I can’t throw a fucking frisbee. I know this sounds petty, and you’re probably wondering how the hell I’m going to fill this page ranting about something so stupid. This could end right here, and I’d still feel like it’s legit.
I can’t throw a frisbee. The end.
It’s embarrassing. I want to play disc golf, and I can’t. I play the first two rounds before I’m so mad and annoyed with myself that I just bitterly walk along and refuse to play. I’m not a competitive person, I don’t care that I would lose… I care that my disc is going into the pond. I care that I actually try to be good, and there are only a few select things I do that for. It seems like it’d be so easy. I’m all like… just point where you want it to go.
WHY CAN’T I DO THAT!?
Cartwheels also fall into this category but I’m not talking about that. Diving face first into the ground counting on my arms to keep my chubby ass suspended, hoping I land back upright is clearly harder than flicking a disc outta my hand. Just once, I want it to soar flat.
Sidenote/Fun fact: A long time ago, my older sister and I were in the backyard at my dad’s house, I think it was around the fourth of July. This was one of the many times I tried to toss a frisbee around casually. This story, however, is not about my ability to throw it, it’s about my lack of skills for catching one too. In my defense, it was dark out… who plays catch with a frisbee after dark? She flicks the disc in my direction and I’m not sure if it was my lack of grace, the lack of light, or my lack of attention… but the frisbee hit me right on the bridge of my nose. I don’t even know if I put my hands up in an attempt to catch it. It was just like…