Mar 17 2005, 10:03 PM
Hello all! As most of the dear readers know, I recently ventured out on the high seas on what I had hoped would be a theme cruise to remember. Unfortunately it was, but for all the wrong reasons: Upon our arrival home my partner announced that they had fallen in love with a ship�s steward from our cruise and that the two of them were heading off to Cozumel where they hoped to start a combination dive shop and �make your own Aztec pottery� parlor�
As you can naturally understand I was devastated at the news that my partner had stolen my heart and had given theirs to some high seas trollop with questionable oral hygiene and perpetual 5 o�clock shadow. Over the course of the past several weeks I spent a good deal of time alone in the dark, contemplating my life, and watching The Way We Were repeatedly.
As I sat in my great room overlooking the backyard gazebo my partner had built for me and in which I perfected my patented Crouching Feline Throwing Style, I thought back on my life and had convinced myself that I was just a fat, bald, loser� While I was in the deepest of funks, I felt a nudge at my ankle and I looked down to see my Pekinese PooPoo looking up at me with his beautiful eyes along with my mid-range disc clamped squarely between his teeth. At first I shooed him away, but back he came�I shooed him again, and again he returned to nudge me.
Later that evening as I moisturized at the nightstand where I keep the Hummel collection my partner and I started from our first vacation together, I decided right then and there that PooPoo was trying to give me a message from the DG Gods: Come on and get up, turn that frown upside down, and get out there and enjoy the game that we all call our friend!
As I loaded up my bag for a round of DG I had intended to play the next day, it struck me like a case of diarrhea while noshing on bacon wrapped shrimp appetizers at the Captain�s table onboard my cruise: While I loved using the leopard-skinned saddle bag I had purchased last Autumn to carry my discs, I had always toyed with the idea that there must be a better, more efficient way to carry my disc gear: To that end, I immediately set about crocheting a bandolier that would hold my discs!
Now I happen to be quite handy with a pair of crochet needles so after a quick trip to a local arts and crafts store where I maintain an open account, I spent the next two days crocheting a beautiful bandolier that held the full range of discs I need in a typical round of DG. I further personalized my bandolier by embroidering pictures of both PooPoo and my dear Mummy on it�
My first time back out on the DG course I was as nervous as a kitten but the positive response I got from my playing partners when they saw my bandolier quickly put my mind at ease and once more I felt the warm embrace of this game I love wash over me like sea spray on the poop deck of our cruise ship.
As I sat writing this recap of my latest contribution to this sport of Kings and Queens, I received a collect call from my former �partner�: It seems that once my partner and the ship�s steward hit dry land their relationship fizzled as quickly as the carbonation of a Shirley Temple in 100 degree Caribbean heat�Now there was a time when I would have succumbed to my partner�s entreaties and asked them to return post haste. Not today, my friends, as I told my former partner that I deserved better (Plus, I didn�t want to have to own up to the fact that I burned the gazebo to the ground in a fit of rage�).
Can I find better? I hope so. Is there someone out there with my name on them (Literally, as a great tattoo located in just the right strategic spot is such a turn on!)? In my heart of hearts, I believe there is�.
As you can naturally understand I was devastated at the news that my partner had stolen my heart and had given theirs to some high seas trollop with questionable oral hygiene and perpetual 5 o�clock shadow. Over the course of the past several weeks I spent a good deal of time alone in the dark, contemplating my life, and watching The Way We Were repeatedly.
As I sat in my great room overlooking the backyard gazebo my partner had built for me and in which I perfected my patented Crouching Feline Throwing Style, I thought back on my life and had convinced myself that I was just a fat, bald, loser� While I was in the deepest of funks, I felt a nudge at my ankle and I looked down to see my Pekinese PooPoo looking up at me with his beautiful eyes along with my mid-range disc clamped squarely between his teeth. At first I shooed him away, but back he came�I shooed him again, and again he returned to nudge me.
Later that evening as I moisturized at the nightstand where I keep the Hummel collection my partner and I started from our first vacation together, I decided right then and there that PooPoo was trying to give me a message from the DG Gods: Come on and get up, turn that frown upside down, and get out there and enjoy the game that we all call our friend!
As I loaded up my bag for a round of DG I had intended to play the next day, it struck me like a case of diarrhea while noshing on bacon wrapped shrimp appetizers at the Captain�s table onboard my cruise: While I loved using the leopard-skinned saddle bag I had purchased last Autumn to carry my discs, I had always toyed with the idea that there must be a better, more efficient way to carry my disc gear: To that end, I immediately set about crocheting a bandolier that would hold my discs!
Now I happen to be quite handy with a pair of crochet needles so after a quick trip to a local arts and crafts store where I maintain an open account, I spent the next two days crocheting a beautiful bandolier that held the full range of discs I need in a typical round of DG. I further personalized my bandolier by embroidering pictures of both PooPoo and my dear Mummy on it�
My first time back out on the DG course I was as nervous as a kitten but the positive response I got from my playing partners when they saw my bandolier quickly put my mind at ease and once more I felt the warm embrace of this game I love wash over me like sea spray on the poop deck of our cruise ship.
As I sat writing this recap of my latest contribution to this sport of Kings and Queens, I received a collect call from my former �partner�: It seems that once my partner and the ship�s steward hit dry land their relationship fizzled as quickly as the carbonation of a Shirley Temple in 100 degree Caribbean heat�Now there was a time when I would have succumbed to my partner�s entreaties and asked them to return post haste. Not today, my friends, as I told my former partner that I deserved better (Plus, I didn�t want to have to own up to the fact that I burned the gazebo to the ground in a fit of rage�).
Can I find better? I hope so. Is there someone out there with my name on them (Literally, as a great tattoo located in just the right strategic spot is such a turn on!)? In my heart of hearts, I believe there is�.