(diaryland) August 23, 2004 - 2:57 p.m.

I got carried away from watching the Olympics. I saw the badminton and then went on a mission to become a badminton champion. This happened on Saturday.

The first step towards badminton immortality came easy. Roland and I bought a badminton kit from Big W for nine bucks. I got the pink racquet.

Then, we came home and stood around in the driveway, whacking the shuttlecock which would invariably get lodged in a racquet. Mostly my racquet. When not lodged in a racquet, the shuttlecock would spend some quality time bouncing off saggy powerlines, or landing behind the rubbish bins. I think our best rally was about four hits (total, not each).

Something important I have found out is that I have absolutely no talent for backhand. I suppose it's partly because I'm still confused about which hand to hold the racquet in. I was born left-handed, but some crazy parent forced me to use my right hand all the time for stuff. So, instead of being ambidexterous, I'm not even really unidexterous. I'm sort of nondexterous.

Anyway, after doing that for about an hour, and then going to a party in which there was no food or drink, and the only thing happening was a beachball being kicked by two people in a thoroughfare, I went to bed.

The next day, I woke up and I couldn't move. My right arm hurt when I looked at it. The backs of my thighs did not feel cool. This was of course because I hadn't actually played sport since about Year 9.

I'll be doing it all again, though.

My boss, a man in his late sixties, just said, "I used to do waitressing."