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playing the game

Published August 12, 2013 by snowhillofdoom
dear pain in my ass defender at my over-30 soccer game which i joined in order to have fun,
i have always been a fan of the game. i was put on a team as a wee lass, and it has continued to be a big part of my life to this day. there is always more to learn, on the field as a player and off the field as a spectator. i have a sincere appreciation and respect for the game and its players and fans. it is, after all, the greatest sport ever invented, in the entire universe. everbuddy knows dat.
support for this wonderful game depends on many people–those of us who truly love the sport, and, unfortunately, those of you who truly love to act like complete jackholes.
i tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, and i tried to teach you the rules of the game, but every time the ref made a call, or didn’t make a call, you questioned his authority. he explained a few of the calls to you and your team, but he’s a ref, not a schoolteacher, so there just wasn’t time to explain everything.
because i was marking you, i tried explaining the calls (or non-calls) to you (and your teammates) because i sincerely thought you were just trying to learn the game. if someone is trying to learn the greatest sport ever invented, you bet i’m going to try to teach them whatever i can. it raises the level of competitive play. it creates understanding of the game. the more you understand, the better you play, the better i play. i’d rather play against someone who is knowledgable and can challenge me, otherwise, what’s the point?
soon i realized that you were playing the game as if you didn’t know your ass from your head, and you were damned proud of it–rules?? shmools! there are plenty of em but who the f*ck needs em!
this completely insane and purposely blatant ignorance of any and all rules was appalling. you’re that kid on the playground that gets tagged and cackles, “nope, i ain’t ‘it’, ha ha HA! i’m just gonna keep on running and do whatever the f*ck i want because i’m a huge annoying IDIOT wheeeeeeee look at me shake my ass, i’m totally farting right now, it smells soooo good, ha ha HA!”
throughout and after the game, YOUR teammates were coming up to ME and “apologizing” for YOU and your shmattitude. you didn’t even shake my hand much less apologize. but if you HAD apologized for your shmattitude, i would’ve put my hands in the air and said, “whoa, you don’t need to apologize for your ‘tude, what you NEED to apologize for is your lack of SKILLZ wha-WHAT!”
let’s review: when you stick random parts of your body out and the ball luckily bounces off of you, it’s not considered a “pass” or a “trap”. you couldn’t learn to trap even if you were IN one. when the ball bounces off of you, and you look at me and smile as if you have something to be proud of, and that your proudness of yourself requires no words because i should know what you’re smiling about, it just makes you look like you’re wearing an even bigger ass-hat than you already were–you silly gangly sloth-person, i beat you at every foot race. when i run i leave my floppy clown shoes at home. all i could hear as i whizzed past your crooked horse teeth were comments from your teammates–“wow, look at that girl run, she’s fast”. and, after you caught up to me, and caught your breath, you still had the gall to talk smack about MY ass?? un-fucking-buh-lievable. take a look at the stat sheets you freak. i think you “won” a total of 3 (maybe 4) balls the entire time i was marking you, and that was because of shortcomings on MY part, not because you excelled at YOUR defensive game. the rest of the time i was taking you to school. and i’m not even that good. (newsflash, your report card came, it says you got an F in defense.)
anyways, where was i.
there were a couple of plays that happened. firstly, you blocked my teammate with your body and didn’t even go for the ball. my teammate called “obstruction” on you and you were like, “obstruction my ass, what the hell is obstruction, that wasn’t obstruction, why are you yelling obstruction!?”. and i said “because obstruction means you used your body to block her without going for the ball, it’s against the rules” and you said “chuh, what-eh-vur!” and ran off.
secondly, the next play it was you against me. i tried to get past you but i tripped over your floppy hoof and the ball ricocheted off you and you immediately got in my face and said, “what, are you gonna call obstruction on me again, go ahead, call it, call obstruction” and i said, “no, because that wasn’t obstruction, you didn’t use your body to block me” and you said “chuh! what-eh-vur!” and galloped away.
then there was a throw-in for my team. you yelled at the ref, “hey, they have a ton of players offsides ref, call offsides, holey crap, what, are you blind?!” etc and so forth. when the ball went out of bounds you asked the ref why he wasn’t calling offsides, “there were a ton of them, can’t you see them, they’re ALWAYS offsides”. and i said, “there’s no offsides on throw-ins”. again, you used your extra large vocabulary to snap “chuh! what-eh-vur!” and gallop off.
sometime after that, i beat you to the ball and sprinted toward goal and the keeper had no choice but to take me out. this is against the rules but it was just instinct and it was a soft tackle and he did apologize. he said he panicked and had to do it. (this was because you were ineffective at your j-o-b and he once again had to pick up your slack). no one got hurt so i was fine with it, but then out of nowhere, your stupid horse face appears (took you a few seconds to catch up to the play) and you proceed to once again push your shnozz into my personal air bubble just to heckle me and say “ha ha ha, how did you like THAT, huh!?” or something to that effect. your keeper is apologizing and helping me up while you continue to serve your signature smack sandwich. your keeper tried explaining to you why what he did was against the rules, and you said something along the lines of “what-eh-vur! she deserved it”. gallop gallop gallop.
then some random dude on the sideline asks the ref if he can sub in for your team. the ref had the decency to ask our team if we thought that was acceptable, which we did not, as we had less players during the first half of the game and 2nd half you had a player leave so we were playing 8 players to your 8 or 9 players. well, you threw your arms in the air and said “aw come on! just let him play! what’s the big deal! it’s just one guy! you guys are such whiners! your team whines too much! i can’t believe you won’t let him play! this is so STUPID! man, you guys really like to whine, you’re such whiners! just let him play, we’re just playing a friendly game! you won’t let him play, seriously?! oh my god your team is a bunch of whiners! i’m so sick of all your whining!”
