I didn't even smell the wee...

Right.  I officially should not be writing this,  I should be writing my thesis but I am too brain dead to write anything of quality, so blog it is.

This entry will cover last Saturday night until now.  I will begin with my own personal discovery about my Aunty Maude.  Aunty Maude is my Nana's sister.  When we were kids, we used to go to her house - she had one of those delicious backyards, with clumps of trees that held secrets and rusting wheelbarrows, all vine covered and grasshoppery.  I would let my imagination run rampant and climb the trees, sighting imaginary ships approaching a strange coast, or escaping a rabid sloth hell bent on my destruction (not a fast climber, me).  Then, my Dad would spot me and tell me 'get down' and 'get here' and 'get my belt' cos I wasn't allowed to climb trees in Aunty Maude's garden, or any garden for that matter.  Then Aunty Maude got older, and moved to an apartment.  It didn't have a garden, but she gave me food so I was sufficiently placated.  Once, from her window, I saw a workman on a roof opposite singing and thrusting his pelvis to 'Stop in the name of love'.  He even put out his arm with his hand up on the word 'stop'.  Then, Aunty Maude got older and went into a home.  It was there that she also began to show the effects of senility.  She didn't remember me when I came to visit but I understood, didn't take it personally.  I figured it wasn't the roughest end of the stick when Mum told me that on her (I think) one hundredth birthday one of her carers leaned in so that Maude could hear her and said 'happy birthday Maude', to which she received a swift uppercut.  Hahah legend - 'Happy birthday?  HAPPY BIRTHDAY?!?  DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO YOU SMARMY BITCH!!'  Well, she didn't say that, but in my mind that's how it panned out.

Anyway, so last I talked about Aunty Maude to my Mum, it was when she turned one hundred and seven.  Last Saturday night I was hanging out at my Sister Michi's place cos it was her Hubby's birthday.  The convo got onto old people I think, and I piped up with 'well, OUR Aunty is HEAPS old!  By now she must be almost one hundred and TEN!!'  Michi just looked at me and then said 'Rob, Aunty Maude is dead.'  hahah I was like 'WHUT?!?' and she followed with 'umm, yeah... she died about a year ago...'  A YEAR?!? Why did nobody tell me this?!?  I have been boasting of my wildly violent incredibly ancient relative and all this time she's been DEAD?!?  No bastard tells me anything.

Moving on.  Sunday was our last bout in the regulation season.  It was against the Wild Hearses.  I've talked about them before - last year.  We got beat by them once, and then beat them, in the grand final.  They are a great team - well, actually all games this year have been really close so far - but this one was overshadowed by the fact that the victor progressed into the grand final on July 17.  No pressure or anything.  So last week I had started getting sick.  I thought I was beating it, but then I worked Weds night and Thurs morn I awoke feeling death.  I could not get out of bed.  So, I have these two amazing friends.  One of them brought me cough syrup, and the other one gave me a gypsy remedy from her family.  Both tasted like complete ass, but I took em.  So, by the time Sunday rolled around, I was feeling heaps better than I thought I would, but still all snot and hacking.

The bout got started and was hairy from the get-go.  It was the most physical bout I've ever played I reckon, blocks flying all over the shop and I hit the deck a few times.  I already had a sore hip from breakdancing in our changeroom earlier.  Points crept onto the board for both teams, and by half time it was 34-44, Hearses way.  We had a really motivational talk and some fruit and went back out to raise hell.  Every time I jammed I had to sit down after.  I don't like to sit, but I was scared I was going to faint.  I was so knackered.  Somewhere in there I had a grand slam, I think.  I can never remember much.  My last jam I may have got seven points, I can remember Skatan waving seven fingers in my face as I fought off pulminary failure.  Then, it was the last jam.  I had no idea of the score - I rarely look, as I think it should bear no relevance on playing hard and smart.  So, I was just sitting in my chair with my head in my hands, I couldn't bear to look.  Once again, my goal was to skate my heart out and leave it all on the track, and I knew I did that.  The crowd was deafening - I didn't think it could get any louder, but suddenly there was an uproar.  I held my breath - someone had broken through.  Then they played the Hearses music and I couldn't help but look and there was Bessy, out in front (bad for us), but lo, there was Mims right on her tail (good for us)!  My hands covering my mouth, I still sat there as the seconds dwindled, and then the final whistle sounded.  I looked at my team.  Everyone froze.  They then erupted in smiles and cheers, and I knew we'd won.  I jumped up and grabbed Karmen, turned her to face me and said 'did we win?  Did we really win?' and she confirmed it - we were in the grand final.  I literally had a hard time believeing it for hours after.  Here is that exact moment:

Highlights from the bout for me in no particular order are:

• My team clicking together and working as a well oiled machine, or robot if you will,
• The joyous packs provided by my teammates when I was jamming,
• starting to feel more useful as a blocker,
• Our Optimus Prime skate out,
• The Hearses wicked hooded figure skate out,
• breaking my wrist guard after a particularly gnarly Hearsie block,
• going out for a jam and thinking 'gee, my teeth feel really free' and realising I wasn't wearing my mouthguard,
• almost being blocked into the crowd, narrowly missing them, laughing at them recoiling in horror and wagging my finger, saying 'ahaaaaaah',
• Going nuts (seemingly a trend emerging) and yelling like a maniac as I cleared the pack 'EAT THAT!!  JUST EAT IT!!', while pointing to the sky (photo below),
• and doing a mohawk in a crazy sequence where I had to perform some kind of interpretive dance to exit the pack, see below for evidence of that also.

The Hearses played amazingly, with no mercy, and I think it's safe to say that every single skater was shagged and deserving of a beer at the end.

Naturally, we went out after and did a spot of drinking and a spot of dancing.  By well into the night, this is what the dancing looked like:

and:

Aaaaand... we wont the afterparty again.  From there we went to Maccas and I got a quarter pounder with the meat as the bun.  Behold:

And yes, it was heavenly.

Just two more quick things before I go.  Today, as I drove to Uni to meet with my *amazing* supervisor, I noticed that my neck was sore.  Strange cos it wasn't sore in the days following the bout.  Changing lanes became tedious so I had the most docile drive in about ten years.  I had my meeting, returned to my car and thought 'hm.  Sick of this snot.'  So I blew my nose and BAM!  It was instantly clear how I had hurt my neck: powerful, thunderous nose blowing.  And, I'm not the first one in my family to have this injury.  Seems I am predisposed.

And the other thing - earlier today I went to the toilet.  I went for both numbers one and two.  I finished the toilet paper.  I replaced the roll and noticed it was damp.  I looked down at the floor, where the toilet paper lives and thought 'hm... meh', put the roll on, used it - again, numbers one AND two, and thought nothing more of it.  After I returned home from Uni, Kat said 'oh, by the way, I don't know how you didn't smell it (usually my olfactory prowess is KING, but I'm sick), but one of the cats pissed on the toilet paper rolls at some stage.'

o_O

WHAT?

yup, so all day I have been doing my business with cat business.  Needless to say, I mopped the bathroom and got in a shower so hot that steam obscured my feet.

Well, until next time (probably in three weeks, after which I should have handed in my thesis),

Tx