When you blog it up every fourth day, your memory may escape you. So it goes. So I've taken a liking to this reverse order schtick; reverse skate, without Whitney Houston or the feeble attempts at hand-holding. Keri Mendoza, thou werst a hottie. In the stick-figure, string bean, jumper wearing sense. I shook when I asked you to go with me. You dumped me three days later, during history. Sigh.
This weekend featured a whole lot of water-logged, cold, craptastic Ultimate with the fine former Tufts folk who have currently assembled to form Pork Chop, a team which narrowly escaped being named B*tch Please, Junk n' Juggs (and apparent homage to the fabulous co-ed team name "Holes & Poles") or Heebs, which, despite our high Jewish content and the consequent implicit irony contained in such a blatantly racist team name, was wisely voted down. Anyhoo, PC took the field on Saturday and ran over our first two opponents with ease, then disgraced the game of Ultimate in our third game, then won our fourth in ridiculous downpour which negated all viable forehands. This earned us an 8:30 on start on Sunday which just... can we forget Sunday ever happened? Bad, bad badness. Lost to the Brown alums 15-5 (many of the same crew we smoked in 2002), and then played another godawful one against some relatively nice dudes and dudettes from Canada. SO, a bit of a letdown, and it looks like we won't be invited to the B.I.T. We will, I anticipate, survive.
On a side note - trying to keep myself culpable for my poor onfield behavior. I'm making an effort at not talking or only issuing compliments, but I continue to fail on a regular basis. Fortunately, my knees are decaying at a sufficient rate such that my Ultimate career will probably end before I actually do something that gets me shot. One can hope, anyways. Without further ado, my crimes:
1 - Skyed the crap out of short guy and ended up landing on his shoulders - HOLLA! - but didn't really seem too apologetic after I rode him to the ground. I should've apologized, even though he undercut me a bit.
2 - Yelled at a pony-tailed hippie dork who was griping about a call Verbs had made - and hippie head was arguing about this call from, oh, 60 yards away. I learned a couple things, though - I tend to get extra aggro when I perceive that people are attacking my teammates, especially friends, and especially Verbal. I also learned that it does not help to insult an opponent's comebacks, even if my comments do make one of his teammates laugh. Speaking of, the guy who looked, or was at least dressed, like John Travolta from Staying Alive, was a great guy - good player, we had some bumps and fouls here and there and never argued, just foul/contest or what have you and let it go. You see, hippie, it ain't that hard! He was, incidentally, the guy who laughed when the hippie responded to me (I had said, "dude, just shut up, you can't make a call from 60 yards away, and hippie says, "no man, you're the one who should shut up," so I replied with "With rhetoric like that, who needs haircuts?").
3 - Dude in our fourth game on Saturday kept staring at people's feet and calling traveling, something that's mildly annoying in normal conditions, MAJORly annoying when it 45 degrees and raining out: not only was he missing the fact that people might slide a little more than usual on a wet field, he was prolonging the game and making us stand in the RAIN longer. ARGH. So he was marking me, staring at my feet, so I kept my pivot foot perfectly stationary and broke him for a score. Not enough - said, "You know, it's pretty pansy-ass defense to sit there and watch my feet," and he gave a wtf, i just play by the rules, so i gave him a well your pathetic mark just got broken for a score, geek. Not appreciated by him or anyone else. Oh, well.
4 - Same game - faked forehand, dude bit, went for the wraparound backhand, he jumped over, clocked him very hard in the face with my follow through. He screams foul. I contest, pointing out that he was moving when we made contact, by definition, actually, a foul on the mark, not that i was calling a foul, just saying that I was sorry for hitting him, but nothing really wrong had taken place. He goes ballistic with some FU's in my face and such. His teammate calms him down.
5 - This morning - some really, really extra cranky girl (already noted as "cranky" by Tali, who is nicer than nice and for her to call someone cranky carries a lot more weight than say, me calling someone cranky). I was in the cup, she was handling - she threw, I bid, *brushed* her arm, she yells at me. "Do everyone a favor and try being pleasant for once," I replied. Not nice. Not effective.
So there you have it. Not great, but not terrible. I also had two major league collisions, one where a girl laid out into my arm - she got the D, but got clotheslined in the process - and another where a girl tried to run through me for a D as I caught it for a score, and as I said at the time, "We collided, I am larger, the laws of physics were successfully observed." She knocked the wind out of herself. Oh, well.
That pretty much accounts for the weekend. I kinda played poorly what with the wet disc and such. Darn.
Friday in reverse - Beck and I watched Chris Rock. Chicken, Pasta and Broc for dinner. Had a guitar lesson. Took my acoustic in for a tune-up. Played frisbee golf with some Walnuts. Went out for lunch with Corrin and Jarod to the Calif Pizza kitchen.Gave a trig test. Wrote a trig test. Drove to school. Blech.
Thursday - End of the Year Art Show. Very cool, you can catch some pics here (pword is "arted"). Talked with some parents, some students, had an altogether great time. Skipped a roid game to attend, but lightning cancelled that thing anyways. Nice. Nothing much else there...
So yeah, week in review. There ya have it. With full confessional. Blearch.
No comments:
Post a Comment