Modern Pentathlon

More on Olympic sports!

Andrew and I were talking about the modern pentathlon the other day and that conversation led me to decide that I should become an ambassador for it.

Olympics

Something bizarre is happening for the next few days. I get my house to myself. Completely to myself. The 'rents are going out of town, which isn't that rare of an occurrence. But when they leave I'm usually in charge of the dogs which can feel like a full time job. Walk 'em, feed 'em, walk 'em again and again and again, feed 'em.

Don't get me wrong, I lurve my dogs. But man can they be exhausting. The little one sleeps on my lap as I type at the kitchen table. If I try to put her down, she'll bark at me. Yes, she's spoiled. This is probably my fault. And by probably I mean definitely. The bigger dog (40 lb shepherd mix thing that likes to herd strangers when they come into the house) sleeps on my bed during the day. He's not supposed to sleep on my bed, what with the 4 dog beds scattered throughout the house, a couch he's allowed on, and parents beds to sleep on. But he does it anyway.

So this time when my parents are gone for three days, the dogs are going to the dog hotel. (Real thing.) No getting up at 6 to take them out. No...nothing.

My house is gonna be like Project X for three days. Except not at all because I don't like people. I might go see Beasts of The Southern Wild finally. I have plans to see one of my all time favorite movies, that is never replicated in my life, Sixteen Candles, at film night in the park on Saturday night. And I do plan on watching all the Olympics. Like watch the super tape delayed West Coast "simulcast" of the days events in prime time and then just stay awake 'til events start again at 2 a.m. my time amount of Olympic watching. (Which I did Friday night after being sidetracked by a hangover.)

(Here's where we take an abrupt left turn on me writing about being home alone and delve into the Olympics because I have SO MANY QUESTIONS.)

List Time

I have a lot of random thoughts running through my brain and am unable to get them into fully formed posts (hence the blogging absence) so I'm just doing bullet point half thoughts as is my prerogative.

Will Clak (Not a Typo)

It's apparently Will Clark takes over the Internet week.

He showed up first on Deadspin, as written by Grant Brisbee, the best Giants writer ever.

Then the SF Giants website posted a webisode, a clip of which recounted the same incident as Grant did: Will Clark's first big league at bat where he hit a homerun off Nolan Ryan in the Houston Astrodome.

I, without giving away my age (which is silly and most of you know), was younger than Grant when Will Clark hit that homerun so I have exactly no recollection of it. Who knows if we were even watching the game, but chances are highly likely that my dad at the very least had a radio on somewhere, as that is his preferred method of taking in a game he's not at. (Except that Jon Miller calls the Giants on the radio now and my dad and I both can't stand Jon Miller. I realize we are in the minority here, a lot of people lionize him, but we don't and end up yelling at the radio "Just call the effing ball game! For christsakes!")

Even if I had seen Will Clark's first homerun, I wouldn't remember it as I wasn't at an age where I had much in the way of cognitive abilities. But Will Clark would still end up having a pretty big impact on my formative years.

Musicals & My Subconscious

The last three mornings in a row I have woken up with songs from Broadway musicals stuck in my head. I have no idea what this means, if anything, other than I listen to a lot of Broadway. (Which I do, our kitchen Sirius tuner is always set to the Broadway channel).

But in an effort to parse the hidden meanings in the deep corners of my wee brain, I'm gonna share. All alternative amateur subconscious analyzation welcome in the comments.

Fern Bars

In case any of you are unfamiliar with how the rabbit hole that is the internet works, I'd like to explain how I got to writing about Fern Bars:

I clicked on a Hairpin link titled "Almost vilely sweet". This intrigued me. I like good juxtaposition and have ever since we had to read that story in 7th grade where our teacher pointed out the narrator telling the girl character about someone being "awfully good". (I can't find a link to the story that was in our reader but it taught our wee brains about using different layers of narrators in a story I thought was called "The Narrator" but like I said, can't find. Man are things imprinted on us in our childhood.)

Happy Birthday, America!

I saw a girl punch another girl on the 4th of July. It wasn't even 9 p.m. AMERICA!

After a particularly angsty July 3rd, Cheryl decided we needed to do something on the 4th. At her urging, I decided that seeing actual fireworks wouldn't be such a bad thing. I usually avoid any and all crowded events because ugh crowds. But I was coaxed out of my usual introvert shell and made a plan to meet Cheryl in her neighborhood, the Marina, so we could grab dinner and then head over to the greens to grab a spot and see the fireworks.