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Wednesday, September 27, 2006

rakkity runs into the dominator

Michael,

This afternoon I ran into The Dominator in the Goddard hallway. He asked me how I’m doing, and, like a fool, I tell him, ‘I’ll be playing my daughter on Friday. Maybe we should get back together on the court?'” After dutifully asking about my shoulder, he tells me about all the guys he’s found at the old gym who play racquetball with him, and about one of his competitors who smashed his knee up and can’t play anymore. So I say, “Maybe we can play next week some time,” and he says, “Sure, just give me a call.”

I’m having second thoughts about this. Should I give him a call, or not?

–rakkity

posted by michael at 4:44 pm  

12 Comments »

  1. NOT. A body with working parts is a horrible thing to lose. Competition clearly interferes with your sense of … sense.

    Comment by Jennifer — September 27, 2006 @ 10:12 pm

  2. Mike I miss you! Im comining home for labor day weekend if thats the weekend im thinking of so im guna come visit tou… just because your the man.

    Comment by Joe — September 28, 2006 @ 9:28 am

  3. You’re right, Jennifer. But I am going to have a game with Katie. Those games are never aggressive, and we just have fun, which makes a lot of sense. (I have to keep reminding myself, it’s a game, it’s only a game,
    it’s really, really only a game.)

    Comment by rakkity — September 28, 2006 @ 4:41 pm

  4. LaRad suggests not as well. Between falling out of the tree and this most recent injury….I say stick to Katie.

    Comment by La Rad — September 28, 2006 @ 7:54 pm

  5. And change your phone number.

    Comment by Mother K — September 29, 2006 @ 9:31 am

  6. Michael, of course, is mum. He wants more blood and guts on the blog. Sorry, Mike (and Dom), I’m taking LaRad’s and Jennifer’s advice, and also that of my Boulder buddy, Chuck, who said, “You’ve got to save yourself for the mountains!”

    Comment by rakkity — September 29, 2006 @ 9:34 am

  7. “Change your phone number” Oh, didn’t see that one from Mother K. Of course our phone number will change anyway when we move out to an apt (in Bowie) on Nov 30. In the mean time I’ll screen our caller ID carefully for Dominic, and go hide under the bed if I see him.

    Comment by rakkity — September 29, 2006 @ 9:38 am

  8. Michael is mum in Maine with Mark S and Adam. He would no doubt have an opinion.

    Comment by Mother K — September 29, 2006 @ 3:56 pm

  9. Yeah, but we don’t want his opinion unless it’s “stick with Katie.”

    I broke a toe during a non-competitive basketball game with children and very caring, thoughtful adults who I didn’t happen to know well. (Toes aren’t a big deal but it was memorable for being 2 days before a Thanksgiving on which I was entertaining a houseful of guests.) Games bring out the competitive side of most of us, but I’ll trust Katie to help you keep your well-being in mind.

    Comment by Jennifer — September 29, 2006 @ 6:19 pm

  10. Michael thinks rakkity should do what rakkity feels is best as long as he fully understands his role in Michael’s pantheon of role models (If you can’t play racquetball can I even get out of bed?). And if he’s fully prepared to replace said ball stories on the blog with something equivalent – like BASE jumping.

    Speaking of the blog, and in the third person, how great was it for Michael to come home from Misery Pond (we never made it to Enchanted Pond) to see all these entertaining comments?

    *****************

    And, sorry Joe, but we’ll be away Columbus Day weekend.

    Comment by michael — October 1, 2006 @ 8:44 pm

  11. I don’t know. HOW great was it? Michael?

    Comment by Jennifer — October 2, 2006 @ 9:19 am

  12. Given that my molecules are equally divided between self-pity and voyeurism, and that after three days of sleeping under the clouds and the stars on that bed of down and pine needles, all I wanted from life were funny blog comments, the company of my wife and a warm bubble bath, I’d have to say super wonderfully great.

    Comment by michael — October 2, 2006 @ 9:31 am

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