This Man is Your Man, This Man is My Man

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I swear, sometimes I think they’re all clones. Example:

My husband’s company has a very nice suite at Busch Stadium. “Very nice” probably doesn’t do it justice. I mean this suite is the primo suite – directly behind home plate, two stories, nice furniture, flat screen on the wall (which I can never understand why anyone would go to the stadium to watch the game on TV, but whatever), open bar, stocked beer fridge, glass wall with retractable panels, three rows of covered outdoor seating (both floors), right next door to the owners (who were playing host to Bob Gibson last night – I had no idea who he was at the time but I totally could have touched him) – that kind of nice. I mean, if you are a baseball fan you would probably flip out to see this joint.

Anyway, my husband usually gets invited to the suite two or three times a year. Sometimes I get invited to go along, as The Spouse. Even though I’m not a huge baseball fan, I have to admit that the suite, is sweet. So I try not to act like a complete idiot while I’m there, in the hopes of representing my husband in a good light and hopefully getting invited back again.

Can’t say as much for some of the other attendees last night.

The weather was decidedly iffy here in St. Louis. It was raining off and on, and we had to wait out a couple of rain delays during the game. During one rain delay, one of my husband’s co-workers decided to plug his video camera into the flat screen and treat us all to some footage of his son’s baseball game. Exciting? You bet. So after about 10 minutes of watching Junior run bases, the cameraman decided to focus in on a shot of the coach talking to his team. And Coach must have had jock itch to the nth degree because the whole time he’s talking to the team, he’s digging at his crotch like it’s on fire. And I’m telling you, this room full of middle-aged, upper management level men could not get enough of it.

“Wait, here it comes!”

Hysterical laughter

“Oh man, I gotta see that again!” rewind

Guts busting all over the suite, rewind

Repeat, rewind, repeat

I’m telling you people, that joke just never got old. We probably watched the crotch-grabbing coach 30 times in a row. I think when the game finally started again the guys might have been slightly disappointed that they had to put their video away.

So apparently it doesn’t matter who you wind up being married to, because in the end they will all turn out to be overgrown boys who still think jock itch is a source of never-ending amusement.

And here I was worried about making a bad impression because I didn’t exactly have the freshest coat of polish on my toes. Huh.