and on. and on. and on.
the game commenced, without the extra player, and you were still complaining that we were a bunch of whiners, so i finally turned to you and said, “actually, if you listen carefully, the ONLY person whining RIGHT NOW and for the last few minutes is YOU, so why don’t YOU quit YOUR whining. you’ve been WHINING the whole entire game. if you’re SO tired of listening to WHINING, YOU have to stop. YOU are the BIGGEST WHINER here”.
and then you said, pointing your hairy wrinkly hoof at me, “YOU listen to ME, i’m OLDER than YOU, i’ve been playing this game LONGER than YOU’VE been ALIVE”, and then you pointed at me super a lot and opened your horse eyes wide and raised your horse brows as if to say, ‘you better respect, beotch’.
(and, i thought to myself, wow, YOU just burned your SELF and you THINK you just burned ME. interesting. nice work. definitely dealing with a psycho.)
so i sez, “well i’m SO glad i’m NOT YOU, because you ARE old, and if i were YOU, i’d be SAD, because you’re an OLD PERSON picking on someone YOUNGER AND SMALLER than you, congratulations, you know what that makes you, a big fat BULLY, that’s what you are, A BULLY” and i pointed at her as i ran past, eyes wide open with brows raised high and a nice smarmy smirk on my face.
and now, my favorite part. you yelled at me as loud as you could and lunged towards me, probably to make me pee in me drawers because you felt that you were pretty scary. all 5 feet 4 inches and 130 pounds of you. i might have peed my drawers but it was likely from laughing at you. i think you screamed something like “oh YEAH, well YOU’RE the biggest FUCKING BITCH blah blah BLAH!!!”
seriously, that was the best you could do? i’ve been called a biggest fucking bitch so many times in my younger, smaller life by people much more entertaining than you, please, don’t waste your best material on me. my own mother has called me that and plenty of other more colorful names, while trying to kick me out of her house, ripping my phone cord in half and jumping on top of me while simultaneously trying to strangle me. you can’t compete with that shit, trust me. i felt bad for you because i knew you were saving that particular morsel the entire game, building up to it so that you could whip it out and get extreme satisfaction from the climax of your dramatically stellar performance, bravo bravo, “real housewives of seattle” is FINALLY going to snatch you up at the next tryout. i’ll send them a letter of recommendation on your behalf.
it was just so perfect. you enunciated very well, and projected your voice–directly at the back of the ref. the ref turns around and blows the whistle to stop the game, tells us to split it up, and you’re STILL talking smack. then, because you’re a super classy gal, you immediately perform a foul, and as is custom, bitch and whine about it (because you haven’t learned any rules yet, even though you’ve been given at least 60 minutes’ worth of complimentary instruction), and i’m about to take the free kick, but i’m waiting for you to give me 10 yards. everyone and their brother is yelling at you to move back. the ref blows his whistle and tells you “she’s asking for 10” and you’re completely oblivious to everyone and just have your flaring horse nostils pointing at me, eyes glaring, like you’re about to charge me. you’re doing your weird “dance”, shuffling from hoof to hoof, saying “come on, kick the ball already, what’re you waiting for, kick the ball, you’re taking forever, what’s wrong with you, kick the ball already” and i’m just standing there rolling my eyes, they can’t roll back any farther, and you’re still heckling me. you look like a skinny bobbleheaded puppet with large fake wooden teeth, a marionette being made to look goofy and gangly and uncoordinated, i hoped i wasn’t paying to watch this show. the ref actually had to come over to you, shove you in a box and physically try to move you back. which you still didn’t do. it took a lot for me to refrain from kicking the ball directly up your shnozz. you can thank my therapist for that, she is obviously doing a smashing job.
you were still heckling me after the fact and the ref yelled at you, like a mama dog to his bad baby dog, “I ASKED YOU BOTH TO STOP, SO YOU NEED TO STOP” and you flapped yer yap and he said “BUT YOU WERE THE ONE WHO STARTED IT and I ASKED YOU BOTH TO STOP”. gee whiz. what do you want, a written invitation?
my teammate sensed that you and i were having severe domestic issues and offered to switch positions with me. i thanked her and said, loud enough for your horse face and teammates to hear, “great idea because i’m about to kick someone’s ass”. (get it, “ass”, horse, donkey…? no? too soon? aw, forget it.) i got some looks from your team that indicated they were taking me at my word. the new girl i was marking was careful not to stand too close. the thing is, everyone else on your team was so NICE. if they accidentally bumped into anyone, even if it was only a tap, they would still say “oops, sorry about that!”. i had conversations with several other players, the normal chit chat and joking around about this or that. you couldn’t have been any more annoying even if you’d tried.
in any case, i almost forgot why i was writing you this letter. you did everything you could to get a rise out of me, to push my buttons, and all after i’d had 2 super crappy days in a row. you were really testing my patience. this is something i’ve been working on during the past few years–trying not to lose my shit at the drop of a hat around assholes like you. you were a true test. not once did i take you out, nor did i drop any eff bombs–and no, i’m totally not fucking with you–i did not cuss, not a once, not a ever. that, my friend, is what you call ‘progress’. also, it is called, “i. am. so. AMAZING.” because god knows, i am always talking shit. and i mean, always. so. thank you.
please tell me you haven’t borne any children.
in conclusion, the next time we meet on the pitch, i give you this–my personal guarantee–i promise to make your life extremely difficult. i can assure you that my henchmen have also received the memo and look forward to our meeting.
bye bye you silly frito! i’m outta here!
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love story

