Saturday night, L went to WalMart(or, the WalMarts, as people are disposed to say in our neck of the woods) at midnight and got a Wii. He's had me calling all the stores in the area once a week for a few weeks, and Friday night I had two people tell me, "Ummm... we don't have any, but try Sunday morning. Early. Like midnight Saturday, really..." And since we were up anyway...
Sunday morning, I awoke groggy, grumpy, and sore. S-O-R-E. Like the first time you ever go to BodyPump sore. I've been getting more sore daily, as I continue to play. How sad am I? It's OK, I share my humiliation with you so that you can laugh. Go ahead! I'm all about contributing to the greater good. I expect the Nobel people will be here anytime with my prize.
Mainly we've been playing tennis. L beats me every time. And I mean every.single.time. It's so pathetic. Last night we were boxing and he knocked me out in something like four seconds. Twice
. But, I rock at bowling! Which is kind of funny, cause in real life... not so much. Which makes me wonder if I have perfect form, but such wimpy little muscles that the weight of the ball is ruining my game? Hmmm... again, so, so sad. I'm happy to say that I even beat L bowling with my left hand (my right arm is so sore at the moment that I can barely accomplish anything).
Maybe we'll even loose a little weight playing this thing, like this guy
In other news, two random stories.
We were in the car this morning and Hatchling (talking to his imaginary menagerie of friends) stated loudly, "Chunk! You
are the star of my film. I need you to get out of there. If you can't use the doors, you'll have to go out the window. Now, come on
Chunk! And don't listen to Phil. He doesn't know what he's talking about and he's just trying to sabotage my movie!" I've not heard about Chunk since we went to a party in early December and H buddied up with a 6-ish kid whom he dubbed Chunk (this was not his real name, nor was he chunky, so we were a bit confused by the moniker...)... so I was surprised to hear about his starring role... I was also surprised to hear Hatchling tell me he is directing a film, but too shy to star in it himself. Most alarming was the instruction to go out the window, as Hatchling's room is on the second floor and he has huge, picture windows, with nary a fall-breaking bush in sight. I do have things to keep you from opening the windows, but my smart boy knows how to take them off. So when he falls out to his untimely death, I guess none of us will be surprised, eh? And the who the heck is Phil? When questioned, Hatchling informed me that Phil is nothing more than a crackpot
. Uh-oh.. I wonder where he learned that word? Whoopsie...
L taped a show called Robotica
for Hatchling the other night, and we watched it yesterday. Hatchling adored it, and was devastated to discover this morning that we accidentally deleted it. He told me he particularly likes how the robots koont each other. After all, who doesn't? I wonder if I get it on DVD?