Nips' Conniptions

I remember a time in my childhood when I watched my older brothers take on challengers in a game of pool next to a swimming pool late on a Christmas day. The game fascinated me and I was impressed with my brothers' skill and ability to see the lines. I also quickly discovered how difficult it actually is to play and how much geometrical analysis is required to partake in a game of any substance. All that I was capable of doing was accidentally launching the cue ball into the swimming pool... Humorous, but not particularly artful.

Over the years, my respect for the game grew commensurately with my ability to get worse at it. Upon enrolling at the University of Notre Dame and being assigned to Keough Hall, I discovered that there was a pool table in the main lounge. I made it my quest to practice frequently enough to be a respectable player. Sadly, I only played one round before the cues were stolen, the balls slowly disappeared, and nobody ever used the table again. Once again, billiards made a mockery of me.

In this manner, my relationship with pool has progressed. I think it is a skillful and respectable game, while it continues to prove that I am neither.

I recently had a moment of enlightenment, however. In an effort to relax and relieve some of the pressures and stresses of grad school life, I joined the posse for a trip to the "Library" bar in Dinky(Drinky)town. As I've commented before, the ambiance is remarkable, but the clientele can be annoying. There, on the second floor, my naivete was revealed. A shamefully slutty duo was attempting to engage in a game of billiards. Never before have I seen someone so incredibly into a game without caring/showing any interest whatsoever in it. To clarify, these young females were elaborately positioning their shots so as to maximize the amount of contortion they must perform with their bodies. In other words, they were attempting to dramatically show off their not-so-hidden assets... lady lumps... if you will. The hilarious part is that, much to their chagrin, none of the passerbys showed any interest in them. This continued for a good half hour. Each minute was more humorous than the last. I believe that the moral of the story was "Those girls sucked at life."

That and I need to get to the gym before attempting to sink the 8 ball any time soon.

So naive.

Posted by ndNips on Thursday, March 02, 2006 at 5:36 PM | Permalink