In honor of Soccer/CS's first birthday, I'll play this game- Post up to 3 questions/comment in the comments and I'll write back with the answers. Then, I'll go ask you questions on your blog. No topic's off limits. Everybody gets comments, everybody wins! Ready? Go!
Pals has a website. It's got everything- a map of all locations (it's an East Tennessee-based chain,) nutritional informations (even on its Big Tea and Milkshakes,) and a thought for the day. Now if only I could get an order of cheddar rounds and a milkshake delivered...
In High School, one of the other office aides and I would take orders, collect money, leave campus, and walk across the street to Pal's. They liked us, I think, walking through. That's all there is, really, a drive through. And then I'd to pick up the change that'd dropped outside of the money window. On a good day it'd buy my coke for the next day.
Combined with the other team in town, SaberKatz, is our article about football. Some incorrect information (e.g. we're both professional sports organizations) Season opener is tomorrow!
In other news, I rolled my ankle pretty good yesterday at practice, catching a low ball while turning and then immediately getting tackled from behind-ish. But I caught it, it was pretty, and my ankle's also pretty this morning. So today, I'm looking for a nice strong man to carry me around.
Last night, the team's Meet and Greet was more successful than last year's- we had a media person attend. Look for an article on the team in the Indianapolis Star on us tomorrow. Kickoff's in 2 days, and I'm already quite nervous about it!
Last night at football practice, as the line, returners, and rest of us practiced in groups, the old security gaurd at the high school where we practice came tottering onto the field. He watched us run routes for a while, then tottered over to the line and inspected them, then came back onto our mini-scrimmage field and asked about the returners practicing, specifically about our long snapper. He used to play that position in semi-pro and wanted to give her some advice on how to get the ball to spiral.
So he tottered down to the girls and started talking to Amy, showing her how to spiral the ball, she twice as big as this tiny man that looked like he would snap in half when he bent over to snap the ball. But damn if it wasn't the prettiest spiral-snapped ball I've ever seen.
For your shopping enjoyment, I present Hellbomb, a collection of shirts you'd find at Hot Topic. The best part is the mullet-obessed stickers, echoing sentiments I've expressed to TCB: I'm just driving this way to piss you off.
Oh, and for Ghani's friend: I poke badgers with spoons.
What a weekend. Things accomplished:
-Packed some dishes and random bedroom items
-Played 3 rounds of Putt-Putt and avoided the giggling "I'm going to put my arm around you" guy
-Found what had died in my kitchen (it was the macaroni and cheese)
-Watched more Buffy than should be allowed for any one person
-Shaved my legs
Last weekend, I get this random phone call from... someone. I don't really know, because was in a bad reception area and couldn't hear. But I get the gist that the phone's being handed to someone else and they talk. And I'm all "call me back later"
So the guy does, but I'm out shopping and in no mood to talk. Plus it's really loud where I am.
I call the Terre Haute number back later, and a woman answers the phone. I say "I'm calling for a guy that called from this number," and she says "Oh, it must have been E," in a rather mom-sounding voice. She goes to get him (mom-sounding voice) and I'm thinking "I don't know any E's in the Haute"
So... he asks if I want to hang out or something, and I say, uh, ok..." and do the "so, what are you doing this summer, where are you living, etc..." questions, to try and figure out where the hell I know this guy from. All I get is he knows Rose, probably went there, not working this summer
Then he calls back Tuesday,asking if I want to go out on Friday, so I say yes, it's to a public place, I'll drive myself, really, no problem, and then ask where he got my number
"Oh, I got it from the guys at the party"
I'm franticly thinking "Party, what party? I haven't been to a party in ages."
Turns out it was a Greenlight party, so it would have been months ago, and I think it's E from Theta Xi. A party at which I was with two boyfriends, TCB and Nagi.
Since I like to avoid conflict, I resolved to wear a ring when we go do whatever.
If you're bored tomorrow, the football team's holding a Beer tasting at the BW3's downtown at 8pm. Looks like it'll be a good time, for $25 you get dinner and beer. and a chance to hang with the team.
So, I'm driving back from JoCy the other weekend and I'm near Corbin, driving TCB's car and not watching my speed, really. Going downhill, I'm going about 80, thinking, man, that's way too fast and TCB says, "Cop."
I look up, find the cop driving the other direction and gently apply the brakes until I'm even with him, so he doesn't see brake lights in his rearview mirror. I think nothing of it, continue to let gravity and friction slow me down to about 60.
Then I see a cop behind me. I do my usual get-out-of-his-way lane switchery, he follows me, I say "fuck" and then his lights go on. I've never gotten pulled over before, so I'm kind of Freaking Out in my own head.
Fortunately, TCB has lots of practice in this, so he gets out his registration, insurance proof, and I pull out my license. We give these to the officer who's come up on the passenger side. Mr. Police Officer informs me that I was going 78, I guess that it's a 55 mph zone. He asks if I had a reason to go that fast, I squeak out "I was going downhill," he asks if I even saw him, since I didn't slow down and I think "but I did slow down, I was going only 60 when you pulled in behind me" but I say that I didn't see him, and he leaves. One minute later he's back, but in my window, telling me that I need to slow down, that I'll go through a stoplight, down a hill, and the speed limit's 45. He gets back in his car, turns the lights off, and waits for me to leave. That's when TCB tells me that nobody ever gets off in Kentucky.
I'm bruised like crazy- those black bruises that take forever to disappear- from football. There's one on the back of my leg that keeps getting bigger. And I've manages to bruise both wrists with facemasks, mine or getting a hand caught in somebody else's.
I'm definitely not wearing any skirts in public anytime soon.
