5.2.02 – :wq!

at the gym the mat room where i stretch out is a balcony that overlooks the racquetball courts. today there were four little old ladies of the pink-sweats-and-purple hair-variety on the court. they could only connect racquet to ball about half the time, much less aim the shot, but they were laughing so hard they could hardly stand up. a perky young athletics trainer came in, spouting phrases like “awesome!” and “whoo-hoo!” and showed them how to do forehand and backhand shots in a smoothly coordinated fashion. the ladies stood by, smiling sweetly until she left (to the tune of “right on, dude!”) and then resumed their perfectly wretched play, swinging the racquet between their legs to hit grounders and so forth. they were a nice alternative to the court’s regulars: why is it that all racquetball plays feel compelled to 1) be a big sweaty middle-aged man and 2) punctuate every shot with an ear-piecing “AHHHRRRGGG!” as they swat the ball to the moon and back? i dislike unnecessary shows of force. i had these roommates once that just truly got on my nerves, and i finally realized it was because they were door-slammers. they slammed doors when all that was necessary was pulling up slightly on the handle when you shut it. how do you justify distrusting everything about a person just because they slam doors?