Random Hobby #2 -- Ping-Pong
>> 08 October 2008
Feeling some guilt after attending the AAA Conference and realizing that my Asianness was probably wavering at a running-on-life-support 3 (it was all those summer BBQs; what a non-Asian activity), I needed to pick up something new in order to bolster my Asian half:
This is a picture of my ping-pong blade.
In response to your impending and incessant questioning:
"Yes,
...I just referred to my ping pong paddle as 'my blade.' It's proper terminology. Using 'paddle' and 'racket' automatically label you as a know-nothing wannabe.
...our blades have protective cases.
...it was custom-made in and brought back from China (thank you, Dave, for bringing it back -- I owe you any vital organ you stand in need of in the future). I may or may not claim that it contains carbon fiber / ancient magical powers...
...my fellow pongers and I have matching uniforms.
...I remove the plastic coverings from the paddle when I play, then replace them to preserve stickiness.
...my friends and I scoured craigslist for ping-pong tables, drove around the Washington Metropolitan Area to scout the quality of prospects, bought a table for $35, and now store it on the stage at our church.
...I have referred to ping-pong time as "our equivalent to the black man's barbershop." A huge appeal of our ponging is being able to sit around and talk about whatever, however we want. I guess the only drawback is that Ice Cube and Cedric the Entertainer aren't around to shoot the breeze with. The upside is that there will be no crappy sequel.
...I do bring my gym clothes with me everywhere, just on the off-chance I will need to suit up to play some pong.
...at any given time if you glance in my direction, you may see me swinging my arm in a methodical motion...that's right, practicing my swing...
...we know we take ourselves too seriously."
A quick illustration of how ridiculous we are. My buddy Dave and I were cleaning the inside of the church one Saturday morning. Bryan ("Banker") -- also a ponger, but who we didn't expect to see that morning -- comes storming into the church and gets a relieved look on his face when he sees us cleaning.
Banker says: "Man, I saw your guys' cars out in the parking lot and I thought: 'Those SOBs came to play without me!' I was so pissed!"
We're sort of intense. But you probably realized by now that me being intense about random things is pretty standard.
More stories to come on the ping-pong front, I'm sure.
In response to your impending and incessant questioning:
"Yes,
...I just referred to my ping pong paddle as 'my blade.' It's proper terminology. Using 'paddle' and 'racket' automatically label you as a know-nothing wannabe.
...our blades have protective cases.
...it was custom-made in and brought back from China (thank you, Dave, for bringing it back -- I owe you any vital organ you stand in need of in the future). I may or may not claim that it contains carbon fiber / ancient magical powers...
...my fellow pongers and I have matching uniforms.
...I remove the plastic coverings from the paddle when I play, then replace them to preserve stickiness.
...my friends and I scoured craigslist for ping-pong tables, drove around the Washington Metropolitan Area to scout the quality of prospects, bought a table for $35, and now store it on the stage at our church.
...I have referred to ping-pong time as "our equivalent to the black man's barbershop." A huge appeal of our ponging is being able to sit around and talk about whatever, however we want. I guess the only drawback is that Ice Cube and Cedric the Entertainer aren't around to shoot the breeze with. The upside is that there will be no crappy sequel.
...I do bring my gym clothes with me everywhere, just on the off-chance I will need to suit up to play some pong.
...at any given time if you glance in my direction, you may see me swinging my arm in a methodical motion...that's right, practicing my swing...
...we know we take ourselves too seriously."
A quick illustration of how ridiculous we are. My buddy Dave and I were cleaning the inside of the church one Saturday morning. Bryan ("Banker") -- also a ponger, but who we didn't expect to see that morning -- comes storming into the church and gets a relieved look on his face when he sees us cleaning.
Banker says: "Man, I saw your guys' cars out in the parking lot and I thought: 'Those SOBs came to play without me!' I was so pissed!"
We're sort of intense. But you probably realized by now that me being intense about random things is pretty standard.
More stories to come on the ping-pong front, I'm sure.
7 ideas preached:
Ahhh, I remember the night it all started...a little homemade food...a sultry summer evening...and you guys still in your church clothes trying to show each other up...you've come so far...I don't know whether to feel proud or slightly responsible :)...either way, nice post...can't wait to be back...maybe you can help me work out my "chicken wing"
YOu know that when I woop your A at the pong, I steal your asianness. Kind of like highlander.
Since you call it your black man's barbershop... is it only for men? :) I kinda like the game too. Either way, I'm curious about the matching uniforms.
Mary Ann
I just can't really get past the fact that you have a case for your paddle. That's right-I called it a paddle.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but I seem to remember Ben beating you a lot when you were here. But I guess you didn't have your fancy blade yet.
I can see the documentary now.....Josh Dalton: Ping of Pong
And I'm white !!!!
Post a Comment