Archive | March, 2011

Kicked right in the Taco

30 Mar

For lack of gainful employment, healthy hobbies, and the absence of any direction in my life I joined a kickball team for the spring. Excited? You betcha.

My team consists of a dreamy and distracted group of downtowners all of whom are active members in the local music scene, so it was seemingly natural to take the next step into athleticism.  That’s right, we are all now ‘athletes,’ and I don’t just mean our livers.  Any avenue for shenanigans seems like a reasonable route to me.

At our first team practice this weekend I got a little preview of what this season has in store.  The first problem was the location.  I picked the park and time we would be meeting (big mistake)- so naturally I picked the park closest to my house and the time of day when I thought I would probably not be on a patio, drinking.  The result was that we showed up a little bit toasty at 4pm on a Sunday after all of our mimosa-brunches to a park full of trees that sloped downhill.  After a quick headcount (8 out of 26 players seemed to be an impressive turnout, considering who we are dealing with) we decided to practice kicking and catching.

The first thing I did was hit myself in the face with the ball.  I expected no less.  Two of our players then collided with each other while attempting to catch a fly ball.  One guy ran into a tree while chasing the ball (that one was pretty awesome) while another realized that every time she went to kick the ball she just completely bailed (imagine Charlie Brown missing that football, flying up in the air, and landing flat on his back and you’ve got a pretty accurate vision).  A 6’3” 250 pound bouncer announced that he had broken a fingernail.  I discovered that whenever it came my way I ran from the ball with my arms over my head like the biggest wimp in the world.  Someone then kicked it into the beer on the picnic table and we all groaned in sorrow.  Within half an hour we had popped it and all stood around with our egos deflating alongside it while someone went for a bike fix kit.  It’s going to be an awesome season.

Our team name is ‘Taco Kick’ and I’m pretty stoked to see if we can’t find a taco costume and someone willing to wear it and be our cheerleader beerleader.  If we can’t be the best playing team, we will be the best looking team.  I do love to stand out of a crowd.

A Sting Ray to the Heart

24 Mar

I’m a prehistoric girl (a Lindsaysaurus) with prehistoric luck.  I’m inflicted with an ancient evil that has been hanging around on earth ever since the dawn of time.  It’s been a tough run for me lately (and by lately, I mean since puberty).

Yesterday I broke a tooth.  A front tooth, right where everyone can see it and ask me what the hell happened.  And the truth is, nothing happened, I just have bad luck with baby teeth and veneers.  I was sitting quite tamely and composed at my desk, when suddenly I felt an odd sensation in my mouth- the feeling that my teeth were bleeding- and then I spit a bloody tooth onto my desk.  Making friends, I am.  Nothing says “We have a lot in common” like putting your own tooth into your pocket and sticking a wad of tissue in your mouth.

This came one day after I knocked myself stupid on the corner of a cabinet door and made my head bleed, one week after I lost a fingernail, two weeks after I got the swine flu, three weeks after I fell off my roof and got a spinal injury, and one month since the dreaded February full of car accidents, scooter accidents, and deaths in the family all at once.  In the ongoing battle of Lindsay v. the world I am losing in a big way.

At the beginning of 2011 one of the new things I started was keeping score.  I wrote the score in tally marks in my day planner.  For instance stubbing my toe would be a mark up for 2011 and being given a cupcake would be a point for me.  Let me tell ya, I think keeping score was one of the worst ideas I ever had.  Nothing highlights how much you are losing (and therefore how much of a loser you are) quite like realizing that it is only March and 2011 has 714 points and you’ve only got 223.

My latest ‘score’ though, is quite a score indeed.  So perhaps I should start weighing my point system.  For a while I thought it was working in my favor if I counted the one point I gave 2011 when my car got totaled evened out by the point I gave myself for finding awesome pink pin-up heels, but if I really weighed the value of some of these scores… perhaps I could be considered “winning” again.

I’m pretty sure I just figured out how W stole those elections (I was always confused).

Until I revise my point system, though, I will sit here at my desk, on hold with the ’emergency’ dentist listening to the muzak version of “Another Day in Paradise” occasionally interrupted by a robot lady who tells me she appreciates my patience and I will whine.  She clearly doesn’t understand me.  Sitting here longing for a person with a dental degree and local anesthesia might just be the perfect opportunity to rethink my existence.  Reevaluate what it all means etc etc.  By reevaluate what it all means, clearly I mean plan my escape to the Florida Keys where at least my demise will hopefully be brought about by something a little cooler than H1N1- something like a shark attack or a sting ray to the heart.

Did you know that people still get bubonic plague in New Mexico?  It is so not rock star to die of a medieval disease.  I think it is time for me to go make trouble somewhere else before I figure out how to fatally injure myself on a prickly pear cactus.

Oh, imagine that, there is now a person on the line instead of muzak.  I’m going to ask for a gold tooth with a diamond in it.  I feel that perhaps my problem is I don’t have enough bling in my life.

A Steady Diet of H1N1

22 Mar

So I would love to tell the story about how I got the swine flu and laid on my back for six days with a fever over 100 degrees, puking my guts out and crying for mercy. I would like to discuss how I lost my voice and hearing and most of my vision and broke my computer and kept myself entertained entirely by the employment of wit and snark via social media accessed by cell phone. I’d love to carefully paraphrase for you the promises I made to God, should I survive. I wonder who’ll believe my story about the beautiful hallucination I experienced, wherein my bedroom became a boat on the sea, and everyone I ever loved, dead and alive, came to visit my bedside and tell me stories so I wouldn’t be frightened anymore. I would tell you about crawling across my kitchen floor because I was too dizzy from not eating and severe dehydration to stand up and walk to the bathroom to stick my face in a toilet- but that’d just be a total downer, huh?

Instead, I’ll just mention that after a week in bed I now have a lower, sexier, raspier voice and I am nine pounds skinnier- two outcomes of a near death experience (I exaggerate) that are not depressing at all. Like I love to say- we could all always be a little sexier.

If I were a mermaid

3 Mar

I am a fish
and this is the winter

I must exist

I must resist
this winter

and hang on to my fishiness


That’s right.  I was totally at Blackbird Buvette last night during Poetry and Beer.  Only for a minute, but enough to inspire me.

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