Dream Wedding Madness.

Almost every blog that I follow has mentioned the Royal Wedding at least once by now. Like the rest of the American female population, I am recording the wedding for sometime much later tomorrow. I am also attending a wedding on Saturday for two of my good friends.

So, I'm in the wedding mood. Want to know all about my dream wedding scenario? If not, that's fine. Close out now.

Bachelorette Party

Hopefully my fiance will understand that I would rather spend more money on my bachelorette party and the honeymoon than the wedding itself. Is that cool?

My ideal bachelorette party consists of me, my lovely bridesmaids, and a private box at a Penguins game in Pittsburgh or a Bengals game in Cincinnati. This way, everyone wins. I get my Pens/Bengals and my friends get unlimited, free liquor. Let's be honest - that's the only way they'd have fun at a hockey/football game. Maybe someone could tell the team about it and I could get some post-game lap dances?


After the game, we catch a cab to the Southside to dance for hours at Diesel (Pittsburgh) or head to Newport for Toro and Hofbrauhaus (Cincinnati).

Wedding

Ideally, I'd like to get married in October. It's my favorite month and the weather is usually perfect in Ohio. I would love to get married in Kumler Chapel in Oxford, Ohio. It's on Western Campus at Miami University (my alma mater) and it's absolutely beautiful. It's also pretty secluded from campus and with the leaves changing? *sigh*


I can't even begin to talk about a wedding dress. I have no idea.

I would like the colors to be cobalt/royal blue and white. Bridesmaid dresses like this?



If my fiance doesn't at least agree to perform a synchronized dance routine on the way out of the chapel, it's a deal-breaker.

Dinner (Mexican taco/burrito bar?) and dancing at the reception. Duh. My family and friends would disown me if it wasn't full bar. Ice cream. There will be lots of glorious ice cream.

Honeymoon

If I pretend that time and money aren't a factor, I can go insane with this. I would love a month-long European romantic excursion with stops in:

Venice


Florence


London, Paris, Munich (Oktoberfest, of course), Berlin, Madrid, Barcelona, Vienna, Amsterdam, Copenhagen, Stockholm, Zurich, Dublin. Basically buy a Eurail pass and travel all around.

I better marry a rich guy, huh? Oh, look. I found just the one.


The upside? I have more than enough time to change my mind on all of this.

The End. Ugh.

It's been an hour since time expired on Game 7. One hour since the season ended early for the Penguins. The players are probably still leaving the locker room, disheartened and reeling in the pain of defeat. The light will soon be switched off for the last time, empty stalls waiting for the pre-season.

I should be proud of my team. I should be thrilled with how they performed without their superstars. Crosby missed 48 games, Geno missed 46 games, Staal missed 40. To put this into perspective: Take the Miami Heat. Eliminate Lebron James and Dwayne Wade at the same time. Now, put that team in the playoffs. That is the equivalent.

I should marvel over their endurance, their character, and their perseverance. I should be over-the-moon with Flower's performance. I should find comfort in knowing that there is always next season, a new season with healthy players. I should be content knowing that the Pens have the greatest coach in the NHL. I should be happy that my boy Staalsy played like a man possessed in his last two games.

...and I am. Still, I'm upset. Really upset. It wasn't supposed to end like this. The Pens were supposed to prove that they have more depth than the only two players ever mentioned on ESPN. I'm also left wondering if Sidney Crosby is actually alive. Was that person we've seen sitting in the box during this series a hologram? What if he hadn't suffered a concussion? What if his headache had gone away a little earlier? What if the power play had found more success than my cartwheel attempts?

I tried to make my peace with this season, but I couldn't. I refused to write my team off when everyone else had. I refused to believe that they wouldn't clinch home ice in the playoffs. I refused to believe they couldn't perform without Sid and Geno. I refused to believe that they would lose Game 7. I might have said they would lose, but I didn't mean it. That was my defense mechanism, a desperate attempt to safeguard myself in case they lost.

But now, it's a reality. The season is over, the Pens have been sentenced to an early summer of khaki shorts and golf, and I'm facing a harsh new reality: Baseball season. It's time to move on. Sometimes, I feel like Jimmy Fallon in Fever Pitch. When you reach the point where the athletes themselves might actually console you, there is a serious problem.

So, with more than a few tears in my eyes, I'm moving on. I'm taking deep breaths. I'm cutting my losses. I won't let the endless 'What ifs' get me down. There's no point, anymore. I'm proud of what my boys accomplished when faced with so much adversity, but I'm even more excited for next season. Because as much as I hate it when people tell me this, there is always next season.


