I Don't Get It

I'm back from vacation!  Blogging vacation that is.  In real life, I haven't gone anywhere fun except the fancy grocery store by our house which causes me to spend too  much money.  So that's kind of like vacation, right?  Of note, Husband and I are roadtripping to Illinois this weekend for a wedding.  22 hours round trip.  Should be great.  I'm open to suggestions for audio books.  But they can't be too scary, because scary books make me a nervous driver.

But let's jump right into today's topic, shall we?  Here are a few things that I just don't understand.  Shed some light on the topics if you can.  Kathy would appreciate it.

My (Too) Smart Phone

My phone is officially too smart.  I discovered not that long ago that every time I take a  picture, my phone is storing it to my Google + account.  I don't even really know what my Google + account is, but apparently, that's where all my pictures are.  I don't have any incriminating pictures on my phone, but I'm uneasy with the fact that if I want to take a picture of a crazy person doing a crazy thing, it is instantly stored in my cloud.  I can't figure out how to unlink my pictures to the internet.  Because apparently, I'm an old person and I don't understand these confangled things.

But what really made me question all things in the world, was when my phone sent me an alert that my "story" was ready  for review.  Story?  What story?  My God, has someone written an unauthorized biography of me?  I hope they made my character skinny.   I click on the link to the "story" titled A Weekend in Tornado Alley.  I thought maybe someone had sent me something to edit...but no.  A Weekend in Tornado Alley was a compilation of pictures I had taken over the weekend.  And my smart alecky Google + account came up with the clever title.  My phone is captioning my pictures, people.  THE MACHINES ARE TAKING OVER!  The end is nigh.

#ibelievethatpeoplebehatin

So, unless you live under a rock or hate America, you should be fully aware that the World Cup is going on. The Yanks are two games in: one win, one draw.  Sunday's game had that ol' familiar feeling to it.  Stress, stress, stress...excitement...total elation...heart break.  For a second I thought I was watching Oklahoma State compete in something.  Alas, 'twas not.  It was just Cristiano Ronaldo with a pretty pass, just like his pretty face.

I did, however, notice some hatin' going on via the ol' social network (I don't know what is wrong with me and why I keep ending words with apostrophes.  Must be trippin').  I saw several people comment about all the "bandwagon soccer fans."  And I don't get it.  Why the hate?  Aren't we as Americans prone to being bandwagon national team fans in every sport?  I mean, we do this every time the Olympics roll around.  I'm far from a swimming fan, but I will gladly gather around the TV and cheer on Ryan "Smarty Pants" Lochte.  I understand approximately 4% of Winter Olympic sports, but I still watch. And I want the US to win every competition.  Every four years, I'm the biggest luge fan you'll find.  Go America!  Slide down that icy tube better than everyone else!

This is what we were meant to do.  To get behind our national team.  To cheer them on.  To gather with strangers in bars or parks and high five when we score.  When you are cheering for US Soccer, you are cheering for America.  This is what our forefathers envisioned for us.  I know that's true, because I saw Teddy Roosevelt in the crowd yesterday.  Okay, okay, Teddy Roosevelt wasn't a forefather...but you are missing the point.

So what if people who don't understand soccer or who have never watched it before are overusing hashtags? And so what if those same people won't watch soccer again for another four years?  They are watching it now.  We are all cheering for the same thing.

Maybe, just maybe, you can pack away your mopey pants for a little bit and slap on some stars and bars and just join the fun.  USA! USA! USA!

OSA! OSA!

You know the great thing about sports?  They never actually stop.  You just move from one to the next.  All. Year. Round.

And of course by "great," I mean exhausting.  It would be nice to have a little break.  That's what summer is for, right?  No offense MLB fans.  I just need some down time, a little chance to recharge.  Rebuild that foolish hope I have every season.  It takes some time to convince myself, "This is going to be the year."

But not in our house.  We can't stop watching sports. Ever.

We followed the Thunder through the playoffs with great intensity.  I dragged myself into work many a day sleepy from the game the night before.  We had to make an impromptu roadtrip to Iowa during the Western Conference finals, so the family and I tuned in via Sirius.  And let me tell you, if you thought you were stressed out watching Game 6, imagine being me.  Sitting in the backseat of a car hurling down the highway.  I couldn't get up and pace, I couldn't turn the channel out of disgust or stress.  I just had to sit there and listen.  Like it was 1945.  I listened, with my eyes closed repeatedly praying, "Please let them win!  Please let them win!"  In case you were wondering, the Heavenly Father doesn't seem to be in the business of answering Kathy's sports-related prayers.  You would think after 30+ years of praying for wins, I would learn that it isn't going to happen.

Without missing a beat, we moved all our attention from professional basketball to college baseball.  We attended the Super Regionals in Stillwater with great hope and anticipation.

When we got to our seats, the following interaction occurred.

Lady next to us: Oh!  I was expecting Wendell!
What I wanted to say: I don't know who Wendell is.
What I did: Politely smiled
Clearly agitated woman: Did you buy your tickets outside?!
What I wanted to say: What is your problem, lady?
What I did say: No, we bought them through the website when they went on sale.
Flabbergasted lady: Gosh!  I sure thought they would have sold them to the people who usually sit here.
What I wanted to say: This sounds like a personal problem, lady.  I don't like you.
New Enemy: Are you guys in college?
Husband: No, no.  Not for a long time.
Sweet woman: Well, you look young enough to be in college
What I wanted to say: I don't hate you anymore.  I love you.  You are so smart and observant.
What I did: Politely smiled

Cowboys lost both games.  Sad trombone.  Maybe next year.

So, it's time to relax.  No more sporty sports, right?  Wrong.  So very wrong.  For the World Cup starts this week. And I am married to a footie fan.  Hooray!  Non-stop soccer for weeks on end.  Don't get me wrong, I enjoy soccer, but sometimes I need a break from the antics of those drama queen South Americans.  Pull yourself together, man.  You don't have to react like you've been hit by a sniper's bullet every time you're bumped.  I'm starting to not believe you are actually hurt.

So as the "Greatest Sporting Event in the World" approaches, we watched a little tune-up match on Saturday between the Yanks and Nigeria.  Here are two conversations you need to know about.  Be forewarned that my knowledge of the US Men's National Team is limited.

Kathy: Does the old coach's son still play for us?
Husband: Yes, he's our best player.
Kathy: Really?  What about Jozy Altidore?
Husband: *scoffing* FAR from it.
Kathy: Hmmmm
**following Altidore's two goals**
Kathy: So that guy who is "far from" the best player, he scored both goals, right?
Husband: You've made your point.

Husband: So close!
Tiny Human: So close!
Husband: Good ball!
Tiny Human: Good ball!
Husband: This could be fun.  Can you say, USA!  USA! ?
Tiny Human: OSA! OSA! OSA!
Kathy: Close.  She's obviously an Okie at heart.
Tiny Human: ASU! ASU! ASU!
Kathy: Traitor!
Tiny Human: Traitor!

As you can see, we are firmly in the middle of a mockingbird phase.  Everything you say is repeated.  Everything.  It's like a fun party trick that never ends.  It also means that someone is going to have to change the way he watches sports.  We are going to need to substitute the bad words for family-friendly expressions of anger.  I'm a fan of Zoinks!  Geez o' Petes! (a common expression in Michigan) and Blast!  Obviously, when you yell "Blast!" you have to shake both fists in the air.

It's best to imagine you are in a Scooby Doo cartoon and respond accordingly.

Jeepers!  June is going to be exciting!