The Sting
Posted on April 3, 2008
Filed Under suburban joys, snark, bitching and moaning, challenges, tennis, apology |
Okay, so yesterday was Wednesday and you know that’s my tennis day, so I’ll give you the full disclosure. But I’ll make it brief because I hate to talk about losing. Especially the kind of losing that, if I hadn’t made such a mince out of my last service game, would have actually been a win. And then of course there’s my explosive temper that I’ll only hint at. Suffice it to say that I am experiencing a certain shame and remorse that I misbehaved just wee bit after the match. I probably shouldn’t have slammed my racket into the net and screamed God Damn It loud enough to disrupt play on the next court and the court next to that one, all the way down the line. So much for that good sportsmanship I’ve been talking to O about with earnest tones of wisdom. Sometimes it’s too damn hard to model the behavior we’d like our very own children to exhibit.
Luckily we were playing a team comprised of two decent and understanding women who were already fully aware of my venomous and petulant tendencies (we all played for the same team last year). They just smiled and said, Such good tennis. So much fun. To which I responded Please excuse me while I swallow my own vomit. Oh and pretty please, for a just moment, try to imagine that you just lost an important match by one game, two points in an abbreviated third set that, by North Shore Women’s League rules, cannot be played in its entirety due to time constraints and come back and tell me how much fun it was again. Really, tell me again, because I need one more excuse to slam this ball at you from the service line after play has stopped and you approach to shake my hand.
Needless to say I’ve been licking the wound, suffering the sting of injured pride and damaged self esteem, all afternoon and only after a liberal dose of Clonazepam and a towering bowl of ice cream can I even write about the defeat.
Tomorrow is another day, a practice day, in which I should force myself to do wind sprints and full half hour of back hand volleys. Instead I may read a book and begin drinking before noon and stay in my pajamas until I need to take O to the dentist. Again, which, as you all know, always always puts me in such a foul mood that I will probably be freebasing Clonazepam and eating from the ice cream carton with my fingers by tomorrow evening. Oh, and yet another winter storm is rolling in which is just a cruel joke, a lesson in enduring patience.
Good things come to those who wait. Things like tulips and sunshine and tank top weather. It’s a shame that Mother Nature is just sort of an amorphous spiritual type idea because, if she were a little more real and had a tendency to wear tennis skirts, I’d be kicking her ass right now.
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13 Responses to “The Sting”
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thinking of you on the court makes me smile in a ’scared of you girl’ sort of way.
“Kicking her ass”…I knew we were kindreds.
Have you thought some more about those tattoo ideas?
Ouch.
Maybe you should be marketing Clonazepam icecream…save you a step and I bet it would be a big hit.
I always assumed that Mother Nature wore a tennis skirt.
Ouch. At least you gave everyone a good story to tell this week.
Turns out, Mother Nature lives in Arizona. Just in the winter months, though, since she spends her summers in the northern states, and I’ll be the one wanting to kick her ass in a couple of months.
You so would be kicking her ass RIGHT NOW
would you just teach me to play tennis? kick my ass later!
I don’t play tennis - well, in my head I play really good tennis - but, I like the idea of Mother Nature in a tennis skirt and I love tennis skirts - you’d think I’d have taken up tennis by now just to wear those cute skirts!!
Have a good evening - thanks so much for stopping by. See you soon - Kellan
You lost? Oh my. Well, I might be able to continue this relationship through commentary but I’m going to have to stop bragging about you to all my friends. Pity really. You were so perfect when you were perfect. (Yes, this is me mocking your inner voice. If you are going to take sides in this, I suggest that you join with me in the mocking tones - shushing your silly inner narration that actually holds to the notion that perfection can be had. You have so many more important and impressive things to do than be perfect, cce. Pursue perfect and you’ll lose extraordinary. There. I’m done.)
Here’s hoping the ice cream is Rocky Road.
I think I just fell in love with Ron. Don’t worry, I’m not competing. He’s yours. Clearly WAY out of my league
[…] Cocktails and a male escort service couldn’t cheer me up at this point. But my windows are beginning to sparkle and, apparently, Mother Nature has forgiven me the tennis skirt comment because the sun shines and that’s something. Share and Enjoy: These icons link to social bookmarking sites where readers can share and discover new web pages. […]