I'm coming to terms with that in my life, I will never be calm, cool, and collected around members of the opposite sex I deem attractive. Actually, I can omit the last part of that sentence. I'm just going to be forever awkward in pretty much all situations. But in particular around dudes.
This was especially true last Thursday night.
Showing posts with label hockey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hockey. Show all posts
Friday, February 8, 2013
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Hockey is back!
Aren't you thrilled? I am!
The NHL version of hockey is still stuck in a protracted lockout, which I have my fingers in my ears about because it's otherwise too depressing when they're all "We're thiiiiiiisss close to an agreement! AHAHAH! Just kidding!" As I have actual knowledge of how negotiations should work (thanks, useless law school education!), it's all the more infuriating and I'm like, "COME ON! Get your shit together!"
AHAHA! I should have hit publish on this before 2 a.m. Saturday night, huh? BECAUSE THEY GOT A DEAL DONE! Miracle of miracles! We'll ignore what a posturing clusterfuck the whole thing was and that if you really want a deal done you stop worrying about positioning and show up in July to negotiate saying, "The fans are more important than looking like we "won" the deal" but we'll let that slide for this precise moment because NHL HOCKEY! We're all Stanley Cup contenders right now! Even the Isles! Hope springs eternal! Or until Ovi forgets to go on D and the opposing team makes an early score. HOCKEY!
ANYWAY...as I originally intended to say, before I got a super fun chest cold and this got sidetracked is:
SF went and got itself its very own minor league team with the ECHL Bulls. And they're pretty awesome.
The NHL version of hockey is still stuck in a protracted lockout, which I have my fingers in my ears about because it's otherwise too depressing when they're all "We're thiiiiiiisss close to an agreement! AHAHAH! Just kidding!" As I have actual knowledge of how negotiations should work (thanks, useless law school education!), it's all the more infuriating and I'm like, "COME ON! Get your shit together!"
AHAHA! I should have hit publish on this before 2 a.m. Saturday night, huh? BECAUSE THEY GOT A DEAL DONE! Miracle of miracles! We'll ignore what a posturing clusterfuck the whole thing was and that if you really want a deal done you stop worrying about positioning and show up in July to negotiate saying, "The fans are more important than looking like we "won" the deal" but we'll let that slide for this precise moment because NHL HOCKEY! We're all Stanley Cup contenders right now! Even the Isles! Hope springs eternal! Or until Ovi forgets to go on D and the opposing team makes an early score. HOCKEY!
ANYWAY...as I originally intended to say, before I got a super fun chest cold and this got sidetracked is:
SF went and got itself its very own minor league team with the ECHL Bulls. And they're pretty awesome.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Random Bits
There's not much going on. Football season started so there's a lot of TV watching and yet with 2 weeks in, significantly little bad decision making happening. Yeah, I dunno who I am either. (Or I'm maturing?)
I'm also working really really hard on this whole full fledged grown up thing as I avoid way too many creditors calls a day. (Don't go to law school, kids!)
So those are all my lame excuses for not posting lately. But I have a few bits and pieces so here they are. In the you should be used to it by now list form:
I'm also working really really hard on this whole full fledged grown up thing as I avoid way too many creditors calls a day. (Don't go to law school, kids!)
So those are all my lame excuses for not posting lately. But I have a few bits and pieces so here they are. In the you should be used to it by now list form:
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Sprots
I've decided the DSM-IV should have a section on sports addiction for someone like me who suddenly finds herself inside on gorgeous SF days because the UEFA match between Ireland and Croatia just can't be missed.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
A Hockey Love Letter
The following is my hockey opus. If you don't want to read more about me being downright obsessed with that particular sport, you might want to skip this one.
That said, I'm pretty proud of the words spilled below so take a look if you are so inclined. (I'm really bad at asking for things, which is why I'm not begging you to read it and pass it on to all your friends to show them my brilliance and get me a job somehow because it will enter the stream and someone will catch a glimpse of my promise and things will go from there. Because that's how things happen in my brain. But you should. Ya know, if you want.)
