Having a ball

Good morning, afternoon, or evening. How am I supposed to know what time of day it is wherever you are? Disirregardless, I hope it's good so far. 'Tis April, which means that 2009 keeps marching on at its ridiculous pace. We'll be hearing Christmas carols again in no time.

When I began writing this blog back in November of 2006 (wow, really?), I made a big list of potential topics for myself to someday cover. New things kept springing up, but the list got shorter fairly quickly (especially during the first year when I was posting every weekday). Eventually, there were only a few things left, and they were the kinds of topics that made me shake my head and say to myself, "Yeah, I should probably just leave that one alone." Why? Because, for the most part, they were stories that would make me look like a stupid boy doing stupid boy things. And so there they stayed, likely to be ignored for all of eternity.

Things have a way of changing, though. My friend Greg (The Pigh) has recently become a loyal reader after finding the daily posts to be too cumbersome. He sent me an email with some suggestions of things I could write, and sure enough, they were very similar to the remaining items on my original list. I reconsidered each of them and determined that one in particular might be ok to discuss in this forum without making us look too moronic. What was that one item? Shiznit Ball. Allow me to provide some back story and set-up please.

How did it start? Well, here's what I know for sure. During our sophomore year of college, four of us rented an apartment together on Camino del Sur in the quaint and quiet town known as Isla Vista, California. It was a two-bedroom, two-bathroom place with a decent main room and some very green carpet. The front lawn had a chain link fence that was about 10 feet long and three feet high - but only on one side of the lawn. The other three had nothing. We couldn't understand why it was there, for it neither kept anything in nor out of the rest of the front yard. Therefore, we dubbed it, "The Fence of No Reason." (At one point, someone couldn't remember what we called it and guessed, "The Fence of No Sense." We felt like idiots since that was obviously so much better.) Anyway, I (Dawg) shared one of the bedrooms with Greg (The Pigh), while my homey Rockabye (Krab) and our good friend Jon (Auks - later petitioned and changed to Ramb) shared the other one.

The latter duo's room was a standard rectangular shape, with the beds set against opposing walls. Somehow, I know not how, but a game sprung from our warped little minds. I don't have a specific recollection of the transition, but what started off as a simple ball-tossing activity from one bed to the other turned into a full-on bizarre and retardiculous game called Shiznit Ball.

Here's the thing: while my friends and I have talked in general terms about playing Shiznit Ball since that time (about a dozen years now), we've stayed away from specifics. Our conversations always start with, "Hey, remember playing Shiznit Ball?" and end with, "Yeah, that was so much fun." Therefore, my memory is pretty fuzzy about the origin, the majority of the rules, and what made it so uniquely fun. So I turned to my friends to prod their recollections. However, I didn't want anyone's response to taint anyone else's, so I didn't look at theirs until mine was done, and I asked them not to share their responses with each other. Without further ado, here's my mostly guessing take on Shiznit Ball.

Shiznit Ball was named after the fact that Snoop Doggy Dogg said "shiznit" a lot, and we were listening to his music a good amount back then. No deeper meaning. Shiznit Ball is a three-player game. There are two throwers, situated on beds, and an "it" person in the middle. The object from a thrower's point of view is to throw the ball (approximately the size of a softball but made of a Nerf-like material...or was it rubber?) to the bed across the room, where the other thrower would be waiting. The thrower does not want the "it" person to interfere with the throw. The "it" person's object, as I recall, is to use any body part besides his hands to stop the ball from reaching its desired target. Usually, this involved wild kicking motions, kneeing, hip thrusts, and occasional headbutts. If the ball hit the person in the middle and then was caught by one of the throwers, then...crap, I have no idea. Something happened.

I do know that we loved playing it. In fact, we started getting more specialized in how we prepared ourselves for a game. I remember hiking up my socks and wearing a hat and sunglasses. I can picture The Pigh wearing a camouflage bandana that he saved for special occasions. We'd put on "get you pumped" music like Everclear to set the mood. I believe we even had entrance music like pro wrestlers for at least one game. In short, we were frickin' nuts.

Personally, I was a horrible "it" person. I'd keep bouncing up and down, kicking errantly in vain to get the ball. On one occasion, I forgot that I'd still need a leg to land on, which led to me falling flat on my back and laughing from that position for a good five minutes. I remember Krab getting some good kicks in, sending the ball flying around the room. Ooh, that reminds me - the walls were in play. So if the guy in the middle kicked it off a wall and one of the throwers caught it, then...crap, I still don't know.

