The Chantastic Blog

Here was an original blog post I typed up a few days ago, but didn’t post right away:

Is it just me, or is there something extremely hot about having your Swedish nanny of a wife come to your rescue wielding a golf club, breaking down windows, and dragging you out of your motor vehicle?

I’m going to rescind my thoughts after reading this article about the rumors of what really happened between Tiger and his wife…

This led to an e-mail exchange where my friend Catalina said, “Also he may be cheating on his wife? Has he SEEN his wife?”

She obviously doesn’t believe in the importance of inner beauty like I do…

As I was watching the Roger Federer/Andy Roddick Wimbledon final that went over four hours and became an instant classic, I couldn’t help but wonder whether fatigue would play a factor. No, I wasn’t thinking about the players. I was actually thinking about the line judges and ballboys. Roddick and Federer are well-practiced athletes, but are the officials conditioned to participate in a match that lasts four hours and sixteen minutes under the sweltering sun with no reprieve?

I was playing in a softball tournament today (and for the record, I have mounting proof that softball is not meant to be played before 9 AM while a storm pours on you) and trying to avoid being rained on between games by sitting on top of a hill that connects a few diamonds together. As we enjoyed the protection from rain that a few trees gave us, another team passed by on their way to a diamond. The thing is, they took a shortcut and walked up a very steep grassy hill, which had become muddy due to the rain. As the team walked by, one of the girls who was carrying a heavy equipment bag full of bats said, “I almost slipped a couple of times coming up that hill! I think the weight of this bag is equal to my own weight!”

The guy who was walking beside her said nothing. He was literally carrying a 1 L water bottle and nothing else.

He didn’t take the hint.

I had a softball practice this past weekend in a neighborhood I’m not too familiar with.  When we got there, a vagrant was sleeping just to the left of the field.  About half an hour into the practice, I went to left field to shag some fly balls.  When I got there, I discovered that the homeless guy had woken up.  How did I know?  Because he had engaged himself in a dialogue with…himself.  And for the next twenty minutes I was there, he continued the conversation.  It felt like he was in a one-man play, and this was just an extended soliloquy.

After my stint in left field ended, I left for some batting practice, which went on for about twenty minutes.  After I was done, I looked to see if the homeless guy was still talking to himself.  But he wasn’t.  It turns out the little guy got all tuckered out from his heated debate and decided to go back to bed field.

My mom is coming to visit for a couple of weeks, which will be interesting because the Saturday that she’s here, I’m going out to celebrate my birthday. I’m not sure how that’s going to work since I’m assuming that night will involve some alcohol.

Anyway, she’s coming to visit, so I figured I’d get her to bring my tennis racket. I’ve used it maybe a dozen times in my life, and I know a couple of people who play over here, so might as well get some use out of it while I can. I knew exactly where in the garage I had put my tennis racket and told my mom the location.

Unfortunately, my mom doesn’t watch any sports…and I also own a badminton racket that I put right beside my tennis racket. Half an hour after I told her to bring my tennis racket, she phoned back saying she found two rackets, but didn’t know which one I wanted. And so I had to describe the difference between a badminton racket and a tennis racket, without using any specific sports terms.

“You have two rackets, right? One has a small mesh surface, is circular, and has a long handle. I don’t want that one. I want the one that has a larger mesh surface, is more oval-shaped, and has a shorter handle. Kinda looks like a simple fish drawing.”

To continue on the theme of wrestling from my previous post, there’s an interesting struggle over Denver’s Pepsi Center for next Monday. You have to love Vince McMahon’s snarky little quote at the end. My guess is that the NBA reschedules the game for Tuesday because I don’t see McMahon backing down.

Given how busy I’ve been with school, I haven’t had any time to consistently participate in any sports like I’ve been known to do since I arrived in Toronto. Thus, I’ve been getting fat and probably losing some of my coordination.

But yesterday after a long day at school, I went home around 8 PM. As I was transferring subways, the subway I was trying to catch was already stationed at the platform. I decided to start running for it right as the warning sounded that the doors were closing in a few seconds. I broke out into a full-blown sprint even though I was a good 25 feet away and was pretty sure I wouldn’t make it.

However, I managed to recapture the glory of my junior high track team days and beat the doors just as they were closing. My first thoughts after getting into the subway?

“I still got it.”

This was the highlight of my day. Seriously. It was.