I finally had success requesting a song at kickball last night, although my first question ("Do you have any Pat Benatar?") received a "no" response, he did have some Eddie Money (and what kind of DJ has Eddie Money and not Pat Benatar?). The bar seemed to enjoy "Take Me Home Tonight" almost as much as Journey and Miley Cyrus. Again, the jukebox on the top floor is the place to go, especially after the waiter puts in a bunch of money. We're friends now, though, so it's cool.
We lost again, but I had a heroic sacrifice kick that advanced one runner from 1st to 3rd. There were cops stationed behind homeplate the entire game, but after another team bribed them with candy, they apparently said, "Oh, go ahead and drink and have fun, we don't care." I have to wonder what they were doing there, then, because aren't there bigger problems in this city than cleaning up the kickball leagues? Or chaperoning them?
Anyway, one teammate tried to get me to join this running group that involves drinking, but I draw the line at actual athletics. My people are not runners; there's a reason Armenians only medal in weightlifting and wrestling.
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