Please Sign My Petition To End The World Cup
I grew close to 9 feet in 7th grade so naturally I began thinking that it was a good time to start my basketball career. I enthusiastically told my P.E coach to sign me up for the winter season. She immediately responded that due to some minor surgery I had in fifth grade, it wouldn’t be realistic for me to play basketball…ever. I responded by starting a rumor the following year that the reason she left the school was because she moved to Texas to have a sex change. A few years ago someone repeated that rumor back to me and I happily crossed off “start a vicious revenge rumor” on my bucket list.
And that is one of the many reasons I came to despise sports. I have no interest in watching them and I have no interest in stopping my hilarious jokes about not knowing the rules of the sports. Although people stopped laughing at “wait, so how many innings are in the Superbowl?” joke sometime around Y2K.
Not to pat myself on the back (mostly because I have an extremely painful sunburn), but I’ve gotten pretty good at avoiding the major sporting events that everyone insists on attending. Like I totally understand the whole “it’s a community event” theory and the “commercials are hilarious (but only when compared to the Nutrasystem commercials” theory. But I would rather spend the day watching Lifetime movie marathons that are only interrupted by Sally Field’s Emmy-nominated Boniva commercials.
But all my years of careful planning have been destroyed by this no-good dreadful World Cup. It’s never-ending. Like what deal did FIFA make with the devil to get Americans temporarily interested in soccer? It’s been like going on forever (or like a month, I’m not really into calendars and a sense of space and time these days) and I’m sick of having to rearrange entire days around these games. Like what do you mean you can’t come home and turn down my sheets until the game is over.
Like I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that soccer is the cockiest sport alive. It’s like if I had a month-long Bat Mitzvah. It would be rude, inconsiderate, and excessive (no one needs to spend 30 days with motivational dancers).
So let it be known that I’m officially done with this whole World Cup business. Because next thing you know I’ll have to start coming up with new excuses as to why I can’t watch the Universe Cricket Games. And frankly I’m not that creative…unless it comes to coming up with vicious revenge rumors about former P.E teachers.