At Least They're Committed

I have the coolest, most wickedest bruise on my left arm right above my wrist. This time Lily didn’t play so we couldn’t compare who had the better one, but I’m quite certain even if she had I would have won. I think I’ll get a photo of it and put it online because it’s all red and purple and it’s about 2 inches X 3 inches. Really, I probably should have worn the armguard, but that would have entailed actually finding it, which would have entailed actually looking for it, which I didn’t feel like doing. Regardless, I shot damn good yesterday! Watch out world! Legolas I am not, but Keira Knightly, yeah, maybe . . . with a bit more fat on me anyway.

I’m really psyched that someone worth following finally found me on Twitter. I’m figuring it’s because I’d Twittered about the Pistons-Magic game, which the Pistons won with little effort. I like talking sports. All kinds of sports. Well, except soccer and rugby and those other girlie sports.

It’s Cinco de Mayo. Jen is going to bring home some Mexican beer for us and Darrell’s going to make posole and maybe we’ll find a good Mexican movie, or a Spaghetti Western, to watch.

And I’ll pretend not to think about Rachel all day and wonder where she’s at and whether she likes archery or sports in general and whether her family is throwing her a fiesta on her birthday or if she’s living away from them in another state by now or if she might even be a student on this campus or . . .

Happy birthday Rachel!