Published January 19, 2013 by snowhillofdoom

company work party. theme: casino night. location: tasty brewpub.

a man and wife. condition: happy and sober.

wife: knows her limits, eats the company-provided dinner before consuming several pints, is feeling relaxed, chummy.

man: is blitzed and has already increased likelihood of chauvinistic-based lawsuit before introduction of appetizers (“coworkers’ wives vs smack-talkin’ sex-maniac”). skips food, strictly liquid diet. location: follow trail of poker chips dropped sporadically across casino floor. condition: swaying and humming to music ain’t nobody can hear. forecast: natural disaster of mass proportions.

man, very courageous, has light bulb: time to take party out of enclosed party room to public dining area downstairs. double light bulb: night perceived as young + plenty money left = drink more beers. bonus light bulb: must fulfill immediate urge (triggered by live music) to drunk-dance despite presence of many strangers.

wife: pretty sure bad idea but too late, man awkwardly holding wife tightly. location: upper left arm. condition: swinging, spinning, shaking. lots of shaking.

man: unknowingly uses wife to wipe out half of dance floor. dancers flying left and right. new form of dance-fighting invented but debut not well-received. man slurring, “yeah, you godda hang uvvit, dat’s right”.

wife: “godda hang-a-whaahhhh???”. feel weird and definitely not feel like dancing. people watching probably thinking same thing.

finally make it home. so happy made it home. mmm, bed. fluffy fresh and clean. look so comfy. like bunnies n clouds.

wife: crawl in bed go seepy-time.

man: bed? attack! pillows? blankies? attack! attack!

translation: BARF! BARF! BARRRRRRRRFFFFFF!!!!!

wife: sigh. change bed. clean all barf. change clothes. blech. sleep in other room.

man: not even bother wake up. just BARF! BARRRRF! BARRRRRRRRRRFFFFF!

wife: blech! change bed! clean all barf! change clothes! sleep in other room!

man: argh! still BARFING?! why so much barfing?! for gods’ sakes man wrap it up already!

wife: BLECH! CHANGE! CLEAN! CHANGE! SLEEP!

man: “want! blanket!”

wife: “newsflash! pukestorm! everything perish! all gone! only one sleeping bag, mine! no sharing!”

man: “you make man sad. juss want sleep bed.”

wife: “cannot sleep bed. you, human puke fountain. bed, giant puke-sponge. need burn bed. all febreze on earth not fix!”

man: “but me cold bwahhhhh me turning into grown man-baby! me crying waaahhhh!”

wife: “you cold because you not wearing clothes! this not rocket science! this ridiculous!”

man: “me no wann wear clothes! me wann blankie! why you not let me have blankies? you so MEAN! what, you a blankie police now?”

wife: “juss TAKE me SLEEPING BAG! TAKE! now for love of GAWD, SLEEP! or me punch you in stoopid puking fountain face!”

repeat cycle throughout night, til, finally, man snoring in 2.5 seconds flat.

wife awake til sunrise. not good mood.

