Top 5 Reasons Swine Flu is More Fun to Follow Than Sports

I’m having a lot more fun tracking the spread of the swine flu than I ever have following sports. Maybe it’s because I’ve never actually been any good at sports, but I’m okay at getting sick once in a while. Or maybe it’s because H1N1 crushes sports for pure entertainment value.

I submit to you the Top 5 Reasons:

1. Swine Flu is Easy
Unlike following sports, you don’t really need to know what’s going on in order to make sense of flu stats. You just log on to the CDC site and watch the numbers grow.

2. Swine Flu is Inclusive
Like sports, there’s nothing you can do that will impact the outcome of the flu’s progression. However, at least with the flu there’s actually a good chance you will actually participate.

3. Swine Flu is Big Money
Sports is big money too, but flu has greater potential. Think Tamiflu sponsorship placcards on school busses and those leisure coaches old people travel around in. Plus, I’m betting there’s plenty of betting based on the H1N1 numbers.

4. Swine Flu is Easy to Armchair Quarterback
With sports you actually have to know what’s going on to make any kind of intelligent criticism. Flu is significantly easier to comment on. Three words: wash, your, hands.

5. Swine Flu Comes with a Cheaper Buzz and Fewer Side Effects
You can’t follow sports without beer and the good stuff’ll cost you. Germex, the swine flu fan’s intoxicant of choice, can be picked up for a few bucks at Walgreen’s. And there’s hardly any hangover.

The Enforcer Wears Pink Socks

I am starting to surrender to hockey . It’s my daughter’s first year to actually play games with the team. (Last year she was just a Mini Mite.) The more she plays, the better she gets. And ever since the pink socks arrived all the way from Canada, she has been unstoppable. She is aggresive and quick. She plays her position and, like Wayne Gretzky, goes to where the puck is going to be. Pity the fool in her way. Yesterday the coaches jokes that our team’s Enforcer wore pink socks. In the stands, another mom dubbed her Bash Sister. That’s my girl. And where is she now? Cuddling with her favorite stuffed animal.

Parents: Get Up In Your Kids’ Grillz

Me: blah, blah, blah, encouraging Girl Child to play well.
Boy Child: (to Girl Child) That’s why I quit hockey.
Me: What? Why?
Boy Child: Pep talks.
Me: What’s wrong with them?
Boy Child: You just get all up in my grill.

According to the Urban Dictionary his usage is correct, even if he hasn’t a clue what a grill is:

Who Is This Child?

This is the Girl Child, showing off nail polish at Christmas. Yesterday I learned something new about her. I knew she was sporty. I knew she was agressive. I did not yet know until yestereday’s SuperBowl, that this child of mine was a Sports Fan. Captial S. Capital F. Where did she come from? My husband enjoys a game, but despite all the animated talk, he’s really just after the wings and beer. I on the other hand have no idea what’s going on. (Although, after last night, I think I understand the term 1st and 10. Sort of.) It’s not like I didn’t try. In eighth grade I played every sport. And I learned that every sport has a D team for girls like me. Not nearly coordinated enough for the A Squad, not quite quick enough for back-up. Not even up to par to play when games were in the bag. No, I was there for moral support only. So you understand my confusion over just where this child came from. I stand in amazement. It’s the best part of parenthood. Go, Girl!