Balls are Funny
I think balls are funny. Especially tennis balls, golf balls and pretty much all balls men carry around and discuss. This may be immature, shallow and slightly depraved, but I cannot help it. When someone mentions balls, I have to laugh. For example:
I'm standing in the corner of the tennis court waiting for hubby to use the bathroom when orange-spandex -shorts-guy comes walking past with his bucket of balls(pauses here to giggle). First of all, he shouldn't be wearing spandex of any sort and the orange calls extra attention to this fact. I try very hard to laugh quietly and he doesn't notice even though he's now entered the tennis court next to mine.
Husband returns just as spandex-shorts-guy bends over and accidentally dumps his balls out. Ever helpful husband dashes over and says "Let me get your balls for you." Orange spandex-shorts-guy grunts, "thanks, man, %$#@& balls always do this." At this point, I cannot control myself and am bent double, grasping the fence and laughing so hard it hurts. When spandex-shorts-guy thanks husband for picking up his balls, I cannot remain standing and fall to the ground, gasping for air.
Husband hurries over to make certain I'm not dying. "You okay Honey?" he asks, bending over me with real concern in his eyes. Right then, spandex-shorts-guy's partner arrives and is informed that yes, spandex-shorts-guy's balls were spilled again and yes, another player helped him pick them up before they rolled into the muddy ditch outside the fence. Partner waves to hubby and yells "thanks for saving our balls!"
Now, I'm seeing stars and it's several minutes before I can calm down enough to form intelligible words. Hubby knows me though and by this time, he has figured out what's going on. He offers me a hand and helps me stand. We walk back toward our own bucket of balls and just when I think I've got myself under control, he looks down at me with a familiar evilness in his blue eyes. "You want to play with our balls some more? I could go wash them first if you want. No one should play with dirty balls as much as we do."
I manage to sock husband in the stomach before doubling over in uncontrollable fits of giggles. Husband has no mercy though, and while I am struggling for air, he takes up his one-sided conversation again. "They need new balls," he says in a very serious tone, "some of theirs are all cracked and stained....."
I'll spare you further details, but I wonder. Am I the only person who thinks balls are gut wrenchingly funny?
I'm standing in the corner of the tennis court waiting for hubby to use the bathroom when orange-spandex -shorts-guy comes walking past with his bucket of balls(pauses here to giggle). First of all, he shouldn't be wearing spandex of any sort and the orange calls extra attention to this fact. I try very hard to laugh quietly and he doesn't notice even though he's now entered the tennis court next to mine.
Husband returns just as spandex-shorts-guy bends over and accidentally dumps his balls out. Ever helpful husband dashes over and says "Let me get your balls for you." Orange spandex-shorts-guy grunts, "thanks, man, %$#@& balls always do this." At this point, I cannot control myself and am bent double, grasping the fence and laughing so hard it hurts. When spandex-shorts-guy thanks husband for picking up his balls, I cannot remain standing and fall to the ground, gasping for air.
Husband hurries over to make certain I'm not dying. "You okay Honey?" he asks, bending over me with real concern in his eyes. Right then, spandex-shorts-guy's partner arrives and is informed that yes, spandex-shorts-guy's balls were spilled again and yes, another player helped him pick them up before they rolled into the muddy ditch outside the fence. Partner waves to hubby and yells "thanks for saving our balls!"
Now, I'm seeing stars and it's several minutes before I can calm down enough to form intelligible words. Hubby knows me though and by this time, he has figured out what's going on. He offers me a hand and helps me stand. We walk back toward our own bucket of balls and just when I think I've got myself under control, he looks down at me with a familiar evilness in his blue eyes. "You want to play with our balls some more? I could go wash them first if you want. No one should play with dirty balls as much as we do."
I manage to sock husband in the stomach before doubling over in uncontrollable fits of giggles. Husband has no mercy though, and while I am struggling for air, he takes up his one-sided conversation again. "They need new balls," he says in a very serious tone, "some of theirs are all cracked and stained....."
I'll spare you further details, but I wonder. Am I the only person who thinks balls are gut wrenchingly funny?