Once in a while, the MOD gets the company tickets to the Utah Jazz basketball game.  I’ve gone a few times, but this last time I tried to bag out.  I feel bad because I really don’t enjoy the NBA and the tickets are really expensive and I feel like there are people who would actually enjoy it…but I went along since the MOD had gotten the tickets on short notice and couldn’t find a real Jazz fan in time.  But honestly, you can almost make a car payment for what these tickets cost.  I guess they have to pay those $65 million contracts somehow.

Anyway, it was enjoyable, but not for any of the normal reasons that professional basketball normally is. 

I began the evening by counting the number of gigantic ice cream cones in people’s hands vs. beers (this is a game that can only be played in Utah where there may be two people in the beer line, but where they have to rope off the ice cream stand crowd). 

After sitting down, I opened up the program to study the ages and heights of all the players.  I was older than all of them (seriously disturbing) and also much shorter except for one guy on the Charlotte Bobcats team.  He was 5′5 and a fabulous player.  He was so much shorter than the 6′11 guys that it was kind of like watching Gary Coleman play basketball. 

The MOD took the program from me: Is that guy A__M__ playing… he was the one that cried when Gonzaga lost in the NCAA tournament a few years ago…?

Me:  That reminds me, I hope that the Monkey Nurse remembers to TiVo The Biggest Loser tonight.

Loud Woman Behind Me:  DE-fense. 

Me:  The cleavage on those cheerleaders couldn’t possibly get cinched up any higher, do you think?

MOD:  What? 

Loud Woman Behind Me: GO JAZZ GO.  

Me: The white guys on these teams look really puny next to the black players.

Loud Woman Behind Me: Foul!  Honey, wasn’t that a foul?  C’mon Booze!  You can do it!

MOD: Let’s leave after the third quarter. 

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