Four Day Weekend
One would think I'd be refreshed after a four day weekend, but it turns out I am wickedly tired. Not that it was in any way strenuous. I actually got so much sleep between sleeping in every morning and napping every evening that my body apparently decided to rebel against it, and I was awake for most of last night. Disastrously, even when I actually managed a little sleep I dreamt of uncomfortably lying awake on the floor, because in Dream Land my old roommate PT Cruiser was in town and commandeered my bed. There are no couches in Dream Land. Anyway, Tribble? Where the hell did you come from? I was only vaguely aware of your existence when we lived together.
So the weekend was relaxing and good. Saturday I went to a fish fry, which I am enormously proud of. A FISH FRY! I realize this is not particularly impressive to the average person, but to attend a fish fry and there engage in the actual eating of fish was, for me, a substantial foray into normal human behavior. What's next, vegetables? Hmmmmm, probably no.
The weather Sunday and Monday kept me planted in front of the TV pretty much straight, but thankfully it cleared up for the actual fourth and I was able to peel myself off the La-Z-Boy to actually go do something. I woke up around one to discover that Ball had snagged a tee time despite the supposedly busy holiday schedule, and further that there was not a cloud in the sky, so that worked out well. I played my best round yet, 10 strokes under my previous low. It was still not good. It was, in fact, still pretty bad. BUT, I can say with authority that I do not suck quite so much as I did. After that it was a couple sets of tennis where I sucked pretty much exactly quite so much as I did. I am just not good anymore. I finally stopped going for winners and just started lobbing everything up hoping Ball would screw up the return, which I can testify is just EXTREMELY irritating to the opponent, and a strategy employed only by the most heartless and evil of classless, unsportsmanlike savages. Suckaaaaaaaa!
We meant to cook out, 4th style, but we got lazy and decided someone bringing us beer sounded better than getting it ourselves. To Hooters! I amused myself, for reasons that are still not clear to me, by trying to convince our waitress that I was gay in increasingly unsubtle ways, culminating in a very hand-motion and jumpy-up-and-downy intensive conversation about our favorite Madonna songs, while Ball sat back and shook his head in sadness for all men everywhere. I don't even care man, Express Yourself is the bomb-diggity, or whatever it is The Kids say these days. I think it's still bomb-diggity. I saw a guy say it on a Wal*Mart commercial.
So the weekend was relaxing and good. Saturday I went to a fish fry, which I am enormously proud of. A FISH FRY! I realize this is not particularly impressive to the average person, but to attend a fish fry and there engage in the actual eating of fish was, for me, a substantial foray into normal human behavior. What's next, vegetables? Hmmmmm, probably no.
The weather Sunday and Monday kept me planted in front of the TV pretty much straight, but thankfully it cleared up for the actual fourth and I was able to peel myself off the La-Z-Boy to actually go do something. I woke up around one to discover that Ball had snagged a tee time despite the supposedly busy holiday schedule, and further that there was not a cloud in the sky, so that worked out well. I played my best round yet, 10 strokes under my previous low. It was still not good. It was, in fact, still pretty bad. BUT, I can say with authority that I do not suck quite so much as I did. After that it was a couple sets of tennis where I sucked pretty much exactly quite so much as I did. I am just not good anymore. I finally stopped going for winners and just started lobbing everything up hoping Ball would screw up the return, which I can testify is just EXTREMELY irritating to the opponent, and a strategy employed only by the most heartless and evil of classless, unsportsmanlike savages. Suckaaaaaaaa!
We meant to cook out, 4th style, but we got lazy and decided someone bringing us beer sounded better than getting it ourselves. To Hooters! I amused myself, for reasons that are still not clear to me, by trying to convince our waitress that I was gay in increasingly unsubtle ways, culminating in a very hand-motion and jumpy-up-and-downy intensive conversation about our favorite Madonna songs, while Ball sat back and shook his head in sadness for all men everywhere. I don't even care man, Express Yourself is the bomb-diggity, or whatever it is The Kids say these days. I think it's still bomb-diggity. I saw a guy say it on a Wal*Mart commercial.
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