Thursday, March 8, 2012

I've Got Big Balls

Wait for will all make sense in the end. 
How could we resist, you ask? Well, we couldn't. So we didn't. Patrick hasn't stopped eyeballing the Neo's Pizza sign claiming "Best Pizza in Dallas" for months. The outside temperature was perfect, our bellies were growling, and they had a patio calling our name. Who are we to argue with fait?
 We were the only souls to brave the wind, strong enough to knock over the empty iron chairs around us, but in our nook under the neon sign, we had just enough protection to subdue the weather to a nice breeze with a side of people watching. The inside environment was really cool, but we've got to take advantage of the non-triple digit weather while we can. It may only be March, but sauna weather is well on it's way. I can feel it. 
 Our waiter was top notch. (I may have been slightly partial to him, since he told me he "loved my unique look" while Patrick was away taking a potty break.)
As far as "Best Pizza in Dallas" goes, I still believe that can be found in the Carruth residence (AKA our house), but the ingredients and dough were fresh and my salad was superb. 
Then we headed to the basketBALL game. 
Here goes.......
Obviously I don't have balls...but if in another time and place I did, they would be big ones. 
We decided to get a little ballsy with a friend that always finds his way to unoccupied prime real-estate seats during the heavy traffic hours of half-time. We followed his lead, but got busted our first go around. Oops. Nonchalantly we removed our chins from the floor, asses from the seat, and tried again. Security and seat ushers seemed to be everywhere, and as the game restarted, we both started to get slightly paranoid. I made nervous small talk to the girl next to me, who had absolutely no interest in laughing at my jokes. Wow, that's a first......I guess she was a little bitter, knowing she paid way more for her seat than I did. 
I popparazzied a few pictures, and gulped my wine (you know, playing it cool), but couldn't help feeling like eyes were on me. "Stop being so worried, it's unlike you.....why would someone pick you out of the crowd???" I kept telling myself. But I just knew someone was watching me. 
Then it happened.
A formal man, dressed exactly like the guy that busted us the first time, approached me from the sidelines.  He extended is arm to get my attention. My life started to quickly move in slow motion. His mouth opened, his lips forming words, but I couldn't comprehend what he was saying. I didn't need to. I knew it was, "Ma'am, can I see your ticket please?" Game over, we were busted. I thought of the back up plan. Show him your season ticket card and say you lost your actual printed ticket. It was a long shot, but worth a try. 
He said it again, and I just looked at him like a gaping idiot. 
"Your flash," said the girl next to me that hated my jokes, "He said to turn off your flash."
Whew!!! That was a close one!
This is probably the closest I'll ever get to Dirk, Kidd and Terry. I was a little star-struck.
'Ol Rick, coaching his team if front of the stupid Kardashian advertisement. People "Boo" Lamar when he steps foot on court. So...........I doubt they are going to watch the show.  
They guy just can't seem to get his head straight....or make a shot from directly under the basket.....or run after the ball when he turns it over........
Where are YOUR balls Lam Lam???? How 'bout you find them?!?!?!?
 (I feel ya; I miss L.A too......but you don't have to be baby about it.)
 Things were getting super frustrating, but I couldn't stop giggling when Patrick said, "Lam Lam couldn't make a taco, even if it had the meat and cheese already on it." Oh how I love that man {Patrick}.
We beat the Nicks, so all's well that end's well. 

Nothing like a victory to make you appreciate the beauty of Victory Park, huh??? Maybe one day we'll celebrate the ball dropping on New Year's Eve here. 
See that Naga advertisement? We ate there a while's amazing.

What's the ballsy-iest thing you've done lately?? What's your favorite style pizza: Chicago or New York?

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