This month, the Manhattan singles wards decided to band together and have a month-long ping pong tournament, with men's and women's brackets and single elimination and all kinds of elaborate stuff. I signed up, thinking that I might be able to do fairly well. After all, when I was living in Colorado, I would often play ping pong with Joel down in the basement. And while I may not have done a lot of "winning" per se, I was competent enough. If nothing else, you would think the fact that I had played frequently and recently would give me an advantage over most girls. You would think that, but you would be wrong. Of course, my opponent turned out to be a girl who was in a ping pong club for much of her college career, and was pretty much the star player. Needless to say, I will not be advancing to the next round. I suppose it was just a pipe dream anyway.
In other news, my roommate Jenny and I were coming home the other night, and as we approached the stairs to exit the subway, we noticed some suspicious brown lumps nearby. I was like, "Are dogs even allowed on the subway?" all the while thinking that it did seem a tad on the... large side. As if reading my mind, Jenny said, "Um, I don't think that's dog poop..." That's right, I am talking about HUMAN FECES, people. Apparently her friend saw a homeless guy take a dump in a subway station one time, so this isn't an entirely rare occurrence. I probably should have been horrified, but instead we spent the majority of the walk home laughing hysterically and wondering what we would have done if we'd seen the event in progress. What can I say? We are classy ladies.