See you in October, boys!

Glee soothes the soul.

After watching a heartrending Game 7 overtime loss for Chicago (and past Man Meat honoree, Jonathan Toews), I needed something to lift my spirits. Absolutely nothing does the trick better than 90 minutes of Glee. So, here is the Glee-cap.

+ Quinn and Rachel's rendition of TLC's "Unpretty" and "I Feel Pretty." I loved that song then, I love that song now. RIP Left Eye.

- Finn hits Rachel in the nose and suddenly, she's getting a nose job? She hasn't ever mentioned being self-conscious about her nose before. In fact, she embraced it. Like crazy. This seemed random and forced to fit the theme of the episode. Plus, if I looked like Lea Michele, I would not want to change a thing about myself.

+ The Emma OCD issue. Although I thought Schue was being too pushy with his confrontation (forcing her? making her feel guilty?), I thought her acting in the therapist's office was great. I actually felt sympathy for her character and her OCD has been a long-standing problem. It's nice to see some evolution with it.

- Too many Quinn and Finn kisses. No, no, no. Stop that. Finnchel for life.

+ Kurt. Is. Back. I love him and I want him at McKinley, even if that means fewer performances by the Warblers. His voice is unreal and gives me chills.

- Speaking of the Warblers, although their performance of "Somewhere Only We Know" was heart-warming, why didn't the characters actually saying goodbye to Kurt sing more of it? Blaine isn't leaving the show, but the Warblers might be. Don't they deserve a better send-off? Also, didn't Blaine look like he was passing a kidney stone during the performance?

+ Sam's Sean Connery impression. Not as good as James Earl Jones, but I will take it.

+ Karofsky might be coming around. I know Santana practically blackmailed him into apologizing, but I think we all know that this is the start of a better Karofsky - one that finally accepts the Glee club and hopefully himself, too. Plus, that guy is smokin' hot.

- Is it bad that I didn't really miss Sue?

+ Santana pointed out that Finn has "puffy, pyramid nipples" that could pass as a dessert. I laughed because I know that EXACT person. Spot on description from McKinley High's resident bitch. Also, the "gingers have no soul" reference? Perfect.

- Another mall flash mob scene? Don't get me wrong. I love the song "Barbra Streisand," but didn't they do this already? Artie dream-dancing to "Safety Dance?" I live in Ohio and I can promise you that random flash mob dance routines are not as common as they appear to be in Lima.

+ "Born This Way" performance. I loved the shirts, particularly Puck's (I'm with Stupid and an arrow pointing to his crotch). Accepting and loving yourself is an important message and I love that Glee handles it realistically. Every single person feels self-conscious about something. If everyone realized that, there would be a lot less bullying.


- Unfortunately, I think Glee sort of missed the mark with the "accepting yourself" message. They spent time harping that you should love yourself as you are, including your imperfections. Then, Quinn (or "Lucy Caboosey") explains that she hated her old appearance and had to lose weight, get a nose job, and use Proactiv in order to finally love herself? She had to lie about her past in order to be accepted? This is the exact opposite of the intended message. Then, to make matters worse, adoring underclassmen start to worship her and vow to vote for her for Prom Queen because she overcame her ugliness, changed herself, and became something generally accepted as beautiful? Ugh. She knows how bad it feels to hate yourself, so why does she make others feel inferior all the time? I worry that people will leave with the wrong message: If you lose the weight and pimples, get contacts, dye your hair blonde, and fix your nose, you'll be head cheerleader and date Finn.

...I understand that we are supposed to leave the episode with the knowledge that even Quinn is self-conscious. She hated her old appearance and Finn tries to make her accept herself for who she truly is. BUT, let's be honest. Even Finn wouldn't date Lucy Caboosey and that's the hard truth. He might be friends with her, but he certainly wouldn't date her. That is the real world. That is why people are self-conscious in the first place. That is why the Puck/Lauren Zizes plot is unfair. Although that storyline is also a great message (feeling confident in your body and liking someone for something other than looks alone), it is unrealistic. We all know it, but are afraid to admit it. That, however, is a whole new rant. *steps off soapbox*

Despite the huge contradiction in this episode, I thought it was a HUGE improvement over last week's episode (which I thought was horrible). I can't wait for Prom and Nationals!

...if only there were a new episode tomorrow night for after the Pens game. I'm probably going to need it.

Pens: 3. Lightning: VOMIT.

