![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7So... skating tonight.
I went out and bought footless spandex opaque dance tights in the largest size I could find. The idea was that I'd be able to pull them up to my nipples, so the waistband wouldn't show between the too-short shirt and too-low skirt of my uniform.
But apparently I really am a 2X in Capezio's sizes. Good for me.
Also the "light suntan" is a highly amusingly non-human color.
I'm considering going to a department store and buying something Spanx-like, or some kind of control-top brief, entirely because then I'd have something that didn't hit at my waist, and would provide coverage for my tender belly flesh because the shirt doesn't cover it. But there is a tiny part of my soul that indignantly protests the idea of shapewear... And I'm pretty much out of time anyway, because I'm trying to clean my house at the same time as get ready, and it's just not happening.
So I won't. But we'll see how it goes. (In the past I've had problems with a too-short shirt exposing my poor tender tummy to rink rash. This idea does not please me.)
I think I have my legwear sorted out.
That's about all I have sorted out.
Z is still frantically working on the dang scoreboard. He *just* got all the decorative bits from the designer and is trying to make sure they work.
I *think* I will have 2 friends in the audience. I am hoping. I can't manage to resolve the phone tag, however, so it's not going ideally.
I also *think* I will have media in attendance. But, again, not sure.
But. My team captain reorganized the entire intro skate for our team to make sure that I would get a chance to do my particular, strange little bit of warmup that I like to do. Which is pretty sweet. I'm psyched.
And my knee? That on Thursday was giving me so much trouble I thought I'd be crippled for life?
Fine yesterday. Fine today. It's all, what's the big deal?
Pff.
We'll see if this lasts. We're knocking on wood. Good little knee. Apparently it just doesn't like having much attention paid to it.
However: I'm sleepy as hell and have a headache. I so nobly resisted the temptation to drink booze last night, to no avail.
Amusing: Last night we decided to prank the opposing team. We knew they were having dinner in a fancyish local restaurant. So we sent a cake to the restaurant, shaped like a coffin, with a Barbie doll "buried" in graham cracker crumbs on the top, and the players' names on little tiny tombstones, etc. It was cute. And we included a card that on the front had a rude rhyme, and on the back had good luck wishes and an assurance that the cake was edible.
The restaurant kind of effed things up, though. See, usually, when there's a special dessert sent to the restaurant, and it's a surprise, one of the people in the party knows about it, and collaborates with the serving staff to ensure the proper timing.
But apparently none of the Dollies ever asked for dessert, so the staff was left waiting for further instructions, and none came.
So it wasn't until they were starting to leave that the waitstaff said... "But don't you want your cake?"
"Our what?"
Waitstaff begins frantically shushing one another. Confusion ensues.
The Dollies are not stupid girls.
"Did the Knockouts send this over?"
Ha ha ha.
So they hadn't really thought of how to prank us. So they came over and had a candlelight vigil outside our team captain's house. Our response was first to flash our boobs at them, and then two of the mothers in attendance made their toddlers moon them. Then we realized they were videotaping it. Hm, well, they'd probably get busted for child porn before we did.
So we invited them inside, though there was a brief incident with a shotgun. ("Whoa," said the girl with the video camera. "Whoa! Whoa!")
Then everyone stood around and took pictures. The kitchen, with two teams in it, rather resembled a phonebooth-stuffing event.
Then they politely left. Having stomped indecipherable messages into the snow on the lawn. We went out and erased the messages. (The toddlers were extremely pleased to help with this exercise.)
Then we all hung up a bedsheet on their team captain's lawn that we'd written a rude message on and signed.
Politest exchange of pranks ever. But I'm sure things will be stepped up next time... now that a baseline has been established...
Anyway, wish me luck tonight. The one thing I kept attempting to explain to the rookies, and failing, is that the thing is, it's just so much goddamn fun.
I went out and bought footless spandex opaque dance tights in the largest size I could find. The idea was that I'd be able to pull them up to my nipples, so the waistband wouldn't show between the too-short shirt and too-low skirt of my uniform.
But apparently I really am a 2X in Capezio's sizes. Good for me.
Also the "light suntan" is a highly amusingly non-human color.
I'm considering going to a department store and buying something Spanx-like, or some kind of control-top brief, entirely because then I'd have something that didn't hit at my waist, and would provide coverage for my tender belly flesh because the shirt doesn't cover it. But there is a tiny part of my soul that indignantly protests the idea of shapewear... And I'm pretty much out of time anyway, because I'm trying to clean my house at the same time as get ready, and it's just not happening.
So I won't. But we'll see how it goes. (In the past I've had problems with a too-short shirt exposing my poor tender tummy to rink rash. This idea does not please me.)
I think I have my legwear sorted out.
That's about all I have sorted out.
Z is still frantically working on the dang scoreboard. He *just* got all the decorative bits from the designer and is trying to make sure they work.
I *think* I will have 2 friends in the audience. I am hoping. I can't manage to resolve the phone tag, however, so it's not going ideally.
I also *think* I will have media in attendance. But, again, not sure.
But. My team captain reorganized the entire intro skate for our team to make sure that I would get a chance to do my particular, strange little bit of warmup that I like to do. Which is pretty sweet. I'm psyched.
And my knee? That on Thursday was giving me so much trouble I thought I'd be crippled for life?
Fine yesterday. Fine today. It's all, what's the big deal?
Pff.
We'll see if this lasts. We're knocking on wood. Good little knee. Apparently it just doesn't like having much attention paid to it.
However: I'm sleepy as hell and have a headache. I so nobly resisted the temptation to drink booze last night, to no avail.
Amusing: Last night we decided to prank the opposing team. We knew they were having dinner in a fancyish local restaurant. So we sent a cake to the restaurant, shaped like a coffin, with a Barbie doll "buried" in graham cracker crumbs on the top, and the players' names on little tiny tombstones, etc. It was cute. And we included a card that on the front had a rude rhyme, and on the back had good luck wishes and an assurance that the cake was edible.
The restaurant kind of effed things up, though. See, usually, when there's a special dessert sent to the restaurant, and it's a surprise, one of the people in the party knows about it, and collaborates with the serving staff to ensure the proper timing.
But apparently none of the Dollies ever asked for dessert, so the staff was left waiting for further instructions, and none came.
So it wasn't until they were starting to leave that the waitstaff said... "But don't you want your cake?"
"Our what?"
Waitstaff begins frantically shushing one another. Confusion ensues.
The Dollies are not stupid girls.
"Did the Knockouts send this over?"
Ha ha ha.
So they hadn't really thought of how to prank us. So they came over and had a candlelight vigil outside our team captain's house. Our response was first to flash our boobs at them, and then two of the mothers in attendance made their toddlers moon them. Then we realized they were videotaping it. Hm, well, they'd probably get busted for child porn before we did.
So we invited them inside, though there was a brief incident with a shotgun. ("Whoa," said the girl with the video camera. "Whoa! Whoa!")
Then everyone stood around and took pictures. The kitchen, with two teams in it, rather resembled a phonebooth-stuffing event.
Then they politely left. Having stomped indecipherable messages into the snow on the lawn. We went out and erased the messages. (The toddlers were extremely pleased to help with this exercise.)
Then we all hung up a bedsheet on their team captain's lawn that we'd written a rude message on and signed.
Politest exchange of pranks ever. But I'm sure things will be stepped up next time... now that a baseline has been established...
Anyway, wish me luck tonight. The one thing I kept attempting to explain to the rookies, and failing, is that the thing is, it's just so much goddamn fun.
