Performance seems to be on everyone’s mind. Just this morning, I opened my e-mailed to find one titled, “EnHAnCE Ur PuRfoRmance FrEe LEvITra!” Apparently this spammer was trying to prove that Levitra makes his penis so hard, he can type with it. But I recently learned, through my partner, that “performance” is a very subjective thing.
One of the major differences between my partner and I is that I follow sports and he loathes them. Every night we settle down to watch the 11 o’clock news, because after 5 years together we’ve given up on a social life. Personally, I don’t even know why he watches the evening news; it’s not like they’re going to do a segment on fashion and decoupage. The 11 o’clock news is death, murder and sports (kind of like the Oakland Raiders). He even calls me a news junkie. Like I’m sleeping on the street, with a needle sticking out of arm, yelling “I’ll suck your dick for some Nightline.” So at 11:25, I always hear the same thing from him, “Uuugh. Do we have to watch sports?” To which, I always respond, “Hey, without sports there’d be no Kobe Bryant.”
I watch sports because I love hockey. I’m not sure why I love hockey but my guess is that it’s because I grew in Michigan (there’s just something nostalgic about giant, toothless men, coming at me with big sticks). Because I live in San Francisco, my hockey team in the San Jose Sharks. I love going to Sharks games except for one thing, the music. Every time a goal is scored they blare some rock anthem from the mid-80’s, like Gary Glitter. It always baffles me because white trash can’t afford hockey tickets. I can’t imagine how much meth you’d have to sell to buy box seats at a Sharks game. I get so happy when the Sharks score, until I remember that I have to suffer through Quiet Riot (nothing like trying to support your team by rocking out to song sung by a guy who died of a cocaine overdose).
I took my partner to his first hockey game recently. I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea; maybe I just wanted to see a hate crime first hand. I knew this might not be his thing so to make it more enjoyable we got their early so he could see the players stretch out on the ice. Let me tell you, there’s nothing more exhilarating than to see a 200lb, Russian goalie, stretching out from behind. And with hockey players it’s always better from behind, because their teeth are up front.
So the game starts, all the players skate out onto the ice and he looks at me goes “I don’t how they are going to land a triple axel in those outfits.” Baffled, I looked at him and said, “That’s why the San Francisco team was eliminated.” He didn’t get that I was joking. Then a big, bench clearing fight breaks out and the whole crowd is on its feet and I look at my partner and he’s sitting down. I yelled, “Get up! This is the exciting part.” He just looked at me emotionless and said, “Oh please. That has to be totally staged.” I knew I should have never taken him to The Wrestler.
As frustrated as I was that he didn’t find the game entertaining, I learned something about performances- to only take my partner to ones that involve oversized Disney characters and a Bedazzler.
Photo Credit:Chase N.