“You hear about that shit up in Abilene?”

So this past weekend, my friend Kevin had a birthday party up in Abilene.  It was a little more than 200 miles away, and I’d been itching to take a longer ride on The Late Late Show, so I packed a bag with clothes, sunblock, and tools and headed north, Miss Tessmacher, north.

The trip was a great one, with The Late Late Show running perfectly and me dealing with a sore ass and road grit that left most of my body a dark gray.  Within four hours, I was in Abilene and feasting on barbeque.

And then the kickball started.

Now, my friends are largely hippies or recovering hippies.  I’ve never met a more easy going group of people in my life.  Slap a few bases on the ground though, and everything goes straight to hell.  I had no idea kickball could turn hippies into raging assholes, but soon everybody was screaming at each other.

“He left the baseline!”

“That’s not the right way to steal!”

“The runner wins on a tie!”

“Like hell he does!”

“I will brick-fuck your entire skull!”

I might have made up that last one.

After three innings in 100+ degree heat, it was decided to call the game, which was fine with me, as (by my count) my team was ahead 8-7.  Of course, everybody had a different score, ranging from 12-4 to 9-6 1/2 (I have no idea how the fuck they reached that one).  A blast was had by all, though, and not a single brick or knife was drawn.

The rest of the night went down pretty easy with a fish fry, some water volleyball, and plenty of friends.  I crashed on a deck chair right beside the chair Shawna crashed on, and (aside from the drunk who fell on top of me in the middle of the night) slept like a baby.  The next morning, I woke up and hit the road for the 200+ mile trip back.

All in all, a damn good weekend.  It’s good to leave the house now and then.