This Weekend I... Volume 26

This weekend I... decided to start blogging again. Hooray!

I don't know what happened there in January. Well, that's not true. What happened is those god damned Game of Throne books sucked me in and stole my life. Now I'm constantly thinking about war strategies, and all of my dreams take place in castles. It's ridiculous. But I'm down to the last two hundred pages, so things should go back to normal again shortly.

This Weekend I... Volume 25

This weekend I... played racket ball with the boyfriend for my first time ever. It was horrible. Or rather, I was horrible. I spent most of the hour cowering in a corner or running away from the ball. I actually swatted it away with my hand one time, completely forgetting both the point of the game, and the racket in my other hand.

I am not good at sports.


This weekend I... went out to eat with some friends and have already broken my resolution to eat healthier. So, fuck it, 2015 it is.

Take It to the Grave

I have a feeling that I'm going to end up in jail someday. Not necessarily for something I did myself, but definitely as an accomplice. (Although, I suppose committing a crime myself isn't too big a stretch of the imagination.)

See, I would never, ever rat out a friend who committed a crime. Never. If you killed someone, I'd help you bury the body and get you across the border.

I think it's something that runs in my family. We're pretty tight lipped. For example:

When my dad was a little kid, he was sitting in the car outside the courthouse waiting for his dad. Since it's a small town, the post office was located inside the courthouse. So was the jail.

While he was sitting out there, waiting for his dad to buy stamps, he saw a prisoner come out of the building alone. Then he saw him run across the lawn, hop into a pick up, and drive away. And he never told anyone. (At least not for, like, twenty years.)

Even as a seven year old, he knew the company line. I didn't see nothing.