Can I be more retarded?
Blog
Written with a loving hand by kitt some time around 22:05 on 9 November 2005
Well, crap. I make it to SBUL, determined to play since SFUC was rained out last night and I went to the amazing dinner anyway. So, I get to the fields early, determine that yes, they are playable, update my voicemail message to let everyone know they should come out and play, then head to the restroom to change into my clothes.
Half undressed, I realize that I have forgotten my sports bra.
What the hell? That one of three things always in my car, along with a pair of cleats and a disc. Okay, I say that, but it's clearly not true, as evidenced by my asking, "How retarded can I be?"
So, I do what any self respecting female ultimate player would do: I wrap the bandage I was going to use for my quad around my chest, squishing my lovelies so flat I look like the rolling hills of, uh, southern Indiana, grab the other bandage and wrap that one around my thigh, and head out to see how this is going to work.
Surely this will work out, eh? I mean, what did women do before sports bras?
Oh wait, I know.
They didn't play.
Or, their boobs hung to theirs waists by the time they hit 30.
Well, crap. I make it to SBUL, determined to play since SFUC was rained out last night and I went to the amazing dinner anyway. So, I get to the fields early, determine that yes, they are playable, update my voicemail message to let everyone know they should come out and play, then head to the restroom to change into my clothes.
Half undressed, I realize that I have forgotten my sports bra.
What the hell? That one of three things always in my car, along with a pair of cleats and a disc. Okay, I say that, but it's clearly not true, as evidenced by my asking, "How retarded can I be?"
So, I do what any self respecting female ultimate player would do: I wrap the bandage I was going to use for my quad around my chest, squishing my lovelies so flat I look like the rolling hills of, uh, southern Indiana, grab the other bandage and wrap that one around my thigh, and head out to see how this is going to work.
Surely this will work out, eh? I mean, what did women do before sports bras?
Oh wait, I know.
They didn't play.
Or, their boobs hung to theirs waists by the time they hit 30.