That said, I'm pretty proud of the words spilled below so take a look if you are so inclined. (I'm really bad at asking for things, which is why I'm not begging you to read it and pass it on to all your friends to show them my brilliance and get me a job somehow because it will enter the stream and someone will catch a glimpse of my promise and things will go from there. Because that's how things happen in my brain. But you should. Ya know, if you want.)
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Family Ruins Everything
Last night I had a family dinner to attend. It was with my two aunts, my cousin, and my mom. It's a girls dinner with pretty much the few members of the family that still all get along after my grandmother's death. (Irish Catholic blood feuds, ftw!)
It's very pleasant and I get a free meal at a nice restaurant.
Except.
It was Game 3 of the Capitals/Rangers series. It wasn't going to be a deciding game, as it's a best of 7 series, with a game a piece split, but still, playoff hockey is the bestest.
I watched the first period and a half before we had to head to dinner in Mill Valley.
And dinner was fine. The conversation is polite and my family is nice and all but I was itching to watch the hockey game.
It's very pleasant and I get a free meal at a nice restaurant.
Except.
It was Game 3 of the Capitals/Rangers series. It wasn't going to be a deciding game, as it's a best of 7 series, with a game a piece split, but still, playoff hockey is the bestest.
I watched the first period and a half before we had to head to dinner in Mill Valley.
And dinner was fine. The conversation is polite and my family is nice and all but I was itching to watch the hockey game.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Tonight Tonight
I watched hockey in a crowded bar, made friends with twin girls from upstate New York who are on vacation in SF from Manhattan, where they now live, one of whom works at a giant financial firm. She gets her company's on the glass seats to Ranger's games. Pictures of which she showed me. She also showed me a picture of her with Ryan Callahan and asked me if I knew who he was. Bitch, please. They were adorable.
I went to an amazing pitcher's duel of a baseball game, where Matt Cain pitched 8 shutout innings and Cliff Lee pitched 10...and lost. It was such a fast game it felt like a football game. Back and forth, up and down, trying to keep track of the action. We went through 8 inning in an hour and fifteen minutes. In baseball time that's...nothing. I wasn't even finished with my first beer before there was the 7th inning cut off. A couple of hits were the difference in this game. It was uber fun.
I went to an amazing pitcher's duel of a baseball game, where Matt Cain pitched 8 shutout innings and Cliff Lee pitched 10...and lost. It was such a fast game it felt like a football game. Back and forth, up and down, trying to keep track of the action. We went through 8 inning in an hour and fifteen minutes. In baseball time that's...nothing. I wasn't even finished with my first beer before there was the 7th inning cut off. A couple of hits were the difference in this game. It was uber fun.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Hockey Playoffs
I've mined this topic before but it just never stops being an issue in my life, so here we are again: sports fanaticism.
Tonight the hockey playoffs start. I fully and completely expect someone to die on the ice in the Pens/Flyers game. That's only slight hyperbole. It will be AWESOME. And neither of those are my teams. (Though I do sort of find Scott Hartnell's curls adorable along with Claude Giroux's Northern Canadian accent. I hate the Pens. Sidney Crosby is the most annoying superstar in sports. He flops. And he's just a little too pretty? And he whines. Which the head coach of the Rangers, John Tortorella, got fined $20k for pointing out. (Though the NHL says the fine was for swearing.))
Anyway, my team, the Caps, start their cup bid tomorrow against the Bruins. The Bruins have Zdeno Chara who is 6'9". Without skates. I maintain that when Hollywood inevitably remakes The Princess Bride, Chara should be in the Andre the Giant role. And they have the Tea Party goalie Tim Thomas. They're scary on a lot of different levels. Oh: and though I love the Caps, they aren't that good. At least they weren't in the regular season. As every hockey player will say throughout the playoffs, "This is a whole new season." (If you would like to make a playoff drinking game, that's a good one to start with.) So ya never know, they could decide to not suck at hockey in the playoffs. I'm not overly optimistic but I'm not generally known for my optimism. Especially when it comes to teams I follow.
A former law school classmate said something to the effect of "Oh, hockey playoffs!" I said, "Yes, I'm excited. But terrified." Friend responded, "Why terrified? It's just sports."
