8 posts tagged “jordi hates hockey”
Fuck fuck fuck. How dodgy can the Habs get dropping those stinkers? How dodgier can the Sens get?
Anyway recently I bought a filofax organiser. It's great. I can tell myself I need to do this, that, who the Habs are playing. Actually I haven't done the latter part because, oh, yeah, the Habs suck.
I am also working more hours in hopes to save up for my trip to study abroad. My aim of 15,000 is looking harder when I only have 1000. If I saved, I'd have a good amount stored. But I havent. But anyway, here's what's happening. I'm going overseas for my degree. And the main reason is HOCKEY. I won't hit Habs town because I'm going to pinch pennies everywhere. You'll see me panhandling on the streets during desperate times. But it's probably my only aim for now. So here's the question to ask, how can I manage this when I'm not saving as much as I want to?
THE SAGGING TITS OF CARBONNEAU ARE SCRATCHING BEGIN AND KOSTOPOLOL. Why? "I felt like it."
But kids, this is it, I officially hate Carbo.
Okay maybe not that stupid. But I am mfing pissed because I love Begin with my heart. And well, who the fuck cares if the team is slumping a little? (don't try to start with an "actually..." statement kids, I'm not a happy diva today) I JUST DONT THINK SCRATCHING THEM WILL DO ANYTHING - apart from making the players nervous.
''He needs to wake the team up and I probably have to give more on the ice - get more points or whatever,'' said Begin.
(methinks Begin is dealing it right, "whatever" indeed)
AND may I add, this is just the same tactic Carbo did last year scratching Rivet & Sammy (the old and the new), so lets see if that works for the first time ever through repetition. If you keep adding one and one you'll eventually get three one day. Right?
FUCK. (and this is for both teams)
Hockey blogger sued (and no it wasn't Eklund)
Aaaaannnnd:
I told you I do more things in exam period. Non productive things though.
And why am I listening to heavy metal on the radio station? Cause it beats dance music!
As a girl down under, catching hockey is usually left to a) the cable sports or b) internet radio feeds.
And my sleeping has usually suffered from it. 5AM, I would climb out of bed just so I can get myself some Habs action. And it usually resulted me going to sleep at about 10PM and repeating the process by waking up at 9AM for the first game or so.
It became so hectic that even on non-game days I woke up at 9AM and I'd scream to myself because either I had a dream that Ryan Smyth was still with the Oilers and that dream ended.
Today I woke up at 11 AM and I almost wept with joy.
No more hockey has restored my regular sleeping schedue. It wont be long before a day off will have me waking up at 1PM.
Exams and I almost got hit by a car today, the wankstain barely braked. I am this close to punching someone.
And fucking bad things keep happening to me.
Because there's no sedition law here that results in my wrists being sliced off.
On a more serious note, I always have this thought pass my mind; whether it's a small lingering thought I always tuck in the back of my mind to forget in the business that is life. And everyone writes for joy, I would like to think. If I had about one reader that was me, I would still enjoy posting (which might happen if vox lures me back again).
I know that my blog has often been victim to my crazy women problem related mood swings, irrational hatred and what may classify me as "the biggest annoying bitch who will never let go about Chris fucking Pronger or the Ottawa Senators". But I like to think of when this blog started a little less than a year ago as... much happier times. Sure it was post playoff season, I was optimistic and I believed that Ryan Smyth would bring our Oilers to the gods of hockey (Dad, these are the Oilers. Oilers, this is God). I think it was my naivete which helped fuel my writing.
Nonetheless, I am a product of what many love to classify as some sort of degenerate generation. It's funny that I grew up on books and all the traditional novelties that wear off later in life. I have a silly memory of writing my first story on Word as a small child. I did not understand why "builded" was not an acceptable word. As I grew up later in life, I always have things to enjoy: musicals, old movies, video games, trashy smut romance and whatever falls my way. I latch onto each obsession enthusiastically. And sport, despite my somehow complete attachment to it now, never happened intentionally. It was an accident which is now burnt into my very heart next to the words "Clive fucking Owen".
Why hockey? I mean, truly, why? I can't provide any answer to it. However when I started my little naive vox account, posting away like a madwoman possessed, I met people like Sherry and Hockeygirl and the kindest Thrashers fan, all who were the base reason of why I believe in all hockey fans. I started the HLOG not as a female crusade to right the wrongs and fix the pigheaded fans (who I never believed really existed till I saw them myself). I started it as a homebase where each fan can eventually communicate - I felt that there wasn't enough comraderie in the hockey blogging world between some fans or so(something which I felt a group blog would ultimately fix or at least face without any fear). It was the peace offering to my friendship to all the lovely people I have met there. Many come with the enthusiasm and wit that I can only dream for. And I feel glad that the excitement is reciprocated.
Why hockey? I guess the HLOG is only a reason why my writings were constantly propelled by hockey. I must re-inform readers (or web bots) that my weakest subject throughout class was probably english. I knew why I got a good or bad mark on a maths or science test. But even now I can only get a vague idea or merely shake my head around the complexities of why english and essays are some kind of joined at the hip twin I will never escape.
To me this blog never serves as an argument; an index of articles which display my thoughts like a transparent sheet. Rather it is an accumulation of thoughts, of emotions and memories that somewhat honestly clock what I write through my clumsy incoherent thoughts. Next year I will laugh at what I say (which includes "STFU PRONGER") and then I will start anew every year. I am always praying to god that my writing can improve, that one day it will be decadently awesome and yes "Vogue called, they want you to write full time". I know I will never be a writer - it's still a childish dream that will never happen because I lack the professionalism, the sophistication and oh yes - possibly the natural talent that comes with most eager writers. There is somewhat a fantasy that comes with this blog, that I can write what I want and feel satisfied because it sits there like the written word (whereas a private diary always feels lame).
Either way, it's somewhat blurry what I want to grasp with this post. But you can't stop me posting - hockey porn or otherwise.
No NHL hockey (I know, I know the playoffs are still happening but really, can you actually believe I still have faith or any enthusiasm left within me for it? All my hopes and dreams have been shattered and the only thing stopping me from hanging myself is that I'm a little short and need someone to hold the rope) has given me time to catch up on the things that seem to fizzle away when hockey's around the corner.
The only two magazines I shell out money for: InStyle and RUSSH (a local kind of Vogue. Though I do buy Vogue if I'm craving for more. I know, I'm weird). By the way; the recent InStyle Best Buys issue 2007 was... Wow, talk about disappointing. I've been catching up on back issues (especially when Paul Rudd was in one of them. Talk about yum.)
These are my special sheepskin mocasins, they're all handmade in a cute little store. They're handy during winter, I even cook in them.
And a glamour shot of my green makeup! Though it's more of a wonky shift. I have brown eyes - I'm not some spawn of the devil that satan forgot to mention!
