 minutes of running). Talk to this person the rest of the weekend, don’t really make any efforts to talk to So-and-So because New Guy is slightly more persistent in conversation. Sunday, talk to New Guy for an hour and forty minutes, and right when I’m rambling about how my ex read my journal and then accused me of cheating on him (that’s another fun story in itself) I hear New Guy snoring and realize that I should probably let him go. Right before I hang up, New Guy comes to and apologizes, and I tell him to go to bed. And I look at my phone. New message from So-and-So:
My mother had provided me with a non-cheap bottle of wine. I had worked on my Jeep (AKA had my friend Erik work on my Jeep for me) and then went home and cleaned the house. Not just picked up mind you. I cleaned. I did all of my laundry, and even got it folded and put away. At 5:30, I hop in the shower. I get out, still nothing on the phone, but that’s cool. 5:50—I’ve now gotten dressed and have been messing with my hair, and accessories. Still nothing. 6:10—it’s okay, it’s a 30 minute drive from where he is. 6:30—I call. “Hey, when we talked earlier today I couldn’t remember when you said you’d be down, let me know!”
7:30, he calls. “Yeah, so we’re just now leaving.” OK.
Thirty minutes later: I have completely cleaned the apartment (including mock-mopping the floor), brushed the dogs, brushed my teeth, drank a glass of wine, smoked half a cigar, been tempted to open the other bottle of wine as it is now
8:50, and he calls again. I tell him how to get to my place, and he shows up about 13 minutes later. I meet him at the door, and I kind of freeze. He’s much better looking than I expected. And then there is kind of a weird aura. Do we kiss? Do we hug? My landlady knows I’m gay, but her husband is kind of a bigot… So probably want to avoid that. I invite him down stairs, and the kids (dogs) immediately attack him. He’s friendly to them of course, but I can tell he’s a little annoyed. He doesn’t really want them to be licking him. But that’s ok.
Pour a glass of wine, we chat, learn some things about him. And tell him way too much about myself. He wants to go out and smoke a cigarette (which I did too, but I don’t because I quit) so we stand outside for a bit. Another awkward almost touch moment, but I can see the landlord’s Aunt moving around in the house next door, so we don’t.
Go back inside, and he mentions leaving. Okay, that’s cool. He has a dog also, I understand not leaving it alone for long periods of time. But then he doesn’t. We talk a little longer, and I can tell he’s losing interest. What does he want? So I offer games, and movies (which essentially would require cuddling on my bed because my TV is in my bedroom). He seems tempted but then something in him decides against it. That’s cool, not the end of the world.
He gets up to leave, and we have a weird hug/hand holding moment—and I’m feeling shy at this point because I’m confused as to why he doesn’t want to stay longer, but it’s okay. He leaves, I send him a text saying something to the effect of “Not going to lie, wish you could’ve stayed longer.” Go outside to let the dogs out and I see a car which I think is his make a U-turn down the street. Maybe he’s coming back?
Nope, the car drives on, past me.
That night, end up talking to this young man I had met on Friday who lives near Greeley. Really sweet, genuine and intelligent. We seem to have an equal balance of things in common (such as World of Warcraft, even though he doesn’t play anymore) and many things that are not in common (he trains for marathons, I am out of breath after 10 minutes of running). Talk to this person the rest of the weekend, don’t really make any efforts to talk to So-and-So because New Guy is slightly more persistent in conversation. Sunday, talk to New Guy for an hour and forty minutes, and right when I’m rambling about how my ex read my journal and then accused me of cheating on him (that’s another fun story in itself) I hear New Guy snoring and realize that I should probably let him go. Right before I hang up, New Guy comes to and apologizes, and I tell him to go to bed. And I look at my phone. New message from So-and-So:
thanks for meeting up with me yesterday. Hope to see you again before you go.