It was great, stupid fun. I know that for sure. The three of us thoroughly enjoyed ourselves, and I can't remember if Jon ever joined us (even though it was in his room with his bed heavily involved). Much of the rest is guessing, so hopefully my friends' takes on the sport enlighten me and don't contradict my recounting too much. Here are questions I'd like to have answered:

1. How did we choose who was in the middle?
2. How long did he get to stay there?
3. Were any types of throws forbidden?
4. Do the others remember me being as bad at it as I do?

And without further ado, here are the highlights from my homey Rockabye's (aka Krab) memory of Shiznit Ball:

I thought Jon played...didn't he used to wear the bandana and get really into it when 'despite all my rage I'm still just a rat in a cage' was playing?

I thought the name was created over time...as we used to try to be like Snoop and say everything with the shiznit...we would always put on a cd (of) any type of songs that pumped us up.

The game was essentially monkey in the middle until we were able to kick the ball...We had to keep the toss below the person's head and above their knee...we created some sort of strike zone...I think it's safe to say you were the worst at it, but made us laugh the most.

As we got better - we had special moves. Like the crane kick in Karate Kid and your patented jump kick where you would completely miss the ball - slip - and fall flat on your back in pain. I do remember putting on my cut off shirt cause we would start to sweat so much. What a great game.

Ok, so he remembers music that would pump us up (although that's a Smashing Pumpkins song he references instead of the Everclear I recall), and that I was the worst at it. I also now recall the "strike zone" in order to make every throw technically kickable.

Now we turn to Greg to see what he had to say on the matter:

...Everything is a little hazy, so it may not be entirely accurate. I don't believe we played proper Shiz during our freshman year...First game ever had to be played in Krab and Jon's room on Camino del Sur. I don't think we ever played in our room, b/c our layout wasn't right...Don't remember if Jon ever played.

Using the mini stuffed basketball that Krab had, two of us would sit on the beds at opposite ends of the room. The game was very similar to monkey in the middle, only the monkey was not allowed to use his hands. I believe heading the ball was allowed, but we mostly kicked wildly at it. The round finished when the dude in the middle kicked the ball away from the throwers. I believe a thrower could also be saved if a kicked ball was caught by a thrower (not sure). There was not a point scoring system, so there were no real winners or losers, but mad props were certainly given for extraordinarily difficult kicks and daring throws... I seem to remember that all of our throws were kickable, it was a matter of trickery and change of speeds.

I can't really remember you guys, but I think I always wore my camouflaged bandana wrapped Daniel-son style. When I was in the middle I would often mimic Karate Kid moves prior to throws...I feel like there had a to be an album or two that we typically listened to, but I can't think of any.

Look at that! We got some official-sounding rules, some strategy, and a second Karate Kid reference.

And so lastly, I turned to Jon. I asked him on the phone if he remembered the game and if he ever played it with us. His response was succinct: "Yeah, of course I remember Shiznit Ball. I played a couple of times, but not nearly as often as you morons." True, true.

So what can I take from this foray into the memory banks? Two things. First, I'm glad to know that my friends and I can put our fuzzy memories together to get a clearer one. (In fact, when Krab mentioned the cut-off shirt, I got a clear image of me taking a severed t-shirt sleeve and wearing it on my head as part of my "game attire.") Second, I love my friends. This story illustrates the nature of my lasting relationships with these folks. Not only could we take absolutely anything and make it exceedingly fun for us, but a dozen years later, we're still laughing and secretly picturing the rooms in our respective residences to find the perfect arena for a night of grown-up Shiznit Ball. Guys, make sure I stretch first.

And with that, homepeople, let's wax on and wax off over to the Car Watch.

My favorite brother saw a license plate that's just begging for trouble: "STOLNCR." Really? Why not just have "PLMEOVR" instead?

My Bratty Kid Sister wrote me with a plate too. "NOTAFSH," it told her (and everyone else). Whew, that was close. I was about to attempt to hook that car, gut it, cook it, and serve it with a garnish of lemon and a sprig of parsley. That would've been really embarrassing. Thankfully, the driver was wise enough to stop me before I even got my line in the water.

And lastly, my homey Rockabye sent me this license plate: "CANUMOV." I don't understand. This car is in front of whoever's reading the plate right? Therefore, it only makes sense on the rare occasion that the driver is trying to back up but has another car in his/her way. Oh sure, there's likely a front plate too, but it appears backwards in the mirror of the car in front of it. If I were behind this car, I'd probably flail my arms about while vigorously nodding. That should answer the question.

Wow, I'm spent; that was longer than I expected. And yes, that's what she said. Have a great weekend and week, folks. Happy birthday to Sacky Christi on Monday, and if you celebrate Passover, have a festive one. If you don't celebrate Passover, have a festive Wednesday at sundown. As always, you can email me at ptklein@gmail.com. Shaloha.