No, I didn't forget that today was Monday. Today (and last night), I realized that I wasn't feeling any celebrities in particular. Weird, I know. I think my feeling of general moodiness today stemmed from the doom I was foreseeing in my future. Let me explain.

Do not - I repeat - DO NOT watch a sports event with me if I am invested in one of the teams/competitors. Seriously. I am a maniac. I usually react in one of two ways: 1. I scream, cry, punch, pull hair, threaten, etc. 2. I sit silently, trying to contain myself, putting my head in my shirt, ignoring everyone that speaks to me (for fear of lashing out at them in anger), and eventually crying, anyway.

Tonight was option #2. The Pens lost again to the Lightning. After a hideous 8-2 loss on Saturday (that I conveniently missed), I hoped the Pens would rebound and finish the series tonight, giving me some time to regain my composure. However, deep down, I knew the Pens wouldn't finish them off tonight. I felt nervous and jittery all day. The eternal pessimist in me knew better.

Sure enough, the Pens lost, 4-2. Not even goals from Dupuis and Staalsy could cheer me up. Fleury seemed mediocre, Chris Conner absolutely blew a penalty shot, Letang played the ugliest game I've ever seen him play, and the Pens' power play is more embarrassing than the time I tripped and did a double somersault, which exposed an ample amount of my buttcrack, in front of my 9th grade crush. Yeah, that embarrassing.

Needless to say, Tampa Bay has forced Game 7. Wednesday night. Do or die. I can't explain how nervous I am. In fact, I'm flirting with the idea of not actually watching the game. But, who am I kidding? I would never miss it.

So, I'm trying to find ways to help the team. I'll do anything. Tribal dances. Monetary bribes. Witchcraft. Blackmail. Motivational speeches. Voodoo dolls. Sexual favors. I'm not above animal sacrifice.

In fact, I think I have the perfect candidate.

LP is HOME!

It's official. My brother is home!

Our trip seemed to take forever, but I think it was the nerves and excitement that dragged it out. After a night in Knoxville and a night (and a huge OT win for the Pens) in Beaufort, South Carolina, we finally entered Parris Island to see LP for the first time!

Thursday was Family Day and it began with a motivational run at 7:00 AM. We drove onto Parris Island and stood near the Peatross Parade Deck, braving the sand fleas and waiting for the recruits to come out. Finally, they marched out and we scoured Platoon 1026 for LP.

After five minutes of searching and multiple pictures taken, we spotted him. They stretched for a bit before starting their 3-mile run. The crowd, all dressed in red (1st Batallion's color), cheered. They ran past us and onto the street to finish their very last challenge as a recruit. My heart broke when one of the recruits twisted his ankle and fell at the very end of the run.


After the run, we waited for a presentation by Brigadier General Padilla. We learned about everything he had accomplished, heard about the rigors of the Crucible, and watched them march in formation in their uniforms. Finally, they were released for five hours of liberty. We rushed down the stairs, searching frantically for him. When we finally found him, he was already crying, overwhelmed and relieved. All four of us stood there, hugging and crying for what seemed like forever.


Finally, we walked to his squad bay barracks to see where he lived for the last three months. We met Senior Drill Instructor Pider and helped carry his bags out to the car. LP seemed strange. He was quiet, marching, standing straight, and wouldn't smile. I was worried that the Marine Corps had taken my brother from me. He seemed paranoid and sat stick-straight in the backseat of the car. Whenever I made a joke, he would start to smile, then close his mouth tight.


We went to Backyard Burger for lunch. Although the food was subpar, LP thought it was delicious - his first greasy burger in quite awhile. He told us stories from boot camp, talked about how tough the Crucible was, explained how rough the drill instructors were on him. Still, he sat stick-straight in his uniform, the picture of the perfect soldier.

After lunch, we went to Parris Island's Marine Museum. While we were there, I walked up to him and gave him another hug. When I let go, a woman in her 80s, leaning on a walker, asked me if she could hug him, too. I said, of course, and she did. I noticed a tear fall down her cheek as she pulled away.

We drove around the island, checked out the PX, watched other recruits do some shooting drills, and saw the famous yellow footprints where Marines are first dropped off and taught how to stand like a soldier when boot camp begins. Slowly but surely, LP began to relax. He drank a Monster and started to rap along with Waka Flocka.


Time flew and his liberty ended. I wanted nothing more than to steal him and take him home. We watched him march away from us for the last time.

The next morning, we headed back to the island for graduation. The stands on the Peatross Parade Deck were packed with family and friends of the graduates. Our family friends, Sidney and Sid, made the trip from Richmond, Virginia to watch LP graduate.