Friday, April 16, 2010
WoW Shyness: The Journey of Joining a New Guild
I recently joined the Guild Taint on the Proudemore Server. The process was relatively painless except for the fact that I spent probably eight hours in a special room waiting to be invited to the guild. Anyhow, I got into the guild and I discovered something about myself: I am terrible at meeting new people.
The guild is gay friendly, so it’s not because I’m nervous about outing myself, or saying something inappropriate. And to be honest, it’s not like I have anything bad to be nervous or shy about. But this is what happens when I log on:
The guild is gay friendly, so it’s not because I’m nervous about outing myself, or saying something inappropriate. And to be honest, it’s not like I have anything bad to be nervous or shy about. But this is what happens when I log on:
(Narcyssis): Hi everyone!And the reason I know this is a problem:
(Taint): Chirp. Chirp. (Yes, crickets)
(BillybobJoe): Waz up!Ok, so that might be a little exaggerated but that’s kind of how I feel. I mean, surely they recognize the fact that if I have a Deathknight, that means I atleast have to have a lvl 56 SOMEWHERE in the game. So, the next day, I try to emulate some of the other “tainters.”
(Taint): YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYYA Hey what’s up! We missed you.
(NoobieSally): Hey Tainters!
(Taint): OMG, it’s Noobie Sally! OMG, we LOVE You.
(Narcyssis): How’s it going tonight?
(Taint): Chirp. Chirp.
(Zimrock): My foot hurts.
(Taint): AWE! I’m so sorry! That sucks. Are you okay?
(Narcyssis): hey Tainters!
(Taint):
(Narcyssis): How’s it going tonight? My foot hurts!
(Taint):
(Narcyssis): Wazzzuuppppp?
(Taint):
(Narcyssis has logged off)
(Taint): YAYAYAY LETS MAKE LOTS OF NOISE AND TALK TO EVERYONE BUT NARCYSSIS!
(Narcyssis has logged on)
(Taint) *pin dropping on the floor*
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Epic Failures (Real Life again)
Last night, I was supposed to go on a date. The details were vague, and exchanged over the internet. But, I wasn’t nervous or anything, because my mother knew the guy in question. The convo went something to this effect:
We message/email back on connexions for a couple of weeks, not really setting anything up—or actually having a convo other than me gushing “My mom thinks you’re really cute and that we should go out on a date” (I know, freaking pathetic right? Don’t judge me, I live in a very small town, and it’s been a long time!)
So anyhow, last week I get this message from him which says the following:
Ok, so he’s no Shakespeare, and to be frank, normally if I would have gotten a comment like that I would have been like, “Way too f’ing vague for me… no thanks.” Because, it’s true. I’m a bit of a plan-a-holic. But, let’s face it. I really want to go out on a date. I haven’t had any lip on lip action with another guy for… well that’s not the point. So I reply:
So, I get on connexions, and I write this:
And I get this reply:
So, I’m like awesome… He’s planning on it! He said to… call… later… what the? When is “later?” says my overly analytical mind. “After six?” What the hell does that mean? Like, five minutes after six? Fifteen minutes? Seriously, I don’t understand vague talk. So, I go through my day, and I have my writers group (which was awesome—did it outside and got a lot done with my friend). And I get my outfit planned out (actually, I had somehow pulled together a cute outfit for work, so I just freshened up). And 5:50 approaches. I realize, I don’t know what he means by “call me to set up later,” so I’m like—well, it’s techinically later. So I call—it goes straight to voicemail:
“Hey So-and So, it’s Daniel. It’s 6:00, which means it’s really 5:50 because all of my clocks are set ten minutes ahead… anyway, I realized we didn’t really have any plans, and I’m going to do somethings around the house, so I will probably lose track… so call me when you’re ready. 970.555.5144.” And I hang up.
So, I go about doing other things, playing with the puppies, brush my teeth, play some WoW. And I check the time. Shit. 6:05. Crap. So I go about doing some other things. 6:15. Still nothing. So I send a text message:
“Can’t remember if I left my phone number. Lol: 970.555.5144.”
