hanging out with fellow spelling enthusiasts in a south philly sports bar i began noticing their limited repitoire and lack of appreciation for ironY. when the sideline sports girl, pam oliver was on screnn i started chanting "pO! PO! PO! PO! PO! PO!" and got no supporT. it was confusing as they all seemd to know the TO song, maybe they are all misogynists at this place and dont appreciate fine female sports sideline hard hitting coverage, as i dO.
the skinny drunk guy in his heros jersey got them to spell with him shortly thereafter, so i know they were all big fanS.
i tried again, but my word wasnt in their working vocabulary i guess which is when the confused looks started turning to hostile stareS.
i suppose i should stayed in the safe spelling zone, but a chick across the bar was laughing with me and the bartender thinks im cool and that doesnt happen ofteN.
i won tthe crowd back when the opposing coach, first name dick, threw his red flag to dispute our players recent athletic accomplishment, the red flag meant he was telling the refs to look at it on super slow motion upstairS. everyone hates a tattletale, a snitch, a crybaby, so my "Fuck you dick" was well recieveD.
the bartender was asking why i didnt where a jersy and i was explaining to her that i thought it was a little gay to wear a mans name on your shirt, like the cheerleaders did in highschool the monday after the big game, the jersey being their reward for all they did to help the team that team member deal with his hormones at the big post game partY. i started to get the hostile looks again, but luckily the team scored and all was forgotten during the frenzied high fiving and spelling orgy that followeD. then i went to wash my handS.