Ball in the House

It's because of Chris there is a new post.

He pointed out yesterday that I hadn't written a blog post in a while. I told him I had my act together.
He said that was boring for  everyone. It's boring for me too. But on the plus side, I am being a responsible person.

Anyway.

We have a horrible basketball. Nike makes horrible basketballs and because Nike knows this it was very cheap. I bought the very cheap ball because it was cheap and who cares about the quality of a basketball when you're chucking it up at a plywood backboard. It's a pretty backboard, it took me three days to paint, see:

Blogs with pictures always have more readers. From now on I'm going to have awesome photos in all my posts.

Anyway, we had a crappy basketball and no one wanted to play with it.

So I went to the store yesterday and I bought a nice ball nearly identical to the good basketball. Only this one isn't faded, worn, and new. Awesome.

Into the cart it goes.

Now, for those of you who never were cool and were in marketing there is a thing called product placement, where companies will pay to have their product placed in an odd area where people are subconsciously thinking about it. Or you make them think about it. Either one is effective.

An example:

In case you can't see it, it's chocolate next to tampons. Product placement for the win! 

I will make my point, I promise.

But look puppy!

He's just to adorable to not have on here, even though there is no point.

Focus.

Okay. So next to the basketballs are baseball gear. I'm set for gear. I have accumulated everything I could possible need for the game of softball. Name it, I have it. But I still like to look. I'm a sports gear junkie.

On the very end of the aisle are the whiffle toys.

YES!

Now, you can't just buy any bat and ball. No, you need the bat that will give you the best distance with the proper length to weight ratio. Everyone has a different opinion on this, I say swing a couple and grab the one you like best.

The neon orange MLB Franklin whiffle bat. Except, I didn't realize the great plastic quality of the balls until one nailed Chris in the toe. Sorry!

There is a plastic bat and whiffle balls in the house, and we do not have a no <insert verb> rule about playing with stuff in the house.

At least, we didn't.

"Want to play Pepper?" I ask Chris, who was lying on the couch.

"How do you play?"

"One person underhand tosses the ball, the batter hits it, but if the ball is in the air and you catch it, I'm out."

He agreed.

I whacked the ball into the ground, nearly breaking one of his toes.

I'm not the most gentle person ever.

Instead of playing in the kitchen area where I'm about to take out the TV we move into the living room area where unless you're doing something to put a whole in the wall, have at it.

Our friends' little kids think it's great they can go nuts with a large ball and we don't care.

I think it's great too. But no one asked me.

Chris insists on a foul line, a line the ball must cross for the hit to count.

Example:

See the arching line in front of home plate? We had that, only made out of dish towels.

Chris does well.

I struggle.

It's my final at bat as we're both getting bored with the game.

First pitch I take up the middle on a scorching line drive (my hitting coach Sunny would be so proud) straight into the window blinds, in what would be a dining room.

Chris just looked at me, with a facial expression of both fear, and confusion.

"Whyyyyy?"He asks.

I just stand their laughing.

I didn't mean to take a full swing. I didn't mean to clobber the ball. I just kind of happened.

For the record, this is around the third time I've hit a window with a ball and have not broken it. My luck might be running out though.

And I am the reason why I am not allowed to play baseball in the house.

Don't worry, the rest of you are allowed to play indoors.

Again, no point. Just a touching photo.