I feel like I’ve not been attending to this space enough and I know that I haven’t even hinted at any of our adventures in Detroit, which are quickly fleeing from my memory and being replaced with nightmarish hockey visions and comparisons of Ryan Malone’s post-broken-nose-slapshot-to-the-beak voice and King Leonides’ voice in 300 and how the Penguins quest of the Stanley Cup is not unlike the campaign of the Spartans at Thermopylae, just with a lot more clothing and I don’t think Sidney Crosby was pinned to the ground with 60,000 arrows at the end.
I don’t know, though, because we turned the game off as soon as the buzzer sounded…couldn’t bear to watch the Red Wings celebrating and the Penguins being all gracious and cute. Instead we watched the aforementioned 300.
Speaking of Leonides, I kind of just wanted that dude to shut the hell up. Like, their freedom is at stake, etc. I get it. But dude, yelling constantly starts to lose its impact. Just saying.
I’m also sneezing a lot. I’m not real sure what the culprit is for this most recent allergic attack, but it takes me an extra half hour to get ready in the morning because of all of the pauses that I take so that I can stand in my kitchen and go, “AH CHOO! AH CHOO! AH CHOO! AH CHOO! AH CHOOOOOO! OH MY FUC–AH CHOO! FUCK!” It’s taking a lot out of me.
For what it’s worth, I have a few other non-bloggy writing things that I need to get moving on and I find myself terrified. I get really, really scared of writing sometimes.