Do enjoy heavy lifting, heavy eating, and heavy drinking? Are you good at picking up bales of hay and fine-looking women? Are you wearing flannel at the moment? If you answered an affirmative grunt to any of the above, then “The Burly, Surly Stable Hand” category has you profiled.
I finally broke down and got a new cell phone yesterday. It's not exactly the one I'd like, but I really don't care any more. I've got my digital camera in my £2.50 purse [by far, the best purse i've ever used] and I'm confident that someday I'll find a textured soccerball faceplate for this new phone. They've got to make it somewhere, and George just got the same phone.
Very tempted to have "Barbie Girl" as my ringer, if I can't find the Mario Bros. theme...
Along with considering the trip back into school for more education in art and cs, like design, I'm wondering what kind of applicant I am since I already have a B.S. In Art, I'm definitely not a grad student, I've got little previous experience from which to draw and I don't think I really want to continue down the straight Science route.
Do I apply to the school in general? Do I contact someone at the school and which department do I contact, art or CS? Who can offer a scholarship for which I am eligible? Where do I want to live? Do I really want to put up with Lib Arts people?
Which canidate would you trust to hold your legs in a keg stand? CNN has a special article on Penn's fraternities and their voting and bid preferences on the canidates.
Brodsky ... despite a demonstrated commitment to the Republican Party ... does not intend to vote for Bush
even though Bush is the only candidate to whom he'd offer a bid to join Pi Kappa Alpha.
"George Bush is the only one that I can see playing Beirut [aka Beer Pong] while shot-gunning a Natty Ice."
This has been an exciting weekend for me, with many, many things to tell. The stories that you get to look forward to are:
Wild storms at Target
Playing the arrival game
How to travel the Nolichucky or: I didn't think it was that dangerous
Getting pulled over in Kentucky going 23 over the speed limit
How to get from Bloomington to the Haute in 45 minutes or less.
At practice, during warm-up, we do bag drills. We shuffle around bags, hop over them, do sideways leap frogs and run to the line where we crash through two people, gauntlet-style. every practice, two new people head the line. In preparation for going home this weekend, I've tried to avoid it, so I'm not showing my parents two black arms. Until yesterday, when putting helmets on, Mac yes out, "Palila, you haven't done this yet!" And so now here I am, date with the Nolichukey tomorrow, and my shoulders are bruised enough that a purse hurts and mow it's my left arm that's back and blue down to my elbow. Oooh, that life vest is gonna be fun!
KRISTIANSAND/OSLO: As Kristopher Schau and his band Cumshots were in the middle of their concert, a young couple entered the stage, stripped and had sex. See photos and video.
Hmm.. perhaps NSFW, but I love that they have video of it. And close-up photos.
It's all to benefit the Rainforest, the environmental organization "Fuck for Forest"
"Last time [the couple] had public sex, they managed to collect NOK 100,000 (USD 14,677), but nobody wanted to take the money"
With the weather as hot as it is, my brain's turned to mush and those classic novels sitting on my bookshelves, crying out to have their endings read hold no appeal. It's only suitable for Chick Lit, those books you can only loan to a straight girlfriend on a hot night and read in bed with tea. It's sort of a hit-or-miss book: either you'll cry your eyes out and loan it to someone else or everything will be so incredulous that you finish it and hand it back.
That said, I picked up Wedding Season yesterday while TCB attended a meeting in Indy. You know, girl has steady boyfriend, doesn't want to ever get married, has to attend 17 wedding in 6 months, hilarity and soul-searching ensues in orange dresses. Only half-finished with the book, but going to loan it out to the girls. Especially after attending weddings the past two weekends.
The girl, Joy, has a wonderful point near the beginning: "I have no empirical evidence that marriage is really all useful or effective these days ... [F]rom the moment divorce became relatively simple a few decades back ... it's been sayonara, sayonara, sayonara."
I agree to the point that I really don't want the whole marriage ceremony, the dress, save-the-date cards, parents fussing, his parents, invitations, the eventual fading, the suspicion, the subequent cheating. I'd much rather skip that and go right to sunny breakfasts in fluffy dressing gowns around the table with the newspaper and tea. He can get up and ready for work, I can lounge, pet the cat, heat water, toast a bagel. Joy's got that, with the well-to-do boyfriend that stays true, despite her suspicions, but she practiaccly sells out halfway through the book. Why you got to hurt me like that, baby?
Went last night to see the fireworks at Fairbanks park. It was lovely, shooting the fireworks off one at a time so you could really see what the firework was doing. The cannons were cool too, I could *just* see them fire out of the corner of my eye. They hit the checkmark for required jumping into the boy's arms. He said the finale made him think he was back at Thunder over Louisville for a few seconds, but after a show like last night's, I say, "Thunder what?"
Angus the dog wasn't too thrilled with teh fireworks, he was all about the leaning on our legs and kicking it into 4-wheel drive at one point. Walking back to the car, he made sure he wouldn't hit anything by keeping his tail tucked up between his legs.
I hate it when mom's right about fashion. She bought me a collared jersey dress in high school, gave it to me and told me I'd look great in it. I wore it (once) and looked like a bumpy stick with strange shoes. I tried it on today to wear to a wedding today (hide some of these bruises) and it looks good.
But I still don't have any shoes that look good with it.
After touring the brewery in St. Louis and getting my two free drinks at the end of the tour, with the Budweiser only four days old, I'm so disappointed that what I had last night was not fluffy and yummy. But I'm willing to keep trying to find fluffy beer.
To the people who stared at me last night at Wal-Mart last night with the boy:
I received these bruises playing football. My bruises, after yesterday's practice, have multiplied and gotten darker. The prettiest one is the first one, which is now draining towads my elbow. This guy's not the large dyke that ran into me helmet first, nor is he the little one that I tackled.
