Sunday, December 31, 2006

speaks with his fist

10 minutes into a (crucial, much needed) nap, the phone rang. It was work.

So I had some work to do (news doesn't stop just because I need a nap and have a hockey game to get to) and ended up leaving an hour late for MSG. I missed the first 12 minutes of the first period (and also our first goal in seven periods — thank you Prucha, you handsome, wonderful man). I arrived just in time to see Nylander score the second goal of the game, so I bought a beer and went to my seat.

And then the party started. That motherfucking monster Donald Brashear — one of the very few people whom I'd surely spit in the face of, given the chance — was in (not-so) rare form, picking fights, haunting Jagr, asking for a total beating.

Our regular team thugs (and I say that with the utmost respect and affection. I love our team thugs.) did their best to keep him busy and put him in his place. And then he tangled with Brendan Shanahan. The entire Garden was on its feet screaming and cheering for every punch my man Shanny landed after he threw off his gloves and got the party started right on center ice. It was glorious. Then Brashear got thrown out, for attempting to do bodily harm, and I jumped up and down (seriously, I left the ground at least four times in pure joy) and pointed to the door, cheering. It was magic.

Oh yeah, plus we won. Seven-game losing streak? Snapped!

Monday, December 18, 2006

see I'm wise enough to know when a gift needs givin'

I cannot stop watching that SNL "_ in a box" video. Not to mention my obsession with "What's my weakness? Soup!" and Jo-Jessica. Man, Justin has created an instant classic. In my version of events, he wrote the great sketches. How else was it so funny? Also when Alec Baldwin was on, he wrote his own sketches too. And Ludacris also.

Anyway, "backstage at the CMAs" will never have the same meaning again.

Another night, another awful hockey game. I think they are trying to destroy me. Thankfully, my latest obsession (no, not Brand New. It's Matt "Don't Shave Too High You'll Regret It Later" Cullen — and yes, I know he has unfortunate hair. And a wife.) was out hurt. Thankfully? Why? Because I got to spend the whole game wondering what he was doing. PS It was always dirty.

But the Bigmouth Maple Leafs fan wasn't annoying about the Saturday night loss at all. "Come on, you have to let me gloat a little," he said. "We're on a one-game winning streak!" Fair enough.

Sunday, December 17, 2006

can I get myself out from underneath

At 9something PM, my Christmas tree was up and decorated, all but the angel. I should have taken a picture. Because then it fell down. I don't think anything broke, luckily (Not even the ornaments you threw across the room for daring to fall on you while you were under the tree trying to get it to stand again? No, not even those).

Also, hockey fucking sucked. 9-2? Seriously? My day was going well until that. Bastards. I'm giving the Bigmouth Maple Leafs Fan who sits behind me at MSG just 30 seconds to talk about it at tonight's game. After that, he's going the way of the ornaments that fell on my head. Only he'll break, I assure you.