The graduation ceremony was awesome. The Marine Corps band played a few pieces, we saw the bulldog mascot (Hummer), and the graduates marched past us. I absolutely love the sound when they turn in unison. Every movement was timed to perfection. It was incredible. One of the guys in LP's platoon passed out during the ceremony and had to be taken off in a golfcart.



At long last, the drill instructors dismissed their new Marines and they turned and shouted, "Aye, Staff Sergeant. Ooh-Rah!" LP was finally a United States Marine. At his order, we practically ran out of there, ate a big lunch, and drove to Knoxville for the night. We talked the entire way there - hearing more of his stories and learning his new lingo. My favorite? Flashlight = Moonbeam.

He started to relax, bought a couple magazines, and drank another Monster. I knew I had my brother back when he mocked me at dinner. Some things never change, right?


Yesterday, we delayed our departure from the hotel because we had a surprise homecoming party planned for LP. When we got into town, he changed into his uniform to show Jamie and Jenn. Little did he know, 20 of his closest friends were also at our house, waiting for his arrival. His reaction was precious. He didn't know what to do and just smiled in complete shock. Jamie and Jenn had decorated the house, Dad grilled out, and we spent all day, catching up and celebrating his return home.

It was so wonderful waking up and seeing him in the living room today. I can't stop hugging him. He is exactly the same, wrestling me every chance he gets. He finally feels comfortable laughing out loud. Don't get me wrong - he has changed. He stands taller and holds doors open. He has grown up and has every right to be proud of what he has accomplished.

He leaves for North Carolina on May 2nd, so I'm cherishing every moment I get with him until then. Having him at home is definitely what I'm most thankful for this Easter.

Also, I know I'm biased, but I think he makes the most handsome soldier ever.



My brother, my best friend, my Marine.

Pens: 2. Lightning: 1.

By some miracle, I actually convinced Jenn to watch Game 3 of the series with me. Although the Pens had control of nearly the entire game, I was in full-on panic mode, complete with swearing like a sailor and threatening those in booths nearby.

With two Pens' goals (Talbot and Asham) in the first period, I thought I could relax and enjoy a game for once. I was wrong, of course. St. Louis scored, putting me back on the edge of my seat. The Penguins continued to fail on the power play and allowed Tampa Bay to score another PP goal in the third period. Ugh. Then, Tyler Kennedy swooped in and saved the day. Penguins take the game, 3-2.

I start to breathe with some regularity and my blood pressure drops back to normal levels.

Since I know that none of you care about playoff hockey, the Penguins, or the outcome of tonight's game, I've decided to share a few things that might excite my female readers. Maybe a bit?

The first (and possibly only) installment of...
Sweaty Penguins Wipe Their Beautiful Faces



Max Talbot



Jordan Staal

You're welcome.

I'm leaving tomorrow for my brother's graduation from boot camp (FINALLY!). I cannot wait to see him! Unfortunately, I will not be back until Saturday, which means no Glee-cap tomorrow and no Pens update on Wednesday. So, in order to tide you over until Saturday, I'll post the brief conversation I had with Jordan Staal today while in Pleasure Town.

Jordan: Look. The most glorious rainbow ever.

Me: Do me on it.


Yeah. It's been awhile since I've made a pixelated, ridiculous picture in MS paint. I figured I was overdue.

See you Saturday, my friends!

Man Meat Monday #14

Most of my friends can attest to the fact that I am notorious for procrastinating. I mean - really, really bad. My last year of college consisted of going out every night with friends, then returning home at 3:00 AM to write a 10-page Spanish paper. I'm not proud, but I work well under pressure.

Man Meat Monday is no different. Most weeks, I don't even know who I will choose until 1:00 AM on Monday morning. Tonight, while flipping through the channels with my best friend, his beautiful face accosted me through the TV screen and I knew it was his time. Trust me - it was coming sooner or later...

Matt Damon

Claim to Fame: Actor (Saving Private Ryan, Bourne trilogy, Ocean's movies)

Birthday: October 8, 1970

For me, Matt Damon is the flawless embodiment of the sweet guy next door. Unfortunately, I've learned over the years that the guy next door is never as good-looking as Matt Damon.

Like the rest of America, Matt Damon entered my life with Good Will Hunting, a brilliant film that he and childhood friend Ben Affleck acted in and co-wrote. I will never forget watching them win their Oscars for Best Original Screenplay. That was the precise moment when I decided that I wanted to write for a living.

