They say opposites attract. Personally, I think God got bored so He brought the Man and I into a relationship so He could sit back and watch the impending train wreck. Sometimes our differences are just too hilarious.
Last night, as the Man was filling out an information packet for a background check, he came upon a question regarding his participation in alcohol-related games. The Man seemed confused by the statement, so I started naming popular drinking games (beer pong, quarters, flippy cup, etc.). [Disclaimer: let it be known that I am aware of such activities through my south side Chicago upbringing -- not through personal experience.] His eyes suddenly lit up as he exclaimed, "Oh so they mean, like, drunken donkey baseball?!"
Yep. Drunken donkey baseball. Apparently it was a favorite pastime during Minong Days in northwestern Wisconsin. I could only imagine the summer nights spent with his buddies, watching their parents successfully maneuver a donkey around second while not spilling a drop of Milwaukee's Best. [This is a good time to point out that "drunken" refers to the players, not the actual donkeys. Although drunken donkeys would be quite entertaining.] I literally fell to the ground laughing over our vastly different childhoods.
He grew up playing in the woods, building forts out of sticks, chasing bears, eating cheese, and going sledding in July. I grew up playing in the street, building forts out of PipeWorks, chasing A's in science fairs, eating casseroles, and going sledding on the man made Belly Button Hill. Somehow we fell in love and we make it work. Drunken donkey baseball and all.