Preston the Llama loves game sevens.
Carolina got *mauled* by Edmonton tonight and now heads home to face the most exciting thing in all of everything, an NHL game 7. It probably has not come out in any way to this point that I love hockey, clearly a dank betrayal of my confederate roots. The lockout pretty much killed my enthusiasm of late (the Finals have resurrected it to a great degree), but there was a time when I would watch any hockey game of any variety any time. I randomly took on the Sharks as a team of choice - and you may think I'm using "random" in that quasi-cool, late 90's early aughts way, as in "OMG, you hooked up with the most rando skank last night!" but I'm not - really, my roommate Ryan and I picked random teams to play against one another in NHL 98; he got Carolina, I got San Jose - and ever since that fateful night in '98, I've been a southernly displaced ice addict. Like I mentioned a couple fo days ago - there's some deadly romanticism in the struggle for every advantage when goals are scarce, something that soccer embraces and hockey just a little bit less so. But hockey also has body checks and fights, so they apply to my non pony-tailed side, too.
Only problem, getting back on track, is that we have an Ultimate game Monday night during the game 7. Boo-urns! I guess I'll record, or maybe stop by a sports bar on the way home all stanktified. Too bad.
Ah, Ultimate. I haven't played in a couple of weeks - been banged up a little, generally unenthusiastic about the game and the Roid, and seriously unenthusiastic about the prospect of driving over an hour only to have a game rained out. Hopefully the time off has healed my weary legs a little bit. We'll see.
Not much else - we went to the Worcester Art Museum with Val, one of Beck's classmates this morning. The museum was very cool; we didn't see a ton, but saw some surrealism that... well, hey, I'll just:
Violin d'Ingres by Man Ray (1924)
Which is just a fantastic image. Saw lots of others that I don't particularly feel like scouring the web for right this second... in fact, it's too late for art talk. Suffice it - good time, good inspiration from the museum. I listened to Miles Davis's A Tribute to Jack johnson to drown out the ill-dreamt commentary from the other patrons, and it made for an excellent soundscape.
Got some Chinese food with Val in a dingy Worcester Chinese restuarant. The food was excellent; the ambience was full of solicitors, sleazy dudes and general dirtiness. Val is a crazy driver, not surprisingly. That's all I got. Oh, she also likes to suck a large quantity of face with her boyfriend in public.
Tiredness creeps in. Time to bed... AJ tomorrow! Wahoo!
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