Last night, our volleyball team got shanked again’this time by a team with only four players. I’m a little discombobulated now. I mean, we used to be in second place, losing out only to a team of cyborg barflies for whom chronic drinking has the same affect as training at high altitudes. And I was ok with that. But last week, we lost all three games to the fourth place team and this week I was too disheartened to even see who we were losing to, but I believe they were the third place team. Plus, they had a bunch of their menfolk who were hooting and hollering like we were playing the damn Superbowl or something. I’m assuming that there were no Nascar races to watch last night. I almost got into a bar fight telling one of them to shut the fuck up. Ok, I didn’t really, but I did give him one deadly stare and in my mind said, ‘Shut the fuck up, Loser’. It’s very hard when you make an error and there’s a bunch of raucous people on the sideline, screaming and cheering like you were the Nazi guy in the Indiana Jones movies and you got your face melted off by the wrath of God.
Next week, we’re playing Jackson Elementary’s Girl Scout troop and truthfully, I’m a little concerned.
Also, I think I pulled something lunging for a serve that I undoubtedly missed. My ass hurts, although it could be from all of the inhaling exercises I’ve been doing for my vocal training. I’ve got another lesson tonight, where I’m certain that she will spend twenty-five minutes making sure that I’m EXHALING properly.
The senior pictures turned out fabulous. I’m surprised actually at how really good they are. I suppose I shouldn’t be. I was concentrating a lot on doing everything right. I have this horrible tendency to lop off the top bits of people’s heads. Honestly, why does that bother people so much? I mean, if you want a picture of the top of your head, I can take a picture of the top of your head.
Last night Esteban ICQ’d me from Banff. Then he called me but his cell phone was cutting in and out horribly so we just resorted to chatting. I kept having this strange feeling that I should be telling him my age, gender, hair color, etc. It was very odd chatting with my spouse. Also, I was being a smart ass to him and then I was realizing that my sarcasm was not really translating through the written word. For instance, I told him that Tilly was freaking out, which just means that she was being schizophrenic as normal, but he got all nervous ‘What’s wrong with Tilly? What’s she doing? Where’s Chelsea?’ He asked where Chelsea was because sometimes Tilly will attack Chelsea for no apparent reason when she’s being a freak.
Tilly is the enforcer in their relationship. If we yell at Chelsea, Tilly will go beat her up. If we yell at Tilly, she will go and beat Chelsea up. I’m not sure why. Maybe she knows someone should get their ass kicked but she gets confused. We also have to be very careful about stepping on Chelsea, as she’s gotten an attitude in her old age. She does not feel she needs to move for ANYONE, which means that she is often underfoot. If we step on her, she’ll yowl in surprise and then Tilly will get confused or something and begin to stalk her with the intent on pummeling her. Poor Chelsea, first she gets stepped on and then she must fear for her life.
I am so tired this morning. Our volleyball game was scheduled for 8:45 last night (read: Weetabix’s bed time) but they were running very late and we didn’t get on the court until 9:15 and didn’t finish until 10:00. And it’s not like you can run off the court after a hard game and jump right into bed (aside from the sandy feet issue, which can make your bed an experience which ranges from exfoliation to dermabrasion), so I played around on the computer and watched Letterman until 11:30 p.m. and then finally went to bed.
I’m so tired this morning that I actually wore my hippy sandals to work because I didn’t want to bend down to tie my shoes nor find my slip on loafers. Plus, I didn’t want to have to put on socks. How sad is that? I think if I had some hot venus bod, I’d probably go to work in my pajamas or possibly naked. Just think: business propriety has been reserved due to my love of KFC. And who said the Colonel never did anything for the world?
Edited because I’m Freudian Slip Girl recently. Yesterday I slipped when writing about taking a bath (I wrote “taking a bat”). Today, I had to edit the above bit because I wrote “I didn’t want to bed down and tie my shoes” instead of “bend down”. God, I couldn’t PLAN for funnier slips if I tried.
Also, wanted to add that someone from a Ralph Lauren server is reading this while working there. I have this sudden urge to apply suede paint to my background and attire ChubbyTink in a tweed fox hunting outfit. I’m not entirely sure whatit means that someone at Ralph Lauren is reading this, but if you’ve got any pull whatsoever, could you please get me a Ralph Lauren t-shirt made up in XXXV (that stands for extra extra extra Voluptous). Ralphie doesn’t make t-shirts in big sizes, as far as I know. I’d like a pink one. I’ll gladly pay. And just to show how tired I am, I actually for a moment thought “Who do I know at Ralph Lauren?” and then I thought “Oooh, I know Rachel Green! She works there” but then I remember that she’s on “Friends” and I don’t really know her. Pretty pathetic, isn’t it?
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