Tuesday, October 13, 2009
What Is Redneck Hockey?
So to recap, of the twenty people in the Raleigh Canes lot tailgating, you can find:
-a relatively cool mop-hockey tradition
-A transplanted Rangers fan
-A Canadian Leafs fan whose best chance of sniffing the cup was to just root for the next team that won one.
-Another New Yorker who "sure looks like a Hurricanes fan." Apparently Hurricanes fans are overweight, middle aged and from New York. Sounds about right.
-"We're out here 42 times a year" guy. Doesn't that one away game get lonely? Stunning intelligence there in Raleigh.
-An old guy who looks like he barely understands the question. He then mentions the Sabre fans and how "rowdy and obnoxious," they get. Translation: They're better than us and we're jealous of them for it.
-SABRES FAN REPRESENT!
-CANES FAN SINCE 05-06 REPRESENT! Shit, all of you...really?
-Another guy who clearly does not understand the question
-A couple that looks like it could've single-handedly been responsible for the Irish Potato Famine in the 1840s.
And the best comes last. Shut your eyes and listen to the voice. Wait, that's an effeminate waiter in San Francisco with an affinity for the color purple right?
No, its a jacked black guy.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Phoenix Coyotes @ Buffalo Sabres
Thursday I went to my 14th Sabres game to watch them play the Phoenix Coyotes. I bought a new toque. As a great man once said, "toque...like I toque her virginity."
Got there plenty early, and immediately noticed the two Coyotes fans, a guy and his kid right behind us. We saw four coyotes fans total the entire night, and two of them were within wet willie distance.
The game was good. A few notes:
We outshot another team horribly. Good chances too. This is a recipe for success.
What is it about backups playing the best game of their career against us? Jason LaBarbera is not that good.
Man oh man did Kaleta ruin Prucha. All clean.
Shane Doan is a punk.
Phoenix has the worst goal horn in the NHL, that stupid Coyote howl. They can't move and change their name soon enough.
Got there plenty early, and immediately noticed the two Coyotes fans, a guy and his kid right behind us. We saw four coyotes fans total the entire night, and two of them were within wet willie distance.
The game was good. A few notes:
We outshot another team horribly. Good chances too. This is a recipe for success.
What is it about backups playing the best game of their career against us? Jason LaBarbera is not that good.
Man oh man did Kaleta ruin Prucha. All clean.
Shane Doan is a punk.
Phoenix has the worst goal horn in the NHL, that stupid Coyote howl. They can't move and change their name soon enough.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
A blurb from the Vampire Story I've Started, aptly titled "Vampire Story"
I looked over my shoulder into the back seat. She lie there, wrists bound as I’d left her, sleeping, oddly peaceful amidst the chaotic moment that’d brought us together. She leaned against the handle-less door of the Dodge Charger. A flash of blue and red over her shoulder made me look up. I let out a soft growl and licked my razor sharp canines, turning once more.
The accelerator bore the full weight of my boot clad right foot as the Charger roared down the darkened country road. Red and blue came roaring up behind me, the lights washing across the back seats, but not waking her. Truth be told, and backed up by the blood stains in dry streams down her face, her sleep wasn’t entirely natural.
The car roared around the minute turns, leaving the aging Crown Victoria several lengths behind. Few vehicles could outrun a police cruiser, and I was sitting in one. I’d gotten lucky, purchasing a black Charger that had spent its former life running down speeders and drunks on the highway. The cage separating the front and back seat was gone, but the back doors and locks were still defunct, and the engine was one of the most powerful you could pack into that particular vehicle.
I looked back, I’d gained several hundred feet on the cruiser. Would it be enough? The car roared up a hill before cresting and heading down and 45 degrees to the left. Once the slope and the turn got me out of the cop’s line of sight, I popped the car into neutral and shut the engine down.
I braked hard and veered off to the right. There was an access road that ran through the woods to a cornfield. I made it about one hundred feet in, shut off the car completely and waited.
A short few seconds later, lights flashing my pursuer roared past down the road. I breathed a short sigh of relief before turning back to my passenger. The bumpy ride had jarred her awake. She looked at me, not with fear, not completely anyways, not with hatred, but with curiosity and a depth of perception that made even me a little uncomfortable. I flashed my teeth at her again, she jumped, but then smiled faintly, laying back down.
The accelerator bore the full weight of my boot clad right foot as the Charger roared down the darkened country road. Red and blue came roaring up behind me, the lights washing across the back seats, but not waking her. Truth be told, and backed up by the blood stains in dry streams down her face, her sleep wasn’t entirely natural.
The car roared around the minute turns, leaving the aging Crown Victoria several lengths behind. Few vehicles could outrun a police cruiser, and I was sitting in one. I’d gotten lucky, purchasing a black Charger that had spent its former life running down speeders and drunks on the highway. The cage separating the front and back seat was gone, but the back doors and locks were still defunct, and the engine was one of the most powerful you could pack into that particular vehicle.
