|While watching "The Voice"...|
|ME:||Oh man, this girl is a waitress! Who wants to be a singer! No waaay. Tell me more.|
|VIC:||Why don't you go finish your screenplay at Starbucks.|
|It's good to have someone around to keep me in check when I'm having an assholey kind of day.|
I usually love Jezebel, but this entry, “Just Because Cheerleading Is Hard Doesn’t Mean It’s A Sport,” reeks of condescension and makes no attempt to discuss the place of cheerleading on a collegiate scale, or the development of collegiate women’s sports.
And I was going to defend all the ways in which cheer is legitimate, but then I realized, wait: Cheerleading ISN’T a sport. Because if cheer was a sport, we would:
1) have universal, enforceable safety regulations instead of rules that vary from team to team and school to school;
2) make sure all cheer coaches were certified and equipped to safely spot tumblers and supervise stunts (since many are not);
3) be recognized by the NCAA, as opposed to external organizations like UCA and NCA that do their best outside of school to give competitive cheer a place to grow and develop as a team sport;
4) not unnecessarily conflate spirit squads (who cheer on the sidelines) with competitive cheer (which involves complicated aerial stunts and gymnastics);
5) create space for more collegiate women’s sports teams, instead of replacing one women’s team with another;
6) have access to on-campus practice facilities, athletic trainers, and medical resources; and
7) not have to deal with condescending jerks about the whole thing.
THIS GUY. The 39-year-old gymnast has competed in 6 Olympics and 7 Ninja Warriors. Who cares if he didn’t medal in London; give this guy a prize for being a silver fox on rings.
Eddie: I got us a new goldfish. He’s a lot feistier than the last one.
Chandler: Yeah, maybe because the last one was made by Pepperidge Farm!
While in line at the pharmacy with Poptart, I got really creeped out by a scruffy-looking guy who started talking to me about dogs. It wasn’t until later that I realized the only reason a perfectly normal conversation freaked me out was that he looked like Eddie, Chandler’s crazy roommate on “Friends.”
In sum, Adam Goldberg gave me a panic attack. A guy that looked a lot like him, anyway.
Thanks to the Fab Five clips NBC keeps playing, I now know what a Phillip Phillips is. Catchy song.
Received a lovely end-of-quarter gift from a student today who said that I was the best tutor he’s ever had, and that he feels much more capable of expressing himself in English now.
All I heard was “Macarons! Om nom nom nom.” (Kidding. I’m very proud of him too.)
Today I took a long walk off a short cliff. Literally. My palms are still sweating from the Fulcrum Adventures ropes course we tackled, but cripes, what an adrenaline rush.
There’s a reason this particular challenge is called the Leap of Faith. If climbing up a rickety pole and leaping off a tiny wooden platform to catch a ring over 30-feet in the air doesn’t cure my fear of heights, I don’t know what will. Oh wait, maybe a 50-foot climbing wall, high wire cross, and balancing beam. Yeah, that’ll do it.
Poptart looking a little remedial as she gears up for her first walk about a month ago. Thank goodness this tiny ball of concrete eventually decided she liked the outdoors. If only she didn’t routinely try to chew her harness off.
Stopped by Stuntfest 2012 at the Santa Monica Pier on Sunday. It’s been a while since we’ve stunted, but I like to think we’ve still got it.
“Dear Mr. Billingsley, it is with sincere regret that I will be unable to attend the ball, though assuredly it will be a most delightful evening at the manor…”