Shoo Chicken...

*Just a warning: read this post in increments*

So yesterday tennis won out over Frisbee. I would never have thought so in a blue moon, but there you have it. Mainly it's because the womens Frisbee team is so amazing that I feel inadequate playing alongside them..most times actually. Athletically I think I can keep up, but they'll shout out game plans, commands, codes, and I have no idea what they're talking about. I have some of the lingo down, but for the most part I'm ignorant when it comes to the strategies they employ. I still enjoy going, but yesterday was not the day. I always feel a little stupid in these circumstances, which is a feeling I'm pretty used to so I can ignore it mostly, but yesterday a few things happened between leaving work and that night that made me feel even more stupid and ultimately swayed me towards my decision...

Namely, #1, I totally caused a fender bender just outside of the parking lot of my work. Now I pride myself on my ability to not hit moving objects, and I thought I was past the inanimate object phase, but the last few months seem to disagree. Some background information you might want to know: between my 16th and 17th years I managed to hit a wide variety of things that weren't moving. The mailbox, the neighbors fence, my brother's parked truck, that stupid ditch... The list sadly goes on, but didn't consist of any actual accidents that were my fault, and fortunately seemed to stop upon reaching my 17th birthday. About a year ago I hit a concrete barrier dodging a golden Labrador retriever at 4 am on the freeway, but I solidly blame that on the dog, not myself. Other than that, it's traffic tickets that have plagued me, not accidents. Another year went by and I thought I was out of the woods, but about a month ago I hit my sisters garage door. I wasn't going fast or anything, it was a little bump, but it did leave a dent and I felt horrible.

I guess I did also bumper car Fantastic Funk's car on the way to FHE one night a few months before, when she had stopped at a stop sign, but fortunately no harm was done and she was an understanding roommate, so I felt stupid, but not panicked, and then forgot all about it. Man, I guess I was amidst the woods even then.

Flash forward to today, er..yesterday. I'm driving, traffic is awful, I stop because no one is moving, I look to my left and attempt to find my cell phone--just to make sure I didn't leave it at work, my foot slips a little off the break, and I move about a mile per hour--if that--right into the non-moving car in front of me. I feel like an idiot. We pull over into a side street and inspect his bumper. It's a guys bumper after all. The guy was really nice, pretty young, in a suit no doubt coming from work, and somewhat cute...all of which made me feel even stupider. As we're inspecting his car I'm sure he can't help but notice mine and the huge wind tunnel of a whole in the front of my crappy care. I figure he could have decided that I was obviously a crappy driver that needed to be taught a lesson, and then could have proceed to take me for all I'm worth, but the only scratch on it was apparently there beforehand. Maybe he saw my crappy car and assumed I was a poor college student who couldn't afford to fix my own crappy car, let alone someone else's, which is the case. So all in all he didn't notice any harm having been done, but he took my number just in case the bumper fell off on his way home or something, which it wouldn't have, but you can never be too cautious. I spent my drive home praying it wouldn't fall off in some fluke of nature. So there I was, driving and feeling stupid, and the last thing I wanted was to go play Frisbee already feeling stupid to begin with. I also incidentally left my work badge at home that day, and I was going to fill up my empty water bottles before I left the building, but forgot before turning in my temp badge, so I couldn't get back in and I had no bloody water. It being so dastardly hot outside, I really just couldn't play without acquiring more water.

At that point I called Duckling, and she went with me to buy a tennis racket, because she had the skinny on where to get one. Not that there weren't many places to buy them, but as far as price and proximity went, she was in the know. Imagine our surprise driving there upon encountering a chicken in the middle of the road. I don't know why it was there or what it hoped to accomplish by standing dangerously close to the middle of the road, but there it was. I told Duckling we should get it out of the middle of the road. She vetoed us getting out and picking it up, so I told her to shoo it when we drove by it (we were stopped at a traffic light and it was just past the light). So she rolled down her window, shouted "shoo, shoo" really loudly as we passed by, and to a wonder it actually ran off of the road.

As we were still marveling at finding a random chicken in the road, we arrived at the store. I decided that if I was to buy a racket, it had to at least live up to the standards set by the rackets everyone had bought already, otherwise I might as well just keep playing with Phillip the midget racket. There were quite a few youth ones that were slightly too small (so they were out of the question), and I also refused to pay more than anyone else (considering they're all probably more serious about this than I), Plus both Duckling and FK got a racket top case that came with their rackets--so with all that in mind my choices were cut down quite a bit. I wanted the cushiony handle they all had, but I really didn't want one with a picture of Federer or Venus and Serena on the case, regardless of how good they are. I also refused to get the racket that UG and FK got, because as much as I'm all for breast cancer awareness, I didn't want a pink racket. That left really expensive or not a Wilson brand. Now I know nothing about tennis racket brands, and frankly I didn't care, but aside from the fact that all 3 of my friends got Wilson rackets, the fact is that they have little W's on them. This is in no way important except in that I wanted to have the initial of my tennis racket's name (which yes, I did give it) on the racket, and I had decided in the car to name it a "W" name, which delighted me for some unknown reason. So I sat there and debated with myself, all tennis equipment was 20% off after all, and then I noticed that on the top of the shelves were 3 rackets. One was a youth sized racket with a skeleton on the case for some reason, and the other two fit all of my requirements, except that none of them had a price, so we took it up to the register. It ended up being 11 bucks, which was half of what everyone else paid. Mission accomplished. I named my racket Webster and call it "Wally" for short.

Tennis was better than the last time, which was expected since FK actually knows how to play and could impart the knowledge of the rules to the rest of us. We managed to hit it over the net in streaks of more than just 2 or 3 also, but it went into the other courts way too many times to be called a "successful" tennis excursion. As a result, with us playing two different games on two side-by-side courts, we shouted "little help?" to each other quite a bit as a way to cut down on having to get our own stray balls. Thus was the "Little Help Tennis Project" started. I plan on making shirts, and we plan on becoming quite good--or at least on sucking less--by the end of the summer.

Sorry about the novel guys.