Intense Negotiations

My favorite time of year is coming up. No, it's not the hint of spring. No, it's not even my birthday.

It's time for the bi-annual Bocce Team Name Deliberations.

Now, unlike most other bocce teams, we decide to change our name every season. (I'm looking at you, Joanie loves Bocce.)

It's tense. It's fierce. It's competitive. But it's always fun, you know, trashing team mate's creative juices and all.

So this year is no different as we sat around at the pre-season happy hour, chatting with the "black shirts," trying to figure out what is the most offensive name we can use that is still legal. And believe me, those black shirts are tough.

Back many seasons ago, our team started with the humble pun, Boccelism, which soon moved on to the more appropriately descriptive, De-bocce-ry. And when the black shirts tried to scam us and put a "random" on our team, we fought back with the team name Where is Ross Little? (He never did show up for a game.) We then moved back to our pun roots and used: El MariBocce Band.

But we wanted to push the envelope. We wanted that effing "best name" prize at the end of the season. And while we were denied the usage of PussyBocceMarijuana, we resigned to: Eff Me Til I Bocce. There's nothing funnier than an opponent walking toward us, timidly asking: "Um, are you, um, 'Eff Me TIl I Bocce.'"

Sometimes those non-descript colors (what the hell is majestic golden midnight blue?!?!) really work in our favor.

And don't worry, we're working on embarrassing you all once again. And we will win that coveted Best Team Name prize, and the Miller Lite girl that goes along with it.

*Photo: Yes, I know, we definitely had too much time on our hands at our old job if were were coloring on plastic cups. But, shit, the team spirit -- and drinking -- we're out of control that season. In a good way, of course.

-----Oh, and hi. I'm gansie. Not a black shirt. Nice to meet you.