Fish on Fridays
It appears to be snowing . . .
Whoa, home at a reasonable hour on a Friday night? This is a first.
Shout out to Stefan and his Carla, who both had shitty days. I wish you
peace, love, and hockey sticks. And cookies. And corduroy duvets. And
stuff. *hugs* Also, shout out to Amanda, because she's new here, and she's
facing a dilemma of gargantuan proportions. Remember what I said about the
scale, Mand.
My day was actually not that bad, despite my strong desire to give the Wayner
a solid SMACKING. The People's Elbow never looked so easy . . . but I
digress. Amazing fish and chips at the Newport for lunch. They always remind
me of special occasions when I was little. My dad would rent a VCR and we'd
get some movies, usually for a birthday or when Dad passed his board and got
promoted. We would go down to Dartmouth
Harbour (imagine my "r"s as I say that), and I would watch the fishermen bring
their catch up to this little shack, whereupon the sketchy character contained
therein would turn the fish into Majesty. Then the freshly battered and still
extremely hot fish would be plopped in a newspaper cone full of fresh chips
and I would sit with them in my lap on the way home. *sigh* Memories of Nova
Scotia.
Anyway, there was more desire for smacking as the Wayner made me witness a Will and
then create magical forms with five minutes to go. Jen and I barely got out
of there alive. But all day I was thinking, "it's FRIDAY, it's FRIDAY!" so it
couldn't be all that bad. I had an insulating layer of anticipation
surrounding me.
Then I came home and cleaned my room in record time. You should see it --
it's amazing.
Then I went to my first hockey game (at an undisclosed location, although I'm
sure you'll figure out where it is eventually). It was pretty fun. I got a
shot on goal and I broke up a rush. My team (White) got its ASS kicked,
though. Meh. There are some guys in the group. One goalie is about twelve
or so, the other is four times his size and nearly fills the net. Then we
have three players who are guys, husbands to some of the women in the group.
They're all really nice, and they play down to our level. One of the guys is
dead ringer for Peter Bondra -- it's creepy. But very nice. Anyway, the Dark
team had two guys and the big goalie and the organizer's daughter, so we
lost. I think the final score was something like 8-3. I'm not sure, though.
I wasn't counting.
But it was a fun experience. Not the humiliation involved in Hockey School.
This was just a bunch of chicks having some fun. I'm going back!
Anyway, got home, hung my stuff up to dry (I REFUSE to have stinky equipment!)
and organized myself to go see the Pie. Stefan became cryptic and then only
showed up later, so I saw him for maybe half an hour, but we'll work something
out, Stef.
And now I'm home. I'm going to write an email, and then go to bed. I have
some laundry to do. I should do that now, too. Why? Well, I plan to be
completely incommunicado for most of the rest of the weekend. If you know
where I'm going to be, don't call me. Unless someone dies. Actually -- don't
call me anyway. Dead people have a habit of staying in bed (haha, Freudian
slip. I meant "staying dead"). So I'll find out eventually. You may (or may
not) hear from me on Sunday. Who knows?
That being said,
I
am
out.
Posted by Ally at November 6, 2004 12:29 AM