Tonight the hockey playoffs start. I fully and completely expect someone to die on the ice in the Pens/Flyers game. That's only slight hyperbole. It will be AWESOME. And neither of those are my teams. (Though I do sort of find Scott Hartnell's curls adorable along with Claude Giroux's Northern Canadian accent. I hate the Pens. Sidney Crosby is the most annoying superstar in sports. He flops. And he's just a little too pretty? And he whines. Which the head coach of the Rangers, John Tortorella, got fined $20k for pointing out. (Though the NHL says the fine was for swearing.))
 |
| Hartnell's curls |
Anyway, my team, the Caps, start their cup bid tomorrow against the Bruins. The Bruins have Zdeno Chara who is 6'9". Without skates. I maintain that when Hollywood inevitably remakes The Princess Bride, Chara should be in the Andre the Giant role. And they have the Tea Party goalie Tim Thomas. They're scary on a lot of different levels. Oh: and though I love the Caps, they aren't that good. At least they weren't in the regular season. As every hockey player will say throughout the playoffs, "This is a whole new season." (If you would like to make a playoff drinking game, that's a good one to start with.) So ya never know, they could decide to not suck at hockey in the playoffs. I'm not overly optimistic but I'm not generally known for my optimism. Especially when it comes to teams I follow.
A former law school classmate said something to the effect of "Oh, hockey playoffs!" I said, "Yes, I'm excited. But terrified." Friend responded, "Why terrified? It's just sports."
Monday, March 26, 2012
Deconstructing D.C.
I spent this past week in our nation's capital. It's the first time I ever had the pleasure of going to D.C. It was...nice? Ish? I guess?
Here's the deal: there's a reason large cadres of high schoolers go on educational trips there. They go, they see all the sights, they can say they've done it, and they never have to go back. Once you've seen every memorial, they aren't changing.
As my wise beyond her years stepsister said when I was debating between day drinking irresponsibility and seeing more museums on my last full day in the city, "Museums are full of a bunch of old shit that will still be there- hence why they're called museums..."
Here's the deal: there's a reason large cadres of high schoolers go on educational trips there. They go, they see all the sights, they can say they've done it, and they never have to go back. Once you've seen every memorial, they aren't changing.
As my wise beyond her years stepsister said when I was debating between day drinking irresponsibility and seeing more museums on my last full day in the city, "Museums are full of a bunch of old shit that will still be there- hence why they're called museums..."
Friday, January 13, 2012
When all else fails...
pull on the parental heart strings.
(This post is coming a little late. I got all distracted by that whole losing the National Title thing/new year exercise regimen.)
(This post is coming a little late. I got all distracted by that whole losing the National Title thing/new year exercise regimen.)
Sunday, December 18, 2011
TeeVee
With regular football season wrapped up, and only a collection of meaningless bowl games, important to alums of the school and no one else, of which I can't afford to go to my school's (*sobs uncontrollably*), I'm turning my attention to the crop of new shows that premiered this fall that I've been watching. Because...well, what the hell else is there, really?
So: TV!
I also am not currently full of holiday cheer. This is shaping up to be a miserable Christmas season (though recently partly saved by a card from my dad so my mood is improving). So you don't get your "YAY! Christmas!" post. At least not until I get blind drunk in an Irish bar and listen to Fairytale of New York on constant repeat and get over the fact that I, as a native of the city I live in, can't escape my family at the holidays.
So: TV!
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Long Hot (maybe) Summer
We begin the summer of no contact sports. Hockey ended. Boston won. (Fans in that city will still talk about how they are persecuted, no doubt. But really? That's an Irish Catholic thing so it's not that surprising. "But look at your good fortune!" "Aye, just waiting for the other shoe to drop...Gawd hates the Irish!" Trust. I live in one of these families.) Then Vancouver got burned to the ground in a loss, a part of mob mentality I do not at all understand. But here we are. A long summer waiting for my beloved college football to start again, the countdown clock already up on the LSU website. And then hockey again shortly after that. But what do we do in the meantime?
