Let there be rejoicing in the hills and on the plains! For this night, the Spartans are crowned the West Jefferson Youth Soccer League 2005 Season Champions! (Quite a title isn't it?)
We were led to a 2-0 victory over the Storm tonight by our beloved team captain Luke Brymer (with proper help from the defensive captain: Yours Truly). This was Luke's last season to play, so it was a fitting send off (as was the shaving cream battle after the game). It's been an excellent season, and though I am very tired right now, I'm sure that after I've had some sleep, I'll be looking forward to the next one. The Spartans will be back next year to defend our title. Luke, we'll miss ya, buddy.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Sushi Muffins
With all the glowing sentiments of Fall that are being posted, I feel led to step up to the plate and bring some people's heads down from the clouds. Someone needs to remind you guys of Fall's unpleasant side, and I warn you, this post will be unpleasant. Now don't call me a pessimist or a cynic; I'm just trying to keep things balanced.
Fall is a time when the leaves die. They fall to the ground in a thick carpet, and completely obscure the brown, dying grass. Face it people, Fall is a time of death. Even the name of the season:Fall, is generally a negative term. The grass dies, the leaves die, and the trees are left bare to sigh and moan in the chill wind.
Another point. All those leaves go to the ground as I have said. Eventually someone, coughDadcough, is going to want all of those leaves off of the ground. Which means he delegates. Now, this is a big word that simply means he finds someone else to do the work that he doesn't want to do. So, armed with a rake you go out face the grisly sight. The whole of the yard, strewn with the corpses of the leaves. You start the morbid task of collecting those decaying bodies into heaps of the dead, which are then either cremated, or unceremoniously hauled off to a mass grave.
Or, if you are fortunate enough to own a lawn mower with a vacuum (which we are), you can get rid of the leaves that way. But this is far more gruesome. Now, instead of merely being gathered and disposed of, the leaves are mangled and chopped into pieces by spinning metal blades of death before being taken away. Horrible.
Now consider the holidays of Fall. Halloween is one. Need I say more?
But then there's Thanksgiving. "What in the world can you have against Thanksgiving?!?!?" you may asked incredulously. Think a moment. What is the high point of Thanksgiving? The dinner. What is the center piece of any Thanksgiving dinner? The turkey. The turkey that was cruelly slaughtered, and then had it's unfortunate remains boiled, or basted, or baked, and then ripped into by ravenous carnivores.
A season of death indeed.
So go out and enjoy your pumpkins (before you eviscerate them), eat your candy(and feel your teeth decaying as you munch), curl up and read by the fire (as your eyes dry from the smoke, and become damaged by the strain of reading without adequate light), jump in the piles of leaf corpses, whatever. It's Fall.
(On a side note, I think I should explain that Fall is my most favoritest season, and this post is supposed to be a joke...sort of. So you if you took this waaaay to seriously and are now mad at me for soiling your fall experience, or extremely worried about what kind of sad, depressing life I lead, you really need to lighten up bub.)
Fall is a time when the leaves die. They fall to the ground in a thick carpet, and completely obscure the brown, dying grass. Face it people, Fall is a time of death. Even the name of the season:Fall, is generally a negative term. The grass dies, the leaves die, and the trees are left bare to sigh and moan in the chill wind.
Another point. All those leaves go to the ground as I have said. Eventually someone, coughDadcough, is going to want all of those leaves off of the ground. Which means he delegates. Now, this is a big word that simply means he finds someone else to do the work that he doesn't want to do. So, armed with a rake you go out face the grisly sight. The whole of the yard, strewn with the corpses of the leaves. You start the morbid task of collecting those decaying bodies into heaps of the dead, which are then either cremated, or unceremoniously hauled off to a mass grave.
Or, if you are fortunate enough to own a lawn mower with a vacuum (which we are), you can get rid of the leaves that way. But this is far more gruesome. Now, instead of merely being gathered and disposed of, the leaves are mangled and chopped into pieces by spinning metal blades of death before being taken away. Horrible.
