No Taming This Shrew



These are not actually "my" dudes, but the frat farm that sprang up around me and Jordanbaker at the baseball game last night. We had these fabulous seats, were doing the scorecard thing, and happily sloshing back Blue Moons and hot dogs. Great evening all around. (JB can comment on the "goddamn woman next to her" herself!)

But as the evening progressed (and the temperature dropped -- holy toledo I was wearing wool in May!!?), more and more dudes appeared. I call them dudes, because their true selves emerged into full dude-dom as the evening wore on.

First it was two dudes about our age. Excellent beer yellers -- "BEER ME!" and "BEER LADY!" -- who were sitting next to each other, but then had to move so that they had a seat between them. They needed the room so they could spread their legs as far apart as humanly possible and flop their arms over chairs but still have no physical contact between them. Hilarious -- why do dudes do this? I've seen it in boardrooms and locker rooms. No one needs that much space; I don't care what you're packing.

Then the wee dudes emerged. These were Teen Dudes (whom I called The Toddlers in my mind). These guys were underdressed for the cold, high on pepsi and testosterone, and screaming obscenities as the game really fell apart for our local team. (Heck, I was kind of with them on this: "Catchers are supposed to CATCH?!? Is that why I have this enormous mitt???") Their cries were soon amplified by the additional wee dudes behind us, who started screaming that the Chicago Cubs "take it up the butt." This was repeated about 10 times in case any of us missed the subtle wit behind it.

Then, and this was the weird part, the elder dudes emerged. We had several people around us who seemed perfectly normal. A few of the redder necks, a few dads, and several DC types with their expensive leather baseball caps and LLBean windbreakers. But then, around the 7th inning, they transmogrified into OLD DUDES! It was like watching a poor rendition of the Incredible Hulk. Drunken questions screamed at each other, gesticulating with beer, and weird signals and movements that I really don't care to interpret. Was it the beer? Was it the truly terrible disintegration happening on the field? I don't know!

I do know this: game started at 7:05 pm. By 9 pm we were two of maybe 6 women left in our area, the rest of the space being taken up by dudes in full regalia. It was a sight to behold. The Circle of Dude Life, Simba. From Toddler to Geriatric, men do not change.