Not that I don't love baseball, I do, but baseball is for listening on the radio on sunny summer afternoons as you sit on your back porch in the sun. (If you live in a Southern novel, as it's 60 and foggy all summer in SF. (Not today!) And you actual Southerners I know are doing your best to avoid the steaming hot weather.) It's for going to games and socializing and half paying attention while you chat and drink beer and indulge in ballpark food. It is the thinking mans game, with it's slow, easy pace. What am I supposed do to cure my blood lust?
Because Hockey has kept me rapt since I discovered it a mere 7 months ago. Since I saw a pair of blades dance across the ice. You all know that. I've definitely expounded on the issue before. I loved going to Kezar Pub for the finals and hanging with the bestie, eating wings, drinking beer. I love playoff beards and hard playing manly men. (It was determined I should probably just pick up and move to Canada last night to snag me a hockey player. Too bad there's that whole "I hate snow. A lot." thing.) I make it a point to watch games, to sit down and watch them live as their is nothing worse than DVR'd sports. I bought a hockey t-shirt. By comparison: I don't have a Giants t-shirt.
So now what? I guess I could read more books and go to museums and see plays. Isn't that what summer is for? But damn I'm gonna miss men slamming into other men at high speeds...
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Minor Things
I don't really have anything fascinating to stay, but I made a vow to write more so LISTS! (I do love lists, in case you haven't noticed.)
Friday, May 20, 2011
An Ode to Brooks
I promised myself the last week that if I passed the bar I would have to write this thank you letter. You should all know by now I'm superstitious enough to follow through with this. (This might possibly be THE most ridiculous thing I have ever written, which is saying something, but I also stand by it.)
Friday, April 22, 2011
Addiction?
I don't generally have an addictive personality. (My mother might disagree but she's a teetotaler and my mother, so grain of salt.)
How I went from 5 months ago having only the most tangental understanding of hockey, being able to name maybe 5 of the best players ever, to spending most of my (unemployed) afternoons watching the playoffs? Yeah. I don't really understand it either.
I can tell you the genesis of it. It started with Chuck and his love of the Caps which led directly to making it a point of watching 24/7 Caps/Pens. It happened when I was studying for the bar and was looking for any excuse to not study, to get sucked down the wormhole of something more exciting than torts/wills and trusts/business law. It has a little something to do with aslightly highly delusional attachment to a certain Caps player. But I'm not sure that actually explains it.
Funny enough, while I had this window open, Andy and I discussed this very topic where he said, "You have an addictive personality?" And while I'm fairly certain that's not the case, it was concluded that I have a binge-y personality, something that we are unaware of being in the DSM-IV (yes, these are the conversations I engage in). The things I do love, I love HARD. (Which, while we're going down the rabbit hole of self-analyzation might be why I don't allow myself to do the so in love thing? If I ever truly let go on that front it'd be biiiggg? Does that make sense or follow a line of logic? Or I'm just naturally frigid and standoffish. Maybe.)
Because this hockey thing? I can't get enough. I don't just want to watch it, I want to get inside it (stop it, you know what I mean). I want to know how it works. Why it works. The rules, the players, the history. Why plays go a certain way, why you decide on certain personnel. If a goal gets scored because of a defensive breakdown or because of great offense. My brain is seeking this stuff out, eager to soak it up. I can't remember being this way about anything since...LSU football as a freshman? But honestly? I can't remember the last time I threw myself so thoroughly into anything ever. I am usually a fairly laid back, watch things unfold, observer type. I make mental notes, I write about it on the internet later. To so wholesale want to know everything about something is pretty unlike me.
For example: I have 8 tabs open right now. Six of them are me looking up various hockey information. I follow blogs, I glean information on my own where I can. I have someone who I have asked an infinite number of hockey related questions to and they have patiently answered all of them. And I'm not just talking "What's a five hole?" I'm talking, "Are the 'Yotes really relocating? What does that mean to the NHL? The fans in Phoenix? The players?" I ask about the health of the NHLPA and what impact it has. If given the opportunity I would ask more about hockey contracts, recruiting, etc. (3 sports law classes between undergrad and law school and because I was in the deep South or far West, not a peep about hockey.)
And I feel a little zealous. The annoying convert who then wants to foist their ideals on you. LOVE WHAT I LOVE, DAMMIT!
