Fragment Blog 1

A blog in fragments. Because fragments are awesome. Stole the idea from the Crash Love iTunes LP. So here it is. Fragment blog. Hopefully the first of many.

Sleeping with knees everywhere. Going to the couch to be stared at by Mom and Aunt Noell and garbage-licking anchor dog. Sleeping like crap because of convicted felon cousin who is being stupid again. Waking up to Landon staring at me. Beautiful Thieves on MTV 2. Napping in the morning to A Fire Inside and the Shelby-riffic/garbage kiss wake-up. Dudesons with Abby, Flames game with Dad lacking Dion, but with added gabbing, screaming squirts, douchey Calgary fans, onion breath, and unnecessary knee touching. Being sandwiched to Dad's side, except when I send him to find vegetarian food on the concourse that has no exploitation. Flinching at the name Dave and secretly imagining him in the seat next to me - totally out of his element. Phone blogging in fragments. Lady Gaga dance-off during the first intermission with a contestant named Adam. Looking out for douchebags in Hossa jerseys and puck-bunnies during a scoreless first period, and trying not to slip on spilled liver poison when seat jumping is required. Pretending to be Italian and ducking flying Caesar's.

A rowdy second period, which sparks an internal powerplay debate, douchey Calgary fans stay douchey while hometown fans get douchier. More knee touching. Game rivalries nearly turn into a war with the entire country of Canada. A chorus of boos gives way to the mother of all headaches. Kids in Crosby jerseys and old people in Toronto ones. Black pants with brown boots, pre-ripped jeans and coach purses, drunkenness are not fashionable. Intermission leads to imagining Jade on figure skates. Sticky, dried liver poison and a refill for Dad. The sudden urge to pee, but not doing it for fear of long lines and public restrooms. Complaining about the music choice and noise meter, which is a lie. The throwing of objects onto the ice surface is prohibited, but the throwing of peanut shells at opposing fans isn't - it should be. Razzing Kipper and taking it too far. Wings score two, Calgary one. Lots of hits and opinionated fans in a packed house. Creeper Flames fans looking for cronies. Olympic boycott for ruining American/Canadian diplomacy. Head is pounding worse than Kill Caustic at the State in November. Enlightening discovery of Timmy's on the concourse, which is perfect for the coffee addict hockey fan.

Sucking it up and using the facilities. Finding out Bert fans exist, and laughing at that fact. Not being able to get away from Brighton, even while in Detroit. Being weirded out at the sight of a little boy in the ladies' room., and coming back to a tied game. Goalies who score on themselves and refs who call nothing. Still more knee touching. Howard chants and offsetting team cheers, once again. More Italian impersonators and people on the jumbotron devouring their free bloody-meaty-meat pizza. Wasted powerplays and realizing that the Flamer douchebag two rows down has a space in his faux-hawk for his sunglasses, even though the Joe is a dungeon. Wondering what fraction of cow was used to make the arena hostess's leather jacket. Marveling at how far a child's voice can carry and how drunks can't coordinate their yelling. Wishing my section won free Timmy's, and then considering that my bad luck would never let that happen. Bad movie montage and a slow-clap catastrophe. Strobe-induced seizures and people picking on Jon. Momentum shifts, trying not to give up, and foot-tapping to stoppage music. Trying not to yawn and fighting to keep my eyes open. Preparing for the long trek home by LOLing at cheesy animations. Missing Darren, Tater, and May, because the Flames could really use having their asses handed to them. The follies of the noise meter making ears ring and heads spin, and listening to omniscient fans' chatter makes it worse. Weezer and more drunk, loud fans. Dad complaints - can't wait for Milwaukee and Ottawa. Flames empty-netter, Calgary wins, and the wings are back out of the playoffs. Tunnel potholes, cancer-sticks, and bald tires on road patches. Weddings, roommates, lack of laser hair removal billboards, stuck semi trucks, traffic jams, and speed limits. Curing headaches with A Fire Inside. Finally, warm spring nights, mud, and honey bees, dad in a drunken stupor, the dog, peach tea, trucks lit up like Christmas trees, and cows? Deserted back roads, empty parking spaces nearly void of snow, the other dog, who is surprisingly quiet. An Ansley-free bedside! More A Fire Inside, and more phone blogging. The end of a funky hair day. And then, there was a crash, and out like a light.