10 February 2013
We received 2 feet of snow at our town. It snowed from Thursday night all through Friday and a bit of Saturday.
So. On Saturday afternoon, Paul invited me, Heather, and Sally to his house to frolic in the snow. Heather couldn't make it because it was the Chinese New Year's Eve, but at about 2 o'clock I showed up at Paul's house, Sally already there.
He was wearing a new shirt that was incredibly cute and he smiled at me with his perfect smile. After saying a polite hello to his mother and taking off my boots, we set off to hang out before going out into the frozen unknown.
We played Sims, of course, for a little while. Sally seemed a bit bored being shown me and Paul's family: our cat, our dog, our son, our daughter, and our two bunnies. (On both of our games because I brought my iPad) She got a kick over seeing herself married to Jason, but wanted a divorce. To humor her, Paul made Robin Van Persie on my Sims and made him her husband. (Ever since I showed Sally RVP pictures while I was watching a Manchester United soccer game, we've both been drooling over him. Paul loves to inform us that, like himself, RVP is Dutch). Sally seemed pretty satisfied after that.
Then, we played fooseball. First it was me and Paul. He won 10 to 1, I think...then it was Sally and Paul. He won 10 to 4 maybe. Then, it was me and Sally. She won 10 to 3. (See a pattern?) Then it was Paul and me again. He might just have won 10 to 0. Then it was Paul and Sally again, and she was a bit more lucky but he still won.
Then, things got intense as suddenly, I started to get GOOD while playing Sally again.
Paul Facetimed Heather, and while me and Sally trash-talked and screamed and jumped up and down from getting goals, he commentated.
"THIS IS THE SEMI-FINALS TO THE WORLD CUP!" He announced.
"Wait..." I thought out loud. "That means that if I win, the finals will be against YOU."
"Yup!" He said cheerfully.
Heather laughed.
"Just so you know, I'm rooting for whoever is white team," Heather declared.
"WHAT?" I yelled, gesturing to my team of black plastic players.
Paul laughed.
I was in the lead, 8 to 2, and things were getting intense. Sally was trash-talking, I was trash-talking, Paul was giving instructions on how to beat her, Sally was telling him to shut up, Heather was laughing all over the place...
But I won.
Sally attacked me and picked me up in her arms, and I yelled out with laughter, struggling.
"Put her down!" Paul ordered. "Before you stab her with one of the fooseball rods!"
I giggled as she set me down.
"Alright, Em," Paul grinned at me. "Time for the finals."
Well...This Is New - 18 • Opuss № I