The Near Future IS Bright

Tonight, I am attending the Blazers vs. Bulls game at the Rose Garden. And I will be wearing a Bulls jersey. This is because Portland lost last time they were matched against the Bulls and I was foolish enough to make a bet on the fact that they wouldn't. I'm sorry Blazers. I'm sorry in advance. Don't let my turncoat ways dissuade you from winning tonight and helping me get revenge upon Sam. I really, really hope they win, but mostly I just hope that no one spits on me.

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A few of you may have seen this post before I took it down on Monday. That's because we were surprising Jesse for his birthday and taking him to the game. I realized after posting it that there was a chance he would see it and the surprise would be ruined. But no,  it was a complete success. I made fajitas, my family came into town, we ate cake (all at lightning speed due to the impending start time) and then I came downstairs in my Bulls jersey and Sam pulled the tickets out. That look of complete surprise was priceless. We ran to catch the bus (literally) and made it to the game only slightly late. And then! They won! It was such a great game. They played so well! It was so exciting. Turnovers, dives to the balls, artful dunks, great assists, great defense, and a 95 percent free-throw success. Everyone played well. I'm not even ashamed to own a Rudy jersey anymore. After the game I kept the gloating and celebration to a minimum so that Sam wouldn't need to break up with me. But it was hard.

Photo Surprise!

My strategy for posting recaps on significant events is quite similar to my strategy for birthdays or other holidays involving gifts. Incorporate the element of surprise. If you delay the gift long enough, your giftee has given up hope, decided you were a horrible friend, and probably already defriended you on Facebook. This is when you strike. The gift is infinitely more awesome because it is completely unexpected. I gave my friend Molly her Christmas canteen in July. Had it been received amongst all the other thoughtful gifts she undoubtedly received on December 25, she may have been underwhelmed. As it was, she really couldn't have been more pleased.

Below is a photo from the basketball session of our Hooters/Hoops/Dirty extravaganza. That's right. When I play basketball, a mystical smoke rises to strike fear in the hearts of my adversaries. The very court trembles and the hoop bows to my basketball prowess. We played a game of PIG that came down to Charissa and I* battling it out for the glory and I emerged victorious. I made a three-pointer, Laurence (my brother) made a three-pointer, and Sam? Well, Sam tried in vain. This was the night that I coined the Wright family motto:  

The Wright Family: Our bones don't break and we make three-pointers.

 * The ladies. This was a source of pride. We were wearing our cheetah-print leggings and ruling Irving Park court. Sometimes we just lurk at the park and join pick-up games with the neighborhood thugs**.


** Not really. I can't dribble.

I'm Ray Charles

So, a while ago I biked home in the dark and ended up at my basement door shaking my keys around and I decided to pretend I was blind and see how long it would take me to open the door.

The answer?

Ages.

I sat there with my eyes shut fumbling with my keys (I have like, six keys on my key ring) and tried each one in the lock, (which is hard to find when you're blind) and sometimes they would be upside down and often it wouldn't be the right key and I had to try not to use the same wrong key over and over again, but finally I got the door open. I felt a tremendous sense of accomplishment. I also was aware of the ridiculous nature of the situation. If Heidi had been sitting on the porch she would have leaned over the railing and asked, What the hell are you doing?

This morning Sam and I recreated the blind game on a walk back from Pine State Biscuits (I got the one with pickles and chicken and honey*) and he walked me down the street and I had my eyes shut behind dark sunglasses and I found myself laughing with my face kind of waving around in a similar fashion to Ray Charles. And then we got to our first curb. And he said, Big step! right as I walked into it. And then we got to the next one and he said, Big step! and then I took two more faltering steps before finally reaching the curb.

We need to work on our timing.

No, there wasn't a point to this. It was just fun.

* Tony, you were right. It's delicious.

James Cameron is Ruining My Life

So, at this point the score is:

James Cameron: 2

Liz and Rachel: 0

We tried, yet again, to go see Avatar. I went by the theater on the way home from work and bought tickets well in advance, then met Liz and we ran back to the theater and went in with our hope and our stupid 3-D glasses to find the only empty seats were in the absolute front row right up against the wall in the corner. It was total shit. I tried to be positive and Liz sat there squirming and muttering, no, no, and finally we cracked and ran out and got our money back.

So we were faced with a decision. I was throwing out things like miniature golf and OMSI and Liz suggested drinking a beverage or playing pool or boardgames and we agreed we couldn't watch the ice skaters again and she called our movie-expert friend Gabe who directed us to an 8:00 showing out on 82nd and Powell which just wasn't cutting it and in the end I suggested walking around which evolved to walking around Irving Park which evolved to playing basketball on the lit-up court at Irving Park.

But first. We went to my house and put on warmer clothes and then I showed Liz my accordion and played it for her and apparently I have now filled my quota for playing the accordion in front of Liz until I'm an expert. And then we put on Hot Chip and began to sing improv songs over the beats, with an emphasis on harmonizing dueling verses and chanting. Our subject matter varied from James Cameron to Jesse's beard to outer space to Sigourney Weaver to the impossibility of saying no to magic. It was practically spiritual. The mix tape will be dropping in 2011.

And then we went and played basketball (I found this basketball last summer when I was walking home from a party at Liz and Alexa's, it is white and not full size and I found it in the gutter and dribbled it like a soccer ball all the way home). And we played a modified version of Horse in which you get five chances to make a shot from a certain vantage point and if you miss you either have to remove a piece of clothing (not racy, considering it was cold and windy and we had gloves and hats and scarves and down jackets on) or else a body part (close an eye, one-armed shooting etc). And I'm not sure who lost. It might have been me. But it was for sure not James Cameron.