I wish I knew what horrid stereotypes there are about Curlers so I could write some of them slyly, but honestly I knew nothing about it.
Like, I know more about Golf, and I'm not 100% sure golf is even a sport.
I mean, it's not like GOLF is in the Olympics, unlike Curling.
Shit. Is Golf in the Olympics? Somebody Google that for me.
In the meantime, I had to learn something about Curling.
I can't hilariously poke fun of myself while I am learning something new if I haven't done some introductory fact-gathering beforehand. Just a little Wikipedia glancing, just a little youtube watching, just a couple "key words" goes a long way to making your trainer not want to bludgeon you to death with the articles you play with. But I did none of my usual research. I was going in blind.
And just like when I wing-it with eyeliner, it was a horrible, terrible, no-go-very bad decision. Also, I was just as blind as when I put on eyeliner, since I always end up stabbing myself IN the eye somehow. Fucking show-off stupid winged-eyeliner angels.
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| Sure, I'll just wing-it and my eyes will look just like the top photo. Ok, just like the bottom one... |
Plus, like jogging is so 5 years ago; Curling seems to be the sport of choice amongst people on my Facebook page who like to talk about the new shit they're doing.
So it was a thorough, highly representative, scientific sample of population that was surveyed.
And so, today, I found myself at the local (arena for curling, which may or may not be called a Granite club, the jury is still out) with the kidlets and Husband and many people from Husband's workey-work.
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| This is so SO much harder than it looks. |
I decided I would learn to curl.
First, you need to remember a few things about me before we go another sentence. 1) I am certain I am an Olympian-waiting-to-happen with every sport I try, and especially sports I have never tried. 2) I'm fairly bendy, despite my general un-fittedness. and 3) I'm pretty much like Wayne Gretzky-- I can learn a sport just by like, being near it.
So like I said, Curling was about to have its ass handed to it.
Wearing my yoga pants for ultimate stretch, my new sneakers (which aren't new, but I gave up jogging once I mastered it, so now they lay dusty), and SOCKS.
Strike one against Curling: you have to wear bloody socks.
I was placed on a team with some, like, advanced curlers and some medium curlers. I could tell they were only being nice to me because they wanted to learn from my amazing, innate sports knowledge. Plus, I tell hilarious jokes, which diffuses some of the "I'm kinda amazing so you are probably nervous" tension. But I digress.
I watched teammates do The Throw. I listened to a bunch of people tell me all sorts of mathematics and physics. I watched the stones hit other stones and sometimes they kept moving after the "kok" sound, and sometimes they stopped abruptly for a reason that I didn't quite understand. I felt my heartbeat quicken. Oh shit. This isn't a game. It's fucking frozen MATH.
I tried not to have a panic attack while they told me all the angles and magical math and geometry needed to play the game. No one fucking told me there was MATH.
Strike TWO on Curling: Fucking MATH.
I was ready to go full Elsa on this shit.
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I snuffled and wiped a tear. I looked around. I saw my debutante kids throwing rocks like fucking professionals and felt a rage grow in my heart. Ok, so I was mildly jealous that my stupid kids can pick up a game and I'm over here chewing on Xanax because I don't have anything to drink it down with.
And then, like Elsa once she figured out she's super hot and also amazing, I remembered I'm practically a yogi and I've totally go this shit.
Probably the Xanax kicked in, but hey, I'm going with me realizing I'm Elsa.
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| Xanax and I are masters of All. The. Things. |
No strikes here: being a lefty is just a strike against learning everyfuckingthing, and not any one thing in particular. I couldn't hold being a lefty against Curling. Much.
Of course, with my confidence shaken a SECOND time, I switched all my gear to the opposite feet and pretend this is no biggie... But FRICK! Frick, frick, frick.
So, after I threw the first stone, I realized another crucial problem. Not only am I lefty, and I've never really even watched curling, but also this: If you are going to do the curling, you must have some sort of core muscles. Of any kind. No matter how small. Being essentially a cooked spaghetti noodle in the middle of a jello mold will not be as advantageous as you might think.
What actually happened was I put my feet up on the foot things (which are kind like sprinters foot things if you've never really seen them before) and pushed myself forward. Only, like true Jello, I wibbled and wobbled, ass in the air like a Hip Hop video.
Actually, it was most like me in downward dog, sliding about 30 centimeters, in slow motion, holding a 40 pound rock in one hand and a slidey white staff thing in the other, while my one foot started sliding up to my arms and my non-slidey foot stopped completely. Oh, if I could have a video of this cat-ASS-trophic vision, I would probably pay money. ... although I'm not sure whether it would be $$ to hide the video or to promote it.
From the side I started off a little like this:
But from the back it looks probably more like this:
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| Probably what I looked like seconds before I fell. |
And, I might want to remind you that it's not supposed to look like either of these pictures.
It's supposed to look like the lady waaaaaay above us.
So the people on my team, who were medium to expert curlers, watched me as I jiggled and wiggled and flopped and slid my way to the hog line (which is the first line after the giant target and at that point you're supposed to let go of the rock and it should gracefully slide to the other end of the ice and land perfectly in the "button" or center of the target).
Or it's called the hog line because it makes you feel piggish if you can't even fall that far, let alone push the rock across it.
The other players, patiently, generously, let me fall about 5 times before I managed to kinda sorta stay on my feet. I think I was actually doing something kinda right at one point.
AND, I think I might have actually got the rock to slide like, towards the other end, with triumphant cheers erupting from my face like I actually HAD won an Olympic medal.
But now is the best part--
I need to tell you that I've been trying to finish this post for four days now, but the rhythmic jiggling of this guy's butt is SO distracting!
There.
If I type waaaaay down here I don't see those floppy butt cheeks anymore and I can actually think about the best part of curling.
Oh shit. It's been so long since I curled now, that the stupid cartoon has successfully derailed my train of thought.
Bloody hell.
Dang it.
Uhhhh.
Curling: The Cold Doesn't Bother Me Anyway.
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