Don't Get Cocky

First, there was ScreenplayGate: I felt pretty good about "Deadbeat Boyfriends," thought I had a decent shot at the McKnight Fellowship, then found out that not only did I not make the finals, but I lost to a vampire movie.

Then there was today.

I headed to Life Time Fitness over lunch with my new racquetball racket in tow. I purchased the Ektelon Triple Threat with the aid of a Sports Authority gift card from my parents (a birthday present). Tired of ellipital machines, and knowing that I'll be feasting over lunch tomorrow at a new Brazilian steakhouse, I thought it wise to test out the new racket and work up a little sweat. I've been slowly getting back into racquetball over the last few months, playing against a designer in our office who has proven to be fairly easy prey. (His nickname is "The Hurricane"; I've boasted that I've turned him into more of a tropical storm the two times we've played.)

That's when Brad arrived.

He knocked on the glass door and asked if I was waiting for anyone. "No," I said, instantly suspicious (of what, I don't know). "Want to get in a game, then?" he asked. Considering how lame it would sound to say "no, I just want to hit around by myself like a loser," I agreed to one game.

It was 14-1 before I rallied for a meager 3 points to make it not-quite-so-unrespectable for a 14-4 loss.

Never get cocky. There's always a Brad out there knocking on the door, and he might be a vampire.