caerula's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- wingnut? isn't that some sort of tool thingy? "hi, my name is Caerula, and I�m a Wing Nut." �Hi, Caerula!� Three fucking overtimes. 3rd longest game in Stanley Cup playoff history. But in the end, Igor Larionov, older than the �Canes head coach, for crissakes, pulled it off. So finally, at 1:30 am, I could go to bed! This is all Blue�s fault. Back when I met Blue, I knew less than nothing about hockey. I was living in South Carolina, where icing is what you put on top of a cake, and negotiations had just started to bring the Whalers down to NC. I'd never voluntarily watched ESPN in my lifetime. And before that, growing up, the Wings just weren�t all that great. They were the Dead Wings. All through the 80s, they pretty much sucked. We watched the Pistons, the only Detroit team that actually one occasionally, and won it all in �89. Then in 1995 I start dating a Wing Nut, a guy who actually played hockey no less, albeit on a league known as the Never-Evers. Really. At first I still couldn�t care less; didn�t understand the terms, let alone the rules � icing, the crease, the red line, penalty killing � huh? All as foreign to me as Chinese. I'd go watch Blue's game, and generally couldn't even identify which one he was. But Blue took such joy in it, that I started watching with him out of self-defense. After all, if we were in the playoffs, I otherwise wouldn�t see him until the end of June. And as his wedding present two years ago, we flew to St. Louis to see a Wings/Blues game (which we won, by the way) because it was easier to get tickets that way then to find any in Hockeytown. We ran into DARREN MCCARTY in a mall, and I was BORED by the conversation he and Blue were having, although I could tell this was somebody bc Blue was walking on air. My comment, afterwards? "He has pretty hair." So now I�m totally into it. Two years ago I couldn�t recognize players names, faces, or numbers, now I have a hockey boyfriend (Darren McCarty, of course -- he still has pretty hair, and he can whale away on the EvilAvs like no one else) and even a back-up hockey boyfriend, the ever-cute Luc Robataille. I was sad when we lost Ozzie last year, now I�m loving the Dominator. What the hell is wrong with me? I don�t do sports. I�m a bluestocking and a computer nerd. I read, I write, I do crafty stuff. And last night I stayed up until 1:30 because I couldn�t make myself go to bed � long after Blue had left for work � because I had to see the damn game through. Couldn�t go to bed halfway through the 2nd OT and not know who won, for crissakes. Didn�t even think of it. And where once I shivered with disgust when I saw an octopus hit the ice, now I scream with delight. So I admit it. I�m a Wing Nut. I even want one of those stupid wingnut hats. They are so cool. Now if only my husband could stop taking the damn games so personally, I might actually watch them WITH him, and we could enjoy it even more. 9:52 a.m. - June 09, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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