Well, hell, where do I start?
I've been trying to write this blog for over two days now, and I just can't seem to find the words for much of what I have to say. I guess that means I'll ramble aimlessly. Proceed at your own risk.
My very favorite person on the planet visited me last week. Though it was her birthday, it felt like a present for me! We watched a lot of "Supernatural" a little New York Rangers, and she saw, for the first time in our over-a-decade-old friendship, my true "game face." (Oh yeah, I threw up during game four.) I learned that taxidermy and out-of-towners don't necessarily mix. I learned that it doesn't take night life to make someone my age really tired. I learned that it doesn't matter if you wear a hat, sunglasses, a turtleneck, a jersey, jeans, and sneakers to a baseball game on a sunny day, you can still get a damn peeling sunburn when you don't usually venture out until after dark. I learned that Jose Bautista NEEDS me there to have good games...and my Phillies need me NOT there! I learned you can get a concussion on Roberto Clemente's thumb. I learned to took out for brats with armloads of Dippin' Dots (thanks Karin!). I learned that Kelly and I really shouldn't be allowed out unsupervised...at least not with money in our pockets. And I learned that, with the right people, it doesn't matter if you have anything to do or nothing at all to do, it's still a blast.
I realized two rather alarming things about myself: first, the qualities that make me a person of great value at my office don't carry over in any way, shape, or form to my personal life. By that I mean, at work, I'm the go-to gal. You want something done, you wanna know it's going to be done right and on time, it lands on my desk. I'll tackle any damn thing you want to throw at me. At home, I have one even halfway-major thing on my horizon and I can't focus on anything else, however mundane or simple. April was so frantic, May must, by necessity, now be dedicated to the mundane and simple. Secondly, when I bargain with deities (as I assume everyone occasionally does in matters of great importance to them), I will sell your ass down the river for the New York Rangers. Don't care who you are or what you are to me, if any gods ever listened to me, you'd all be screwed. Sorry about that.
Picked up TV Guide's "TV's Sexiest Stars" issue over the weekend, since Jared Padalecki made the list. I have to say, I don't always think of him as "sexy," maybe just because I could be his Mom, but he is lovely and appealing and I bought the mag for him so I guess that's good enough. I'm leafing through to find Taye Diggs (whoa!) and Dr. House, Foreman, and 13 from "House," and...GOOD GOD. There's a picture of Alex O'Loughlin in there that could kill a person at 100 paces. It ought to be against the law. Or, as my sister said: "Oh, now that's just ridiculous." Remember, this is the guy I DIDN'T THINK I WAS GOING TO LIKE when "Moonlight" premiered last Fall? Well, hell. I stand corrected. I sometimes find his appeal doesn't translate to still photos, but this photo translated the hell out of it. If you haven't looked at this magazine yet, I advise you to be sitting down when you do. And have a dropcloth handy.
I cried over Khandi Alexander's departure from "CSI: Miami" last night. Are you kidding me? I regularly ridicule this show for being among the worst, if not THE worst, of the non-reality shows on television. The writing's lousy, the acting's plain terrible, and half the time it isn't even entertaining. Every week I'm annoyed to within an inch of my tolerance by almost every character on the show, I complain incessantly about how stupid it is, and yet I keep watching. Somewhere along the line I guess I got weirdly attached to all these people I can't stand. And this morning, watching via Comcast's delightful On Demand feature (shameless plug there), I could feel it coming. I'm reminding myself that I laugh off my favorite show, "Supernatural," however serious it gets, and say it isn't deep enough to bring me to tears. I'm telling myself, "Self, you are so NOT going to cry over 'CSI: Miami!'" But I couldn't help it. It wasn't great heaving sobs like that whole "Do you know I will always be your friend" routine from "Dances with Wolves," but it was bad enough. How embarrassing. Anybody got a Midol, for pete's sake?
