My moment in the spotlight...stolen

Last night Matt and I went to the Mavericks game with our good friends Eileen and Dan. Here is the deal with me and professional sporting events: I don't really care. I can enjoy the experience and appreciate the atmosphere but you will never catch me spouting off statistics or ruminating on play off chances. However, if one of the players is involved with some sort of celebrity, has a pregnancy scandal or has been featured on a reality show, then you are speaking my language. I just like to go on a date with my husband and hang out with friends we really like.

Anyway, Eileen and Dan are super fans and Matt can hold his own based on the ridiculous amount of ESPN sports radio he listens to, so that just leaves me as the odd gal out. I really get a lot done though, I catch up on my texting, update my Facebook status with what I am currently eating and make observations about the die hard fans sitting around us, which always cracks me up. Basically I have a good time without having to emotionally invest anything in the game.

Last night's game was endless! We were losing and then we weren't and then it was tied. A real nail biter it seemed or whatever. Here is what I hate about all sporting events, two minutes lasts for an hour. The clock finally wound down to less than five minutes left and I silently rejoiced and started gathering my purse. But nope, it was a stream of timeouts that seemed never ending. During these "really short" timeouts the camera panned the spectators and of course featured them on the jumbo screen. All of a sudden, there we were! Granted the fans behind us were doing some out of control dancing and that might have grabbed the camera man's attention more than me clutching my purse and looking slightly pissed and very impatient, but nonetheless there we were!

Well, almost all of us. Matt didn't make the shot. He was inexplicably cut out. Keep in mind that time had now slowed down to a crawl so one second felt like a month. I was just starting to acknowledge my giant multi story high self when all of a sudden I was gone. Someone had stuck their giant man hand right in front of my face! I was totally confused, I hadn't even gotten to wave at myself yet or take the opportunity to study how my face and hair looked magnified. All I could see was my purse and a giant hand. My husband's hand.

Instantly our time was up and I turned to the man I married and demanded an explanation. I could not believe he had just stolen my thunder. I had just sat through a really boring three hours and at the end, one little moment of excitement happened to come my way and it was blocked. Here was his explanation. He said, "Melissa, I didn't want to be 'that' guy who dove over his wife's lap so he could see himself on the big screen, so I just stuck my hand out there in front of your face."

Um, what? In what world would that ever make sense? Then the final nail in his coffin, he spends the rest of the walk out to the car making comments on how awesome his hand looked jumbo sized, like an agent was going to seek him out for a hand modeling gig or something. Please.

You know what Matt, it didn't look awesome, it just looked really hairy.