Wednesday, September 19, 2001

Happy birthday, Reesa-chan!
Posted by: Shannon M.: 11:16 AM |

Oh, and Reesa -- In case you didn't already know, Keith Hartman's new book is due out soon!
Posted by: Shannon M.: 11:26 AM |

I know that I would be -more- than willing to store anyone's 21-inch monitor for them. It would be kept in a safe, warm, dry, smoke-free environment, and treated with TLC... I can't promise that it wouldn't be prone to attracting dust and dog hair, though.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 9:36 PM |

Tuesday, September 18, 2001

Something odd has happened to Alvin... *Eyes her sketchbook* He's not being vampire-like at all. *Ponder* Though that may be due more to the -kind- of vampire he is than anything else.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 11:30 AM |

Can I just say that "enough evidence to justify military action" is a really, -really- scary concept?
Posted by: Shannon M.: 12:46 PM |

Monday, September 17, 2001

 

Happy Things:

-- My pants, despite their constant threatening, have not yet fallen down. I -have- a belt, it's just that I couldn't find it this morning.

-- I was walked more-or-less to my car by a cute guy this afternoon. Hee. And yes, he -meant- to go with me, amazingly enough. It took him a minute to get up the nerve to speak with me, though.

-- Planes of all sizes in the sky again. Anchorage is a massive cargo hub, and it was really, -really- bizarre not to have a constant stream of air traffic in the sky.

-- New monitor! I have a new monitor! *Bounce* The blue register is a little off (Reesa's page looks -quite- purple), but that's okay. I have a new monitor. Which means that I can get writing done, if I can ever get anyone to talk to me. *Eyes Maus, Silver, Marc and Vic* Mercy and Grace are on hold for a little while, as their latest adventures deal with explosive devices and people in a large office building. *Mull* On the other hand, since I was planning on it having a happy ending anyhow, maybe I -should- get it transcribed and finished up. Votes?

-- Speaking of things being blue... The Blues were in town. Pavol Demitra. Al MacInnis. Keith Tkachuk. Freddy Braithwaite. Sergei Varlamov. Oh, even though it was an inter-squad scrimmage, it was -such- fun. *Grin* Chris Pronger and Dallas Drake skated into the corner, and Pronger had this huge grin on his face... We had _excellent_ seats due to the fact that it ended up being a general-admission game. We were right in the corner, practically on the goal line, about four rows back. And, coincedentally enough, right next to the vomitorium where the players went on and off the ice. There's nothing quite like major-league-level hockey. It would have been even cooler if the Sharks had made it, but it was still very very cool. (I wore my Caps shirt, Scrubby... *Grin* I'm saving my hat for Next Time.)

-- The Sullivan Arena is getting a video screen! *Bouncebounce* _Finally_! It is to be hoped that this means we'll get instant replays at Aces games, which will be inordinately helpful to us short'n'sawed-off types.

-- At ECA this morning, everyone from last year missed me. I don't think that -anyone- likes the new Computer Guy. Heh. (Ev doesn't think that the Computer Guy should be left alone with -any- of the female students, though I didn't catch that vibe this morning. 'Course, I didn't spend any time with the guy, either, so...)

-------------------------------

Not Happy Things:

-- Sitting in the Wet section. We came into the arena on the Wet side and made the king-sized mistake of taking the first empty seats near the ice that we saw. I did not grow up with people that drank a lot of alcohol. I've never spent copious amounts of time with people that drank/drink a lot of alcohol. I've never purposefully spent time with people that were drunk. And as far as I could tell, everyone around us was drunk. It was the scariest, most -annoying- twenty minutes of my life. The women to my right were far far more concerned with drinking and partying than whether or not their kids were okay (these were fairly young kids, too -- probably between 5 and 10), the youngest of which was obviously bored and incapable of entertaining himself in any way other than playing with the seats. The woman to my mother's left was drunk, but she at least was being fairly quiet and actually paying attention to what was happening on the ice.

When we got up to move at the end of the first period, I started to step over the mess of stuff that the cow in my row had scattered on the floor. I'm standing there on one foot, trying to judge where my foot will best fit* among the feet and cups and corn-fritter dishes, and she looks up at me and _whines_, "Oh, please don't knock over my -wine-..." Like I, a total stranger, would choose to spill some bloated white-trailer-trash's _plastic_ -cup- of Franzia two-gallons-for-ten-bucks-at-Costco probably-not-that-tasty _wine_. Like that's all I lived for, to make other people's lives miserable by causing their precious alcohol to run all over concrete and aluminum steps, posing a danger to myself and others.

