Although I’m splitting these posts up into two times à la Marty McFly, I’m having trouble recalling my first semester right now, as I was then, so I’m working more on describing the present day. What’s happening now? Well, I’m watching the Daily Show and organizing music, but that’s boring for you, so I’ll just sum up the entire week. SMTWTFS. You’re welcome.
(The Daily Show has already been mentioned in “the past” section, so there might be some confusion there as I am still watching it despite it also being watched moments ago in the “past”). The past is the present and the present is the past. Think of giving someone an urn.
Phew, turn up your drugs, this is getting about as confusing as always.
So, road hockey, yes, we played road hockey this week (last week *toke*). CBC’s Play On! 4-on-4. Generally one of the best weekends with my boys from back home. And as of recently, their girlfriends too…so uh, yeah, life’s catching up to me I guess. I’ve been told this would happen at some point and I don’t know how to deal with it. I can’t afford a condo in NYC, or even an overpriced car, on account of the money I’m spending on outfits for their weddings. And given that I never want a desk job, these suits are useless, like clubs, definitely last place in the card deck. And now there’s no longer a sweetly swell feeling when someone says, “Yo Rob, you goin’ to the bar tonight?”
Yeah, the twoonie bar. I’d invite you but my guest list only gives me a plus-one. And I think this girl has beaten ya to it..
Anyway, sorry pre-wedding friends, this is just a frustration stage I have to go through while you start new lives before you’ve lived your own, so we’ll get back to the tourney. I still love ya. Do your thing. Or her thing. Whichever she tells you.
Hockey! Oui! It’s always the most tiring weekend of the year (as you can tell, I’ve run countless marathons) and nightly consumption trumps sleep while effort required trumps energy availability. This was once described by the wisdom of Dr. Seuss:
Lots of hops won’t give you hops
Lots of hops might make you stop
But lots of hops can make you hot
And if you’re hot you just might shop
If she shops too your pants might drop
But if you pop without a top
Your hops could turn you into Pops
“Hey! I haven’t seen you since high sch—- ohhh.. she’s adorable, dude..awesome..”
Life is confusing like that. Just roll with it. Roll from the tip to the base and don’t buy ones larger than you need. Also, doubling up isn’t more effective. Especially if you have an inquisitive girlfriend and a lack of memory for names.
Phew! Do you even know what you’ve been reading? No? Great. Because if you did, I’d feel normal, and that’s just not what I’m into.
So this year’s event was unlike any other (we’re back to hockey again)…we didn’t win a game. A sacrifice for the greater good, as it were (call me, God! I Nailed it! Ooh, sorry.. too soon?). Our team was rolling with one sub and an alternating goalie, just not the ideal situation for a 20 minute battle. But I think we made a great impression because everyone always smiled when they realized they were playing against us. To be fair I’d say we were one of the best grinding teams out there this weekend. The ladies at the bar loved it. I killed with my signature move, which resembles my name, but it’s done in sloppy cursive on bills and occasionally chests with a sharpie. I didn’t dance though.
As per usual, many details of this tournament have to be left out for embarrassment’s sake, myself included. However, no one started a cougar dance party in the middle of the patio bar, no one woke up half-naked on the wrong doorstep, and no one had to go rent a steam-vac at 4am. That was all last year.
It was a brand new beige carpet, guys.