Now consider the holidays of Fall. Halloween is one. Need I say more?
But then there's Thanksgiving. "What in the world can you have against Thanksgiving?!?!?" you may asked incredulously. Think a moment. What is the high point of Thanksgiving? The dinner. What is the center piece of any Thanksgiving dinner? The turkey. The turkey that was cruelly slaughtered, and then had it's unfortunate remains boiled, or basted, or baked, and then ripped into by ravenous carnivores.
A season of death indeed.
So go out and enjoy your pumpkins (before you eviscerate them), eat your candy(and feel your teeth decaying as you munch), curl up and read by the fire (as your eyes dry from the smoke, and become damaged by the strain of reading without adequate light), jump in the piles of leaf corpses, whatever. It's Fall.
(On a side note, I think I should explain that Fall is my most favoritest season, and this post is supposed to be a joke...sort of. So you if you took this waaaay to seriously and are now mad at me for soiling your fall experience, or extremely worried about what kind of sad, depressing life I lead, you really need to lighten up bub.)
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Crumpets
Let's try this again...
Ok, so it's been a while. But I told you not to expect regular updates. Why don't you people ever listen to me? I guess that's just part of being a middle child. No, no, it's ok. I'm used to it by now. What's been going on lately? Quite a lot actually. For example, last Tuesday (the 4th) I turned sixteen. The age of the license. So I went to get it. Now that was a trip, let me tell ya. *The audience, who has already heard this story at least four times, groans.*
We (meaning my mother and I) arrived at the Alabama Department of Public Safety at approximately 11:30am. I had already been here the year before to get my permit, so I knew what to expect. This time I remembered to bring something to read. This time I wasn't going to be stuck twiddling my thumbs for hours on end. So in a fairly good mood, I settled into a fairly uncomfortable plastic chair with The Count of Monte Cristo and prepared to wait it out.
Five hours later.
You know, after you've been the same room with the same group of strangers for any length of time, the "stranger" status begins to wear off. You start striking up little chats with whoever happens to be sitting/standing/tearing their hair out in frustrated impatience next to you. When someone's number is called they cheer, and everyone else cheers with them, though perhaps silently. There's a real sense of camaraderie. It actually would have been a pretty fun time if it hadn't been for the fact that I'd been sitting in the same chair, breathing the same oxygen for the past five hours, hardly willing to go to the bathroom lest my number be called in my absence.
Needless to say, when my number finally was called, I was very,very happy. I was finally going into The Room. That happy feeling lasted right up to the part where I sat down in the empty chair across from the desk. That was when I was confronted by a very large, very snippy, and very bad tempered black woman. "Please Lord, please, oh please, don't let this be my license examiner!" I just knew that if I took the road test with her in the car, she would fail me just for making her leave the comfort of her desk chair. I had seen the other large, black women back there actually crack a smile once in a while. This one? No such luck. Fortunately (well, now that I look back on it) my insurance card was expired. That's right folks. Five hours of waiting and what to show for it? Diddley. Squat.
Needless to say, when I found this out I was very, very disappointed. I would have taken any license examiner, if only they would let me take the test! We ask what we need to do. Get an insurance card that's not expired they say. Ok, how late are you open? We process until 4:00. What time is it? 3:56. Fantastic.
We went back in the morning. I was determined to be the safest darn driver in Alabama, just to show them. I'd be so safe, they would have no choice but the let me pass. "This is just incredible!" they would say. " We're giving you an A class license!You want to transport hazardous waste? Go right ahead! Oh, you want to fly an airplane too? No problem! Here, take this license to operate a tank as well!" So I took the test. I passed. I am now legally a danger to motorists everywhere.The examiner guy was actually pretty cool, and I must have done well as the only thing he said to me by way of criticism was to go faster (and I had no problem with that). Unfortunately, they didn't award me a tank license (there's always next year...) but, Saturday I had a most awesome party. It more than made up for my actual birthday fiasco. I forgot how many awesome friends I had. It made me feel very good inside, and also very undeserving. It was, quite possibly, the Best. Party. Ever. I would write more about it, but I don't think I can properly express how it made me feel. The capitalized words above will have to suffice.