I had my cousin, whose new boyfriend is a Sharks fan, watch episode 1 of 24/7 when I visited her last weekend. "OMG! They're all so cute! Like ALL of them! Why didn't anyone ever tell me all the hockey players were so cute?!" I do not advocate for this type of fandom, I think you should love the sport, but it can serve as a good jumping off point, to get people (women) initially interested, which isn't all bad.
I then made my mom watch a the bit today where Mike Green drives along on his orange vespa, as she's a gear head who loves Vespas and I thought she would find it adorable. I just wanted to show her that. She continued watching. She counted the stitches on Hendricks' eye before I even said anything (my mom is not at all adverse to the grosser side of life). She listened to Ovi say ridiculous Ovi things. I think she was entertained. And as she's the biggest one of the "I don't understand why you suddenly love this!" camp, I'll take that as a moral victory. Earlier this week, when the Caps played that 2OT game and I was sick with a sore throat, I kept screaming at the TV prompting her to say, "You screaming at the TV isn't gonna help your voice." However, she then went out to dinner with my brother and while she waited for him to arrive, she ended up watching the game and I sent six text messages explaining who she was supposed to be rooting for. That point is when the Caps turned the corner. Yay Mom! (I know how the preceding paragraph sounds and will remind you that despite that, I am not actually 15. (Realizing I am TWICE that is...guhhh. There's been a lot of "HEY! You're OLD!" this week, which sucks, but that's an entirely separate issue.))
I think I have eclipsed the bestie's knowledge. While he plays the game and loves the game, he's happy with whatever knowledge he already has and it was hysterical to think that I was explaining to him the relationship between Arnott and Semin. I was even explaining Semin's nickname of Sasha Minor. And mind you, this was HIS team, his love, before I showed up and annoyingly crashed the party. The learning curve has been steep on this one and I've enjoyed the climb.
So yeah. This is a really poor explanation of why I fell in love with yet another sport.
In the meantime, since I still can't really explain it, I'll just keep watching.
GEAUX CAPS!
How I went from 5 months ago having only the most tangental understanding of hockey, being able to name maybe 5 of the best players ever, to spending most of my (unemployed) afternoons watching the playoffs? Yeah. I don't really understand it either.
I can tell you the genesis of it. It started with Chuck and his love of the Caps which led directly to making it a point of watching 24/7 Caps/Pens. It happened when I was studying for the bar and was looking for any excuse to not study, to get sucked down the wormhole of something more exciting than torts/wills and trusts/business law. It has a little something to do with a
Funny enough, while I had this window open, Andy and I discussed this very topic where he said, "You have an addictive personality?" And while I'm fairly certain that's not the case, it was concluded that I have a binge-y personality, something that we are unaware of being in the DSM-IV (yes, these are the conversations I engage in). The things I do love, I love HARD. (Which, while we're going down the rabbit hole of self-analyzation might be why I don't allow myself to do the so in love thing? If I ever truly let go on that front it'd be biiiggg? Does that make sense or follow a line of logic? Or I'm just naturally frigid and standoffish. Maybe.)
Because this hockey thing? I can't get enough. I don't just want to watch it, I want to get inside it (stop it, you know what I mean). I want to know how it works. Why it works. The rules, the players, the history. Why plays go a certain way, why you decide on certain personnel. If a goal gets scored because of a defensive breakdown or because of great offense. My brain is seeking this stuff out, eager to soak it up. I can't remember being this way about anything since...LSU football as a freshman? But honestly? I can't remember the last time I threw myself so thoroughly into anything ever. I am usually a fairly laid back, watch things unfold, observer type. I make mental notes, I write about it on the internet later. To so wholesale want to know everything about something is pretty unlike me.
For example: I have 8 tabs open right now. Six of them are me looking up various hockey information. I follow blogs, I glean information on my own where I can. I have someone who I have asked an infinite number of hockey related questions to and they have patiently answered all of them. And I'm not just talking "What's a five hole?" I'm talking, "Are the 'Yotes really relocating? What does that mean to the NHL? The fans in Phoenix? The players?" I ask about the health of the NHLPA and what impact it has. If given the opportunity I would ask more about hockey contracts, recruiting, etc. (3 sports law classes between undergrad and law school and because I was in the deep South or far West, not a peep about hockey.)
