I was never very athletic in school…oh who am I kidding, I never was nor will I ever be “very athletic.” My uncoordination (I just made that word up. It’s okay, it’s the end of the world as we know it…), lack of graceful movement and just plain Asian DNA are the major roadblocks to me excelling in any given sport. I was usually the last picked for all the teams in P.E. and yes, I’m traumatized for life because of it.
So, it came as no surprise that I didn’t have a natural aptitude toward beer pong the first, or tenth time I played. Even before the beers. The night before I was to move into my townhouse (November of 2011), I went over to my soon to be neighbor’s (and one day roommate’s–confusing, I know) house to watch a movie and eat tamales. When they found out that I had never played beer pong (nor drank beer for that matter), they set about crossing both of those things off the “Newly Single Gal’s To Do List.”
I watched the first few games and practiced a few throws…and then I jumped in a played. The first round was okay. I lost, of course, but succeeded in getting the ping pong ball into the cup. The second round was terrible. I didn’t make one single cup. And in Beer Pong, that is called “trolling” and when you troll, the rule is that you have to sit under the table for a whole game…except at this house. If you trolled at their house, you had to streak around the neighborhood. Twice.
Now, here I am, newly single and newly free from the very sheltered, non-Beer Pong, non-beer drinking existence and I was to run around the complex, buck naked and I hadn’t moved in yet.
Except I only agreed to do it if one of them went with me. So, here we were at 11 pm on a Thursday night in November without a stitch of clothing on, waving to my soon-to-be neighbor who happened to be jump roping outside. (He didn’t miss a beat, by the way).
Two things I learned: 1. Running without shoes (or clothes for that matter) in November is cold 2. My (former) apartment complex did not have a Neighborhood Watch program
I figured since today is supposed to be the end of the world, I would share that little secret with the Internet. And since I’m confessing stuff: I used to have a poster of Patrick Swayze in my room, my favorite movie was “Weekend At Bernie’s” until it was replaced by “Clueless” in 1995, I’ve never once read the terms and conditions, and I think I’m kinda in love with…
Oh wait, the world isn’t ending? Never mind then.