INDIEchouette


YOUNG PILGRIMS
16 October, 2006, 843 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

This weekend was one of “those” weekends, the kind that make me want to quit band so I can have a social life.  On Friday, Gilll [insert nasal ha-ha here], Erika, Jolyn, Steven, and John interpretive danced for me during warmups for halftime.  It was invigorating.  They were trying to tell me, “We’re going to Tucker; we’ll be back later” and “Cum here!” and I heard them the first time, but…I wanted to see the dance.  After the game was a disaster; I had to go home to get stuff because everything ended so early (I guess home games end early, go figure), and Paige was left stranded at Deep Run without a ride or a soul.  It was messy.  Afterward, though, we met up at Erika’s house, ate shit, and tried to watch “Garden State” and “Eternal Sunshine,” neither of which I’d seen before…but we all fell asleep.  I woke up during “Garden State” to I think Zach Braff yelling, “He’s about to come/cum!” but…I don’t know.  I fell asleep again and woke up for about 10 minutes of Clementine-induced madness.  Jim Carrey was better than I’d ever seen him, period.  For ten minutes, until I fell asleep again.  They seemed like good movies, but you know…xylophone tires you out.

The next morning, we had banana pancakes (let’s see anyone besides Erika or Gilll [nasally Andrew laugh at the drastic misspelling] get the significance of this) for breakfast.  Then we took showers and watched VH1 and blasted music.  Like “Me and Mrs. Jones.”  Erika and Paige covered it, and it’s probably the best song ever now, especially considering that I know a Mrs. Jones, and if you’re at my school, then you do too.  We danced like hoes (haha psych) and played Sonic, and Erika and Paige both owned (or should I say pwned) me.

We played gheyball, too.  I need to explain gheyball because it’s such a hardcore sport.  It has no rules and absolutely no point, except to be hardcore.  If you miss whoever you’re aiming for with a bad throw, or if you miss a catch, then you have to dance with the ball, but that’s only applicable if someone calls you off on it.  Otherwise, you can get away without it.  You’re sometimes required to run queerly into people really competitively, and if it rolls out in the street, then someone has to get it.  Maybe not you, just someone.  And someone will, if you want to keep playing.  Sometimes you have to pelvic thrust the ball to your competitors.  Or chest thrust.  It’s okay to pass the ball, because when you have the ball, both of the other competitors are your allies; they want the ball.  You can taunt them and smack them in the head with it, and it’s all good because they want it so badly.  You’re like their puppeteers.  Just, when you don’t have the ball, you better watch the fuck out because the other person without the ball will fight you to the death.  There are generally three players, generally female, and you generally play in some sort of a grassy area.  Doesn’t matter where, so long as it has grass.  And that’s gheyball for you.

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