Sports with Schmooie

They saying going to a sporting event is a good way to meet men. Who’s “they”? Well, the Millionaire Matchmaker for one (she should know, she’s single). So imagine my luck when I got invited to a Jewish singles softball event. I drove all the way over to the softball field only to find the field closed due to rain. Funny thing is, I suspected the morning rain would close the field down and I wanted desperately to just sleep in, but I figured no one had told me differently, so I had to go check it out for myself. Ah, well. Sorry we missed each other due to weather, Schmooie. This same group has a softball match once every month (except for during the summer) so I guess I’ll just have to try to find Schmooie playing softball next time. Besides which, I don’t even like softball and most of the Jewish men I’ve run across are just slightly more athletic than Steve Urkel, and slightly less athletic than Jerry Lewis.

…Fast forward a week later and I was on my way to an NBA game in town. My friend who came with me again brought up the fact with a knowing grin that games were a great place to meet men. Okay, Schmooie! Here I come! I waltzed into the cavernous sparkling basketball arena with my eyes peeled wide opened like a banana. There must have been something in the air that night--something that perhaps Schmooie was allergic to. You never saw a sporting event with so few available men (with the exception of the basketball mascot and basketball team itself). Schmooie if you’re a famous athlete with fancy endorsements and an unlimited supply of concession hotdogs and snacks, that’d be great. Only thing is, I didn’t run into any of the athletes and the mascot is a dude dressed from head to toe as a hairy gorilla. Alright, Schmooie, perhaps you are merely a concession salesperson? No, couldn’t be. The concession salespeople were old Mediterranean men. Well, Schmooie wasn’t at the basketball game itself, but as we took the light rail train back to our side of town, the sudden jerking forward of the train knocked me backwards into the arms of a nice Asian dude. I’ve said this in a previous post, so I must say again, Schmooie, are you Asian?