Row, row, row your boat..

Ooh. The Head of the Charles is this weekend. That sounds slightly dirty, doesn't it. Get your minds out of the gutter!

I'm talking crew. I always had a great affinity for crew guys, even though they all are as dumb as rocks and socially weird. I don't know why that is, but who cares.* They are Cute. They are Tall and Amazingly In Shape. And this weekend they will be swarming all over Cambridge (actually, I've seen some already. Mmmm).

What more does a girl need? Happiness is.

Did I mention that I live but a block from the Charles? Hm. I might have to take advantage of this fact. A girl can't be expected to do work all weekend.

If I were smarter, I'd have signed up to volunteer to work at the event. Like at the registration table. Or at weigh-in. Or at hospitality. Or anywhere where I can get closer to the guys.

Wait - I mean, obviously I'm there to cheer on my alma mater. (It's the only sport we're any good at.) Obviously. It has nothing to do with the guys. Nor the way their delts dip into their biceps, a particular dip I'm a big sucker for. No, nothing at all.


*All the guys I knew who rowed crew also went to boarding school, and I have my theory as to why boarding school guys are socially weird. Okay, at least the one crew guy I was doing-who-knows-what-with-as-we-were-definitely-NOT-dating was socially weird. Not inept. Just weird. Like he understood the basic rules of social interaction, but in their execution, something happened. But I think this is all stems back to boarding school.