Now, there have been several teams I've really enjoyed so far this year, of course the nerd in me loved the Comic Book Dudes, Dallas and Toni remind me of my mom and my brother, and Ken and Tina are surprisingly likable as this season's token "HE CHEATED ON ME" couple.
But! I have something very embarrassing to admit. I almost can't write it, as it would get me seriously hated on if I was to say it on any TARfly message board, but... here goes...
I Totally Love The Frat Boys.
There. I said it. I know I know I know, they're annoying, and incompetent, and generally just terrible Racers, but no matter how hard I try, I always find myself hoping they'll be spared Philmination. Why? Oh, I have my reasons.First of all, I'm just a nice Jewish girl. You all probably know this about me already, but I'm one of the chosen people, and damn proud of it. Even though Andrew and Dan are kind of clueless assholes, they're also the kind of guys I awkwardly flirted with after morning services at Kutz Camp. Andrew in particular would totally have been right up my alley, with his ginger Jew-fro and gold Star of David pendant. I guess it's an acquired taste...
Secondly, they share my slapstick nature. Some people are just destined to have consistently slapstick lives. You've seen it in Jennifer Anniston movies, you've seen it happen to Dr. Elliot Reed on Scrubs and Susan Meyer on Desperate Housewives, but you might want to know that it happens to some of us in real life too. Some people will never be graceful... and I'm sad to say I'm one of them. If something not-too-tragic can happen to make me look silly, it will happen. I'll fall over tiny cracks in the sidewalk, I'll get chili powder in my eye at a restaurant, I'll leave the bathroom of the bar with my dress tucked into my tights. It's just part of my life, I have come to accept it -but more importantly, it makes me understand and identify with other people with this problem... so let me just say: Team Dandrew, I feel your pain.
Anyone can fuck up on the Race. It takes a special kind of fuck up to loose your fucking shoes, change in and out of your military outfit several times, be physically unable to perform a march, and still stay in the Race.
Bravo Boys, I doubt you'll win, but maybe I'll see you at TARcon13, and maybe we can giggle when we spill beer all over each other by accident.
Or better yet, Manischewitz.





