First, listen to this. Two weeks ago, my washing machine broke. It was fixed. The next week, the dryer broke. It was fixed. Last week, after four days of clean clothes and happy wife (Jesus God, don't type that into Google like I did if you're at work), we came home to find that our dog had chased something (most likely a mouse) into the laundry room, where he proceeded to search for the mouse a) in all three hoses attached to the washer, b) in the aluminum dryer vent pipe, and c) under the floor.
I fixed it all.
And this morning I woke up to my wife, the Upstate Ice Girl, telling me, "there's no pressure on the hot water." Mother F. I have a hallergy to this fucking house.
Cleaning out the cobwebs.
"Wang encouraged by play of youngsters"
That's the headline in Newsday today. My god. When I worked at The Daily Star in Oneonta, New York, a copy editor wrote a cuthead (headline for a photo) over an elderly woman mowing her lawn: "Old Fashioned Trim."
Thankfully, I was working that evening, and, thankfully, I have a sick mind, so that didn't find it's way into print. I guess I should have been working this weekend on the Island.
Also, after reading the Hummer challenge thing, I wonder a) how come they didn't decide on an official tiebreaker, and b) how I could ever have written anything about the Great Rivalry losing its luster. I apologize with all of my heart. Today, I'm going to give the finger to someone with a Rangers sticker on their car. And then I'm going to settle in tonight, fire up the XBox $399, and give those jerkoffs a virtual pounding.
I think that's it. Revised rankings for playoffs have me rooting for the Caps and Predators (not only for Mr. Bad Example, but also for every Canadian asshole who disparaged the non-traditional markets this year and before -- and to think we let you have a baseball team ...). And, of course, I will be cheering lustily for the Devils for the next week or so.
Drive on.
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