And on the ninth day, God created Gaga Ball, so that evil children could get their comeuppance with a painful play date in a box with a dodgeball.

My friends, I have been inducted into a new game that makes my life happy. It is called Gaga Ball. A group of people, lets say bitter camp counselors/specialists/admin and vicious campers, enter a walled in arena with a concrete (now rubber, pansies kept getting hurt and complaining) floor and a dodge ball. The object is to hit the other people in the pit, as its called, with the dodgeball below the knee. The winner is the last one standing. And the losers are the ones covered in cuts and bruises bitching about how much it hurts to be smashed in the shin with a dodgeball bounced off of concrete.

So, basically, someone at my camp is paid as much as me to wail on kids with dodgeballs all day.

It's sublime. I don't think I've ever enjoyed a sport more in my life. I'm trying to figure out how to build my own pit in the backyard to wail on unsuspecting guests. It's that fun. And, even better, I made some college athletes not want to play anymore because the music and drama guy beat them. Almost tops beating the softball specialist at arcade basketball and watching her storm away in a cloud of rage.

Here's a video that I believe gets the point across.



Bring the pain.