Play Ball? Um, No Thanks.

I do not understand the business world nowadays.

I am in the parking lot at the local grocery, hurrying in to grab a few important items before the car gets too hot. For the dog to sit in it. In a shady place, of course. I am hurrying and I overhear a Business Dude on his cellphone, speaking entirely too loud, by the way, if I can hear him from seven sunny parking spots away.

We need to get our shi* in a row so she can step right up and be ready to play ball, he is saying.

Wow. Really?

First of all, I cannot recall a Communications 101 class that encourages BusinessPersons to refer to their fecal material in any manner, let alone in a busy parking lot while on a business call with another alleged BusinessPerson. And secondly, what kind of metaphors is Business Dude mixing here anyhow?

I cannot identify a sport in which fecal material plays any significant role whatsoever. Defecation all in a row, besides requiring either excellent aim and/or lots of nasty gathering and storage of such, would definitely make a crappy basepath, pun intended. And although the idea of the BusinessPersons playing hopscotch amid excrement kind of ups the anty, if you know what I mean and I think you do, there is not a ball involved in such sport.

Bumpers for bowling?

And it definitely takes Dodgeball to a whole new level.

I'm glad that I'm just an everyday Trophy Wife because even when life kinda stinks, it doesn't stink that bad.

Heck, yes!