Flat
OK, let's begin by kvetching about the snowstorm, shall we? Let's piss and moan all about the snowstorm as if we in Wisconsin had never seen one before. "Oh, I can't believe this! It's snowing! It's December 1 and it's snowing! Snowing like a mofo!"
Duh. Still, I have to complain, because it was in this miserable snow, on the way to that miserable Bucks game Saturday night, that I got my first flat tire in some 20 years. And I didn't even notice it for awhile, because I thought it was just the crappy driving conditions you get in the first snow. No, by the time we pulled into the garage by the municipal court (best deal near the Bradley Center), we realized, "no, this is a flat" and were bowled over by the [sarcasm on] helpful men in blue [/sarcasm off] that were crawling the place. "Uh, you have your car parked in a handicapped spot." Duh, I know. It was the only open place i could see right away while I got my bearings. Can you help us with this flat? "No, and just know your'e going to get ticketed at some point. Can't help you with the flat." Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so very much, officer. Moved the car and realized, well, in this storm, the soonest we're going to get Triple AAA here might be a few hours anyway, so what the heck. Let's hit the game. That should cheer us up.
Not.
Didn't make it in time for the anthem, which is just as well. The Bucks were playing so flat, like everything else tonight, that the anthem might have been sung flat, for all we know and I didn't need to hear that. I coudn't even get a shot of T-Shirt guy, because I wasn't in the mood to shoot. My pictures would have been flat.
The new game host, Ronnie Whatshisname was phoning it in. Everybody else seems to have called in sick. Even our regular usher isn't working. (We sit fairly close to where there was some fan incident earlier this week -- we figure our regular guy , who's been there for years, probably said, "To heck with it. I have to deal with unruly fans in this weather? For the first time in 40 years, I'm calling in.") Only Andrea Williams managed to get any enthusiasm going as she introduced tonight's "Extreme Fan of the Game," some kid who looked normal, but drove in with his family all the way from Appleton. Now that's extreme.
The halftime entertainment is a demo from the winners of the Bucks pom/dance squad competition. There's two divisions: hip hop and traditional pom pom. Sorry hip hop winners, but you were flat. Maybe because their music was so nondescript: it didn't seem to have a melody, but just a mishmosh of about 20 hip house songs with about 4 seconds worth of time to each, and the routine followed suit. They were dressed in Adidas track suits and they did a lot of that annoying Britney Spears stuff where you just pull up your arms like you were in an aerobics class from the early 90s. Not impressive. It wasn't cohesive or anything. The pom pom winners, Oak Creek, were a different story. They chose a gay-bar-worthy version of "Downtown" and they trotted out in these Ice Queen blue outfits with their pom poms and, well, these kids are ready for Radio City. One song, one routine, one cohesive unit.
Back to the Bucks. Their shootng percentage is better than Detroit's but they still can't beat 'em. Like Ronnie Whatshisname, they're phoning it in and not even expecting a response from the receiving side, just like me phoning in my flat to Triple A and not expecting any kind of response. (I didn't even call. We decided to let Triple A deal with people who are stuck in ditches.) The Rim Rockers come out during a time out in the 3rd quarter, when the Bucks are down by 20, and they can't even hit half their shots. Everybody is flat. Best thing the Bradlley Center can do to put a smile on our face is to show us a bunch of Bango's Blooper reels.
We decided to stick around the 4th quarter to the first time out, and as the Bucks are still down by 20 (right when they announce the rules to the McDonald's 100 point Quarter Pounder With Cheese rules to laughter from the crowd) we decide to get a jump on our car issues. We change the tire in the trunk with the funky spare tire, and we limp home and Brian drives Talia the Hip Babysitter home in the other car. The kids had a flat night too: A lackluster game of Sorry, some popcorn that burned in the microwave, and an uncharacteristically weak episode of Cow and Chicken that I watched the end of cuddled with Stella. Brian's listening to the post-game show on the radio, and apparently Larry Kristkowiak and the Bucks made the press (those who actually stayed) wait a full hour before emerging from the locker room for the postgame press conference. I don't think I even want to have been a bug on the wall there. It would have been even more uncomfortable than we were driving on this funky spare tire in this snowstorm.
So this morning, Sammy wakes up, peeks out the window and lustily cries, "Mommy, there's snow! Awesome!" and he and Stella race each other to find their snow pants, bundle up, and run outside to start building snow animals and laying a foundation for this winter's fort. It's the same contrast in attitude I laughed at yesterday when I picked up Stella from ballet: one little girl sees the snow that's rolled in during class and says "Excellent, it's snowing!" And her Dad is like "It is NOT excellent. The snow makes for dangerous road conditions!"
But today the kids are soaked with wet wet wet snow by the time they come in so I put dry pants on them, spend an hour at the YMCA so they can run around some more, and then take them with me to run errands. Stella and I pick out our yarn for our winter knitting projects (Stella wants to make socks and a hat, I'm attempting a full blown sweater), Sammy is just happy that his boots from last year still fit. Their attitude is infectious: I no longer am depressed by the snow, I'm no longer feeling so flat. Maybe the Bucks should spend some time with some kids.
