Football Games: Update

HAY GUISE!

It's me, Coraline, again!

I found something disgusting at Nana and Papa's house.

We were there to play football.

I think Mum is going to catch this ball, or else she is using magic to hover it. I blame the camera angle.

I got distracted by that last photo. Where was I?

We were there to play football.

And I found a football.

An Eskimos football.

Because I am a Superfan, however underappreciated, I took care of it. I took care of it like a TRUE BC Lion. I took care of it like a cougar. Like a puma. LIKE A MOUNTAIN LION.

First, you have to get penetration.

Then, you're in a position where you can really bring the pressure.

Now, you're right in the quarterback's grill. You know what to do.

Lay him flat on his back.

Leave the coaching staff to pick up the pieces.

Now that I've proven just how big of a fan I am, Aunty Beccs, Mum, Dad, Gramps, Grams, please. Please. Let me watch the next game with you.

Thank you.

CORALINE OUT

__________________

Some photos courtesty my Mum.

Coraline out for realz

Football Games

HAY GUISE IT'S ME CORALINE, REMEMBER ME? THE ONLY ONE OF THE FAMILY WHO WASN'T INVITED TO COBRASTARSHINE'S FIRST FOOTBALL GAME, AUNTY BECCS' BIRTHDAY FOOTBALL GAME? THE LEAST YOU COULD HAVE DONE WAS PUT THE TV ON TSN FOR ME SO I COULD HAVE WATCHED, TOO!

Don't they remember how big of a fan I am? 

Don't they remember how I devour tiger-cats?

Or single-pawedly saved the world from one less ridiculous watermelon hat
that one time?

Don't they remember how when Aunty Beccs put the Lions jersey on me I was so excited that I couldn't even sit still for a single photo?

Oh well. Since I didn't get to come, even though I've been a superfan since before Cobrastarshine was born, I'm going to tell the story of Cobrastarshine's first live football game and there's nothing anyone can do to stop me from making it all up.

Superfan on the bus. Enjoy the way it smells, little boy.

I'm Aunty Beccs and I have my own jersey now and it's
signed and I'm sooooo special.

Oh, so this is a "warm-up". I wouldn't know. I've never seen this part of a game.

Oh, now he's doing my favourite thing, getting cuddles from Aunty Beccs. HOW NICE FOR HIM AND GRAMMERS!

It's hard to tell from so far away, but I can read humans.
66 there is saying, "Ooh Mr Offical #36, your butt looks fiiiine."

You've got to be kidding me. They didn't bring any of that home for sharesies!
I bet the kid got some, though.

Something exciting is going on here, that much is obvious by the expressions on the Fletchers' faces and the fact that Uncle Hawk is looking at the camera. Poor Cobrastarshine, he probably can't see past his tall, tall Daddy. They brought him, and he didn't get to watch! CRUEL! CRUEL, I SAY!

This is probably something really cool like a sack or a touchdown. Look at my parents' faces! Now, look between my parents' faces. Cobrastarshine is playing with Tall Guy. He doesn't even care! I WOULD HAVE CARED!

I guess he just needs to be told when to look. A little slow on the uptake, maybe?

You know, Cobrastarshine, if Big Sis Coraline were there, she'd teach you how to chew a football properly. Big Sis has SO MUCH to teach you!

Not sure if photobomb or yawn.

Cobrastarshine decides he really likes this football thing, and that he looks great in orange and white.

The game is getting tense. The night is getting darker and cooler. The wind is blowing, and the bowl of the stadium is filled with the smoke from repeated firework blasts (not from an excess of Eskimo touchdowns though, mostly from the halftime show. Cobrastarshine sure loved that halftime show!)

Trees against a dusky horizon.

Eskimos pennants fluttering in the strong, but not unpleasant breeze under the stadium lights.

Night deepens behind the scoreboard.

Grandpa has Cobrastarshine, so something boring must be happening on the field. Probably an Eskimo hurt his pinky or something.
Maybe a really lame set of challenges.

Cobrastarshine tries to get the Lions' attention after their touchdown. He is crying because his parents just told him they have to leave early so he can go to bed. I'm with ya there, little dude.

I leave you now with a final image of what could have happened if only I'd been allowed to come, too.

CORALINE OUT!

______________

Some photos courtesty Meghan Dougherty.

Conversations with Hawk

Living with another person is an adventure. Especially after living on my own again for a full year. However, living with Hawk is a special kind of adventure because Hawk is a special kind of person. Caring and sweet, smart and handsome, he is also fully insane.

Not that I'm not also fully insane. I'm the one who stuck a party favour in her hair at work the other day to save it for my nephew. I'm also, obviously, the main participant in the forthcoming conversations, transcribed as faithfully as my shaky memory will permit.

While watching Supernatural:
RED PANDA: Will you protect me from demons if they attack?
HAWK: Of course I will!
RP: I don't believe you. You don't know the first thing about demons.
H: Yes I do.
RP: Well, what's the first thing about demons, Hawk?
H: Um.
RP: Fine, I'll protect you, then! The first thing about demons is to draw a circle of salt and stay inside it! This wouldn't happen if you were a Winchester! [Epic pout]

While discussing a recent blog post:
H: Oh, this isn't about me.
RP: No ...
H: I though it was going to be about me. Your readers want more Hawk.
RP: You asked for it.

Hawk reading at Transcend.

Hawk and I at Transcend today:

[Jeep booms LMFAO.]

H: That's like J-Dawg and I when we'd go out. First thing we'd do is rip off our shirts.

RP: [Grabs camera. Snaps pic as jeep starts to zoom off.]

An example of how Hawk and J-Dawg used to behave when they were younger. Apparently.

I'm out of time, folks. Gotta head to the store for sandwiches, then get ready for the Lions to kick the Eskimos' butts. I'll be wearing my new jersey (story to follow).

As for Hawk?

More of that to follow, too.

Advice Columns

I thought I'd try my hand at answering some of those Wiki Answers/Yahoo Answers questions that are all over the internet. I'll come up with a clever name ... like Ask Aunty Beccs. And I'll post my answers on the question, and here on the blog. If Hawk is free, I'll get his opinion too, and we can help twice as well by giving two sides of the coin for people to look at.

I think I can be really helpful.

What started me on this track is a question I got from a reader, so my first Ask Aunty Beccs column won't be an official internet question, but a write-in one.  Here it is:

Dear Aunty Beccs,

I'm afraid my son might be Italian-American. Here's a picture. Do you have any advice?

Sincerely, an Irish Reader

Aunty Beccs Says:
Dear Irish,
Luckily, his hair is still blond. That's a good sign. Keep him away from pasta, gangster movies, and tomatoes. Feed him a steady diet of potatoes and turnip. Depending on how quickly he recovers, you might want to play some fiddle music.

Hawk Says:
Don't be racist.