After that, I was hooked on Matt Damon. His roles have included some of my favorite movies, including Saving Private Ryan, Dogma, the Ocean's trilogy, the Bourne trilogy, Rounders, and my favorite movie ever: The Departed. However, it's the behind-the-scenes info on Matt that has fueled my Boston-boy fantasy for years.

I know that I spend a lot of time drooling over professional athletes, but what I REALLY want in a guy is intelligence. Matt Damon has it. Not only did he write an Oscar-winning screenplay, he attended Harvard for four years as an English major (but left 12 credits short of graduating to move to LA to pursue his acting career). He's hilarious, liberal, and involved in a number of humanitarian projects, including the ONE campaign, H20 Africa Foundation, and he co-founded Not on Our Watch (which works to prevent genocides).

If you still need convincing, watch him chew gum. Seriously. I have never wanted to be an inanimate object more in my entire life than when I'm watching Matt Damon chew gum.

Random Tidbit: He does an incredible impression of Matthew McConaughey.



Only downfall?: He's married, of course. Don't worry. I'm creating a support group.

Also, how can three guys as amazing as Matt Damon, Ben Affleck, and Casey Affleck grow up as childhood best friends? Why didn't their neighborhood implode and become a black hole as a result of the fusion created by their collective hotness?


My favorite scene from Saving Private Ryan. He is so natural and perfect. Fight the tears.



So, readers: It's your turn. Do you ever find yourself wondering how good Will Hunting must be? How do you like his apples?

Pens: 1. Lightning: 1.

Yeah, I don't even want to talk about it. The game was atrocious for Pens' fans, even without horrible karaoke in the background. Infinite amount of Penguin penalties. Unfortunately, the Penguins are incapable of capitalizing on the power play. The Lightning man-handled my boys with a final score of 5-1.

Because I felt like embarking on a homicidal rampage, I decided to live vicariously through the ghostface killer and went to see Scream 4 after the game. The Scream trilogy was a huge part of my childhood and a key explanation as to why I'm a horror movie buff. Wes Craven re-defined slasher film for an entire generation and although I entered the movie with apprehension, I wasn't disappointed.

Ten years after the infamous Woodsboro murders, Sidney Prescott (Neve Campbell) returns home on the last stop of her book tour. However, her reunion with the now-married Sheriff Dewey Riley (David Arquette) and Gale Weathers (Courtney Cox) is anything but pleasant. Shortly after her arrival, the ghostface killer makes his timely return and high schoolers start dropping like the Dow Jones in 2008. Yet again, Sidney, Gale, and Dewey must join forces not only to discover the surprising identity of the killer, but also to survive - in a new decade where the horror movie rules have been re-written.

The movie had multiple references to the first film (which I loved). The opening was inventive and comical and there were plenty of jump-worthy moments.

If you are okay with gore, cheesy dialogue (in the Wes Craven-style), and David Arquette's ridiculous mustache, check out Scream 4. One suggestion? Do not go to the 11:50 PM showing unless you want pre-teens screaming all around you like Justin Bieber just shaved his head.

Music Festival Fantasy Land

It's official.

I'm attending the official Dave Matthews Band Caravan in Chicago this summer! Words cannot explain how excited I am.

When DMB announced that they weren't touring this summer, I was devastated. One (or three) DMB shows have become a staple part of my summer. I look forward to it all year and my summer isn't complete until I hear "#41" and catch a contact high from nearby concert-goers.

So, when I heard that DMB was hosting a 3-day musical festival lakeside in Chicago, I was already sold. Then, I learned that DMB would be playing a FULL set every night of the festival. Then, I learned that Dave would be playing an acoustic set with Tim Reynolds. #mybodyisready

Other artists performing at the festival? Ray LaMontagne, Kid Cudi, G. Love & Special Sauce, Michael Franti & Spearhead, The Flaming Lips perform Dark Side of the Moon, Ben Folds, David Gray, OAR, Amos Lee, Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings, and TR3. I know. I'm dead.

While drooling over the lineup at Bonnaroo this summer, I've decided to create the ultimate music festival for me. A girl can dream, right?

Dave Matthews Band. John Mayer. Michael Buble. The Rolling Stones. Elton John. Jay-Z. Ben Harper. Ray LaMontagne. Explosions in the Sky. The Black Keys. Coldplay. Lady Gaga. Roger Waters (Pink Floyd). Damien Rice. G. Love & Special Sauce. Third Eye Blind. Alanis Morisette. Lil Wayne. Kings of Leon. Sarah McLachlan. Maroon 5. Jason Mraz. Bela Fleck & the Flecktones. John Fogerty. Miranda Lambert. Matisyahu. Mumford & Sons. The Avett Brothers. Temper Trap. Joanna Newsome.