I have a lot to say about the New York Rangers, and - again - I kinda don't know where to start. Well, I guess I'll start where I always start with them, and that's that I love them more than anything except my cat, I'm proud of them, and I can't wait to see what next year brings us. Rangers fans are rightfully ticked at my dear Ryan Hollweg for the bonehead penalty that cost us game three of the conference semis, but I don't think it's fair to dump the series loss on his shoulders. His was neither the first nor the last stupid move to come at a really inopportune time. Still, I'm disappointed he won't have a chance to redeem himself now until Fall. I hope Tom Renney's sometimes inexplicable faith in him carries over and he gets that chance. I don't think any of us outside the lockerroom necessarily knows what any guy brings to the table behind the scenes. I have a friend, the most laid back of guys, who ended up being the Captain or an Alternate everywhere he played. The personality we saw always made us wonder, but there must have been something that earned him the honor on so many teams. When I worked with the band, their weakest link, musically, was the personality that held them together. Whatever Renney sees in Hollweg, I hope the rest of us get to see it too...hopefully before anybody tries to harm my lovely new jersey! (I'm a pacifist, but I'll BEAT YOU DOWN if you touch one of my jerseys. Just so we're clear.) Rangers fans, including myself, are also rightfully annoyed at the officiating and the general attitude towards the Penguins by the
and its agents. Yes, we KNOW they're Bettman's favorites, and yes we KNOW he's going to do whatever he can to see that they're successful, but at some point he's really going to have to be a little less obvious about it. Sean Avery makes an ass of himself (remember, I say that with affection) waving his arms at Martin Brodeur, a silly and harmless move that really served only to take Avery out of the play, and the
makes a new rule to deal with it, but Evgeny Malkin goes around kicking people's feet out from under them - risking serious injury to himself, as well as to the other player - and nothing at all is said or done? Drury takes a high stick and bleeds all over the ice: no penalty. Drury GIVES a high stick and sits for four minutes. Again, I won't blame our failure to advance solely on the officiating, but it sure didn't help. Being a fan of a big market team, I'm a little annoyed by Bettman's whole "parity" refrain anyway. By "parity" he means my team, which supports itself, should prop up teams that can't. He apparently doesn't mean everyone's playing by the same rules, because we're nowhere close. There are a few big question marks over significant Rangers personnel this Summer: Jagr, Shanahan, and Avery. I'm fond of them all and would like to see them all return, but to my mind Avery is the heart and soul of this team and I want him back at all costs. I know the strikes against him, but we are quite simply a better team with him on the ice, and (much like my old pal Bruce Watson), unhinged or not, I just like his intensity. Dear Glen Sather: please re-sign Avery and I promise not to say anything else bad about you. At least for a little while. Oh, and don't put anthrax in Hollweg's pay envelope or anything. Your consideration is greatly appreciated.
I gotta say, too, I try to be a really good sport about all sports, all the time. When the Rangers win - and though it doesn't feel like it right now, remember, they do sometimes - I don't say a word to anybody. When the Rangers lose, if someone - Rangers fan or not - wants to talk about it, I'm perfectly happy to talk about it. Where I lose my cool is being hassled (particularly by people who don't really give a crap any other time) and when people are stupid. Case in point, after we've been elminiated from the playoffs, for your own safety, do NOT walk into my office and say, "So...what did you think about the Rangers game?" Depending on who jumped the Stupid Line ahead of you, you risk a not-very-nice response. What do you THINK I think? In the immortal words of Big Boi: "Act like ya got some sense."
Best playoff line: My brother sent my sister a text during game four, asking if he should grow a playoff beard like Jagr's. My sister replied that he should grow one like Crosby's instead. He replied: "I have. Since dinner." How about a new rule stating you have to be old enough to buy a beer before you can try a playoff beard? Whattya say, Gary?
Got my eye on one of Dan Girardi's game-worn playoff jerseys. If the President is going to send me $600, well, I'll put it to good use. I've got a little little angel on one shoulder, a little devil on my other. By week's end, we'll see who is most convincing!
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