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My Club Forty outfit, and other highlights from the weekend.   By Hannah Wallace   Thanks to everyone who weighed in on my Club Forty fashion conundrum! Contrary to my expectations, the comments actually made me feel comfortable and confident in my clothing options. In the end, I couldn’t resist LJ’s rec—black tank, jeans and […]

March 9, 2009


My Club Forty outfit, and other highlights from the weekend.
 
By Hannah Wallace
 

Thanks to everyone who weighed in on my Club Forty fashion conundrum! Contrary to my expectations, the comments actually made me feel comfortable and confident in my clothing options. In the end, I couldn’t resist LJ’s rec—black tank, jeans and boots. It felt great. I assume it looked pretty good, too, but I won’t know for sure until I see some pics. (CCB wore a black striped dress shirt over a black tee, untucked, with nice, dark jeans and black shoes—very dashing.)

[Edited 3/10/09 Ah, here’s the pic. I didn’t promise I’d show faces, though, and I won’t, because my GOD do we have stupid expressions. Even for us.]

 
And man, that party didn’t disappoint. Rectrix Aviation was filled with sleek modern decorations and a huge silent auction, and the whole thing was overseen by an actual Russian mig (or something?) peeking halfway in the massive hangar doors (which also gave a neat glimpse out to the bare tarmac and dark night sky). We drank champagne with high-ranking mag staffers, played roulette and even danced a little. Plus, I think we may have won a silent auction item—boxing gloves and a couple of boxing training sessions for two. Take notes, people: Supervised mutual pugilism is the key to a successful relationship.
 
What else did I do this weekend? Well, Saturday afternoon I changed the oil in the Wattle Wagon (the oil filter, on the other hand, was a tad more stubborn). My 12-hour Sunday at Ellenton Ice included a women’s hockey meeting with Lefty via video-phone-service Skype (she’s busy becoming a veterinarian in St. Kitts, although she still hasn’t told us why Copy Editor Megan’s cat eats his own poo), as well as some time spent watching sled hockey—damn cool.

Then I slid head-first into the boards during our Revolution game, and I don’t really remember much after that.

The U.S. Men’s sled hockey team.

 

This week is shaping up to be a bit calmer than the last few. Just a little indoor soccer tonight, and then laying low until kickball on Friday—the SH-T Kickers have won every game so far via the slaughter rule. (I mean, it’s just kickball, but winning is still fun. And winning by a lot is a lot of fun.) Next week is the biggie: The whole Cheetah Club clan is meeting in Orlando to take the Magic Kingdom by storm. Someone should probably give Mickey a heads up.