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I have a love/hate relationship with frisbee. Since my church friends regularly play frisbee on Sunday afternoons, I find myself partially dreading 4:30pm.

"I'm not playing today, okay?" I told MK.

"But whyyyyyyyyyy?"

"I hate to sweat unnecessarily. Furthermore, I've already washed my hair this morning."

And then I take the usual pains as to give the impression that I'm NOT going to play frisbee. First of all, I purposely don't dress for the occasion. Secondly, I don't bring any basic after-sports stuff such as bottled water, towel, spare change etc. Thirdly, I lug along my ciggies. Get the message, guys. I'm coming here to watch YOU guys toss a bright yellow plate around while I sit in the shade and enjoy my cancer sticks. Geddit?

Unfortunately, they refuse to geddit.

The frisbee group start with the usual gentle cajoling, which I manage to turn a deaf ear to. Then they switch to guilt tactics ("But we don't have enough people on our teaaaaaaaam!"). Finally, someone would just yell, "Just play, okay!?!"

And I would trot off happily onto the field to play.

Frisbee is very fun. Super fun, actually. But being the drama queen that I am, I would openly declare how much I hate frisbee, and yet I would also be the one initiating practice sessions. I am probably the only player to proclaim how I'm going to die if I play one more match while enthusiastically bounding across the field to take my usual position.

I hate frisbee.

But I can't wait till Sunday. Yayness.