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banshee speaks her mind — uhm, nothing new, actually

At my brother’s house, ’round the pool.

The nephews and men are playing water polo on one end. The nieces — Piper and cousin Banshee — are splashing around in the other. Piper comes close to the edge, so Sister and Banshee’s mom say, “Piper, show us your swimming.” She does so. “Yay!” they say. “That looks great! Good job!” etc.

Banshee, now 4, narrows her eyes. “Hmmph,” says she.

Sister and Banshee’s mom quickly say, “Banshee, show us your swimming now.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Oh, come on. Show us!”

“No. I don’t want to and I don’t think I will ever want to!”

(Okaay. Uhmm, Banshee …. precious …. you must learn to calm down …. and, well, not be so …. how shall I say? …. intransigent. Tee Tee loves you. She wants everyone else to be able to love you, too, ‘kay?)

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overheard at the bookstore

(Two men standing at the coffee condiment stand — adding sugar, etc. — in mid-conversation):

MAN 1: …. and if the Muslims do that, that’ll be the end of all the Christians.

MAN 2 (after a pause): Okay. So you bought me coffee — does that mean I have to listen to your conversation?

MAN 1: Oh, yeah. I mean, this is pretty much THE conversation.

MAN 2 rolls his eyes as they walk away together.

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stupid parachute game

Someone sent me this game in an email. I ignored it for a while because I hate hate HATE any and all emails that start with “Fw:” Nothing good ever comes from “Fw:” Some people almost exclusively send me “Forwarded” crap mail and — they don’t know it — their forwarded emails go into my spam filter. I’ve set it up that way because that’s how much I simply cannot endure it.

This particular person isn’t a constant offender on the “Fw-ing,” nevertheless, I ignored it until a bored anxious moment struck last night and I clicked on it. What followed was about two hours where MB and I alternated playing this stupid stupid addictive game. I mean, words cannot express my level of personal dismay about endlessly playing a game involving DAFFY FREAKIN’ DUCK and actually being BAD at playing a game involving DAFFY FREAKIN’ DUCK.

I will tell you right now: I cannot score above 500 on this game. I CANNOT.

So here. Consider yourselves Fw:-ed.

By the way? Your kids will like it and score higher than I did, I’m sure.

This is an all-time low, I’m pretty sure.

I need a hug.

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the men’s wimbledon final ….

…. longest one in Wimbledon history — 4 hrs. 48 min. — just went to Spain’s Rafael Nadal, 6-4 6-4 6-7 6-7 9-7, dethroning reigning champ Roger Federer, who was attempting to break his record of 5 consecutive Wimbledon titles — a record he shares with Bjorn Borg. Alas, not to be. Amazing match. Possibly the greatest ever. It was Rafael’s time, finally. He’d been so close before.

What a day! Two rain delays. Over 6 hours in total time elapsed. I swear, these men could NOT have been more evenly matched. It could have gone any way at any moment. I think it came down to a one-point difference if you total all the points together. I mean, at various points in the match, they kept showing a tally of the total points won by each player and they were literally TIED. The match ended at 9:15 p.m. London time. A sweaty Rafa crawled up into the stands to hug his parents and, oh, you know, the prince and princess from Spain. Hahahaha. So spontaneous and wonderful. Like, Rafael Nadal, you just won Wimbledon! You are totally sweaty and dirty from falling to the ground in victory, what are you going to do now? I’m going to crawl my sweaty winner’s butt over the broadcast booth into the stands to hug the prince and princess of Spain in all their sartorial splendor! And when the trophies were handed out, wow, such class from Roger Federer, the runner up. Calling Nadal a “deserving champion.” Uh, yes, definitely. I’m totally tearing up at this. Writing as it’s happening. Nadal in his comments thanked Roger Federer, said he is still No. 1, said how great he is for tennis, said “He’s won 5 times; this is just one for me.” These are the comments from the WINNER. Wow. Such humility — and in his somewhat broken English. Adorable and classy and beautiful. Man, I love tennis. Roger was clearly disappointed not to break the record — he will never break it now, not consecutive wins — but he went out of his way to acknowledge the unquestionable greatness of the man he’d bested.

John McEnroe waited back in the locker room to get some immediate reactions from the players and he — John McEnroe — felt so bad for Roger that he blurted, “Can I give you a hug?” I mean, this is JOHN FREAKIN’ MC ENROE; not Oprah Winfrey. He is not a “huggy” kind of guy at ALL. I’m laughing and crying because I love these moments; these moments that are spontaneous and awkward and real. What you see come out of people in the middle of it all. John McEnroe, tennis’ perennial bad boy, just HUGGED Roger Federer! I love him. (I must write more later on why I love McEnroe.) Seconds later, he talked to Nadal and Rafael thanked him for “hitting with him the other day.” McEnroe clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Well, thank you for lying.” Hahahahaha. I am in love with this whole darn thing.

AMAZING TENNIS. I didn’t want it to end.

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Roger Federer, 5-time Champ!

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Congratulations, Rafael Nadal, New Wimbledon Champion!!

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the best thing ever: england — the champion!

In the Championship Match today ……

Faramir
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eschewing the sword and, uh, killing, bonked unconscious with a quarterstaff …..

Jane Eyre
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In a vicious, VICIOUS match between sisters, Faramir, who looked unsteady in the early stages, ultimately stood victorious next to his pouting and — I’m sorry — blatantly bitchy sister, Jane Eyre. The entire match was an unrelenting full frontal assault by both sisters prompting one spectator to cry out in a sublime moment of enthusiastic neutrality, “COME ON, WILLIAMS!!” (That’s the girls’ surname, of course: Faramir and Jane Eyre Williams; um, didn’t you know?) With such palpable intensity to the play, this lazy newsgirl couldn’t help but wonder what deep-seated issues they were trying to blast through out on that court. Kinda scary, really. At one pivotal point, younger sister Jane threw her racket to the ground in a tantrum of self-disgust. She is no bird, you know, but a free human being with an independent will. Yes, clearly, Jane Eyre; we are all very impressed. Thank God Mr. Rochester is blind. I’m just saying, is all. From there she seemed to spiral down and Faramir, sensing weakness, took advantage and turned the tide of the match, later delivering a record 129-mph serve. Pretty amazing with a quarterstaff, no?

After the match, a sulking Jane Eyre — clearly possessed by the devil, so different was her personality — glowered and snarked, when a reporter commented she didn’t seem pleased or she seemed upset (honestly, this reporter couldn’t hear the question exactly), “Oh, I wonder WHY.”

Uhm, okay. Please lighten up, Jane Eyre. Good Lord.

But ….. CONGRATULATIONS, FARAMIR, Champion of The 2008 Best Thing Ever England!

You win The Cup (and various sundries)!

Contact the game mistress with your information.

And a huge THANK YOU to all tournament players for all the merciless smack and sore losing and enthusiastic death threats, etc.! You definitely made it a Best Thing Ever to remember!

WELL PLAYED, ALL!!