Hurry Hard.

Last night, I attended the curling club's registration night on Wednesday, and tried to sign up our rink: We've decided on being called The Flaming Disasters. This works for two very important reasons: first, it'll be an awesome logo. Second, we can choose disaster-themed nicknames for everyone.

Anyway, they were sorry to say that the fellow in charge of our league wasn't there, so I'd have to contact him by phone at sign up in that manner. We were, however, welcome to the complimentary burger and pop -- although the soft drinks weren't actually available.

On Thursday, I phoned up the league president, who replied, "I really should have gone to the meeting last night."

"Well, we can still arrange this over the phone."

"No, I mean I could have reminded people I'm not the league organiser any more."


He did provide me the number of the current president, however. I gave him a call next.

"Hi, could I enter a team in the civil servant's league?"

"Well, we'll have to figure that out."

I assume that he thinks I'm looking to join a team that's one man short. "Oh, not to worry -- I've got three friends, and we're all willing to join the club."

"Oh. Well, we'll have to figure that out."

I should interject here, and point out that at the registration night, there was a sign on the main table exhorting members to order more snacks from the cafeteria, because every little bit helps the bottom line. Right next to the flyer for purchasing advertising space on the ice. I would have thought that some new blood would be, you know... good news.

"Well, is there a problem?"

"No, don't worry. I'll give you a call Monday and let you know if anyone else signs up."

"But I've already got a team."

"I know. But we can't have an odd number of teams, you know?"

I see. So, they'd rather decline four new (young) members and over a thousand dollars in entry fees (not to mention the extra concession revenue), because otherwise they might have to redo their scheduled rotations.

It's a bit bizarre, but I can't really blame them all that much. This isn't the Tournament of Hearts, this is a community organisation. In other words, they're running this league about as well as I would. Still, I can't wait for the inevitable confusion that erupts when I actually have to pay them. My goal is to keep the circus going for as long as possible before I point out that my supervisor at the Greenhouse is their treasurer.

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Canadian explorer. Chemist by training, biologist by nature. Long-time supporter and participant in National Novel Writing Month. Known as "Aquadeo" in most Internet circles. Also known as "that guy with the pants" to people who have seen me in certain pants.