I looked back, I’d gained several hundred feet on the cruiser. Would it be enough? The car roared up a hill before cresting and heading down and 45 degrees to the left. Once the slope and the turn got me out of the cop’s line of sight, I popped the car into neutral and shut the engine down.
I braked hard and veered off to the right. There was an access road that ran through the woods to a cornfield. I made it about one hundred feet in, shut off the car completely and waited.
A short few seconds later, lights flashing my pursuer roared past down the road. I breathed a short sigh of relief before turning back to my passenger. The bumpy ride had jarred her awake. She looked at me, not with fear, not completely anyways, not with hatred, but with curiosity and a depth of perception that made even me a little uncomfortable. I flashed my teeth at her again, she jumped, but then smiled faintly, laying back down.
The Allure of Buffalo
At present, the city of Buffalo is about 280,000 strong, the second poorest city in the nation, and the worst treated sports city by the football and hockey gods alike. So what then, about the city of my birth captivates me so?
As Robbie Takac of the Goo Goo Dolls once said, "The answers don't seem legitimate when you say them out loud, but in your heart, there's something real here."
I can't quite explain it, but every time I venture into the city of Buffalo (or nearby Lockport), I can't help but feel...almost at peace with myself. It just feels right. Syracuse seems like a hellhole of nothingness. I find it difficult to envision myself going anywhere in life in central New York. Whether it's the area itself or the people within, the region does have that aura. In spite of the economic downturn and the dwindling population, Buffalo just feel so full of hope, of promise, like there's something there for me.
Only the future can tell I suppose.
As Robbie Takac of the Goo Goo Dolls once said, "The answers don't seem legitimate when you say them out loud, but in your heart, there's something real here."
I can't quite explain it, but every time I venture into the city of Buffalo (or nearby Lockport), I can't help but feel...almost at peace with myself. It just feels right. Syracuse seems like a hellhole of nothingness. I find it difficult to envision myself going anywhere in life in central New York. Whether it's the area itself or the people within, the region does have that aura. In spite of the economic downturn and the dwindling population, Buffalo just feel so full of hope, of promise, like there's something there for me.
Only the future can tell I suppose.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Buffalo News Decides I am Awesome
http://www.buffalonews.com/cityregion/story/816176.html
They might be Giants
A letter from an aggrieved Buffalo Bills fan in Central New York generated a flurry of comments on the Post-Standard newspaper’s Web site this week.
Alexander S. Bauer, who lives in the Syracuse suburb of Baldwinsville, complained that a local network affiliate aired a game involving the New York Giants instead of a Bills game.
He noted Syracuse is 100 miles closer to Buffalo than it is to the Giants’ East Rutherford, N. J., home.
“Fox General Manager Aaron Olander needs a geography lesson, and to stop letting his apparent Giants bias get in the way of his job. This is a Buffalo market,” sniffed Bauer.
The letter had sparked 135 online responses as of Friday morning.
“I haven’t met a Bills fan yet—what do they look like?” said a Giants backer.
But we liked this fan’s take: “The Bills lost this weekend because their power comes from the hopes and dreams of their fans. Without our ability to watch the game on television, all hope is lost!”
They might be Giants
A letter from an aggrieved Buffalo Bills fan in Central New York generated a flurry of comments on the Post-Standard newspaper’s Web site this week.
Alexander S. Bauer, who lives in the Syracuse suburb of Baldwinsville, complained that a local network affiliate aired a game involving the New York Giants instead of a Bills game.
He noted Syracuse is 100 miles closer to Buffalo than it is to the Giants’ East Rutherford, N. J., home.
“Fox General Manager Aaron Olander needs a geography lesson, and to stop letting his apparent Giants bias get in the way of his job. This is a Buffalo market,” sniffed Bauer.
The letter had sparked 135 online responses as of Friday morning.
“I haven’t met a Bills fan yet—what do they look like?” said a Giants backer.
But we liked this fan’s take: “The Bills lost this weekend because their power comes from the hopes and dreams of their fans. Without our ability to watch the game on television, all hope is lost!”
Friday, October 2, 2009
Working Your Ass Off in College
Now, I went to Clarkson University and majored in Environmental Engineering, not exactly a psychology or communications major. I think it goes without saying that there was a fair amount of work involved. I was also a member of the Environmental Conservation Organization (ECO), and played intramural football. I did all my homework and studied, and yet I always had time for everything else I wanted to do.
It mystifies me that some people have so much work that they need to spend Saturdays in studying, or need to shirk time with their friends in favor of homework. I don't think I had a major with an inordinately low amount of work involved, yet I never seemed to have any trouble. I don't get it.
It mystifies me that some people have so much work that they need to spend Saturdays in studying, or need to shirk time with their friends in favor of homework. I don't think I had a major with an inordinately low amount of work involved, yet I never seemed to have any trouble. I don't get it.
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