Sorry to hear you didn't pass, ita. But I think just getting to the point where you could take the test is pretty amazing given all the pain you've had to deal with in recent months.
I tried a trendy new restaurant downtown called Sauce, which specializes in unusual seasonings (you can mix and match your own or order regular items off the menu) and has cool funky decor that kept me from feeling out of place while wearing shorts, wifebeater, and Hawaiian shirt. Which also warded off the panhandlers. (Or maybe that was dancing down the sidewalk to Quad City DJs on my nano.)
I'm SO EXCITED that we get the Scola on Saturday!
Whyfore me have no Scola?
Go to Seattle, and you will.
Go to Seattle, and you will.
I have the nephlet this week. Which is win, but it's not Scola. It's also making Seattle improbable.
Oooh, and Lee has sleek short hair! Very spiffy!
TAR: I know, about the food. The eating challenges always suck. No matter if the food is excellent, you're always eating a quantity that makes you sick and miserable. I was disappointed on the front that I wanted to see someone do the bagel challenge anyway.
It's always bizarre when they get so far apart. It's like I can't concentrate on the teams who are doing a completely different set of challenges.
And OMG! People! I had to look away during the piano tuning challenge. Those poor pianos! They'll never recover.
I actually don't really like the "serious" bits like the landmines and the concentration camp. I feel like, in this context, there's no way to treat them seriously or with the background and respect they deserve. I'm not really going to TAR for my social awareness, you know? But then, I guess I feel that way about the whole race, and I still watch.
I have delivered the Scola to his hotel.
Emmett suggests that a Coca Scola would have a lemon flavor. (Emmett likes lemon so that's not a veiled comment on sourness.)
That is Of The High Suck, ita, and I am sorry. My prescription is wallow in feeling shitty and eat pie for 24 hours, and then figure out why. Then let it rest for a couple of weeks and figure out how/if you want to go from there.
You are freaking amazing to have done all this with the physiological and psychological equivilant of a bullet lodged in the spine.
I would offer to kick someone's ass, but well, it wouldn't fix anything, you could DIY and I'd have to use a sniper rifle, and those bitches leave gun oil on my nice shirts.
