I've played about ten games of soccer in my adult life and finally, last night, I made a goal.
A player that normally scores 90% of the time on the field (but not off, because he's a Mormon... heh) lofted the ball up to me as I lightly kicked the ball sideways with the outside of my foot. The ball gingerly entered the goal... the whole event appeared to occur in slow motion. Not because of the excitement of the event - it's just that any athleticism I engage in just looks slower than real life. I wasn't feeling self congratulatory until the whistle blew and the scoreboard lit up a point.
So now I'm entering day one of some detox... diet... vegetarian sorta... Okay. I have a bowl full of various greenery in the office fridge and that, my friends, is lunch. It looks like someone mowed a nasty looking lawn and poured the catcher into a tupperware bowl, sprinkled olive oil and flaxseed, and said "bon apetit, bitch." It's okay. I need to detox. My sweat smells like Jack Daniels, Red Bull, and stripper perfume. And it glows in the dark.
Congratulations to Gregster for his impending nuptuals.
G
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