" danger hat: August 2006

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

If I disintegrate...

I may or may not, but there is a high likelihood that I will fall apart like a cracker in water in the next few days. Hopefully the trip home will curb it; if it doesn't, insert an iv of coffee into my remains--it's the only hope of resuscitation.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Take on me



So the things I hate about the picture above are:

a) the fact that everything looks really slow. This pack in this bout was a titch slower than the last, but we were never at the standing still pace this photo implies.

b) my foot is totally out of bounds which means I shouldn't be laying into Polly Apocalypse like that.

c) the Ethel Merman arm. That is pure awkward April and does nothing to improve my check.

So the thing I love about the picture:

a) It implies that I just dumped Luna Chicken on the ground. I know I gave her a time, so it may be truth--but I honestly don't remember putting anyone down in this bout.

I just got back from North Carolina. My mom and stepdad and sisters live there. (Though "the manliest man ever" was on a two week fishing trip in Alaska, so I didn't get to chat with him at all) My sisters are considerably younger than me, so it's taken them forever to reach the scary grown-up stage. Both are now firmly entrenched in their teens, and I gotta say it's a little spooky to see the children being erased and new adults being sketched into the blankness. In some ways it's gratifying because my mom kinda gets that ALL teenagers are crabs now, but in other ways it's weird to think that they're not really my 'little' sisters anymore. I mean, Lauren graduates this year for jeepers sake. I find this heartbreaking because I know that my only parental inclination is the desire to have a wee little April to follow me around. Not a child of my own (ew), but ME at, say, five or six. Mostly because, although I am still repugnantly childlike, there are aspects of myself that I have lost in transition. I feel having myself as a pint-sized advisor would come in handy. As I see my girls going through similar transitions, I want to collect the castoffs of their child selves and save them up for when, eight years down the road, they want them back. I guess it doesn't really work that way though.
Did I mention that I drove? By myself? It's like an eight hour drive! I listened to Assassination Vacation on the way down and was totally enthralled. American History, Sarah Vowell, and guest vocal appearances by the likes of Brad Bird, Conan O'Brian, David Rakoff, etc... as presidential assassins and their respective marks was eight hundred per cent up my alley. On the way home I listened to J-Pod, the new Douglas Coupland novel. Less enthralled. The post-modern trick of listmaking really takes on a different feel when vocalized. The other bits were all right, but Vowell is a tough act to follow.
I have that darned feeling of being on the precipice of something. If I were in a movie, the camera would be gathering visual clues in crescendoing succession and everything would be tied up into one A-Ha! moment. I seriously doubt that anything more than flaccid self-hatred will develop out of this feeling in the real world, but if I am building to a eureka, I hope it's not the dodgeball tourney I'm participating in this weekend. That would be lame.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Some Mellowness Post-Battle



It's funny to see those jammy legs try to walk!

I'm still sore two days post-bout and my brain is already swimming with thoughts of the next one. I need to prepare myself to play an entirely diffrent game in a month as our opponents are a little more rough and tumble. I'm pretty sure I can hack it, but we're down much of our jamming squad and that might hurt us come game day. Oh, if only I were faster!

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

A Little Elbow Grease

Did you know that when you clean your house you feel like a better person? No. Really. Especially if this cleaning includes shelving some of your estranged library, whose pretty pretty spines have been hidden away in stinky cardboard boxes in the cellar. Suddenly your new home will feel like YOUR new home, especially if you can tilt your shoulder back and grab 'I Am Going to Be Small' or that weird book about mexican votive painting. And seriously if you just take ten minutes to suck up the rug crumbs that obstruct the pretty scrolly pattern of your area rug, you won't feel like such a dirty scuzzbag who should be swilling screwcap wine in some back alley with a guy named Joe Joe Jr instead of paying rent (not like I do that right now anyway, I am sort of a kept woman). If only I could manage to scrub in perpetuity like my cleanly parents, then I could feel swell all of the time instead of in large bursts of squeaky relief.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Stuff

Yeah, so apparently I'm too boring to even come up with a whiny self-deprecating blog entry. I apologize for my absence, the words just haven't been there. In lieu of actually writing, I'm just going to make a list of things I like:

Skating
Sleeping (I've actually been able to the past week!)
Reading comic books
FLYING INTO ST LOUIS LABOR DAY WEEKEND!!!
Harrassing my husband for spending too much time creating EBay listings
Lipstick
Getting yelled at by chemically imbalanced patrons
Random job opportunities that will probably go nowhere but are weird and fun to consider
Tums
AND
Star Trek: The Next Generation

Wait... what?

Yup, I finally hunkered down to take in season one this last week. I mean I'm not about to start buying my own communicator pin or participating in certain auctions, but I have to say I'm kind of enjoying myself and since I am well informed that the first season isn't really so great in comparison to future seasons (post-Rodenberry-mortem) I think it might even end up be being a good show, and I'll know what certain friends are talking about when they get all nerdy and tangental.

I'm sinking deeper into geekville. Soon I'll be talking about shires and orcs, guh.