And I go about doing some other things. It’s okay right? I mean, it’s only 6:45, andI haven’t heard anything… So I call my mom: “haven’t heard anything, I think I’ve been ditched.” I set my facebook status to say: “Will be opening the table for bets that his “date” cancels… $5.00 anyone?” to which I get several replies…
I’ve pretty much given up when the phone rings at 7:25.
“Hey Daniel. My phone died, sorry, I’m at the Verizon store and they let me charge it. Where are you?”
“Oh, I’m at my house…”
“Cool, where is that I’ll be right over.”
“oh… well um, I wasn’t really planning on meeting you here, my house isn’t really presentable” (but if you would have let me know earlier that you wanted to meet here I could have been cleaning it this past hour… jerk…) “But we could do dinner or something.”
“Well, I don’t know. It’s been a long day. I’ve been in a meeting since 6:30. But I’m coming back Saturday.”
“Oh, well that’s cool.”
“Yeah, let’s reschedule for Saturday. I wouldn’t be good company anyway.”
Ok. So, looking back on it, it really isn’t that bad. I mean, at least he called… even though it was an hour and half late. And his excuse was viable—I mean cell phones die a lot. And Saturday is cool… but I look so cute… and I rearranged my day to be sure to be free… and I looked cute…
To Be Continued.
Mom: Oh my god Daniel (yes, she really says OMG). There was this cutest guy in the office yesterday talking to my boss. I wanted to try and find a way for you to be down here so I could introduce you, but you were working, and I didn’t want to call you.
Me: Oh—That’s cool. What’s his name?
Mom: Well, I’m not exactly sure that he’s actually gay. But I think he is. I know So-and-So was talking about him being on this website.
Me: Website? You mean Connexions.org?So, I go to the internet, and I pull it up and search for him. Sure enough. There he is. 30 something, living a short thirty miles away. So, I send him a message.
We message/email back on connexions for a couple of weeks, not really setting anything up—or actually having a convo other than me gushing “My mom thinks you’re really cute and that we should go out on a date” (I know, freaking pathetic right? Don’t judge me, I live in a very small town, and it’s been a long time!)
So anyhow, last week I get this message from him which says the following:
Hay. Hey.
seems like evry week is crazy. looks like i'll be in montrose wednesday next week - maybe catch up after 6:00?
Ok, so he’s no Shakespeare, and to be frank, normally if I would have gotten a comment like that I would have been like, “Way too f’ing vague for me… no thanks.” Because, it’s true. I’m a bit of a plan-a-holic. But, let’s face it. I really want to go out on a date. I haven’t had any lip on lip action with another guy for… well that’s not the point. So I reply:
Yeah, that should work for me...I'm usually done by four. I do meet with a writers group either Tuesday or Wednesday, but I can make it work. I'll put you in the BB calendar for Wed. @ 6.So I tapped him into my Blackberry: “Subject: Meet with So-and-So, Location: ? Time: 6:00PM.” So, Wednesday rolls around, and I realize: I have no details whatsoever of what will happen on Wednesday. And I like details. I like schedules, and planners and time keepers (even though I’m usually 10 minutes late to work…).
So, I get on connexions, and I write this:
Hi So-and-So,
Was just going through my planner and I had you down for sometime after 6--is that still right? Just let me know so I can arrange my puppy schedule and such. Hope you had nice week.
Daniel
And I get this reply:
hey daniel - after 6 today is the plan. call me to set up later - i'll be away from email all day. 970 555-5555.
