The irony aboundeth

Intramural softball year by year:

2000--Team named "Perfect Sacrifice," Mitch sings opera in the outfield, and I somehow get thrown in his sister's doghouse for what would amount to about four years. This might also be the last year we made the playoffs.

2001--Team gets named "Citizen's Arrest," and spends whole season being cornholed by vigilante justice. And Jesse's bag squeaked on the way to every game ater I woke him up.

2002--I name our team the "Circus," intending to find rainbow clown wigs for everyone to wear. Instead, we bring all three rings and can't find our way out of them.

2003--I am forced to join a team that was called I believe "No Names," or some other such nonsense. That's all anyone remembers about that year.

2004--I assemble a team that is supposed to have great potential. Instead, John Marashian and Justin Wheeler turn out to be actual llamas who lied out their asses about being good at sports, most people don't pay their dues, let alone shirt fees, and I secure the worst record in the league yet again.

2005--Working for Facilities Services, I now have a much larger draft pool. Not only that, but the guys at the warehouse have hookups. So get this:

We are being sponsored by Waxie (meaning our league fees were paid by a toilet seat cover company), and our shirts, kindly donated by Office Depot, proudly declare "Taking care of business!" Yes, sir, Waxie and we are takin' care of business. One job at a time.

Current record: 1-0.