My sister and her husband are in town, and they brought with them my new "niece," AKA my sister's Shih Tzu/Dachshund mix, Minion.
We watched a lot of Olympics, although the NBC coverage pisses me off in that they only show events that America has a chance of getting medals in. I was pumped to actually get to watch fencing, but they didn't show any judo whatsoever, no boxing, and I didn't get to catch Roger Federer's match.
There was some crap on I didn't feel like watching earlier, I think it was indoor volleyball, so we watched dressage again. I decided to claim that I was the biggest fan of the Brit Mary King, although I know nothing about the equestrian events and have no clue if she even has a snowball's chance in hell of winning.
We got to go out to eat today at my favorite summer food source, a little restaurant called Crisp's that has the best milkshakes, bar none. I'm something of a health nut of late, but I couldn't resist getting a peanut butter milkshake.
I also accidentally knocked over my little sister's friend, and that was embarrassing. They're like, 14, and her friend just got knee surgery for some cheerleading-related injury, and I was trying to hand her a milkshake and our legs got tangled up. I refused to go down, (probably for the best because I now fall like a wrestling bump out of instinct, and landing flat on my back on concrete would suck) but she went down hard. I felt like a douche.
Oh, and I've got more wrestling training coming up on Tuesday, and apparently my name is already being spread around the area indies in a positive light. That's pretty nuts. Actually being good at this seemed like an unrealistic goal, for some reason.
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It's a hand-me-down, the thoughts are broken
Perhaps they're better left unsung
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