A Mighty Wind
Let me preface this by telling you that my Mom said she never used drugs when she was pregnant with me. Sometimes I wonder.
Last night I went over to my friend Rachel’s house to hang out, watch TV, and eat pizza. At one point, we were sitting on the floor watching TV when I noticed my empty 20 oz Sprite bottle sitting on its side near me. I blew at it, causing it to roll away from me. Rachel blew at it so that it rolled toward me. A spark of competition ignited–how could I let a bottle roam unchallenged into my territory? I returned fire, blowing it back at her. A windstorm ensued. The battle raged. The bottle rolled back and forth. Who would win? Who would control the 20 oz missile? We went on like that for a few minutes, but–as any pygmy with a dart gun and a comedic hunting buddy will tell you–it’s hard to blow air if you are laughing. After a few minutes of rolling the bottle back and forth with well-aimed gusts, we were laughing so hard at the stupidity of the situation (Rachel was even crying, and I was in pain from laughing) that we were basically just making noises at the bottle. We took a laugh break, but it wasn’t a truce. The competition began again, and I got hit with the bottle. I yelled, “Foul!” and demanded a penalty blow. Unfortunately, I was apparently suffering from what we in the sport like to call Australian Dingo Guster Lung, so the bottle boomeranged back, rendering the penalty blow unsuccessful. After this round inevitably broke down into a laughfest again, I figured we needed a name for this new sport. Although such brilliant names as “Bottle Blow”, “Blow Hockey”, and “Sprite Ball” were considered, Rachel’s suggestion of ”Blow Puckey” was the eventual winner. Next week, I’m going to have a bake sale to raise money for uniforms. Rachel is working on an action plan for doping scandals.
And kids these days complain because they have “nothing to do.” Bah.
Rachel responds:
Posted: August 15th, 2006 at 10:01 am →
Oh, Oh, Oh….my sides are hurting again from laughing. It sounds so silly, but it was so funny.
I don’t think that I have laughed that hard in years. Seriously.
The last time that I laughed like that was when I was pregnant and was playing cards with my mom, grandma and sister. I don’t know what caused it but I was lauhing so hard I cried, snorted and evetually peed my pants. Yes, I admit it. I peed my pants from laughing. But I was pregnant. Really.
Gracie responds:
Posted: August 15th, 2006 at 12:12 pm →
yes, but did your mom use LOTS of drugs while she was RAISING you?
sounds as if you need to give Rachel one of those special Chat N’ Squat buckets we devised…..:)
Gracie responds:
Posted: August 15th, 2006 at 6:20 pm →
Grizzy wants to know where you can list this skill on your resume…????
Erin responds:
Posted: August 15th, 2006 at 11:45 pm →
Love the new picture!!!
Deb responds:
Posted: August 16th, 2006 at 8:43 am →
Thanks…now I know how to plan date night!
Jan responds:
Posted: August 16th, 2006 at 9:32 am →
I believe this may give new meaning to “blow hard”, as in the best player. And, could this be a team sport - - thus allowing its entry into the Olympics. And, of course, the Gold medal would have to be . . . plastic.
Playtah responds:
Posted: August 17th, 2006 at 8:56 am →
Rachel–I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in a while, either! But I’m sure glad we didn’t pee our pants.
Gracie–I think Mom’s still in therapy to recover from raising me.
Oh, and to answer Grizzy’s question, I plan to list this skill on my resume like this:
“I excel in areas of product roll-out, resource management, and identifying the direction of consumer currents.”
Erin–Thanks!
Deb–Blow Puckey is a perfect date night activity. Buy a 20 oz bottle of pop (and 2 straws, for romantic effect), stare into each other’s eyes while emptying the bottle, then kick each other’s butt in your debut match of the next great sport!
Jan–Good point! I think the gold medal should also be redeemable for 10 cents.
Gracie responds:
Posted: August 17th, 2006 at 8:18 pm →
Wendy,
Grizzy says to tell you “YOU’RE HIRED!”