Squashed

My god, squash will be the death of me. I pulled a muscle in my bum and it hurts so bad. I am sore everywhere, I feel like I got beaten with a sack of oranges. I start my lessons next Tuesday. My god. How am I going to survive? I just quite literally waddled over to my basement nook to find a sweater, only to discover I don't know where they all are.

I had a really retarded day. I was covering a soccer game and afterwards I went up to one of the coaches, gave him my "I'm Annalee Grant from the Whitehorse Star," spiel, and then said, "Is this Whitehorse Minor Hockey?" And the coach said "no...it's not hockey." Fuck.

Then earlier I was trying to take a shot through this gay netting they have up to keep the ball from smashing people in the face in the horrible lighting the Canada Games Centre has when this guy comes up to me, lurking, and was like "hey, are you taking pictures for the paper?" and I said yes, did my spiel, and he's like "oh. okay." And he just sort of sauntered off again, but not before I awkwardly said Nice to meet you. But I hadn't met him. He never offered his name. He took my introduction as an invitation to stare at my chest. Asshole.

Those were really the only eventful bits of my day. It's election day on Friday. I can't vote in Whitehorse, I haven't lived here long enough; but maybe I can still get the free hour off to "vote". Apparently they close the bars down between voting hours so that people don't use their free hour to hit the pub. You can't even buy offsales or anything. What if I get the urge to buy a bottle of wine during the regular working hours? What do I do then? I guess I have to suck it up and save my alcoholism for later. Boo-urns.

Hopefully there's something to do this weekend. I need a bender and dancing quick.

Annalee.