The Beatings We Endure
Oliver, you're a madman, have I told you this lately? 6 AM. Do you know what I usually DO to people who make me get up at 6 AM? I have taken great pains to structure the schedule of my life specifically to avoid such early rising times, and here you are, unraveling all my careful planning. It's a damn good thing that I'm allowed to just HIT things when I get there. And believe me, one more comment about being too fat to ride my broom and I might not take as much care in picking my targets.
That said... I could really use some Beater practice this evening. Summit-lag always leaves me incredibly cranky, which I think is my defence against feeling sad about leaving my loved ones behind (though it could also have something to do with the work day I had). At the moment I'm wishing that I had someplace to hang my punching bag. I'm wishing that I had a karate tournament coming up so that I could hit people. Yet another sign that I need to go back to the martial arts. One of these days I'll actually get off my fat ass and do something about it... and not a WORD from you, Wood! Not one word. Not even The One Word.
At this rate we're going to get SMAXED DOWN by the Stalkers at the next game. Maybe if we can arrange to have the LotR soundtrack Track 12 playing during the game, the whole team will feel violently inspired. (LotR in disguise? What disguise? Come on, it's not as if I didn't spend the whole weekend DROOLING over our Towel Boy and other HP lovely evilness. Have I mentioned recently how much I love our Towel Boy?)
I suppose I had best head off to bed before Oliver lays into me for disregarding curfew.
Oh, and to whoever swiped my Smartie's Splinter Smoother Firm Grip Polish from the locker room -- you're a snarky hooch. The next person to mess with my broom kit is going to get a Bludger to the head in practice.
That said... I could really use some Beater practice this evening. Summit-lag always leaves me incredibly cranky, which I think is my defence against feeling sad about leaving my loved ones behind (though it could also have something to do with the work day I had). At the moment I'm wishing that I had someplace to hang my punching bag. I'm wishing that I had a karate tournament coming up so that I could hit people. Yet another sign that I need to go back to the martial arts. One of these days I'll actually get off my fat ass and do something about it... and not a WORD from you, Wood! Not one word. Not even The One Word.
At this rate we're going to get SMAXED DOWN by the Stalkers at the next game. Maybe if we can arrange to have the LotR soundtrack Track 12 playing during the game, the whole team will feel violently inspired. (LotR in disguise? What disguise? Come on, it's not as if I didn't spend the whole weekend DROOLING over our Towel Boy and other HP lovely evilness. Have I mentioned recently how much I love our Towel Boy?)
I suppose I had best head off to bed before Oliver lays into me for disregarding curfew.
Oh, and to whoever swiped my Smartie's Splinter Smoother Firm Grip Polish from the locker room -- you're a snarky hooch. The next person to mess with my broom kit is going to get a Bludger to the head in practice.