Thursday, August 28, 2008

If this doesn't stir emotion, you must be made of pebbles and wood

I apologize in advance for not having YouTube uploading skills. But I've pasted the link below. Click and enjoy.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

The Jose Cuervo Classic

I've decided to begin a tradition in NC that my friends in San Luis and I faithfully carried out: Extreme Croquet. What makes it so Extreme you ask? Well, first off, it must be titled according to the beverages being consumed. So, following tradition, my first NC tournament was aptly named: "The Jose Cuervo Classic."
So, that, for one, makes it Extreme. Trying to drink copious amounts of tequila* while doing anything certainly feels Extreme.
Secondly, we played in my backyard, which is basically a downhill slope. And it was dark, so we wore headlamps. Instead of placing the wickets in neat little rows, they are scattered about, with numbers, so you smash the ball through sequentially.
And lastly, my dear dog, Mae, added to the Extreme-ness. She was quite fond of the yellow and orange balls, in particular. For Mae, we were playing Extreme Fetch. A new rule quickly became that you had to play from wherever she dropped it. The porch, in a hole under the stairs--she had certain preferences. People suddenly became possesive of their balls after striking them and began guarding them in an odd manner.
If that's not Extreme, I don't know what is.

* Note for future tournaments: I do not recommend drinking anything over 5 proof after doing a 4-hour run. It's Tuesday. I'm still hungover.

Friday, August 08, 2008

Outer Banks!!

So I just got back from the most fabulous week in memory--a full week at the Outer Banks with my family. We spent all day, every day, at the beach. There was no sightseeing, no shopping excurions, no touring--just beaching it. My pastry-flour white skin actually has some color now. We all emerged a bit tanner, definitely happier, and I'm imagining we'll be finding sand in odd crevices for the next week or so.

By the end of the week, we had perfected our body surfing and boogie boarding skills. My stomach is slightly sore from laughing so hard all week, and I think my face is dented from grinning.

Friday, August 01, 2008

My oven is alive and torments me

For the first second eighth time or, forget it—I’ve lost count. POINT: my oven is alive and likes to wake me up at three in the morning. No, I’m not dropping acid. It beeps, really loudly, and this is what flashes across the screen: ERROR F:11 FOR SERVICE CALL 1-800-873-9736 (Editorial note: I made that number up because my memory is not that good. Contrary to popular belief.)
And the beeping is loud. I’m half deaf and a deep sleeper and the effing oven still wakes me up. So I stumble out of bed, hit the “Cancel” button, and it stops. And I shuffle back to bed.

Note: If you know why my oven is tormenting me in this manner and/or if you’re an oven-repair man, who also happens to read my blog, please come over to fix it. Alternatively, if you’re Andy Garcia, and you happen to be reading my blog, we can just sleep at your house, and then we won’t have to worry about the oven disturbing our lovemaking sleep.