...and in my ultimate fantasy, Simon and Garfunkel reunite for one night only.

...and Elvis, Marvin Gaye, Frank Sinatra, John Lennon, and George Harrison rise from the dead.

Who would play in your ultimate music festival?

Pens: 1. Lightning: 0.

This blog will be overwhelmingly hockey-related until the Pens get eliminated from the playoffs win the Stanley Cup. Sorry I'm not sorry.

Remember how I compared the first round of the playoffs to foreplay yesterday? Yeah. That was for the extended metaphor's sake. I'm a maniac right from the beginning. I treat every game like it's the Stanley Cup final. Probably not healthy...

I had to watch the first game of the series in the midst of a particularly horrible karaoke night at BW3s. The first two periods were complete torture for me. As much as I love little kids and Coldplay, I wanted to throw my knife and fork at the 8-year-old who sang "Viva La Vida" and had clearly never heard the song before. When the 80-year-old woman (who is a regular on karaoke night) started her usual "Can't Get You Outta My Head" by Kylie Minogue, tears sprang to my eyes.

Then, James Neal made a delicious pass to Kovy who sent it home. 1-0, Pens. 18 seconds later, unsung hero Arron Asham scored, basically finishing the game. Fast-forward ten minutes, the goalie is pulled and Kunitz scores the empty-netter. Pens take the series lead with a 3-0 win. I fought the urge to karaoke "We are the Champions."

They showed Sid, sitting in a box with a headset on. He seemed so focused. Again, I battled tears. Staalsy had a solid game - he had a few dangerously-close shots and was named 3rd star of the game. Mostly, he distracted Stamkos, St. Louis, and company with his gorgeous cleft chin and enormous hands.


Fleury single-handedly owned the Lightning. Perfect game for him. Beautiful start to the series. Good news - Pittsburgh's forecast is calling for some more FLEURYS and white-out conditions for Friday. Come on. You knew it was coming. Floridians can't handle snow. Get it?

A not-so-subtle metaphor for hockey playoffs...

There are few things in this life that I love more than chubby Mexican babies, red velvet ice cream, singing and playing the piano, and Chipotle. Those things are: my family, my friends, the Cincinnati Bengals, traveling, Dr. Pepper, Dave Matthews Band, blogging, and playoff hockey.

Despite how it appears in my blog, football is my sport of choice. However, as much as I cherish the entire game of football, I prefer hockey playoffs to football playoffs. Let me explain. Football playoffs are sudden death. If a team has one bad game, the hard work they put in throughout the season means absolutely nothing. The season is over after one loss. You know that feeling you get when the Patriots lose in the playoffs? 95% pure joy at their utter defeat and a 5% feeling of guilt because you know they deserved the AFC championship more than the other team.

Don't get me wrong. I love an underdog victory as much as the next person. However, I also value hard work all season long. Punishment for one off-day hardly seems fair at times.

Playoff hockey has the ferocity of football playoffs with the endurance of baseball playoffs. Four rounds of best-of-seven series - lasting well over a month. Trust me - there are plenty of upsets and plenty of choke jobs in hockey (*cough* the Capitals). However, those upsets are hard-fought. They are well-deserved because they are earned after more than one lucky victory. Each team has multiple chances to redeem themselves, get over bad nights, and re-focus. No excuses.

Hockey playoffs are a wild, exhilirating ride. Hop on board with me.

The first round gets your juices flowing. You're nervous, overly excited, almost awkward. You watch your team with a bit of apprehension, but it feels good. You're in the post-season.

Momentum picks up in the second round. You have a little more confidence after the first-round victory. The pace starts to pick up, you start to settle into a certain playoff groove. You're ready for what's next.

The third round - all bets are off. Your breathing starts to hitch, you release incomprehensible moans, the tension is becoming too much to handle. You start to feel that pressure in your loins and, for the first time, you allow yourself to think two words: Almost there.

The final round consists of rough, mind-blowing hockey. Friends and loved ones feel uncomfortable watching games with you. You scream profanities you didn't know existed, you sweat profusely, you desperately hold onto anything nearby that can keep you stable, upright, and conscious. The games ravage you to your very core. The finals culminate in the awarding of Lord Stanley's Cup, a tradition that often leaves you in tears, emotionally exhausted, and surprisingly relieved that hockey doesn't return until October. Your heart can't take it anymore.