So all in all...my sixteenth birthday rocked.
Just a side note, I am listening to Flamenco music as I write this. It sounds very...sultry? It's interesting how music can convey those types of emotions with no words. *Listens for a moment.* Hmmm....maybe I should visit Spain.
Ok, so it's been a while. But I told you not to expect regular updates. Why don't you people ever listen to me? I guess that's just part of being a middle child. No, no, it's ok. I'm used to it by now. What's been going on lately? Quite a lot actually. For example, last Tuesday (the 4th) I turned sixteen. The age of the license. So I went to get it. Now that was a trip, let me tell ya. *The audience, who has already heard this story at least four times, groans.*
We (meaning my mother and I) arrived at the Alabama Department of Public Safety at approximately 11:30am. I had already been here the year before to get my permit, so I knew what to expect. This time I remembered to bring something to read. This time I wasn't going to be stuck twiddling my thumbs for hours on end. So in a fairly good mood, I settled into a fairly uncomfortable plastic chair with The Count of Monte Cristo and prepared to wait it out.
Five hours later.
You know, after you've been the same room with the same group of strangers for any length of time, the "stranger" status begins to wear off. You start striking up little chats with whoever happens to be sitting/standing/tearing their hair out in frustrated impatience next to you. When someone's number is called they cheer, and everyone else cheers with them, though perhaps silently. There's a real sense of camaraderie. It actually would have been a pretty fun time if it hadn't been for the fact that I'd been sitting in the same chair, breathing the same oxygen for the past five hours, hardly willing to go to the bathroom lest my number be called in my absence.
Needless to say, when my number finally was called, I was very,very happy. I was finally going into The Room. That happy feeling lasted right up to the part where I sat down in the empty chair across from the desk. That was when I was confronted by a very large, very snippy, and very bad tempered black woman. "Please Lord, please, oh please, don't let this be my license examiner!" I just knew that if I took the road test with her in the car, she would fail me just for making her leave the comfort of her desk chair. I had seen the other large, black women back there actually crack a smile once in a while. This one? No such luck. Fortunately (well, now that I look back on it) my insurance card was expired. That's right folks. Five hours of waiting and what to show for it? Diddley. Squat.
Needless to say, when I found this out I was very, very disappointed. I would have taken any license examiner, if only they would let me take the test! We ask what we need to do. Get an insurance card that's not expired they say. Ok, how late are you open? We process until 4:00. What time is it? 3:56. Fantastic.
We went back in the morning. I was determined to be the safest darn driver in Alabama, just to show them. I'd be so safe, they would have no choice but the let me pass. "This is just incredible!" they would say. " We're giving you an A class license!You want to transport hazardous waste? Go right ahead! Oh, you want to fly an airplane too? No problem! Here, take this license to operate a tank as well!" So I took the test. I passed. I am now legally a danger to motorists everywhere.The examiner guy was actually pretty cool, and I must have done well as the only thing he said to me by way of criticism was to go faster (and I had no problem with that). Unfortunately, they didn't award me a tank license (there's always next year...) but, Saturday I had a most awesome party. It more than made up for my actual birthday fiasco. I forgot how many awesome friends I had. It made me feel very good inside, and also very undeserving. It was, quite possibly, the Best. Party. Ever. I would write more about it, but I don't think I can properly express how it made me feel. The capitalized words above will have to suffice.
So all in all...my sixteenth birthday rocked.
Just a side note, I am listening to Flamenco music as I write this. It sounds very...sultry? It's interesting how music can convey those types of emotions with no words. *Listens for a moment.* Hmmm....maybe I should visit Spain.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
