I Almost Thought It Was Ash Wednesday
I was grocery shopping today and towards the beginning I looked up from my iPod induced haze and noticed this girl who had an ash cross on her forehead.
Immediately I was stoked out of mind. As many of you know, I looooove Ash Wednesday. I've written about it ad nauseum so I won't burden you with all the details. Basically I love Ash Wednesday because:
- I never know when Ash Wednesday is. Once a year I wake up to the fantastic possibility of people walking around with shit on their forehead. It's like someone waking up from a coma only to find out it's Christmas.
- Ash Wednesday purposely ponts out true believers; OR in my case points out people I saw at Happy Hour the night before dancing on the bar. Sweet ash cross, slut.
Today was the Bruins-Habs game with the aformentioned official Canadian.
It was good times pregaming at Beer Works, and since noone goes to Bruins games anymore, we scored a prime seat in the balcony. Unfortunately the Bruins lost with 1.2 seconds left on the clock. In layman's terms, this is like hitting on a relatively attractive girl at the bar only to realize that she's a man at Last Call.
I was thinking of starting a Facebook group pimping this blog, but I decided it would be too self aggrandizing. So, if you think this is a passive aggressive way of asking for someone to start a Facebook group about my blog, then you're right.
I apologize for the lack of anytihng to say, as I'm pretty bummed about the loss and, in addition, drunk.
So, here ya go"
This one comes from reader Brian Geiler who, so far, has given me the best shoutout in his profile. This references the halcyon days of the Boston Garden and Boston sports in general, which have long sinced passed. Check out the couple kissing at the end. Good stuff! As always, email me if you have a clip to pass on.
YouTube Clip Of The Day
Please comment in the comment section. I've been getting tons of comments via AIM and such, but nothing feels as good as a legit Blogger comment.
Sorry for the rambling per usual