...and it all starts tonight. Penguins vs. Lightning. Bring it home, boys!

Whew. Time for a cold shower.

Sometimes is always okay.

Sometimes, the walk from the car to your house in the pouring rain isn't that bad. Slow down. Close your eyes. Breathe deeply. Listen to the pitter-patter. Smell the wet pavement. Suddenly, the frizziness of your hair seems secondary.

Sometimes, acting like a child is the best option. When every second of your life is consumed by obligations, to-do lists, stress, and worries, you forget how wonderful the simplicity of childhood was. I promise you - the hardest I laughed today was during a game of leap frog with my 23-year-old best friend.

Sometimes, simply not talking says much more than any combination of words ever could. As a teenager, I thought I could be more mature, more assertive, more 'grown-up' if I spoke my mind. Only now do I realize that silence speaks as loudly as words and, sometimes, the best way to make yourself heard is to say nothing at all.

Sometimes, watching the stars is the best self-medication. There is no better way to humble yourself or put things into perspective than realizing how big the universe is. As self-centered as we can be at times, it feels refreshing to know that we aren't alone, we aren't a mistake, and we are a part of something much bigger than ourselves.

Sometimes, he knows exactly what you need without you having to say it. The connection you share is more than physical, more than emotional - something organic, something cosmic. He reads your body like Braille and tells a beautiful story. Sometimes, you're grateful you don't need to speak because you aren't sure you'd be able to find the right words, anyway.

Sometimes, that boy that could read you like a book becomes a stranger. He used to know every intimate detail, your naive dreams, the secrets of your soul. Then, one day, you are driving past a place that reminds you of him or you hear a song that you shared and you realize that he's merely a memory - a translucent image of what you both used to be.

Sometimes, I have days where I remember him. I think about how I used to feel and used to dream. I feel so disappointed by mistakes and regrets. I find myself missing something. Not him - because he isn't who he used to be. Not then - because I've loved so many things and people since. I think it's me I miss - the me with him, the me who loved unconditionally, the me who felt confident, happy, vibrant, and destined for big things.

Sometimes, I find myself crying. I used to pretend it didn't matter. I used to pretend I didn't think about it, that I was okay, that that part of me was gone. I used to think that reflecting on the past would only cause me pain. Only now do I realize that remembering, and even crying, isn't just okay sometimes.

It's always okay.

Man Meat Monday #13

I get it, America. You don't want hockey players gracing the beautiful face of Man Meat Monday this week. However, they seem to be all I want lately. So, I was desperately open to suggestions this week. I got a number of great ones from my near and dear friends, but only one convinced me instantly.

So, thanks to the wonderful suggestion of my good friend over at Legally Lovely, I bring you...

Robert Downey Jr.

Claim to Fame: Actor (Iron Man, Tropic Thunder, Sherlock Holmes)

Birthday: April 4, 1965

Something about Robert Downey Jr. (hereafter referred to as RDJ) melts the very small piece of me that has a thing for bad boys. Born to acting parents, RDJ grew up in Greenwich Village, surrounded by the arts and frequent drug use. He took a few theater roles before being cast in a number of popular movies in the 1980s, including The Pick-Up Artist and Weird Science. In 1992, he was nominated for Best Actor at the Oscars for his portrayal of Charlie Chaplin in the film Chaplin.

However, weird things soon started to happen for RDJ - and by weird, I mean stupid. After a number of drug-related arrests and a year in jail, he was forced to stage an enormous career comeback. He took a number of high-profile roles before landing the role of a lifetime: Iron Man. Don't worry. The public's opinion of RDJ is more than restored.

It goes without saying that RDJ is easy on the eyes. However, it's his edgy persona that has me fantasizing about spending one day as the Iron Man suit. His voice, his sarcasm, his confidence, his incredible ability to be hilarious without cracking a smile. Even though he has been clean and sober for quite some time, he has an irresistible 'bad boy' image that makes me want to snort cocaine off of his chest. Wait...


Random Tidbit: RDJ can sing and play the piano. He released his debut album, "The Futurist," in 2004. Warning: If you decide to youtube this, please know that he would not make the final 12 on American Idol. Go with "Smile."

Only downfall?: Aside from the excessive drug use, run-ins with the law, stints in rehab, and current marriage? He dated Sarah Jessica Parker...and he's 5'8".



He is also the only actor capable of making Jude Law look subpar.

So, readers: It's your turn. What would you do to see Robert Downey's junior?

