Balls!
I am living with a man who is obsessed with balls. Cricket balls, footballs, tennis balls, golf balls, snooker balls. When he’s not out playing with balls with his mates, he’s watching anything with a ball on TV. Jeez. For an otherwise very intelligent human being I’m astonished at his total concentration on such asinine stuff. He was incommunicado for days last week when the Masters was on - he spent about five, FIVE hours in front of the TV on Sunday watching adult men hitting small balls into holes. And yelling with glee when they got one in in less than the recommended number of hits. I ask ya, is that sane? The house could have burned down and he wouldn’t have noticed. What is it with men and sports?
I am living with a man who is obsessed with balls. Cricket balls, footballs, tennis balls, golf balls, snooker balls. When he’s not out playing with balls with his mates, he’s watching anything with a ball on TV. Jeez. For an otherwise very intelligent human being I’m astonished at his total concentration on such asinine stuff. He was incommunicado for days last week when the Masters was on - he spent about five, FIVE hours in front of the TV on Sunday watching adult men hitting small balls into holes. And yelling with glee when they got one in in less than the recommended number of hits. I ask ya, is that sane? The house could have burned down and he wouldn’t have noticed. What is it with men and sports?