Thursday, April 05, 2007

Is that a roll of quarters in your pocket or are you just having a good time?

Ladies, head honchessa Jordi is leaving tomorrow on a field trip to Adelaide, don't ask me why. (or whatever time it is on your clock - I can never tell from your crazy time difference, obviously you guys need to just buy an extra clock and wind it forward to fit with my time so I don't feel so priveleged knowing what happens before you do)

Nonetheless I know not many things exist in South Australia (except booze) and I'm very sure I wont actually have access to technology since it's like, South Australia. It probably means I'll come home after the glitz and glamour or the tears and wailing.

So I'll just say it before I explode from months of anger. I was saving it for the very last game, but now that this isn't working out, these will be the most important remaining two games of my life.

And if we win those babies, the oncoming games will be even more important. See what I'm getting at here? It seems that AQ posted her very level headed ideology on what it takes to win that Cup. It's amazingly wonderful, and even though it should be the staple reading for all Stanley Cup hungry fans - I don't quite agree to it. Because the little selfish 3 year old, the one that demands for pink strawberry flavoured toothpaste but never actually brushes her teeth, is still bringing in her own version of logic to it. Almost every other team that I don't like is a mother lover.

I don't like many teams, it's a very long list. It's something that has become ingrained within me; even if a team presents as no actual threat to our standings or mental stability, I will find something wrong about the team. I hate the Pens but I will love Laraque (but that's because we all know that if you cut him in half you'll find a huge blue and copper heart). Boo hoo, Jordi hates you all. I know all you guys will turn you computer off and maybe catch up on the Lost (or Desperate Housewives) episodes you missed. I get caught in the heat of the moment and a lot of times I will possibly abuse you a bit. But I'm that kind of fan, I never mean what I say really. I know Jordan Staal's a talented being (and to some, a handsome devil) but I will shove lego up his nose, one for every goal he scores and ultimately screws every Hab fan.

But it seems that even though I'll pat a Flames or Leafs fan on the back after a high adrenaline game, I may not do the same if they win the Cup. I respect everyone's dedication, and appreciation of the team. But I can't pretend that there wont be a dull empty feeling when you see the team celebrate over a struggle that you were pretty damn convinced were yours.

Now don't get me wrong here, the cuts and bruises and broken fingers are for everyone to see. Everyone climbed over that hill and the winner will therefore benefit from the greatest prize in hockey. But here's where the 3 year old girl comes in. And she's telling me, so does that kid - the one in the Crosby cap that still has its tag on, deserve to laugh and cheer and hug for something they have no idea of? They're only there so they can join the rush to free alcohol that they're clearly not old enough for! Well the 3 year old girl actually pulled her thumb out of her mouth and said "Crosby and Jordan are pooheads" and walked off, but if she could talk a lot more she'd totally be telling me that.

But the point is, I wish there was a way that could appease every fan that whimpers and cries over a loss - the fan that actually hurts down there rather than just the wallet for a show that didn't end with a fight - but there isn't. I'll get crabby, I'll get angry. And I think every damn Leafer should have their heads severed off their neck and thrust onto a pike right now. I think every Islander deserves to go back to Long Island and learn how to style their hair like Rick DP. Finally, I think that I may need a lot of coffee to calm me down or some kind of painkiller. Or else every one of you guys are going to ring me the day after the Habs exit and asking why the hell I've rung up and damned your first borns.

In other news: Rangers hate Ice Girls. You do the math.

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