man wake up complaining. “my neck. my back. my neck and my back!”

wife don’t care. ignoring.

man keep talking. digging deep hole. digging. diiigginnnng. still more digging. man not remember ANYTHING. unbelievable.

wife: too tired to kick ass. saving energy to plot revenge in form of blog entry.

dirty bird

Published December 19, 2012 by snowhillofdoom

her–whut wuth dat burd doin’?

me–what bird?

her–it was in the road

me–was it movin?

her–no it wasn’t moobing it was fwat like maybe sumbunny car run it o-burr

me–then it was probably hurt by a car

her–or dead?

me–yes maybe it is dead

her–how long is it dead for? forever?

me–yes forever

her–well who run it o-burr

me–somebody probably ran it over accidentally with their car

her–but WHO mommy WHO run it o-burr

me–i don’t know, i wasn’t there when it happened

her–but MOMMY WHY YOU NOT KNOW

me–because i wasn’t (FREAKING) THERE!

her–but mommy, i think YOU ran it o-burr!

me–I DID NOT! WHAT ARE YOU FREAKING TALKING ABOUT

IT WAS DEAD BEFORE WE SAW IT IN THE ROAD!

her–but i think you DID it mommy because it dead

and we don’t know nobuddy else who did it

me–ARGH ARE WE REALLY HAVING THIS CONVERSATION

YOU BETTER NOT TELL PEOPLE YOUR MOMMY IS

RUNNING OVER BIRDIES BECAUSE I DIDN’T RUN IT OVER

YOU WOULD’VE HEARD ME RUN IT OVER

O MY GOODNESS YOU DRIVE ME CRAZY!

anyways, why i got sucked into that trap i don’t know.

so far i haven’t heard her spreading any rumors

so it will probably come out later on

when she is at show n tell in the 3rd grade. bah!

Hello World!

Published November 15, 2012 by snowhillofdoom

uhhh, what am i doing…?

i don’t know.

not yet.

but i have a “general” “idea”.

(and lots of notes.)

the only way to get things done is to start DOING something, right? so i guess DAT what i be DOIN’.

what’s weird is that i spent a week trying to catch this fly in our house and when it was on the window, i opened it to let it out, but of course there is a screen, so now he is trapped between the window and the screen, and he’s bugging me even more than when he was flying around the dang house. he flies erratically and crawls all over the screen and he and his shadow dance all over my workspace all the live long day. rawr.

how freaking long do flies live anyways? someone has been sneaking him supplies. he has a lot of friends i’m sure. feeding him and whatnot. what the heck.

in any case, i’ve been that fly, stuck between whatever i’ve been stuck between, somehow still alive but probably not entirely due to my own efforts, anxious to do something in that big wide world out there.

don’t ask me why i didn’t just kill the dang fly. i don’t know why i didn’t kill the goshdarn fly.

actually part of the reason is because i suck at killing things. and given the perfect opportunity, i just can’t deliver the goods. maybe i’m clumsy or uncoordinated or have horrible eyesight. there’s a good chance it’s all three.

but, i don’t have a problem squishing, say, fruit flies, because those are just disgusting and multiply like there’s no tomorrow. so ya gotta get em or you’re gonna pay for it dearly the next day. case in point, we had a horrible fruit fly infestation, it multiplied exponentially over a couple of days, and on the third day, i found the goshdurned source, and it was like a freaking party, a hugely disgusting fruit fly party, in all six of our carved halloween pumpkins. so sick. flies just going all over the freaking place, in and out of eye sockets, nose holes, the whole shehbam, blech!!!!!

of course, i discovered it at some random moment, just as the kids were starting a fight and the neighbors dropped by to introduce themselves. i was trying to spit the flies away from my mouth, trying to breathe OUT more than in, whipping them away from my face like a lunatic, while trying to deal with everything that was going on (uh, why not just walk AWAY from the pumpkins and deal, you ask? because i can’t think fast enough, it’s the same reason i can’t find the stupid horn when someone cuts me off by running a red light through an intersection.)

what the HECK am i even TALKING about.

THIS is the first of many posts in my brand spanking new BLOG.

as you can probably already tell from the above, it is going to be very–how shall i put it?–R A N D O M.

but i hope that sometimes you’ll think it funny. but i must warn you that: (1)  i DO tend to write a LOT (as in quantity)(because i am a super fast typer)(also, because, when something’s on my mind, i HAVE to let it OUT somehow); (2) i DO tend to use inappropriate word choices (because i have what some might term a “potty mouth”)(but also because i think it’s healing to use expletives)(also i think bad words are funny); (3) i DO tend to think some things are funny even though some people would think it makes me a sick and twisted individual and not find the same things funny (this is because i am a sick and twisted individual).

so if you no likey, den you might want to stop reading riiiightttt

HERE.