Wednesday, October 18, 2006

jen and the pope

just now, for about the millionth time in my life, i was suddenly overwhelmed with a familiar happy emotion, and i ran into my roommate jen's room and yelled, "JEN! i love paul!"

jen has lived with me for about two months and is used to this by now. "oh really? i hadn't noticed."

"i do. i love him."

"what is it now?"

"this song! how can you not love a man who writes a song like this?" ("every night" is playing in the background. i tell jen how the crowd screamed at the concert when paul sang, "...and be-eee with you-hoo-ooo." i love him.)

"oh," says jen. "i thought maybe it was another picture of him with a cow." she's totally laughing at me.

"no, but last night i found another picture of him with martha." (martha, of "martha, my dear," was paul's sheepdog. how can you not love a man who writes a song about his sheepdog?)

"you know what i thought of the other day?" she says. "there could totally be a pope john paul george."

i'm laughing my head off.

"no, really. there was a st. john and a st. paul and a st. george, and a pope john paul... when he died, I was like, 'come on! pope john paul george!' and then it was pope benedict... what's up with that, benedict?"

it's nice to know that i'm not the only one who thinks about these things.

Friday, October 13, 2006


(holly is such a slacker. why does she even have a blog? it's not like she ever writes in it or anything, unless something ginormous happens, like she gets an email from her dream job in seattle saying congratulations, we'd like to fly you out to the navel base and give you a sweet job offer, and honestly, who wouldn't blog in that kind of situation? how predictable.)

hi everybody! guess what?


so i'm flying out to seattle next month for four days and three nights to check out the navel base to "see if it's a good fit for me," like i'm going to turn it down or something, ha. i'll get to hang out in seattle and bremerton for the weekend with kat and josh and check out the base on monday and i'm SO STOKED! hurray!

more updates later... it's friday the 13th and i'm GOING to watch creepy movies tonight with andy, so i need to plan!


Sunday, October 01, 2006

the story of the stick

well, the good news is that my hockey stick fits in my trunk now.

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the game yesterday was really fun for the most part. we played well. i actually scored the first goal off of my own rebound. in the ten years i've been playing, i've hardly ever picked up my own rebound. anyway, things were going okay until i broke my stick. it was the worst possible time to ever break a stick. and i did it!

we'd been leading almost the whole game, and the other team was slowly catching up to us. very close to the end, it was tied and hugo got some kind of weird penalty. rick and i played defense. the ball went into the boards, and i chased it down. brian, from the other team, chased me down. i was so in the zone. i knew i couldn't let him get possession, and i didn't back off, even when it looked like he was going to run right over me!

well, he didn't run right over me. my stick got pressed between me and the boards, and brian skated right through it, snapping it almost in the exact middle. i saw all these slow-motion splinters flying around, and the bottom half of my stick spinning in the air. that was a really BAD feeling. the worst part was that i was about as far away from the gate as possible.

i dropped what used to be my stick and skated as fast as i think i ever have toward the gate, yelling, "SUB!!! SUB!!!" and leaving rick to play defense, 3 0n 1. about one second after david's skate touched the rink, the other team scored. at that point there were about ten seconds left in the game.

can you believe that?!? the time i have to break my stick was in the last twenty seconds, when we're tied, killing a penalty, and when i'm all the way across the rink from the gate. the only way it could have been worse is if it had been a championship or something. it's weird being mad when there's really no one to blame... it wasn't my fault or brian's fault or rick's fault or hugo's fault... it was just bad bloody stinkin luck. when they scored right after i made it to the bench, i actually lost my temper and threw my gloves as hard as i could into the back of the boards. i don't do that very often, either. about as often as i pick up my own rebound.

we didn't recover in those last ten seconds and lost by one.