And I feel a little zealous. The annoying convert who then wants to foist their ideals on you. LOVE WHAT I LOVE, DAMMIT!
I had my cousin, whose new boyfriend is a Sharks fan, watch episode 1 of 24/7 when I visited her last weekend. "OMG! They're all so cute! Like ALL of them! Why didn't anyone ever tell me all the hockey players were so cute?!" I do not advocate for this type of fandom, I think you should love the sport, but it can serve as a good jumping off point, to get people (women) initially interested, which isn't all bad.
I then made my mom watch a the bit today where Mike Green drives along on his orange vespa, as she's a gear head who loves Vespas and I thought she would find it adorable. I just wanted to show her that. She continued watching. She counted the stitches on Hendricks' eye before I even said anything (my mom is not at all adverse to the grosser side of life). She listened to Ovi say ridiculous Ovi things. I think she was entertained. And as she's the biggest one of the "I don't understand why you suddenly love this!" camp, I'll take that as a moral victory. Earlier this week, when the Caps played that 2OT game and I was sick with a sore throat, I kept screaming at the TV prompting her to say, "You screaming at the TV isn't gonna help your voice." However, she then went out to dinner with my brother and while she waited for him to arrive, she ended up watching the game and I sent six text messages explaining who she was supposed to be rooting for. That point is when the Caps turned the corner. Yay Mom! (I know how the preceding paragraph sounds and will remind you that despite that, I am not actually 15. (Realizing I am TWICE that is...guhhh. There's been a lot of "HEY! You're OLD!" this week, which sucks, but that's an entirely separate issue.))
I think I have eclipsed the bestie's knowledge. While he plays the game and loves the game, he's happy with whatever knowledge he already has and it was hysterical to think that I was explaining to him the relationship between Arnott and Semin. I was even explaining Semin's nickname of Sasha Minor. And mind you, this was HIS team, his love, before I showed up and annoyingly crashed the party. The learning curve has been steep on this one and I've enjoyed the climb.
So yeah. This is a really poor explanation of why I fell in love with yet another sport.
In the meantime, since I still can't really explain it, I'll just keep watching.
GEAUX CAPS!
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Ice Dreams
I'm currently curled up on the couch watching a hockey game that I know the results of, that ended several hours ago and I don't even care. It is beyond awesome.
I know this is useless to be upset about and really how could anyone know that at my rapidly advancing age I would fall so thoroughly in love with hockey but damn do I wish my parents had known to channel my youthful angst and aggression into this sport. There's no way anyone could have known to. There was no inkling of it anywhere in my growing up. There might have been when I suddenly and quite completely switched allegiance from baseball to football as a college freshman, enjoying the pure adrenaline and speed of football over baseball, but really...it probably took this exact and precise moment in time and the confluence of events that occurred to get me here. So here I am. In love.
(I am not, and have never been, athletic. I am not from the driven kind of family where we fight for success, which translates into us not being great athletes. My parents were/are young and got divorced when I was young, so the thought of them spending hours driving us to any kind of practices anywhere or investing money in our playing habits is laughable. My wish for a different kind of youth is beyond moot.) (Also: SF didn't even have a rink most of the time I was growing up. I know that's insane to imagine, a major city without an ice rink, but it's true.)
Still. I wish... (I haven't cried at this ad or watched it about a dozen times. Nope. Not at all.)
I can't get enough of it though. I find it magical, the way they glide down the ice. I could watch Ovie skate all day. (When he's on, he is very, very on.) The way it's all so fast and seemingly effortless. The way the players skate backwards on the ice when on defense. The classic hockey stop. The slashing at the puck with the stick and crashing the net. I love learning the different team histories and about the players and who has a rivalry with who and why. I love hockey nicknames. I ask bartenders/restaurants to change the TV no matter where I go now so I can watch a game/highlights. (It helps that it's currently just spring training and basketball. Not all 20 TVs in an establishment need to be turned to ESPN.) I want to absorb every last second of it. I want to buy jerseys and go to games and cheer as loud as possible. Do you know that moment when something and everything suddenly makes total and complete sense? What is that? Kismet? That's how I quite suddenly and all at once feel about hockey.
