thatnight.net

Last night, in accordance with the beautiful weather, we had a bonfire in Kevin’s backyard. It was another one of those things my friends do with such grace and enjoyment that I feel as if we’re filming an ad campaign for American Eagle.

For a while, the girls sat on a porch above the boys and watched them as they gleefully played with the fire. We commented on how lucky we were to continue to be so close with our high school friends, and these friends in particular. While college usually unties bonds formed with even the best high school friends, I think it may be that we just haven’t found a general group that could surpass the one we have now.

And while I can sit here and write about how they’re all so sweet, or nice, or smart, I won’t. Because today, after spending every recent night with them, I will say that these people, who I love so much, are freakin’ hot.

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I went with Dan’s little sister Kerry while she got a tattoo yesterday, and I finally got mine touched up. I would get more if I could be sure they stayed absolutely hidden. I don’t like them to be displayed. But Kerry’s, a vine of flowers on the top of her right foot, turned out adorable and almost made me change my mind. Almost.

The pain was a lot worse the second time. Kerry was extremely brave, but it was easy to tell how much it hurt. Kat also came and got another ear piercing. She’s definitely running out of room.

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This weekend was quite possibly the luckiest weekend I’ve ever had. Dan and I escaped to Cedar Point. It’s the “roller coaster capital of the world.”

The ride there wasn’t all too bad. One thing I learned: Ohio definitely has much better rest stops than Pennsylvania. I’m not a big fan stopping during road trips, but these places were the palaces of all rest stops.

When we first got to the hotel, we were given a key to a room on the second floor. It was a tiny little cave with one bed and hardly anything else. On top of that, it hadn’t been cleaned yet. Dan called the front desk to complain, and we were asked to stop down to recieve the key to our second room.

My expectations had been significantly lowered by that point. However, upon openning the room to our new door, on the first floor, I was quite happy that our first room had gone uncleaned. It was about twice as big, with two queen beds, rather than one twin.

The park was practically empty when we got there on Monday. The weather was perfect – lots of sunshine but still cool. Everything is located right on the coast.

Unfortunately, the ride I live for, the Raptor, closed shortly after we rode it the first time for unknown reasons. This, however, was a lucky weekend. While we were preparing the leave, around 7:55 (the park closes at 8:00), we saw that the Raptor was once again running. Dan and I sprinted to the entrance, and we rode it twice more. They ended up keeping it open until 8:45.

What else was lucky? Dan proved that he had a talent for skiball. I really wanted the giraffe from Madagascar, but it turned out that it was a medium prize, and we kept winning smalls. We were finally able to win four smalls, the trade-in for a medium. Dan, however, managed to also win a second medium, a fifth small, and a huge friggin’ snake. And now we have a family.

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My team’s banquet was last night, marking the last time I’ll see the girls until next winter. In summary, the night was composed of dinner, awards, and goodbyes. The events could probably be more adequately described using the presents I received.

Before I began my speech, one of the parents presented a speech about me, during which I was presented with two bouquets of the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen in my life. I was already crying by that point. With this, the parents gave me some cards and some very generous gift certificates. I’ve been told throughout the season that I was an awesome coach by my girls. It was a completely different feeling being described as a role model by their parents.

Next, I distributed my presents to the girls (little collages containing pictures from throughout the season and other little nifty scrapbook-esque trinkets). They then gave me a giant picture frame with our team photo in the middle, surrounded by messages from all of the girls. Definitely cooler than gift cards. Two of the girls also made me a collage featuring taped-on snapshots from throughout the season.

Also, I got two t-shirts with our school name and mascot. Perhaps one of the best presents of all, though, is a sweatshirt that I will cherish more than any piece of clothing that I have ever or will ever receive. It allows me to brag without saying a word.

I really hated seeing my girls cry. I really loved how the parents pressured me to come back next year.

I mentioned how at this year’s tournament, I doused the girls in silly string. They got me good at the end of the banquet. So good, that the manager almost began hyperventilating when he walked the in banquet room and saw his lights, windows, tables, and carpets completely flooded with bright green and pink sticky string. And there I was, in the middle of it all, entangled in a gooey rainbow web while the room flooded with the giggles of 15 girls and flashes from the cameras of 30 parents.

