Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Logic in the Time of Cholera

I was very, very sick the past few days. How sick? Well, at one point I chose to watch Beverly Hills Chihuahua 2 in its entirety rather than get up and walk three steps across the living room to get the remote and change the channel. I must have been delirious too, because half the time it seemed like the dogs were talking in these racially insensitive little voices and... I dunno, I guess the plot was just too complex to follow for someone who hasn't seen the first movie. Anyway, though the doggie movie was pretty terrible, I don't regret my decision. You see, I have this theory about being sick... you don't partake in anything you enjoy because once you're well, you'll forever associate that enjoyable thing with being sick... then it won't be enjoyable anymore.
Singing, dancing Kryptonite

Case in point: 4th grade. I missed THREE weeks of school with what I can only assume was some form of the Bubonic Plague. My favorite movie back then was The Sound of Music. My mom stayed home with me the whole time and we watched it over and over and over. I tell ya, I knew every line of that movie. I could climb every mountain, ford every stream, AND name the casting director. At the time, it seemed like a pretty good way to pass the time while the Black Death slowly exited my system. But now? Now, even a glimpse of that movie makes me feel sick to my stomach. I can't hear My Favorite Things without feeling, ironically, so bad. Any flower that remotely resembles the majestic edelweiss sends me into convulsions. Even talking about World War II makes me break out in a cold sweat... which was rough, seeing as I was a history major in college.
I am trying to break your heart

This past week, if I had gathered the strength to get up and pop in a good ol' Wes Anderson DVD instead of suffering through two hours of talking dogs, I could have ruined one of my favorite movies. Thus, Beverly Hills Chihuahua 2 was a necessary evil. This theory also holds true for bad breakups. That's why I can't listen to Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot anymore. It used to be my favorite record until... nah, I'd never let a girl ruin that album for me. Nice try, Eva Longoria.

Friday, November 11, 2011

Tragedy in Pink

amiel_weisblum_pinkribbon.jpg, Pink Ribbon by Ameil Weisblum. not for commercial use.
If you read this blog regularly, you know that it's not exactly the most serious site in the world, falling somewhere between CNN.com and DancingBabyAnimals.gov... yes, dot gov. Today is different. The following is all true and hopefully the fact that this post is adjacent to one about butts doesn't detract from its sincerity:


My grandmother died of breast cancer in February of this year. She was a kind and compassionate lady. She loved her son. Her son, my dad, loves basketball. He's coached high school girls basketball for the last 15 years and it's a big part of his life. Throughout his coaching career, my grandmother was a proud, supportive parent and fan of his teams. On many occasions, she donated money to help out with extra costs that the school couldn't provide for, like new uniforms, equipment, etc. She attended games, even when she was sick, until she physically couldn't anymore. The girls on the team knew her and loved her. Some even made the three hour drive to attend her funeral.

Because of the special relationship between my Grandma Pat and his team, my father and the girls decided to dedicate the upcoming season to her memory. He bought new uniforms, home and away, that boast a small, pink ribbon on the middle of the collar. This pink ribbon is a tasteful, heartfelt tribute to a wonderful lady as well as to the other countless victims of breast cancer.

When the season tips off tomorrow, however, these pink ribbons may be hidden behind an irreverent piece of white tape.

Between the time the new jerseys were purchased and now, the Georgia High School Association passed a rule stating that pink may not be worn on uniforms unless they are official colors of the school. That's basically every school in the state, including my dad's team, Tallulah Falls. It seems during football season, many high school players took the privilege to wear pink for breast cancer awareness to extremes by decking themselves out in pink socks, cleats, gloves, etc in a gaudy manner. I don't blame them. They're kids and they were just emulating what they saw on TV in the NFL. They just lacked the discernment to keep it tasteful.

But the Tallulah Falls tribute to breast cancer is tasteful; not to mention more poignant and heartfelt than probably almost anything during football season. These are girls. Girls who, God forbid, may have to deal with breast cancer someday themselves. This is a team who is honoring a departed friend. This is a one-and-a-half inch pale pink ribbon. This is a tragedy.

The new rule states than any player who enters the game wearing pink will receive a technical foul. That means if Tallulah Falls doesn't tape over the ribbon, the opposing team will shoot 10 free throws to start the game. They'll also shoot two free throws anytime a sub comes into the game. That's an awful lot of free points.

It seems to me that there should be some sort of grandfather clause to this rule. That a team who already bought their uniforms before the rule should be allowed to wear them. The rule is meant to keep players from wearing bright pink headbands and wristbands, surely they can make an exception in this case. But that's not likely.

Still, there's hope for the pink ribbon tribute. Ultimately, the decision whether or not to enforce the rule is made by the head referee each game. Hopefully, those individuals will display some common sense and compassion and let the ribbon slide. Or maybe the opposing team will miss their free throws on purpose like in some cheesy Lifetime movie. I'm not particularly optimistic.

I'm looking forward to cheering on the Lady Indians tomorrow, and for the sake of the girls, my dad, and my grandmother, I hope I don't see that unholy white tape.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011