The Bruins are still playing which means I am enjoying busier shifts at work, serving nachos and light beer to a collection of men between the ages of 20-50 about three times a week, and in many cases, their supportive, yet slightly confused girlfriends or wives who deck themselves out in black and gold because the Bruins are the trendy sports team to root for right now. Unofficial survey indicates that the most frequently used words by male Bruins fans are, in order, 'faggot,' 'homo,' and 'pussy.' This is, of course, inappropriate, but as long as they keep drinking and tipping I will hope every game goes in to overtime and every series goes seven games until those pussy faggot homos finally win. Or, more likely, lose in heartbreaking fashion. I wonder, if the Bruins win the Cup this year, what will be the new trendy team for bandwagon fans and their uneducated girlfriends to root for? It has to be the Patriots, I guess, they would be the least removed from a championship at that point.
The Celtics, who many of you know rank #3 on my list of things that I love the most in the world, effectively screwed themselves out of one last chance at a championship by trading their toughest and most liked player at the trade deadline because they were paranoid about not having enough offense. Well, it turns out trading away one of your key players for offensive potential is not the right plan when you are chasing a championship with an aging team whose number one weapon is experience and continuity. The starting five from 2008 has still never lost a playoff series when all of them are on the floor together. The sad part about that is they couldn't seem to stay healthy long enough to make that work. After the 2008 championship they were decimated by untimely injuries that cost them at least one more banner. They were a buzz saw of a team in 2009 before Kevin Garnett got hurt- he's never been the same after- and they no doubt would have won game 7 of the finals last year if Kendrick Perkins hadn't blown out his knee in game 6. Instead they gave up 17 offensive rebounds to the Lakers and took a shit on my heart. That night ranks among the most depressing nights of my life. Without exaggeration, after that loss I sat in the rain on my deck for three and a half hours, drank and entire bottle of champagne and smoked three quarters of a pack of cigarettes until I passed out. Alone. I hate champagne and I don't smoke...
This year was supposed to exorcize that demon but instead they made 'the trade' and now Kendrick Perkins is in Oklahoma playing for the Western Conference title while the Celtics and, more importantly, myself, wonder what could have been if they just stuck to their guns.
Enough about basketball. Sorry about that. I haven't really been able to talk about any of that since they were eliminated by the soulless Miami LeBrons last week.
As for Av, she is now very much a 2-year-old. Fresh, adorable, infuriating, hilarious and annoying all at the same time. She is extremely talkative lately, bringing up things that happened days ago like Rain Man. Yesterday I stepped in dog poop because the inconsiderate losers downstairs don't pick up after their dog. She has been recounting the story ever since.
We went to a barbecue at our friend's house on Saturday. Likewise, she has been recounting that day over and over. Most of the conversation topic revolves around their dog and my friend's future wife, Meg, who she took a liking to. She, for some strange reason, is called Bob. There were others there who are referred to as 'dat lady' and 'dat man,' as if I was not at the party and needed a recap of what she did.
Perhaps the most hilarious thing that she has been saying recently is "dat jam is kickin'" which she says when she hears a song that she likes. I taught her how to say this, rather unintentionally, yesterday. The song 'Garden Grove' by Sublime came on my iPod while we were car dancing and I said 'ooohhh; this jam is kickin' for no other reason than to humor myself. She repeated it and it was on. The funniest part is that she actually deciphers which songs are 'kickin' and which ones aren't. "Dis one not kickin.'"
She also says 'honkey' instead of hungry, which is great, and will not let anyone, including herself, get away with farting. She thinks farts are hysterical and, let's be honest, they kind of are.
So, that's that. Not a whole hell of a lot going on. No fun stories. Today at art class Ms. Berta told me a sex offender lives next door. How are sex offenders allowed to live next door to the YMCA? I'm not sure, but it seems to me that maybe we aught to relax a little on towing cars with expired tags and focus on keeping perverts in jail. I think there should be a 'Pervert Island' where all of the sex offenders can just rape each other all day and leave the rest of us alone. Ms. Berta also routinely bags her, apparently very stupid, teenaged son skipping school.
"Oh, Jesus, that's my teenager walking down the street,"
I mean, you know where your mom works, why would you walk by? One day he came in and asked her for a cigarette. That sparked this conversation between she and I.
"Were you a good teenager? Or did you skip school and smoke with your friends."
"Ahh, I mean, I was pretty good. Here and there, we all do, right?"
"Exactly. He's normal. He hates school and he likes to smoke pot. My other son is the opposite. I think it's normal."
Sweet. I like Ms. Berta. She is just the coarse, raspy friend that toddlers need. Didn't do the best job with that second son, though.
So, there you have it. I have just effectively emptied my brain on to this computer screen. Take it for what it is worth.
...
Here are some jams that were deemed 'kickin.' And, no, I have no problem exposing my 2-year-old to profanity-laced hip hop at this stage. She's never repeated any of it. She just likes the beats. And, be honest, who doesn't like the beats? It is no different than you or I being raised on Clapton or the Rolling Stones. 85 percent of those songs were about cocaine... Anyway, I'll police her music better when she is older.
This jam was deemed 'not kickin.' I disagree.
This jam was deemed 'not kickin.' I disagree.
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