But it's more than that too. Because, as opposed to the way I know I can't play football and have only the mildest interest in throwing a baseball around, I want very desperately to skate and to eventually learn how to play. I will break my ankle or wrist. I have almost no doubt about this. See above where I'm not athletic? Yeah. I also lack any semblance of grace. But I want this. It feels like a really bizarre thing to want, to be able to glide down the ice and not fall over and to hopefully one day get proficient at it. For now, since ice is hard to come by in Northern California, I'm going to figure out where the pair of rollerblades I know I had at one point are and drag them out, head down the street to the school playground and start there.
This should be amusing...
I also hope at some point it becomes really really awesome.
(I am not, and have never been, athletic. I am not from the driven kind of family where we fight for success, which translates into us not being great athletes. My parents were/are young and got divorced when I was young, so the thought of them spending hours driving us to any kind of practices anywhere or investing money in our playing habits is laughable. My wish for a different kind of youth is beyond moot.) (Also: SF didn't even have a rink most of the time I was growing up. I know that's insane to imagine, a major city without an ice rink, but it's true.)
Still. I wish... (I haven't cried at this ad or watched it about a dozen times. Nope. Not at all.)
But it's more than that too. Because, as opposed to the way I know I can't play football and have only the mildest interest in throwing a baseball around, I want very desperately to skate and to eventually learn how to play. I will break my ankle or wrist. I have almost no doubt about this. See above where I'm not athletic? Yeah. I also lack any semblance of grace. But I want this. It feels like a really bizarre thing to want, to be able to glide down the ice and not fall over and to hopefully one day get proficient at it. For now, since ice is hard to come by in Northern California, I'm going to figure out where the pair of rollerblades I know I had at one point are and drag them out, head down the street to the school playground and start there.
This should be amusing...
I also hope at some point it becomes really really awesome.
Friday, February 18, 2011
A First
I was pondering today that I was going to my first hockey game and that it's nice, at my ripe old age, to still be able to celebrate firsts (I feel like anyone reading this is gonna make sex jokes, so go on, go ahead, let's hear 'em).
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Just A Fan
I read skimmed a couple articles on women and sports and liking sports and the difficulties of being a female fan and OMG women talk about how the players are hot and guys don't want to hear that yadda yadda. I started to feel my hackles go up about it and thought about writing a thousand word screed on the topic and then I just...didn't have the energy to. So you'll still get a thousand words, it's just not gonna be angry.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Maybe I was wrong? (AGAIN!)
From an actual bona fide sports writer (too much real propertyyyy. Bona fide?):
Sean Avery, now and forever.
I know I’m well in the minority but I’ve never once hated Sean Avery. He’s a dirty player, I guess, but it works, and he’s OUR dirty player besides. And the whole Elisha Cuthbert thing has always been stupidly overblown to the point of meaninglessness.
I’m glad he’s back in New York. I think he’s way better off here than he was in Dallas anyhow - he’s too quirkily urbane to blow off the requisite steam there, which was why we got things like “sloppy seconds.” He needs the Vogue internships and the Tribeca sports bars and the geighborhoods too. (He “lived in West Hollywood when he played for the Los Angeles Kings and now lives in Chelsea”).
“If there’s a kid in Canada or wherever, who is playing and really loves the game and wants to keep playing but he’s worried about coming out, I’d tell him to pick up the phone and call [NHLPA executive director] Donald Fehr and tell him to book me a [plane] ticket,” he told theToronto Sun. “I’ll stand beside him in the dressing room while he tells his teammates he is gay. Maybe if Sean Avery is there, they would have less of a problem with it.”
Fuckin’ rights.
Not that being a jerk is exclusive to his opinions. He may still be a jerk that just has an awesome opinion. But still. I'll reserve judgment on you for a little bit, Sean Avery.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Hocckkeeyy
Yeah. So. I'm slightly obsessed. And I love learning about it. Things I've learned so far:
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