It was amazing.

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I blame my sluggishness on being out of school while everyone else continues to awaken with an objective. That, and I’ve been cranky since Chris was voted off American Idol.

A few days ago my phone broke in half. Unfortunately, while the thing still turned on and the buttons continued to light up, the screen portion was down and out. Otherwise, I would’ve kept using it. Actually, I wouldn’t've even bothered to get a new phone right away at all if it wasn’t for the fact that I recently distributed fliers with my phone number on them at the school in order to recruit for next season’s lacrosse team. That wouldn’t've been very professional.

I never really felt compelled to have a camera phone. I already own two perfectly capable digital cameras and having a third little camera with a third less megapixels wasn’t all that appealing.

I didn’t have any intention of walking out of Verizon with a Razr. Let alone a pink one. I’ve always been able to pride myself on the fact that I could say, “I don’t do pink.” Instant badass.

It’s been sitting pitifully on my dresser as I continue the tradition of not answering it. I will admit that the ringtones are much nicer. And the voice activation feature, which requires no pre-programming, is a plus. But I still can’t get over the fact that the keypad reminds me of something out of Fisher Price. I may or may not grow fond of it. I’ll keep you updated.

For now I may pick it up once to vote for Katharine McPhee, and then continue to anxiously await for 9Rules‘ next round of submissions. Midnight.

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My girls had their last game of the season yesterday – a twelve-hour tournament against all of the schools in their division.

The campus that held the event was incredible. Dan and I walked through it briefly during a break between games. All colleges should have gardens. And really old buildings. Even the fields on which we played were incredible. The land stretched out and down. It was as if the fields were raised in honor of the games that were being played on it. And the entire thing was surrounded by hills and mountains.

I was so thankful that the rain had stopped that day so I wouldn’t have to endure the bus ride home soaking wet. That was until after my girls tied their final game, after playing well all day, and had the wonderful idea to empty the ice cold contents of a gatorade cooler onto my head. And back. And shoes. It was their revenge against a silly string attack I arranged earlier in the day. It was miserable, and completely flattering.

I was asked to come back next season. I agreed.

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• Parental control.
• The juniors section of department stores.
• Emotional outburst? Must be hormones.
• “You’re way too young to be thinking of marriage.” Or anything deailing with maturity.
• Teenage boys.
• Being placed into the same category as other teenagers. Like Lindsey Lohan.
• Referring to myself as a teenager.
• “What do you want to do when you’re older?”
• Want to rent a hotel room? Cover yourself with tattoos? Buy porn? Do you have permission?
• “You’re too young to know what you want.”

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This week is going to be so wonderful. And awful.

My girls play their final game on Thursday.
Wednesday marks my last day as a college sophomore…
And my last day as a teenager.

A new decade. The last one was packed with turbulence. I’m hoping for a smooth transition.

The weekend was incredible. Dan drove out of his way to see me Saturday, high gas prices and all. We watched The Amityville Horror and ate all of the best junk foods. The resulting smile lasted me all day. It finally started to fade a few moments ago, until I got the following message from one of my girls:

“Hey. I’ll miss having you as a coach. Youre like the only adult i can like make fun of and not get grounded.”

I’m therefore doomed to smile for at least another two hours.

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I have a professor who looks like he’s 25. Actually, I doubt that he really is much older than that. This was his first and last year teaching at my college.

He was one of those teachers who stood on desks and cussed out the administration. He told us stories about growing up in New York before we sat around and watched Crash. He brought his toddler daughter to class and taught with her seated on his shoulders.

He was incredibly approachable. He was also a hardass. He strictly graded papers and threw chairs when someone fell asleep in class. Everyone loved him.

Today was our last class with him. He looked around, joking as always. As he talked, not lectured, to all of us for the last time, he began pointing out individuals who he came to respect over the last year.

About halfway through, he stopped. His hand, raised in explanation, slowly lowered. His eyes welled with tears. It wasn’t uncomfortable. The 20-some of us sat there, heavy with the realization that those sort of college courses, and professors, are few and far between.

Before leaving, the boys stood up, starting a slow clap, and we left.

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