As I write this I'm watching game one of the Stanley Cup finals, Penguins vs. Red Wings. I am, of course, rooting for the Red Wings because they eliminated the Caps. Through this justification I am pretending that I know anything about ice hockey. I generally watch hockey so I can watch people skate amazingly well and also listen to announcers talk about guys who sound far more Scandinavian than me.
Oh, and for the record, Sidney Crosby is not physically attractive. Media, stop trying to tell me he is! Creepy half-mustaches are not going to make the NHL more marketable!
Oh, and if I'm going to be discussing attractiveness, hey, U.S. Postal Service? Why did you have to put my copy of this week's Sports Illustrated through what looks like a hurricane? Tom Brady's face does not deserve such treatment!
All right, back to the reality in which I actually participate. Claire and I randomly decided to exercise our ability to join the swim team one last year, and we started practice this week. It's strange, not coaching, but so far I'm liking it, even though getting back in shape can be all sorts of painful.
Wednesday a bunch of the girls went out to the Cheesecake Factory (which generally stretches beyond our budgets) to celebrate friend C's birthday and the arrival of summer. The size of those dishes are absolutely mind-blowing. By the end we were all kind of curled up in our round booth, groaning...half happy, half mortified. It was still amazingly fun chatting with everyone again, because spirited, pseudo-intellectual arguments/conversations are what we like best!
Please forgive the extensive use of exclamation points in this post. Sometimes I have trouble controlling my natural inclinations towards fulfilling blonde stereotypes.
Now, Claire has accidentally left her Twitter account open on my computer, so if you'd excuse me, there is some fun to be had!
