So That Happened

It appears that I'm making a game of introducing segments to my blog that I promptly forget about. (I'm pulling a TBTL, if that means anything to you. Which it probably doesn't.) Considering my recent hiatus, you'd think I would have a veritable cache of awkward and embarrassing moments stored away for self-exploitation. Is this the case? Absolutely not. Am I going to share my lack of news with you anyway? You betcha.

1. During the Sounders/FC Dallas game on Wednesday night, Dallas earned a questionable corner kick off of what should have been a foul against Seattle. As the player positioned himself to take the kick, you could hear one man in the stands screaming, "BOO! BOO! BOOOO!" I immediately squealed. Why? Because the exact same thing was shouted by this woman:

Romantic comedy nerds will know her by name as the Old Lady in The Princess Bride Who Shouts "Boo!" Though I have just added the entire FC Dallas roster to my mental hit list, I am grateful to the conniving player who elicited such an exclamation of hatred from my fellow Sounders supporter. I am also considering adding the rest of this woman's jeer--"Rubbish, filth, slime, muck!"--to my repertoire of sports insults. Maybe I'll toss it in after the requisite "You suck, asshole!" following a goal kick by the other team's goalie. (I don't make the rules, I just abide by them.)

2. I went to put on my exercise shirt the other morning, which I so sanitarily keep crumpled in a damp ball on my floor until I use it the next day, and out of the left sleeve crawled a gigantic spider. I let out a yelp and dropped the shirt, but managed to snap a quick photo before the satanic arachnid scurried away: 

 

3. I have now watched this movie four times in the past week and a half: 

I'm not going to explain what "this movie" is. If you are reading this and have even so much as passed me on the sidewalk, you should already know. You should also know that I plan on watching it again tonight.

4. I have just learned that Christopher Meloni, aka Elliot Stabler on Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, has retired from the show. He is done as of last week's season finale. I texted my friend Lindsay, with whom I made SVU fan t-shirts in high school. Here is the gist of our conversation. It's edited; I couldn't help myself:

Me: Christopher Meloni is leaving SVU. I am beyond consolation.

Linds: Now I'm miserable, too. That is a waste of my 11-year dedication.

Me: Seriously. We made shirts!

Linds: I'm about to draft up an angry ass letter!

Me: Please do. And mail it to Dick Wolf.

Linds: I'm gonna send him his horse's head in a box. A big box.

Me: Make it a series of tiny boxes. Don't have the decency to keep the head intact.

As you can see, we're serious about our SVU. What makes us the angriest, though, is not that Christopher Meloni is leaving but that he's leaving before his character develops a romantic relationship with his partner, Olivia Benson. Move over, Shakespeare--Dick Wolf is the new master of tragedies.

5. I have a map of the world hanging on my wall with pushpins indicating the states and countries I have visited. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (my fish) live on the shelf directly below the map. Because I'm extremely paranoid that my cat is going to jump up onto the shelf and swat them out (which, if you've ever seen my cat, is a complete joke), I have a square of plastic mesh attached to the top of the bowl by a rubber band. Occasionally a pushpin will drop from the wall and get caught in mesh. It's a convenient system. Except when I remove the mesh to feed R & G and accidentally knock a pin--or two four--into the bowl. I'm pretty sure my fish hate me.

6. I just shared this with Lindsay (aka half of my readership), but I will share it again because it has quickly become my favorite dream, narrowly edging out the procession of Sesame Street characters marching through my house during a fire. Last night I dreamt that Mariskay Hargitay (pictured left) and I were paddling through a salt marsh in dog costumes. We docked, deciding we wanted to explore the nearby outdoor grocery store. As we were weaving through the aisles, Mariska spotted a group of co-workers from the office. To avoid being seen in our canine costumes, we snuck into the arctic penguin exhibit at the end of the aisle. (Because you often encounter zoo displays in outdoor grocery stores.) We snuck away from the store and headed down the hill to our rowboat, but not before some man in hunting garb commenced to pelt me in the neck with foam darts from his quiver. Evidently I found that an opportune moment to ask Mariska if she was in love with Elliot Stabler, to which she responded, "Of course. But he doesn't love me." My heart broke. I woke up.