scraping me off the ceiling

And the curse lifts.

I don't believe in big bad sports curses, the kind that are supposed to explain decades of losses. I do, however, believe I may be a jinx. True fact: Of all the Rangers games that I'd been to with Dollie (quite a few), only one was a win. And we'd gone with two other friends (shout out Sarah and Laurie!) to that game, so it doesn't even count.

Another true fact: I have tickets to 21 games this season. Now you don't want to miss games, but you also don't want to put your team in a bad spot. Well, the worries are over. They won last night, and we were there. It was a joy, a dream, a delight.

But what is up with the talking? Last week, there was a dude behind us going over all the merchandising for "V." Dollie: I thought I'd learned everything I need to know about "V" in a 1983 TV Guide. This week, some guy (same guy? no idea) kept talking about the history of Canadians in hockey. And there are a lot of Canadians in hockey. Also, he called Lindros by just Eric. As in "Eric is doing really well down in Dallas." Um, you're a lady. In all my years of Lindros love and lust, never once did I call him Eric. Even when I was practicing my vows. Come on.

Speaking of that guy being a lady at a hockey game — and me not being a lady at a hockey game (surely I am a lady at all other times) — I coined the new go-to Hate the Devils phrase. It is (drumroll) "SUCK IT, MARTY!" Though it is especially glorious being shouted through MSG, it can work for any team. Try it out. When your man scores on Brodeur, let it ring through the arena (or your home). It's such a good feeling.