How did nearly 40% of adults miss the memo about bringing a mitt to the ballpark?
How Not To Get Laid | Articles – Smartasses Magazine
Men With Ball Gloves
There is no Easter Bunny.
Surely your parents told you this, by age twelve at the latest? Therefore, why in God’s name did these otherwise decent parents, neglect to tell certain siblings that more than likely, they will probably not be anywhere near a foul ball when attending a baseball game, and there is therefore no remotely logical reason whatsoever, for any full-grown adult… to bring a baseball mitt to the ballpark?
Yes. This is a great idea for kids. Kids like to wear their Little League uniforms everywhere, so arguably, they like to carry their mitts around at every conceivable opportunity as well. So it’s perfectly okay to rub Jimmy’s bushy little head of hair, let the young lad believe that foul-balls simmering by his gig are quite the normal happenstance, and tell him, ”We’re goin’ to the ballgame, so ya better bring that glove along and catch yourself a foul ball, Slugger!”
It’s a great concept. The kid remains seated this way, albeit squirmingly and with bated breath, through nine innings of an otherwise yawn-inspiring sport that would normally have unoccupied, sugar-filled children dancing in the aisles. Not a peep will be heard from these normally unruly tots, due to the notion that at any given moment, a horsehide will come blazing by, and only through the power of a $15.99 Rawlings glove and catlike reflexes that they alone possess, can countless innocent bystanders be saved. Whoever thought of this, truly is as genius as the person who made up the rule that you have to be asleep before Santa Claus visits.
But what kind of sick parents… sit back… and watch… their 38-year-old offspring continue to head to the ballpark… knowing that he’ll be trying to precariously balance a game-program, Pepsi, hot-dogs and probably some nachos, with only a two foot by two foot area to store it in, and callously neglect to tell him that additionally lugging along that well-oiled Spalding outfielder’s mitt, is as illogical as frantically searching for a nickel under your pillow if you’d happen to lose a tooth?
Baseball gloves, are not a necessary evil to attend a game. For the love of all that is Holy, why on Earth do grown adults continue to believe that it is? First and foremost, calculate the odds, and that alone should reveal how ludicrous the notion is. But if that isn’t enough, realize, and comprehend the truism that, in the event of an actual foul ball coming within a three-foot radius of your personal space bubble, there are actually six-year-old girls who can put down the Barbie doll and be tough enough to bare hand one, should the extremely, unlikely need… actually arise.
For the love of God, there is no Great Pumpkin either.
More Advice For Men
When one is a child, and goes out to eat with Mom & Dad, there really are only two rules: One- Shut your mouth; Two- Don’t spill your drink. That’s it. Honoring these rules, basically means you won’t get spanked. The rule book for men dining out on a first-date, actually only has two simple rules as well:
One- No matter how thrifty and efficient you may be, those personality traits don’t exactly scream ‘Fabio riding a white horse’. Eat at least 90% of your meal, and forfeit the uneaten remainder. Never, ever, ever ask for a doggie-bag. Just saying the word ‘doggie’ alone is cause enough for your man-card to be revoked, and no woman wants a man who can’t finish the job, or one who gives a damn if he’s wasting food or not.
Two- No matter how thrifty and efficient you may be, ‘thrifty & efficient’ don’t exactly scream ‘brawny fire-fighter with a twenty inch axe-handle’. Under no circumstances, never, ever, ever use a coupon. You may feel like a winner and a Czar for using them, but in actuality, it screams ‘wimpy-accountant-guy who… probably still sucks his thumb at night’.
Trust me. Breaking these rules means you won’t get spanked.
Girl Scout Cookies
I don’t subscribe to the Girl Scout Cookie theory. It’s a scam. It’s not like buying the cookies helps to finance the purported “guard duty” they provide.
Seriously, never, in any of my frequent walks through the deep forest, have I ever caught a girl in a green plaid skirt, on top of a wooden tower, with a pair of binoculars, or at least a hand across her brow… surveying the landscape and actually ‘scouting’ for anything.
And until they do? I’m not buying the cookies.
What’s the deal with that anyways? Who bakes cookies in the woods? Are there little Easy Bake Ovens inside the larger trees? Are they in league with the Keebler elves? If you wanna be a chef, be a chef. If you wanna scout? Then scout!
Curiously enough, if a Brownie wants to sell me some brownies door to door? Those I’ll buy… because at least that makes sense.