We've got a great story for Monday! It's so good, that Greg and I are writing it together. We'll start with his part:


Greg:

The weekend started off fun enough. Things began with seeing Slowtrain perform after work Friday which was awesome as usual. We grabbed some dinner at Spill downtown, went next door for pints of Guiness @ B.D. Riley's, and then went back to Spill. My friend Mindy was trying to hook me up with her friend Carrie, who turned out to be all sorts of cute. Unfortunately Carrie didn't know about how awesome I am, and she went out and got a boyfriend before we could meet. Bitch. Tom, being the player he is, managed to bring four girls over to hang out with us. Unfortunately, Carrie's friends are all super dorks and scared them away. It was fun while it lasted.

Now, on to the fun stuff. Saturday night Tom and I went to play a little broomball with my college's alumni association. Broomball is this dumb game with ice hockey rules played on an ice rink, except your wear tennis shoes. It's fully expected that you'll fall lots, and that's supposed to be part of the fun.

Less than one minute into the game, I bite it. Big. I fall forward, but for some reason my hands failed to protect my face like they normally do. My chin smacks the ice, hard. I get up quickly, but my head is kind of ringing and my jaw hurts like a bitch. Being the tough guy I am, I keep playing. Tom scores shortly thereafter.

As the game continues and I move around the ice, I notice some peculiar drops of blood on the ice and think "M?n, some retard is already bleeding!" Several minutes later I feel something funny on my chin and wipe it with my hand. I look down, and see blood soaked fingers and a jersey with several big blood stains.


Awesome. I leave the ice with the other alumni minorly concerned about the biohazardous situation my dripping blood is causing, but I put a butterfly bandage on and got back on the ice in 10 minutes.


Tom:

As Greg gets back onto the ice, I make fun of him. I ask if his skirt is okay, and if he's ready to play. I'm not a total jerk, I don't think anyway, so I ask if he's alright. The score is still 1-0. That's not enough of a lead, so I turn it up a notch.

There's a loose ball in the other teams offensive zone. It's going to be close, but I decide I can beat the girl from their team to it. I feel like one with the ice as I race towards the ball along the boards. It's close, but I beat her and center the ball, to no one. I bounce along the boards and lose my fight against gravity. Then, I actually do become one with the ice.

I fall in slow motion. My chest hits the ice and I think I'm done falling. That's when the MATRIX-style camera rotation would have happened. As time restarted, you would have a great view of my face smacking the ice. Oh, and by face, I mean teeth, actually, "teef" going by the way I say it now. There's nothing quite like seeing your teef bounce away from you on a beautiful sheet of ice.


So, that was how our broomball experience ended. We stopped on the way home to get some butterfly closures for Greg's chin, and some milk to put my teef fragments in until I see the dentist this morning. We spent the rest of the evening watching movies on the couch: ice on our faces, advil in our bellies, just reveling in how cool we really are.

Oh, and forget talking. I sound so stupid, I want to kick my own ass.