Duh. Still, I have to complain, because it was in this miserable snow, on the way to that miserable Bucks game Saturday night, that I got my first flat tire in some 20 years. And I didn't even notice it for awhile, because I thought it was just the crappy driving conditions you get in the first snow. No, by the time we pulled into the garage by the municipal court (best deal near the Bradley Center), we realized, "no, this is a flat" and were bowled over by the [sarcasm on] helpful men in blue [/sarcasm off] that were crawling the place. "Uh, you have your car parked in a handicapped spot." Duh, I know. It was the only open place i could see right away while I got my bearings. Can you help us with this flat? "No, and just know your'e going to get ticketed at some point. Can't help you with the flat." Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so very much, officer. Moved the car and realized, well, in this storm, the soonest we're going to get Triple AAA here might be a few hours anyway, so what the heck. Let's hit the game. That should cheer us up.
Not.
Didn't make it in time for the anthem, which is just as well. The Bucks were playing so flat, like everything else tonight, that the anthem might have been sung flat, for all we know and I didn't need to hear that. I coudn't even get a shot of T-Shirt guy, because I wasn't in the mood to shoot. My pictures would have been flat.
The new game host, Ronnie Whatshisname was phoning it in. Everybody else seems to have called in sick. Even our regular usher isn't working. (We sit fairly close to where there was some fan incident earlier this week -- we figure our regular guy , who's been there for years, probably said, "To heck with it. I have to deal with unruly fans in this weather? For the first time in 40 years, I'm calling in.") Only Andrea Williams managed to get any enthusiasm going as she introduced tonight's "Extreme Fan of the Game," some kid who looked normal, but drove in with his family all the way from Appleton. Now that's extreme.
The halftime entertainment is a demo from the winners of the Bucks pom/dance squad competition. There's two divisions: hip hop and traditional pom pom. Sorry hip hop winners, but you were flat. Maybe because their music was so nondescript: it didn't seem to have a melody, but just a mishmosh of about 20 hip house songs with about 4 seconds worth of time to each, and the routine followed suit. They were dressed in Adidas track suits and they did a lot of that annoying Britney Spears stuff where you just pull up your arms like you were in an aerobics class from the early 90s. Not impressive. It wasn't cohesive or anything. The pom pom winners, Oak Creek, were a different story. They chose a gay-bar-worthy version of "Downtown" and they trotted out in these Ice Queen blue outfits with their pom poms and, well, these kids are ready for Radio City. One song, one routine, one cohesive unit.
Back to the Bucks. Their shootng percentage is better than Detroit's but they still can't beat 'em. Like Ronnie Whatshisname, they're phoning it in and not even expecting a response from the receiving side, just like me phoning in my flat to Triple A and not expecting any kind of response. (I didn't even call. We decided to let Triple A deal with people who are stuck in ditches.) The Rim Rockers come out during a time out in the 3rd quarter, when the Bucks are down by 20, and they can't even hit half their shots. Everybody is flat. Best thing the Bradlley Center can do to put a smile on our face is to show us a bunch of Bango's Blooper reels.
We decided to stick around the 4th quarter to the first time out, and as the Bucks are still down by 20 (right when they announce the rules to the McDonald's 100 point Quarter Pounder With Cheese rules to laughter from the crowd) we decide to get a jump on our car issues. We change the tire in the trunk with the funky spare tire, and we limp home and Brian drives Talia the Hip Babysitter home in the other car. The kids had a flat night too: A lackluster game of Sorry, some popcorn that burned in the microwave, and an uncharacteristically weak episode of Cow and Chicken that I watched the end of cuddled with Stella. Brian's listening to the post-game show on the radio, and apparently Larry Kristkowiak and the Bucks made the press (those who actually stayed) wait a full hour before emerging from the locker room for the postgame press conference. I don't think I even want to have been a bug on the wall there. It would have been even more uncomfortable than we were driving on this funky spare tire in this snowstorm.
So this morning, Sammy wakes up, peeks out the window and lustily cries, "Mommy, there's snow! Awesome!" and he and Stella race each other to find their snow pants, bundle up, and run outside to start building snow animals and laying a foundation for this winter's fort. It's the same contrast in attitude I laughed at yesterday when I picked up Stella from ballet: one little girl sees the snow that's rolled in during class and says "Excellent, it's snowing!" And her Dad is like "It is NOT excellent. The snow makes for dangerous road conditions!"
But today the kids are soaked with wet wet wet snow by the time they come in so I put dry pants on them, spend an hour at the YMCA so they can run around some more, and then take them with me to run errands. Stella and I pick out our yarn for our winter knitting projects (Stella wants to make socks and a hat, I'm attempting a full blown sweater), Sammy is just happy that his boots from last year still fit. Their attitude is infectious: I no longer am depressed by the snow, I'm no longer feeling so flat. Maybe the Bucks should spend some time with some kids.
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