So, I’m like awesome… He’s planning on it! He said to… call… later… what the? When is “later?” says my overly analytical mind. “After six?” What the hell does that mean? Like, five minutes after six? Fifteen minutes? Seriously, I don’t understand vague talk. So, I go through my day, and I have my writers group (which was awesome—did it outside and got a lot done with my friend). And I get my outfit planned out (actually, I had somehow pulled together a cute outfit for work, so I just freshened up). And 5:50 approaches. I realize, I don’t know what he means by “call me to set up later,” so I’m like—well, it’s techinically later. So I call—it goes straight to voicemail:
“Hey So-and So, it’s Daniel. It’s 6:00, which means it’s really 5:50 because all of my clocks are set ten minutes ahead… anyway, I realized we didn’t really have any plans, and I’m going to do somethings around the house, so I will probably lose track… so call me when you’re ready. 970.555.5144.” And I hang up.
So, I go about doing other things, playing with the puppies, brush my teeth, play some WoW. And I check the time. Shit. 6:05. Crap. So I go about doing some other things. 6:15. Still nothing. So I send a text message:
“Can’t remember if I left my phone number. Lol: 970.555.5144.”
And I go about doing some other things. It’s okay right? I mean, it’s only 6:45, andI haven’t heard anything… So I call my mom: “haven’t heard anything, I think I’ve been ditched.” I set my facebook status to say: “Will be opening the table for bets that his “date” cancels… $5.00 anyone?” to which I get several replies…
I’ve pretty much given up when the phone rings at 7:25.
“Hey Daniel. My phone died, sorry, I’m at the Verizon store and they let me charge it. Where are you?”
“Oh, I’m at my house…”
“Cool, where is that I’ll be right over.”
“oh… well um, I wasn’t really planning on meeting you here, my house isn’t really presentable” (but if you would have let me know earlier that you wanted to meet here I could have been cleaning it this past hour… jerk…) “But we could do dinner or something.”
“Well, I don’t know. It’s been a long day. I’ve been in a meeting since 6:30. But I’m coming back Saturday.”
“Oh, well that’s cool.”
“Yeah, let’s reschedule for Saturday. I wouldn’t be good company anyway.”
Ok. So, looking back on it, it really isn’t that bad. I mean, at least he called… even though it was an hour and half late. And his excuse was viable—I mean cell phones die a lot. And Saturday is cool… but I look so cute… and I rearranged my day to be sure to be free… and I looked cute…
To Be Continued.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Epic Sport Failure
I try to write funny things. And I fail. I think it’s because I have a dry sense of humor. Perhaps it’s because I like rules, and I follow them. I would never think to include hand drawn (ridiculously bad but heartwarmingly cute) pictures in my blog.
I can’t speak authoritatively about anything, because I’m not particularly good at anything—and at the same time, I’m not bad at anything either. Except sports…
So I have this friend, who every time he sees me the first thing he does after we greet is begin his talking about sports: “Something, something, something … extra inning… goal post… something else about jersey.” I wanted to blame my inability for sports talk on being gay.
“I don’t play sports… my hand eye coordination sucks. I have a hard time…” never mind. But that doesn’t quite work, because one would think that being a gay guy, I would enjoy watching men tackle each other while stumbling for a ball which has to pass over a certain line.
I started thinking about this inability to even enjoy sports. Why do I find it so… boring? Why is it that when I see any sort of sport thing on TV, I immediately switch to something else. Or, if I’m at a bar, I find something else to do—like shred my beer label into tiny little pieces, or fold my napkin into an origami crane (true story).
I have an English, BA—so it can’t be that I don’t comprehend the terminology. “A touchdown” isn’t that hard to understand. You take the ball and eventually it “touches down.” A “Home Run” is exactly that—you hit the ball so hard that you get to run home for it. An “inning” is obviously in reference to some sort of time period—thus when someone says “Wow, the Rockies went into a 9th inning,” I understand this “inning” must be rather special and rare. Soccer is of course the easiest of sports to understand. You have a goalie (who guards the goal) and offensive and defensive parts of a team, so on and so forth. But do I enjoy watching it? Heck no. Would I ever sacrifice my day for a game? Hell no.
