I am the captain of the GSA (grad student) tennis team, where once a week for about 2 months we compete against an undergrad dorm.

My list of players: Myself, Katie, Janell, Clay, Rana, Cong, Roumen, Inaki, Ritesh

I send out an email a couple weeks before the first match explaining a bunch of stuff and asking four questions.

Are you a girl or a guy? Do you want to play singles, doubles, or mixed doubles?  Can you play at the scheduled time, 3 PM on Sunday Oct. 5?  Would you have time to reschedule your match sometime between Oct 1 and 8?

The replies:

Katie: none

Janell: huh? I thought I was playing mixed doubles with Roumen.

Clay: guy. any but mixed. yes. yes. (what a champ!)

Rana: (doesn't matter, I know him)

Cong: woman.  not doubles.  yes. yes. (another champ!)

Roumen: I'll be there at 5.

Inaki: ok, see you there. (no response to my email restating the questions, but when I ended up signing him up for women's singles, he wrote me back saying ha ha ha that would be funny for me to play women!)

So, by some miracle we managed to field someone for all 4 singles, and men's and mixed doubles (6 out of 7 ain't bad!).  Time to report scores:

Katie: Yeah, I played Ashley on Sunday - we had one game left and it just got too dark to finish. Is that okay?  I said, sure, as long as both of you agree that it was over.  What was the score? It was 6-1,6-5. (note the lack of designation of the leading person, and also the fact that if the "one game left" had gone the other way, it could have been a much longer match)

Janell: Yes, Ritesh (a later addition) and I lost 1 set to 2. (yes, I had to ask her before she reported it, like with katie) 

Clay: I destroyed my opponent, 6-3 6-0 (ooh I love this guy!)

Rana: (doesn't matter, he's a scrub and he's getting cut from the team)

Cong: I lost the game for singles with Anna in Will Rice, the score is 0-2. Sorry. But lots of fun.  (ah well, at least her heart is in the right place!)

Man, I spent like an hour a day managing these guys.  These people are supposed to be the cream of the crop here, grad students at a solid school.  oof.  I'd hate to be a boss at some company with a bunch of hooligans, like say, Micro$oft.

I guess I understand that in this mobile day and age, your loved ones tend to be spread out around the world. Everyone wants to visit their sister, or their kids, or their dad, or whatever.  But here are a few simple rules to follow that will make my life a lot nicer (and believe me, once I rule the world you will want to be one of the people that made my life nicer).

1) The fattest person hosts the gathering.

2) The second fattest person (if still morbidly obese) takes Amtrak.  They have nice, wide seats, and they really need the support.

3) The third fattest person may fly, but must check in early at the airport to insure that get a window seat.

4) The fourth fattest person does not take the aisle seat two over from the third.

If for some strange reason these cannot be abided by, here are some miscellaneous tips for fat people flying.

-When asking for an 'extension' from the flight attendant, don't bother adding that you usually don't need one.

-Put on the nicest demeanor you can manage.  Even if it's to a family member walking by to the bathroom who will forgive you.  Because looking cranky/disgruntled doubles your imposition factor.

-Bathe before the flight.  Wash all the nooks and crannies.

...And some universal rules that everyone should abide by

-Take a peek over the next person's shoulder at what they are reading.  If it is not by John Grisham etc., EVEN IF IT HAS THE NAME OF A TEXAS UNIVERSITY PRINTED ON THE SIDE, assume that he is not interested in discussing NCAA football.  If he does not light up at the mention of the Texas A&M vs. UT game, definitely don't start talking about Boise St. or University of Utah.

-If a person looks back down at their book after every sentence exchanged, politely wrap up your philippic (or conversation, if that's what you think it is) and occupy yourself otherwise.

I never knew I was a homophobe.  I bet most people are.  I don't want to think about what that would mean if the old attage that 'homophobes are actually closet gays' is true.

Homophobia really seems to stem from conceit.  I mean, nobody gives a shit about some guys running around playing with each other.  Except maybe the bible thumpers.  But what people are really worried about is the guy coming on to them.

But why would they want to?  Chances are, they know you're not gay.  Even if they have a little crush, they're not going to assault you in your sleep.  Well, I guess you do run that risk.  So keep a cannister of mace next to your bed and breathe easy.

On another note, never talk to a kid about music.  Even if you think you're talking about the same genre, you're really not.  For instance, my little cousin said she likes hip hop and rap.  I said who, and she named a few like 'DMX.'  hah.

So I'm moving in with my new roommates tomorrow.  One new roommate is the same as the old roommate.

The other, however, is my old ambiguously gay [boy] friend.  This is the kind of guy you can crack open a can of beer and watch le femme nikita with, or play gauntlet until 2 in the morning with.  He's also the kind of guy who gets really mad if you say you're going to do something and then you don't end up doing it, or if you tell him to pull up his pants because his cleavage is showing.

Since I started hanging out with him, I have been striving to define our relationship.  It's not that it matters whether he's gay or not gay.  It's just so comforting to be able to classify people.  I realize that thay may never happen, so I instead look for models in other ambiguously gay relationships.

By the all-knowing entity known as The Internet, I am informed that our ambiguously gay relationship is most similar to that of Aragorn and Boromir.  It looks as though I'm going to have to overcome my distaste for things that other people like and watch those movies again, so I know what to expect from living with this guy.

And so, for whoever stumbles across this, wish me luck, and I leave you with the words of one of the wisest of men that i know.

by now i disapprove far less of open ******ry than of its many covert forms that surround me (vegetarianism, Michael Jackson headlines, opposition to international oil theft, etc.)

I hadn't decided which are a more oppressive entity, the smokers or the non-smokers. 

The smokers are pretty much content inflicting their smoke wherever they currently are, making it smell a bit and increasing the people around them's possibility of cancer. 

The non-smokers, or at least the anti-smokers, are on a crusade not to let people smoke wherever they might want to be at any given point in time.  If they're hanging out in bar A, sure they want a smoke-free environment.  But they don't want anybody in bars B or C to be smoking, either!

Either of these two alone are tolerable.  But take a bunch of granola-eating mountain-bike-riding rock-climbing canadian-and-swiss nature boys and put them in europe, even if the world finally did decide to smite switzerland I wouldn't hear the air-raid sirens over their complaints (mine, on the other hand, are silent, festering within).

Now, I am decided.  I am henceforth an anti-anti-smoker.