I'm thinking of giving my blog a new title, as many of my posts have dealt with the dangers one encounters in day to day life. Today, I will report on another threat to your well-being that you probably already know about unless you live under a rock (or possibly in Australia): SWINE FLU. Watch out, people. This could be coming to a state near YOU sooner than you think. I just got a breaking news alert from The eDartmouth that New Hampshire has a staggering TWO "probable" cases of this deadly killer. I was going to go up for Green Key, but maybe I should stay away. The way I see it, frat basements would be the perfect breeding ground for such a disease. In the mean time, my coworkers and I will be designing a line of fashionable face masks to deter the spread of the disease. The fact that they aren't that effective at preventing the disease is meaningless to me. We will assume a fixed (not variable) cost model, and will be forced to go out of business in a matter of weeks. It will be just like the Michael Scott Paper Company, except for the whole paper thing.
I went shopping after work on Wednesday on Newbury Street. Jon Scherr '08 walked past me but didn't make eye contact. From the looks of it, he was thinking intensely about something. MISSED ENCOUNTER ALERT! I should post on Craigs List.
It has recently come to my attention that a girl I played junior tennis against is pregnant. Facebook alerted me. I didn't recognize her from her photo, as her hair is now jet black (she was blonde when she was 12). She may have dyed her hair, but she can't hide her baby bump. From the looks of it, she is due in a week. I would wish her congratulations, but we haven't spoken in a decade, and we weren't friends when we knew each other.
I also just found out that my team's clients Googled my name and told my boss about what they found. How awkward is that? My boss reported to me that they read about how I was a ranked tennis player in Massachusetts. I don't really know how they came up with that (since it isn't true and doesn't appear in the results when you search my name), or why they would admit to stalking me in such a manner. I think they meant well, though, which is what counts I suppose.Speaking of tennis, a former teammate ("KJ") and and I hit last weekend, which was a lot of fun. I'm protecting her identity here due to the sensitive nature of the story I am about to share. We had a perfect afternoon planned out (we both like to plan things), as our college's baseball team was in town to play for the Rolfe Division title. It just so happens that the Harvard outdoor tennis courts are right next to the baseball field, so we figured we could hit first and then watch the game. The only snag (which we discovered upon approaching the man at the front desk) was that we were apparently banned from the courts due to the fact that we weren't affiliated with Harvard. I suppose we could have lied and said that we were grad students and had simply forgotten our ID's, but being the honest girls we are, KJ and I told the truth. The man at the desk (clearly underestimating us) told us that normally, he would let us play at the guest rate, but since it was such a nice day, he couldn't give us a court because they were all in use at that time. After asking if there were any other courts nearby and being told that there weren't, KJ and I left the building. We then took a stroll around the perimeter of the outdoor courts, to survey the scene. As it just so happened, the man at the desk had lied to us, as about a quarter of the courts were not in use. We had gone out of our way to be honest with him, and the least he could do was reciprocate, but he chose not to. This is yet another example of why I hold Harvard in such high regard.
KJ and I decided that we WERE going to play--all we needed was a way to get on the courts. At first, it appeared that all the gates were locked, but lo and behold, some players leaving the facility had accidentally left one of the gates open! We took this chance to claim one of the courts, which KJ declared as the "most illicit thing she has ever done." I have to admit, I felt pretty guilty about the whole thing as well. After getting on a court (far away from the main building), we began to worry how we would leave. All the gates were supposed to be locked, so there was a good chance someone would close the gate we had come in. The main exit was though the pavilion where the front desk was located. Putting this out of our minds, we hit for about an hour, which made me feel like I was in college again. Before leaving, though, we had to devise an escape route. We both changed our shirts, donned hats and sunglasses, and pretended to be talking on our blackberries in case we had to encounter the man who had so rudely misled us. As it turned out, we were able to get out the same open gate that we came in, so we were able to leave undetected. The way I see it, we would have paid the (inflated) non-member rate to play if the man at the desk had given us a court, but as it turned out we were able to play for free. I felt pretty good about that. I also felt pretty good about the fact that our baseball team clinched the division title, and that our team (despite being the visitors) had many more hecklers than Harvard's team.
The Honest Bro has said it before, but I'll say it again right now: I'm glad my identity is a secret so that I can share stories like this one.
Up Next: A review of "taste tripping"- stay tuned!
