Fallin'

When you're sleeping, do you ever feel like you're falling and then you like land on the floor and wake up thinking you just rolled off the side of the building?

That's so weird.

For Sara ... because she reads this

I've got several things on my mind today -- the movie "High Tension" which almost led to Cheeks being renamed Diaper Dandy, Ryan Adams berating the crowd in the midst of a great show last night at the House of Blues, and the events of Friday, June 10. Of all these things, Friday, June 10 gets the attention for today.

For the first time in my life, I watched (and I emphasize the word "watched") some friends play the "Lord of the Rings" board game. If you've never seen this done before, consider this a primer. Through the rolling of a 19-sided dice, you and however many of your friends not busy spending their night trying to hack into the National Halo LAN computer terminal, can re-enact Frodo's journey to return the Ring to the fires of Mordor.

Sounds interesting, right?

Well for ambiance, let's add the soundtrack at full blast, enhancing the flip of each action card and signalling the impending doom of running out of cardboard shields.

What does one eat at a time like this? Lamus bread? Actually, anything covered in nacho cheese will suffice. And I mean anything. You want to dip some of those extra buttons that come with slacks in there, do it, cause it's gonna taste good.

What about rules? Well, there are two novellas to guide you through the game, so you're covered there.

What happens if I get two things on the dice that look like hurricane symbols? Oops, you've rolled double ankh symbols, that means Orcs are attacking from your left flank, but luckily, you've got five cool points, so advance to the Gumdrop Gardens.

When will I know if I've finished the game? Are you too old to get married? If the answer is yes, then you're done.

And Happy Birthday to my sis who turned 24, but through the miracles of tanning beds, looks 138.

I'm kidding. Not a day over 93.

Just a little off the bra ... I mean top

There are moments in life that are awkward no matter what steps you take to make them less so. The end of a first date, the beginning of the second one if the first one ended bad, opening a horrible Christmas present, hitting a person crossing the street and driving off ... the list goes on. But the worst has to be the time spent during a haircut. Especially, when it's someone who has never cut your hair before.

Not weeks, not months, but years are spent cultivating a relationship with one's hair stylist, or Supercut employee depending on your tax bracket. You don't just walk in and have report. And when they don't talk it makes things even worse. You almost feel guilty for not saying anything because they're doing all the work while you sit in that cool elevator chair.

But when you look down and see the stylist's bra sitting on top of her purse underneath the counter – well, then you've reached Dante's fifth level of awkwardness.

The sixth level is when you put two and two together and realize this is the same support garment they should be wearing while they're cutting your hair.

And finally, the seventh level is when you have to collect yourself and say, "Mom, I think you forgot something today."

Negative ... ghost writer

Friday morning "The Greatest Show on the Hardcourts" took their rightful place among the state's top 2.5 level teams at the state tennis tournament. Unfortunately, we lost.

Every one of our matches.

Big time.

I had a stomach bug, Alex hit a ball into some nearby trees, one of the teams we played insisted on spiking every volley at our "special areas," and Saturday morning, in my first ever competitive singles match, I got whipped by a man who has not won a match all year. And he did it in front of his family who were sitting outside the fence watching us.

To complete the sporting extravaganza, our office softball team lost again to the worst team in the league. I contributed with a towering pop-up that school children will try in vain to imitate on the playgrounds for years to come.

But the weekend was saved by getting to see my body double and best friend, Theo, perform what we in the industry call "dat old black magic" -- better known as improv comedy. He did great as usual, despite having to follow "My Oh My," one of the top drag shows in the state.

You would think, considering the tone of the post, that I mistakenly hit on one of these drag queens. But you would be wrong.

He shot me down before I could even ask "what's a man-girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Such is life.