Not quite 20 hours into the work week, and the fantasy football and news have all been caught up on. This means I have to come up with something that seems meaningful to the rest of the world. With the previous week feeling devoted to the lack of girlfriend (I don't like aches, I want the pain all at once), all I got out of those seven days was trying to relate to my seven year-old nephew at the Rivs' home opener.
He was seated between my dad and I, so I had to refrain from commenting about all the familiar faces in the line up. "Returning" to Peoria for the love of the sport (as I rush from my afternoon retail shift to watch them)? Are you sure you are not living here because of an ill-advised night with a puck bunny (thanks Google and Urban Dictionary)?
That would have to be a nightmare scenario for so many people. As a player, you are probably in your late 20's hoping for one last shot at the ECHL. Instead, you end up having a puck fuck with no net minder. As the biscuit basket's parents, you may feel shame that because your daughter is so dim that she thought a Southern Professional Hockey League player was going to make it to the big time. At least there are some groupies who have their thumb on the pulse of music when they start looking for a rocker to support them for the rest of their lives (It is a small some from my experience). If they are not in the AHL, do not go chasing sweaty balls.
That is two blogs in a row with attempted parodies. I really got to focus on writing my Rage Against the Machine's "Killing in the Name of..." knock off. These blogs are still decades behind Weird Al.
When it came to stuff that I could talk about with my nephew, I am only frustrated by my sister's over protective parenting. Damn teacher thinking she knows everything.
A Naïve Coworker:
My parents were teachers and they were great. It is also great because in the summer, they could spend all that time with us.
Me:
Out of area code grandparents?
They went on about how they are obsessed with their niece. I joked about putting 90 miles between me and my sister's spawn. After finding out that my nephew has yet to experience Buffalo wings, my absence is worth considering regret.
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