Tag Archives: giants

It’ll be the Poor Man’s Vajazzling!

Holy crap, Kickboxing Erika and I came up with the greatest idea ever yesterday!  It started with her offering to give me a ride to Game Night after kickboxing, and I really wanted to show up wearing my cup, because wearing a cup to Game  Night is just a good gag.  Then we got on the idea of how all the other library students are really good crafters, and I suck so hard I can barely knit a square, and next crafternoon I am just gonna sit in the corner and bedazzle my jockstrap.  That’s when it suddenly became clear we had stumbled across the world’s greatest idea, ever.  Bedazzled Jockstraps!  It’s the sporty version of vajazzling.  Don’t think I won’t do it, either.  And don’t think there won’t be pictures.  And eventually some sort of commercial empire.  We’ll need taglines.  “Get kicked in the crotch with rhinestones.”

Game Night last night was delightful!  In the hours I was there, we managed to play, like, four rounds of Balderdash.  There is nothing more fun than ridiculous lies with friends.  I also came up with a new version of “That’s what she said” for this decade.  Everyone say it so it catches on, OK?

Leah: “I’m confused, but I think I just lost.”
Me: “That’s what I say every time I make love.”

A leftover issue from the trip to the giant-themed restaurant last week.  Do you think, dear Internet, that a proper giant-themed restaurant should have giant food, because it is for giants, or tiny food, to make you feel like a giant?  Kathleen believed it should be the former, I thought it should be the latter, and this terrible issue threatened our precious friendship right up until we got normal-sized food and were united in disappointment.

I finally did some pushups yesterday, after not doing any for well over a week.  I was getting worried about my buffness, OK?  We also did an exercise where we had to dodge either a jab to the face or block a right hook.  Only two choices, and I still kept fucking up and getting hit.  This is why I’m always bruised.

In grappling, I rolled with poor Angela and kept her locked up in a choke for, like, a minute and a half before I finally had it tight enough to actually cut off her air.  So she just couldn’t move and was extremely uncomfortable while I was flipping her around and trying to make the choke proper.  My arms were actually starting to hurt from flexing so hard.  This is how my showdowns with muggers will end.  “Damn, my biceps are aching.  Can you just, like, go?”

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Maple Sugar Shack!

Went on a road trip up to the Sugar Moon Farm with Kathleen, Monica and Naomi for the purpose of eating maple syrup, with perhaps some things to wrap the maple syrup in.  Oh my.  We did the ‘pouring the hot maple syrup on the snow’ thing, which is the best thing ever.  I remember from my halcyon childhood, we would make it spell out our initials or whatever, but in this case we took a popsicle stick and made, like, a lollipop of pure, warm maple syrup with some snow mixed in, and it was pretty much just bliss, right there.  I got pancakes with maple syrup, and a hot chocolate with rum and maple whipped cream, and a biscuit with maple butter.  You would think this would be too much maple, but you would be wrong.  If I die by drowning in a vat of maple syrup, you will know that I died happy.

We also took a tour of the maple shack.  Sadly, we’re not quite in season, so it wasn’t really functioning.  That meant the Evaporating Room, rather than being a warm womb of maple steam, was actually just a freezing shack.  Not that I was looking forward to a maple steam bath OR ANYTHING!  The tour was really aimed at kids, so the four Masters students politely stood by quietly and learned about maple.

We also tried to go to the Anna Swan Museum in Tatamagouche, but it was closed, so instead we went to Big Al’s Restaurant, which had an Anna Swan exhibit and also food, because we totally weren’t planning on stuffing our faces completely full at the Sugar Shack an hour later, no.  We learned many important things about giants, human nature, and how Shannon just will not tolerate people mispronouncing Tatamagouche.  My theory is that people pronounce it like it’s French, when actually it’s Mi’kmaq.  And I just looked it up on Wikipedia, and it actually is from a Mi’kmaq word, so my half-assed folk etymology panned out!  Whoo!  Also, Wikipedia says I pronounce it right.  Justified by Wikipedia!  Man, that should be a new internet acronym.  jbw: Justified by Wikipedia.  I bet it’ll have a lot of application, once it catches on.

In other news, I have worked out Not At All this week.  Wait, no!  I did carry a table piggyback-style that Kathleen and Monica found on the side of the road back to their house after brunch the other day.  Does that sentence work?  I guess, more importantly, did you get all the elements from it, Internet?  Fine, good.  I carried a table down the street for a while.  It was a super-cute fifties-looking thing, and really little, just for two people.  And by the side of the road!  Surprisingly easy to carry once I got it into a good position on my back.  Piggybacks, man, I tell you, they make everything better.  I was really tempted to try to get on the bus with it, though.  “This is my brother.  He’s disabled.

Other than that, Reading Week, I’m all over the place, no working out to speak of, eating candy and pancakes all day.  Oh my, this is not good.  Well, I’ll get back to the club soon enough!

I hung out with my nephew and made good on a promise to play board games with him.  I had expected Trouble, because Trouble rules, but apparently a six-year-old is capable of losing a Trouble game (how?) so instead we played the Pokemon board game, and I got my ass so kicked.  I was baffled as to how Tyler could be beating me so badly at a game that was all chance, but my brother just told me that Ty cheats, the clever little thing, so now I feel better.  Of course, now the question is how a six-year-old was cheating me without my noticing.  I’m stupid no matter how you cut it, is the basic issue.

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