The Stars and the Cookie Jar

In which the titles to this entry must fight To The DEATH!!!

Perhaps we should go to bed. But all the thoughts are fresh and blurry now!

See, I was going to title this entry "The Rolling of the Stones" and thereby get in my Childe ballad reference. But then, I thought I'd title it "Tequila Song!" Because there was the Tequila Song on the yellow line. Or maybe it was the green line at that point. Anyway, so I got up at 3.30 today, because I opened. And then, I worked. I worked and I worked and I worked among my collation of misogynistic bastardy. And then I came home an hour late. And I tried to nap. Because we were going to make a special trip out to buttfuck - I mean, Maryland, and I would see the curling club. I sort of napped.

Then I got on the train and I picked up my fiancee and we got on the train and we got on another train and then we got in a box and then we were at the curling club. And somewhere in there, I got fed, thank goodness. [ed. note: are you kidding? if I hadn't fed her, I would've strangled her. Strangled her with... love. of course. right.] And I watched my fiancee curl. She looked pretty. And then she started yelling. That was very butch. Threatening, yet seductive. Seriously. I mean, she could come up behind me in the bathroom and say, "sweep harder, baby!" and... I don't know.

Curling is a very friendly sport. It's very Canadian. It's an excuse to go out and drink Molson Ice afterward, is what it is. [ed. note: we would never drink Molson *ice*. At the very least, we'd drink Blue.] So, I watched the curling, and I understood the curling. Yay, curling. And I got a lot of scarf done because, let me tell you, curling goes on for an interminably long time. So, I met people. I met invader_jim, who is very very nice. And I met flt and devilvern. They are SCA'ers. Apparently, some people can do no fewer than three interesting things with their lives at a time. It was really good to meet them. How odd to think of networking with SCA'ers. Apparently, this is the Kingdom of Atlantia, because Ye Olde Easterne Seaboarde just doesn't sound the same. So, I had a good time, even though I was delirious with tired, and I cut off the circulation to my left foot. It was Santa's fault. And then we came home on the train. And there were these drunken latinaamericanyouth people on the train, singing along to musica latinas. Which is the most unfortunate form of pop ever. Their drunken singing was an improvement, because they would almost get in time, and they really weren't bad. Like, they were good singers. The singers they were singing along with SUCKED. And then there was the tequila song, of which we understood two words. Tequila, and mucho.

It was lovely to see my beloved so happy and so at ease with herself, and I'm glad she got to go curling. Next time, I bring slippers and a hot water bottle.