We played Scattergories the other night with friends. Neither Shane nor I had played it before, but it was really fun. Someone rolls a die covered in letters, and whichever letter comes up is the one you use for that round. Each person has (the same) twelve categories and a minute to come up with twelve fitting words or terms starting with the letter. For one round, the letter was G. Most of the categories were really difficult, but one of them was "Things you hide". I thought of my answer and started giggling, thinking that no one else was sick enough to come up with the same thing (thereby canceling out any points I'd get). Well, apparently Shane is, and was of a similar mindset. When it got around to everyone saying their answers for that category, I said my answer and Shane immediately said, "Shit!" and threw down his pencil. Our fabulous answer? Grandparents. Since then we'll randomly look at each other and say, "Grandparents! Ugh!" As in, we came up with the same ridiculous answer! But it was so funny that Shane later called his brother and posed him the question of what would he have answered. All I heard was, "Gonorrhea! That would have been amazing!" Wow. Go Spencer.
One of the other answers that Shane thought of later (and would sound really bad out of context, even with a written explanation) goes back to last weekend, when we went to the Marlin and the game of the evening was Bad Pick-Up Lines. Everyone involved in the game had to, by the end of the evening, go up to someone and use a bad pick-up line on them. Of course, we fully expected that someone would get slapped (no one did, amazingly) and didn't expect at all that it almost led to one date, because the girl started laughing and talked to our friend for almost twenty minutes. Anyway, the lines included, "Hey, my socks are having a party. Do your pants want to come down?" And the classic, "Are you from heaven? 'Cuz you've got great cans." Some of them don't bear repeating, because those were probably the mildest ones. It was really funny.
I have a giant bruise on my hand from broomball. Like, this one is epic. Luckily, nothing was broken this time. But it gave me the impetus to find my padded gloves. It was swollen for about two days.
This past weekend was so relaxing, though. Friday night, no one wanted to go out. So Shane and I have been watching "Battlestar Galactica", and that was fun. I was also working on a Christmas present. And now I'm working on making a sweater for my dog. Shane keeps telling me that he's ashamed of me, for doing this to her. But she really needs one. Her hair is still short, and she's a small dog. In Alaska. She got really cold on our walks this weekend (we're in our first cold snap of the year--it's -18 right now) and I just felt bad for her. About halfway through the sweater (which is black, to blend in with her hair so she's not ashamed in front of the other dogs) I asked Shane, "Wouldn't it be cool if I could crochet flames along the sides?" He stopped what he was doing and just stared at me. He finally said, "I hate you so much right now." Ha! It would be amazing, and he knows it. But I don't think I can do it. Oh well.
Ok, gym time. Blech. I sometimes think that it's silly to go to the gym in winter. Standing outside in the cold burns lots of calories. Plus, in the cold, by the time I get there my legs are sore from walking through the snow and, again, the cold. But I've set my motivation and my goal to my brother's wedding next summer, so I'll keep trudging there. And I have volleyball afterward, so at least it will end with something fun.