The Definition of Frustration

April 15, 2010

Playoffs have started, my friends, and my attention has refocused itself on the ice. (Which, to be honest, is where it should have been focused all along, but in a shocking turn of events, the Thrashers choked again, and didn’t make it to late April. I swear, they play like there’s no such thing as inside ice.)

With the advent of postseason hockey, my loyalty shifts to my first love, the Red Wings, who are playing the Coyotes in the first round. This is difficult for me–the Coyotes redefine “underdog” (Ha! See what I did there?)–really, Phoenix has no business fielding a hockey team, but you’ve gotta love them; they skate with a lot of heart, they’re Gretzky’s boys, and under any other circumstances I’d be totally happy seeing them advance to the next round. I mean, lots of teams that I really hate are in contention. . . I’d love to see them become Yelp fodder before Detroit swoops in on a Stanley Cup run. An extended postseason would help ensure that hockey stays in Phoenix a little longer. . . but NOT at the cost of my Wings.

Anyway–I had a completely different point when I started this. It was up there somewhere. I think. Maybe.

Oh, yeah! Sportcenter.

So, I missed the game last night ’cause I ended up getting into a crazy-long conversation with our new roommate about the war and veterans and how we’re handling their homecoming and return to civilian society as opposed to the total disaster that was our handling of Vietnam vets post-tour, so I was watching Sportscenter this morning to get caught up on what I’d missed.

One of the perpetual irritations in my life is that hockey playoffs begin at around the same time as basketball, and I have a long and well-documented issue with the way SC allocates its coverage of the two. Today, though, I had to dry my hair, so I figured I’d just run the dryer during the boring parts of the show.

EVERY TIME I was at a point where I could dry my hair, they brought hockey on. “Okay,” I thought, “I’ll just start this part of my makeup. . .” But before the time I finished this, they were covering Wizards and Magic, Mavericks and Kings and Cavaliers (I find it disgraceful that NBA teams have such interesting names for such an un-loveable sport. False advertising, that.), And of course as soon as I picked up the dryer, the boys were on the ice again.


I’m trying to find a connection between the reporting chicanery and the UTTER AND COMPLETE DISAPPEARANCE of my gym shoes, which was my other epic drama from this morning (like, srsly, dude, they are NOT in my house, and I know I wore them home last night), but so far no obvious links have presented themselves. Hmmm.

Okay, that’s all I’ve got. The end!


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