So I blink at her for a couple of seconds, and while she's bending down to pick up her darling wine that's obviously worlds more important than anything else on Earth, I snarl 'I wouldn't -dream- of it', get past her, and go up to the mezzanine.

I also made a vow: Never again, not for love or money, would I sit in the drunkard's nest that is the Wet side. (And yes, I probably am overreacting. But y'know what? I -don't- _like_ the company of drunk people. People that have had one or two beers? Okay. But not -drunk- people.)

-- The four glitter-covered gits two rows ahead that managed to know that they -had- to stand through the -whole- national anthem, but didn't know a single word of it. -And- they laughed at a woman in the row behind us, who sang the soprano line. -She- knew every word. Being an Episcopalian (my mother knew her from church), she probably knows all the verses**. It's disgusting that people don't know the words to at least the first verse of the anthem, particularly _now_. Hell, I know most of the words to the first verse of the Canadian anthem, and I bet you couldn't find ten Americans in a row that know the _name_ of it! It's a respect thing. Just like you don't drop the flag on the floor (purposefully, anyhow), or walk on it, or spit on it, or use it to diaper a baby with, you should know all of the words to at -least- the first verse of the anthem. (Granted, I can only claim to know all of the first and part of the fourth, but hey. I -know- 'em.)

-- The older couple in the row behind us, the man of which pounded on the chair at the end of my row every time a player he liked was announced. Being that the chairs are all attached to aluminium risers, the shockwave of each blow pretty much rattled the fillings of everyone else in the row. When politely asked if he would refrain from doing so, the woman gave us a dirty look and told us pointedly that we "could just -move-". Like their chair-pounding was of greater necessity than the comfort of all patrons. (They moved some time in the first 5 minutes of the first period.)

Now, sitting on the dry side, we managed to be a row ahead of about five older guys that could all do the two-fingered New York Cab-Stopping Whistle. And they did, for just about anything that happened. But, they were having a lot of fun, and they had a firm grasp of the fundamentals of hockey, -and- they weren't drunk, nor had they been drinking. But I had a good time anyhow, and got to see some of my favorite hockey players, -and- Marc and Vic started mumbling about playing.

Actually, they just sort of murmured at first, until the last five minutes of the third period. Mike Keane went from the Stars to the Blues this summer, and as you may know, is something of a goon. He'd been playing pretty cleanly; after all, they're all teammates and you don't want to hurt them, necessarily***. There's this other guy, named Walker. As the Blues brought their rookie prospects with them, and this was the first part of their training camp, I'm not sure if Walker is a rookie or if he's been around a while. I think that Keane crosschecked Walker, who (surprise!) didn't enjoy it (the distortion in the glass made it difficult to tell what was going on at the far end of the rink).

So. Walker drops his gloves, Keane drops his. They start tussling; hanging on to one another's jerseys like they do, wobbling back and forth... Then Walker gets a hand free and starts hitting Keane in the face. When this happens, Keane's back is to us, more or less. My mother speculates on whether the fight is staged -- and it seemed highly plausible -- until they turned around. Walker is -still- hitting Keane, who's trying to fight back. One half of Keane's face is nothing but blood... I think Walker split Keane's eyebrow or maybe cut his forehead. And then, _finally_ the ref and the linesmen get ahold of Walker and haul him away from Keane and the trainer comes out to get Keane off the ice. While the officials are hauling Walker off, some of the rest of the team are trailing after them, Sergei Varlamov**** in the lead. He's yelling at Walker, and he looks really upset. A few of the other guys don't look too happy, either. I wish I'd had binoculars, so I could see Quenneville's reaction.

Eventually they got people quieted down and penalties assigned, and the game underway again. I think the white squad won, 4-2. (There was also a fight among some fans on the Wet side, reason number 578.23 not to sit over there.)

 

-------------

 

* I step over my dog and scads of junk around my house all the time. I realized that I'm the only one that knows this, but you would think that if someone is -hesitating- before they put their foot down that they're not all that likely to _choose_ to step on something someone might want to consume.

** This is sort of an inside joke, based on the fact that (at least at St. Mary's) Episcopalians sing _all_ of the verses to whatever hymns are being sung in church. None of that namby-pamby singing of the verses marked with asterisks for them!

*** This is just my opinion... If _I_ were running a hockey team, one of the ground rules would be 'no taking out personal problems on teammates' because it's not fair to you, them, or the team as a whole to deliberately hurt someone just because you don't like them or something. Yes, I am an idealist, why do you ask?

**** No, you shouldn't know who he is. He's just another cute Russian hockey player whose name I happen to like. Heh.

Posted by: Shannon M.: 11:02 PM |