Mind Your Own Business, Beyotch!

Every year for a combination Mother's Day/Father's Day gift, I take my parents out to dinner, then to a Phillies game. It's a good time, and we go without my brother, which means they'll have plenty of extra time to ask me lots of incessant questions about work and my social life that I really don't want to discuss. Due to unusually high attendance from Chase Utley t-shirt night, I couldn't score box seats, so we settled for 3rd row upper deck behind the plate. Up in the nosebleeds, you generally encounter a different class of fan. Given that it's Philadelphia, you expect rude, drunken jerks, though there are more subtle jackholes who piss me off...

Sitting next to me at the game was a somewhat portly woman. She wasn't "orca fat", but if we stood side-by-side, we would closely resemble the number '10' (if you get this joke, give yourself a cookie). I wouldn't call her morbidly obese, but her arm fat and gunt did invade my personal space. The conclusion: her mere presence was instantly annoying. To further incite my rage, she didn't watch the game, choosing instead to fiddle with her cell phone text messaging and such. While this crappy fan behavior is annoying, she at least paid her way into the park and supported the team that way. Anyways, my mother doesn't know a ton about baseball outside of the front page of the local paper, so she'll ask me about players and teams during the game, and I'll try to fill her in on the details. In the first inning, Jason Bay, the star player on the Pirates, came to the plate, and I explained that he was a star player and won the rookie of the year award in 2003 or 2004. The fat beyotch next to me is fiddling with her phone, then taps me on the shoulder to inform me that Bay won the 2004 RoY, then she read his stat line from that year. I was shocked that she bothered to speak to me at all. I was talking with other people, and she just hopped right into my conversation as if I had asked for her assistance. What the heck was with this woman?

Over the course of the evening, this woman interrupted me no fewer than 5 extra times with stats and her own opinions. For instance, I called Shea Stadium a craphole and the worst park in the major leagues. She told me that Oakland's stadium was way worse and gave a 3 minute speech about why. Later, I mentioned that Nick Swisher was a solid young hitter on my fantasy team, so she pointed out that he has been slumping lately, so I should trade him. Naturally, this dilusional, jerkish behavior pissed me off to no end. Finally, in the 7th inning, my mom asked why Ryan Howard, the Phillies first baseman, wasn't starting in the All Star Game. I told her that Albert Pujols was the best player in baseball and the leading vote-getter. I also mentioned that "Prince Albert" missed a good chunk of June with a muscle pull, but he was still near or at the top of the league in lots of hitting categories, including HR's. The fat beyotch fiddles with her cell phone for a minute, then says, "Wrong again. He only missed 15 days with a ribcage strain, and he homered today, so he's in first place in that category." That was the last straw! Here is the exchange that followed:

Me: Thanks for the info. I was wondering if you could check something up for me on your phone.
Fat Beyotch: What's that, dear?
Me: Why don't you look up how to go fahk yourself.
FB: EXCUSE ME?
Me: You heard me. Butt out of my conversations. Watch the game and shut up.
FB: (mutters under her breath)

Naturally, my parents were mortified, but I got to watch the last 2 1/2 innings of the game without the amateur statistician pestering my family with annoying commentary and her useless insights. Here's my take: If you go to a ballgame, you go to enjoy the ambiance and the ballpark. Friendly chatter is allowed and encouraged, but when it's plainly clear that people aren't interested in your stupid opinions, back off, mind your own business, and leave the other fans alone. If you really have something to say, start posting needless op-ed pieces on a friend's blog that nobody reads. Seriously, who in their right mind updates complete strangers on baseball facts without being asked? Only in Philadelphia...