Archery and Stuffs
The masjid clubs resumed again. I'm only taking archery. Calligraphy was too 'sitdownandwritethingsdown' for me. In a nutshell, it was like school. Well, archery is like school too, but it's phys ed school, which I don't regularly get. Archery's in the gym, aka the multipurpose hall, and men and big boys and little boys were all in a conspiracy to ruin our archery session by deliberately throwing balls in our range so that we had no choice but to lower our loaded bows and wait patiently for someone to handle the matter. Just kidding. The multipurpose hall is literally a multipurpose hall, though I prefer to call it a gym. There are cafeteria tables with little round chairs attached to them in the very back of the gym. Cute, right? I thought so too.
Anyway, there were so many people attending this year's archery club. I was like srslydoe, are we gonna shoot or nah. I did get to shoot, though, but it was only once and I shared 5 or 6 arrows with Z. My first shot was shameful. It just hit the target and fell down, tip stuck in the scratchy cloth of the target. Z told me it was a ramp. Much ramp, Z. Such skateboard-downable. My next two shots were pretty chill, but the last one hit the white part of the target, which equals to nothing. Still, it was satisfying to hear the arrow hiss through the air and gouge a hole in the target. Yessss.
After our hour was up, I played basketball with some NFL dudes who randomly asked me to be on their team because they needed someone with brains rather than biceps and stuff like that. I was like "I'm totally flattered about the fact that you chose me out of all these fabulous ladies here."
LOL kidding, there probably aren't any NFL dudes who go to the masjid. I played basketball with Hj and her bro Ysf and Ysf's friend Ily. Ily was slightly obnoxious, but he was pretty good at shooting baskets. Hj and I totally flunked. At one point, Ily pointed at Hj and asked, "What's her name?" And Ysf replied, "Hosha." (As a joke, 'course, 'cause that ain't her name.) And then Ily pointed at me and asked, "What about her? Lady Gaga?"
What in the name of Jannaat'l Firdaus, right? Don't ask. Children say the darndest things.
Speaking of which, Z said something very darned to me a few minutes before I came here to write a post.
I saw an orange on the table. I picked it up and dug my fingernail into its thick, orange skin and asked Z in a loud, hyper voice, "Whose orange is this? Can I have this orange?"
"No," said Z, eyes on the computer screen, fingers busy as he played a game.
"Why?" I asked in a loud, hyper, feigned-fury voice.
"You're fatter than you think you are," he replied simply. (Being a second-grader with missing teeth, doe, it sounded funny because he pronounced his R's incorrectly.)
Children these days. Until next time! :)
Anyway, there were so many people attending this year's archery club. I was like srslydoe, are we gonna shoot or nah. I did get to shoot, though, but it was only once and I shared 5 or 6 arrows with Z. My first shot was shameful. It just hit the target and fell down, tip stuck in the scratchy cloth of the target. Z told me it was a ramp. Much ramp, Z. Such skateboard-downable. My next two shots were pretty chill, but the last one hit the white part of the target, which equals to nothing. Still, it was satisfying to hear the arrow hiss through the air and gouge a hole in the target. Yessss.
After our hour was up, I played basketball with some NFL dudes who randomly asked me to be on their team because they needed someone with brains rather than biceps and stuff like that. I was like "I'm totally flattered about the fact that you chose me out of all these fabulous ladies here."
LOL kidding, there probably aren't any NFL dudes who go to the masjid. I played basketball with Hj and her bro Ysf and Ysf's friend Ily. Ily was slightly obnoxious, but he was pretty good at shooting baskets. Hj and I totally flunked. At one point, Ily pointed at Hj and asked, "What's her name?" And Ysf replied, "Hosha." (As a joke, 'course, 'cause that ain't her name.) And then Ily pointed at me and asked, "What about her? Lady Gaga?"
What in the name of Jannaat'l Firdaus, right? Don't ask. Children say the darndest things.
Speaking of which, Z said something very darned to me a few minutes before I came here to write a post.
I saw an orange on the table. I picked it up and dug my fingernail into its thick, orange skin and asked Z in a loud, hyper voice, "Whose orange is this? Can I have this orange?"
"No," said Z, eyes on the computer screen, fingers busy as he played a game.
"Why?" I asked in a loud, hyper, feigned-fury voice.
"You're fatter than you think you are," he replied simply. (Being a second-grader with missing teeth, doe, it sounded funny because he pronounced his R's incorrectly.)
Children these days. Until next time! :)
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