Twice in the last 12 months, Cole Slaw Nation has been rocked by my sports injuries. The first came this time last year when I had a waterskiing fall that injured my ribs. Then in May came my highly controversial ankle injury: eyewitnesses describe it as an ambitious party stunt, while smear merchants on this site label it a product of same-sex jazzercise.My return to waterskis was highly anticipated. There was concern that my ankle had not fully recovered and that the pressure of the skis would have catastrophic results.
I'm pleased to report that my waterskiing skills are back and better than ever. No ankle pains, no nasty falls. Only skimming outside the wake and the occasional stumble backward. Rest easy, world.
II. Bob Dylan is better in a minor league ballpark than at the Beacon Theatre
An illustration in being spoiled: in New York, even hard-core Dylan fans become blase, complain about set lists, and behave like seeing the contemporary Whitman is a more exciting alternative than a night of watching Lost.In a smaller city, the crowd treats the show like the high point of the year. This makes the experience significantly more fun. Another key asset: watching him in an infield the size of Webster Hall, looking up during "It's All Right Ma, I'm Only Bleeding," and seeing the Big Dipper overhead.
III. My younger cousins are not only more fun than I am, they're also more photogenic
Six-year-old cousin: You took your shirt off to go swimming.
Me: Yeah.
Six-year-old cousin: You look funny.
Me: Thanks.
IV. This was not Photoshopped or retouched in any way
I look forward to reporting back on toothpaste-related airport hysteria following Monday's flight.
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