Yesterday had it all. It was, to say the very least, an intriguing day.
I could bitch about the absurdity that was work, but it wouldn’t be very amusing. Well, maybe it would if you really enjoyed corporate nonsense.
I could go on to talk about how I spoke the words “What? We’re gonna fight?” to a pudgy effeminate-sounding man while watching our 4-year olds play soccer. Well, that one bears telling anyway, but not quite yet. In fact, on its own, it was like Manna from heaven for this silly diaryblog. But, no, it only got better after dinner.
I’ve told you all that we live in a townhouse, right? And, as such, there is a Board and occasional meetings. Well, last night was an annual meeting to elect a new board.
Let’s just say that I’m now going by “Mr. President”
A bunch of us owners wandered down to the pool (JewelrySlut was at home with Shmuppie, getting her ready for bed). Several of our Court-mates spotted me and we exchanged pleasantries. Pretty much, I knew from then that I was on the Board if I wanted (or even if I didn’t want). So, I volunteered myself for the ballot and ended up getting the most votes of everyone…sentencing me to a 3-year term. I think I got on simply because I was by far the youngest person running for anything by like nearly 30 years. A little young blood never hurt.
I had wanted to get on the board anyway, so none of this was bad yet. It only got truly amusing once we split off into a group for election of officers. At which time, two fellow Court-mates (also elected) nominated me for President. It came down to me and a retired minister. Let’s just say that Jesus was not voting last night.
So, here I am.
Funny thing is that if I’d stayed home to watch Shmuppie, JewelrySlut would be president. If either of us showed, we were winning. But, I’d like to think that my hulking manliness, mucky scent, and overall charisma got me over the top.
It will be OK. I just need to learn a few things. Like to give a shit about stuff like this and how to chair a meeting. I mean, we have motions, minutes, amendments and shit of the sort. I tried to explain that my job takes me out of town quite frequently, but nobody cared. I was not getting out of this thing.
I’ll be happy to serve because there’s a major issue at hand that could really impact us. A lot of the retirees want to close and then sell off the pool. They’re using the “I don’t use it, why should I pay for it?” argument. They figure that if they sell the pool, dues will go down. While that’s true, there are a few major problems. One is that in the Bylaws it states that you can’t sell common property. So, to even think about it, you’d have to re-write the Bylaws. Even then, it may not be possible to sell of common property. Then there’s the other reason. Our little complex backs up to 2 large apartment complexes. We’re fairly shielded from them by a lot of trees. But, that’s who they want to sell to. That’s bad because, a lot of the apartments are Section 8 (or Section something) housing. Namely; poor black people. (Lots of police cars and drug busts) Paint me a racist, but it’s a fact, Jack. Just over the trees is a mostly unpleasant place. Now, how does that impact housing values? Not well I say. Not well at all. The pool area would become a mess. We also have a tennis court that’s been locked. In the past, it was open and had a basketball hoop on it. Well (let me get out my wide brush of generalization), in the past, it turned into Rucker Park and hosted any number of undesirables. Again, not good for home values. If they were to sell the pool, we’d list the house that day. No doubt in our minds.
So, other than the selfish reason of wanting the pool, I also figured it might be fun to watch people act like assholes. I figured it would give me writing fodder for ever.
Then they put me in charge.
This is going to be quite fun. But, I need a new Title. Mr. President or El Jefe just don’t do it for me. How should I make people address me? I’m asking you folks to help out your NoGoodDaddy here.
Wanna hear my other tale? The one about how I almost came to fisticuffs on a Micro Soccer field at the local Y? It’s a good one.
Shmuppie has been playing Micro Soccer for going on 3 weeks now. It’s for kids who are 3 or just 4. They play on a tiny field, like 3 on 3 or 4 on 4 with no goalies. As the coach says “herding cats”. There’s not a whole lot of real soccer going on here. Just the other day, off the “drop ball”, Shmuppie took the ball the length of the field. She tried to shoot, but went too far to one side of the goal. Rather than dribble back, she picked the ball up, put it in front of the goal, and booted it in. Like I said, not a lot of real soccer here.
Until last night.
We played the red team.
Before the game, the coach on their team gathered the kids around him for a Sportsmanship chant/group prayer. (Remember this)
Right off the tip, this one kid on their team clotheslined Tucker (a kid on our team who is actually quite good for his age). Tucker got up and was promptly knocked on his ass again. They stopped play, reset and gave our side the ball. BAM. Same result.
On the sideline, I’m laughing my ass off about this because it’s funny. But, JewelrySlut and Tucker’s mom don’t think it’s funny. Tucker’s Mom is concerned and yelling things like “Hey Coach…that’s not fair”. The red coach just keeps telling Parker (the kid on his team) that he’s doing a great job. Every reset leads to Parker belting one of our kids, Shmuppie included. After he positively tackled Shmuppie on one of her breakaways, it got personal. I stared a hole through Parker’s father. It had gotten out of control. Tucker was crying, Tucker’s Mom was almost crying, and the red coach was encouraging it. Our coach likes to rotate the kids in and out of the game and make sure they all get a chance with the ball. As you can imagine, there’s not a lot of passing at this level. It’s: hand the kid the ball…watch them go straight. Well, red coach is repeatedly giving Parker the ball and pretty much excluding his teammates.
Basically, he’s trying to win.
A game of micro soccer.
Played my toddlers.
After yet another attack by Parker, Tucker’s Mom and JewelrySlut started really yelling. Parker’s father goes onto the field and yells our way “He’s only 4″. I yelled back “That’s why you need to get out there and talk to him”
Now, I yelled for 2 reasons. As a certified asshole, I was trying to rile the guy up. He looked like a prick and was clearly not setting a good example for his kid. And, I was the only Daddy on the sideline and, NoGoodDaddy or not, I had to protect my Soccer Moms.
Parker’s dad went on the field, talked to his kid and then made a beeline towards me.
Oh boy, I thought. Confrontation time.
He swished over and started in with me.
(Now, please imagine someone who looked a little like Nathan Lane, but had a real faggy-sounding Southern Accent)
“Do you want to ssssstep over tttthhhhere to dissssscussss thisssss?”
“Are we going to fight?!?” (That was in my excited voice because, honestly, the thought of throwing down right there on the soccer field would have made my life. I think on my Top 5 list of awesome things to happen (Wedding Day and the day Shmuppie was born being 1 and 1A) this would have been in contention for #3. I was psyched)
“No…but he issssss only 4. He’s not doing it intentionally. He’s jussst a little agressssssssive”
“I understand they’re all 4. And I would most certainly hope that he was not trying to hurt our kids, but something needs to be done because this is getting out of hand”:
“He issssss only 4″
“And that’s why you need to go talk to him and not encourage his behavior” (look at me…NoGoodDaddy himself, dolling our advice)
“He issssss only 4″
At that, he swished off.
After the game, our coach was a little bewildered. He apologized but tried to explain to the kids that sometimes you have to deal with mean kids and try your best and not try to hurt the other kids. It was kinda sad because for the rest of the game, Tucker played very tentatively. He seemed afraid to go near this other kid. And, that’s not cool. The object of this league was not to win games; it was to introduce a team sport to kids. I’m all for winning, but am not so keen on having my kid terrorized.
I just wished I could have thrown down. It would have been epic.
So, what’s my new title, folks? Come up with a good one.