I think, thus, the best explanation for my inability to like sports is that I have something called Sports ADHD. I don’t have real ADHD, and I’m pretty sure ridilin would not be beneficial to me. However, my Sports ADHD is truly saddening because sometimes I feel like I am missing out on some sort of awesome interaction with some awesome people. That my lack of awesomeness is determined by my Sports ADHD. I mean, I should be able to get into baseball—it’s quite exciting in a way. You have a team of guys in nylon-cotton mix overly baggy but somehow still tight uniforms with stripes and colors. They have a cool decal signaling who they are—I can recognize the Rockies symbol, and the Red Sox symbol or the New York Yankees symbol. That’s all fine and dandy. But then there is the pace of the game. You get a team who gets to “bat” first.. And they go until they get three strikes (aka no one hits the ball). Then I consider wrestling or boxing. Heck, I have a little bit of a dark side, I should enjoy watching guys choking each other or punching each other in the gut—especially when is in a sport defined “A-Ok” atmosphere. Football can be rather exciting—you have guys who are big and strong and overall good athletes. Although some of them are dumber than a box of rocks, they’re cute and date hot actresses and singers… and then they have cheerleaders and…And … oh forget it just writing about it makes me bored. I’ve already found four interesting sites about nude base….never mind.
I can’t speak authoritatively about anything, because I’m not particularly good at anything—and at the same time, I’m not bad at anything either. Except sports…
So I have this friend, who every time he sees me the first thing he does after we greet is begin his talking about sports: “Something, something, something … extra inning… goal post… something else about jersey.” I wanted to blame my inability for sports talk on being gay.
“I don’t play sports… my hand eye coordination sucks. I have a hard time…” never mind. But that doesn’t quite work, because one would think that being a gay guy, I would enjoy watching men tackle each other while stumbling for a ball which has to pass over a certain line.
I started thinking about this inability to even enjoy sports. Why do I find it so… boring? Why is it that when I see any sort of sport thing on TV, I immediately switch to something else. Or, if I’m at a bar, I find something else to do—like shred my beer label into tiny little pieces, or fold my napkin into an origami crane (true story).
I have an English, BA—so it can’t be that I don’t comprehend the terminology. “A touchdown” isn’t that hard to understand. You take the ball and eventually it “touches down.” A “Home Run” is exactly that—you hit the ball so hard that you get to run home for it. An “inning” is obviously in reference to some sort of time period—thus when someone says “Wow, the Rockies went into a 9th inning,” I understand this “inning” must be rather special and rare. Soccer is of course the easiest of sports to understand. You have a goalie (who guards the goal) and offensive and defensive parts of a team, so on and so forth. But do I enjoy watching it? Heck no. Would I ever sacrifice my day for a game? Hell no.
I think, thus, the best explanation for my inability to like sports is that I have something called Sports ADHD. I don’t have real ADHD, and I’m pretty sure ridilin would not be beneficial to me. However, my Sports ADHD is truly saddening because sometimes I feel like I am missing out on some sort of awesome interaction with some awesome people. That my lack of awesomeness is determined by my Sports ADHD. I mean, I should be able to get into baseball—it’s quite exciting in a way. You have a team of guys in nylon-cotton mix overly baggy but somehow still tight uniforms with stripes and colors. They have a cool decal signaling who they are—I can recognize the Rockies symbol, and the Red Sox symbol or the New York Yankees symbol. That’s all fine and dandy. But then there is the pace of the game. You get a team who gets to “bat” first.. And they go until they get three strikes (aka no one hits the ball). Then I consider wrestling or boxing. Heck, I have a little bit of a dark side, I should enjoy watching guys choking each other or punching each other in the gut—especially when is in a sport defined “A-Ok” atmosphere. Football can be rather exciting—you have guys who are big and strong and overall good athletes. Although some of them are dumber than a box of rocks, they’re cute and date hot actresses and singers… and then they have cheerleaders and…And … oh forget it just writing about it makes me bored. I’ve already found four interesting sites about nude base….never mind.
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