I missed out on just slightly less than 100% of the Olympics this year,which just about killed me. I fucking love the Olympics. Especially the winter Olympics. I got to watch some skiing and some skating, but no hockey. I take that back, I caught the last five minutes of Canada's game against ... someone. I forget who. I didn't get to see Sweden or Russia or even Team USA, though I did get The Game recorded on DVR. Have yet to watch it.
So I made sure to get up early (for a night shifter) and watch the gold medal game. Sadly, the US went home with silver, but that's nothing to fucking sniff at. I know virtually nothing about hockey (the puck goes in the goal, right?), but I know our boys played their little hearts out, and I'm proud of them.
Speaking of proud, the Winterhawks did well tonight with a 3 - 2 win over the Prince George Cougars. Series sweep, anyone? I'm excited about Friday's game, for no particular reason. I haven't been to a Hawks game since early December. I'm hoping to drag my friend J along. She's not a nut like me, but she's from Florida and has been to her fair share of Lightning games. It'll be interesting to see what she thinks of the WHL.
It's no secret that I hate digital photography and its whore mistress, PhotoShop. I realize it's hypocritcal for me to say this because I use a digital camera. However. I use digital for the shit I don't really care about (or for the shit I'm now allowed to use real cameras for, such as hockey games). I've taken some really cool digital shots that I don't give two shits about because they're easy. But I digress. I was browsing an anti-digital group on Flickr tonight. Someone was complaining about the museum mode on digital cameras and here's what someone had to say about it:
I guess what bothers me is that cameras are becoming as submental asmicrowave ovens. Press "beverage" to heat up your coffee; press "museum mode" if you want to shoot a snap inside MOMA. In my mind, photography is supposed to be a craft. You don't dumb down a craft.
YOU DON'T DUMB DOWN A CRAFT. Thank you.
That's all I'm gonna say about that.
I had a nightmare about Tank the other night. It was doubly horrible in that my father was there, too. Not that that's a bad thing. It's just that when I wake up, I miss him that much more.
Anyway, I forgot most of the dream, but I'd come home (to our house in Chicago) and my sister told me Tank had gotten out of the yard, and when they tracked him down, they found him dead in the field. They'd put his body downstairs, so I ran down to see him. He was mostly covered in blankets and when I knelt down beside him, I saw that he was shaking. He kept shaking and shaking and eventually woke up and came over to put his head on my shoulder. When I woke up, I was completely freaked out that there was something horribly wrong with my dog.
Ech. I hate dreams. Been having a lot of night terrors lately, too. That hasn't happened in a long time.
This afternoon I decided to start the Couch-to-5k running program again. I've only gotten as far as Week 3, but I was really dedicated and ran three days a week without fail. Then shit happened and I stopped working out six days a week and turned into a schlub. Ahem. So I was running around the block, listening to the Cto5k application on my iPhone (you can use your own music) when I got a text from a friend:
"thny gotta quit givin me weed man'
i have a golf ball size nuggie that keeps trying to engage me in conversation."
It's actually pretty hard to run and laugh at the same time.
And now for something completely different: a swinging chicken.