This Labour Day weekend, I partook in my first Dragon Boat race. And second. And third. The Dragon Boat Festival is a yearly occurrence here in Regina (but not just here, I hear that they have Dragon Boat races and festivals in other cities and countries. Who knew?). The company Carla works for thought it would be a good idea to enter a team. Build company spirit and all that. So of course I got myself volunteered. My asthma has been acting up as of late (and I let all my medication run out. All part of my 'ignore it and it'll go away' approach to healthcare), and Carla gets seasick very easily (remind me to tell y'all 'bout the time Carla used up all the seasickness bags on our trip to the reef. Also, remind me to stop using so God Damn many parentheses!).
Where the fuck was I? Right. An asthmatic and a seasick cutie were about indicative of what our team brought to the table. According to the rules every member of the team had to attend two practices. Most of our team members averaged one. Yep.
Also, Dragon Boating is hard. It's not much like canoeing. I can canoe. I've canoed in every hemisphere this wacky ole globe has to offer. But Dragon Boating is less about arms and more about abs. And back. Not my strong suits.
Now that I've set the table, let's cut to the chase: we didn't come in last. Our goal WAS to come in last, and we failed even at that. Which seems fitting. We came in last in our first heat. And in our second. But there were stupid jerks in other races who were worse than us. Our third race was against those other losers and we aimed to lose and lose hard. And we succeeded. We just about rammed another boat. Serves 'em right, they booed us. Fuckers.
What did I learn during our day of Dragon Boating? I learned that puns involving dragons or boats or oars or paddles are even less funny than normal puns. I learned that I quite like African cuisine. And I learned that I don't much care for Dragon Boating.
Also, I sunburned my massive forehead.
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