The Most Vile Hobby Ever

I would like to talk about something that drives me absolutely fucking bonkers twice a week when I attend one of my classes. Something that is so vile that it makes me contemplate buying a gun and mowing people down. Something that gets me so riled up before class that I can’t even think straight.

What is this vile, disgusting act that has my panties in a bunch?

Hacky-sack.

Now before all you hippies jump all over me let me explain something. I don’t hate hacky-sack itself, nor do I hate the people that play it. I know it is a great way to piss away hours of your day while stoned, I get it, and there is nothing wrong with that.

But why do people always play hacky-sack in the worst fucking locations ever? We could open up a football stadium hours before a football game and tell a group of hacky-sack players that they could play wherever they wanted. Nothing would be off limits including the field, the practice field, hell even the freaking showers in the locker room. Instead of choosing the field, the concourse, or any other logical space they would choose the main entrance right where everyone has to walk through. Making it a pain the ass for everyone entering the stadium, and thus annoying the piss out of everyone, of course they will all be too stoned to realize that. They just have sixth sense for knowing the most inconvenient place to play. If hacky-sack players existed hundreds of years ago they would have played right in the road as Paul Revere was riding to tell us the British were coming, slowing him down and annoying the piss out of everyone involved.

To go along with their poor location choosing skills there seems to be a direct correlation between the busier the place they play and the worse of a player they are. It never fails. Here is a chart I made to illustrate my point, as you can see as a place gets more constricted the player playing there is worse, it’s not that their ability decreases it just happens that the worst players pick the busiest places.
Every Tuesday and Thursday when I go to class there is a small group of people that play hacky sack on campus. Instead of playing right in the grass next to admin building they have to play in the walkway where like 75 percent of the people going to class have to walk through. As per my theory these people are the shittiest hacky-sack players ever. I can’t remember a time walking through that area where I didn’t see someone get hit when they were walking by.

It’s kind of embarrassing for the hackee or hacker or stoner, whatever you want to call them and the person getting hit, it’s an uncomfortable situation for all involved. With that being said, I pray every time I walk by that I am the lucky person to get hit. I dream about catching the hacky sack and in one motion tossing it on top of a building. In fact I make sure I loosen up before I got to class so I don’t throw my arm out. Just the thought of it makes me happy. Not in a bullying, shit on them type of way but in a let’s get revenge and teach you sons of bitches a lesson type of way. I think it would kill their sense of purpose in life. Plus you know none of them have nine dollars cobbled together to buy another sack, so it might be weeks or maybe months before they can play again thus making everyone’s college experience better.

Now if I could just figure out a way to hook up a fire house that sprays soap and water so I could get rid of thank stank ass patchouli oil smell that radiates from their bodies I would be a happy guy. I’d rather smell a road kill skunks, rotting, and diarrhea filled asshole than that stuff. I will never get for the life of me the appeal of it other than it covers up the smell of smoke, there has to be a better way. But that is another subject for another day.