Fuck You, Raquetball...

...for what you did to my finger. Part of me fell off today during an inspired set of games--inspired, but futile on my part: Naughtilie whooped my ass. Whooped my ass good. I won one game, though... out of six. The good thing about winning only once is that I have exactly no illusions about my raquetball skillz. In fact, I have no skillz. My raquetball experience came down to a lot of flailing, floundering, and other fl- words, spiked with moments of brilliance.

What have I gained from raquetball: Bruis'd knees (I'll post pic of them should they color up nicely).

What have I lost from raquetball: A part of my finger. I could feel it start to blister as the games piled up. Then, the blister/callous plate slipped much like a volatile layer of the Earth's crust. It just kinda hung there, connected by a slight flap of skin/callous. That's when we stopped.

So fuck you, raquetball. I'll see you next week.

Oh, and yes I know my "bird" looks messed up. I've never been able to flip the bird without my damn'd pinky sticking out like that. It's even worse if I attempt the Molly Ringwold bird flipping from The Breakfast Club.

Mace...out