Hockey Update - You know you love it.

I accidentally lied to you when I said the Columbus/Chicago game would be my last hockey game of the season. I completely lucked out this weekend and got to watch a little more before the playoffs start.

Friday, Dad and I went down to US Bank Arena to watch the 2010 Kelly Cup champions, the Cincinnati Cyclones, take on the Reading Royals in the first round of the playoffs. There is no better deal than going to a Cyclones game. Tickets are cheap, the seats are great, and the hockey is tough. Unfortunately, the 'Clones lost 3-0 and the next night, they were eliminated from the playoffs after a 2-1 loss in double overtime. Ouch.

However, I did get a couple pictures of Jenn's favorite thing ever. Mascots.


Also, if you want to love the Cyclones, watch this video that is played during intermission at games - "I'm on the 'Clones," a parody of "I'm on a Boat," made by the players for the charity Hockey Players for Kids.



The only thing I love more than charitable hockey players imitating Andy Samberg is charitable hockey players imitating Andy Samberg in the shower.

Saturday, Jenn and I went to Columbus for the final Blue Jackets game of the season. It was fan appreciation night and I was convinced that Rick Nash would hand-pick me to receive his jersey. I was wrong, but I'm sure it's because he didn't see me. The game was exciting, our seats were fantastic, but the Jackets lost to Buffalo (and America's golden boy, Ryan Miller), 5-4.

Nash-ty didn't play, but I did take some stalker pics of him. Don't worry - he was lumberjacking it up in a suit. *swoon*


What I learned this weekend is that I'm bad luck for teams. So, with the Stanley Cup playoffs starting this week for my Penguins and the Blackhawks, I can rest assured...because there is no way I can afford tickets to any of those games.

Cue the growing of playoff beards! #mybodyisready

Dance until the Prom Ends?

The whole notion of high school dances creeps me out.

Don't get me wrong - I had a great time at most of mine, particularly Prom junior year. I had a fun date, the limo ride was entertaining, and it was held in Paul Brown Stadium. So, I spent the whole time, dancing with friends, overlooking the beautiful Cincinnati skyline, and fantasizing that the Bengals would show up at any minute to steal me away.

Still, when I think about high school dances now (Proms and Homecomings), I realize how gross they are. They are essentially a powder keg of teenage angst and raging hormones, ready to explode (in more ways than one).

Here are the things you will see at every high school dance:

- 15-20 crying girls. It is inevitable. They cry because Johnny broke up with them at the dance. They cry because Samantha is wearing the same dress they are. They cry because Ryan is dancing with their mortal enemy. They cry because they weren't invited to Chelsea's house for pictures. They cry because they're teenage girls.

- Fake tans. For some reason, this is the one time of year where it is not only acceptable for teenagers to morph into Jersey Shore characters, it is encouraged. Fake tans, professionally-styled hair (often a Snooki-esque bump), and fake nails. Way to go, America.

- Incredibly uncomfortable teacher chaperones. They stand along the wall at pre-determined intervals, waving awkwardly at students and faking smiles. They sip water, desperately wishing that it was whiskey. They scold themselves for sacrificing one of their precious weekend nights. They pretend not to notice their star student grinding it out on Jason's crotch.

- Water bottles filled with vodka. Smuggled in by students who feel rebellious, cool, and...drunk. I know that alcohol isn't necessary for dancing (I walk it out and Chinese typewriter with the best of them - 100% sober), but it does make it more interesting to watch.

- 2-3 accidental boners. Let's be honest. For some 17- or 18-year old boys, "Tonight (I'm Loving You)" by Enrique Iglesias is the closest they will come to getting any actual loving on Prom night. Grind away, kids. Get it out of your system.

- An awkward DJ that you wouldn't allow around your children if they weren't at a dance. In his late 30s, uses as much hair gel as the high school boys, throws glow sticks out during "Sandstorm." Unfortunately, these guys ogle teenage girls so shamelessly that it gives me a run for my money when I lick proposition Jordan Staal through the television...and I often sit on the TV screen.

- An empty Axe bottle. High school boys abuse cologne. I'm not sure if they think the commercial will actually come true and girls will start eating them like a chocolate bar or if they are trying to distract girls from the acne on their forehead. Either way, it's over-kill.

- That smell. I know this isn't something you can see, but you know exactly what I'm talking about. Sweat. Cologne. Armpits. Maybe one kid threw up. Later, when these students are in college, they will find that one seedy bar with the same familiar scent. Immediately, they will think, "Fall Homecoming 2004" and they will promptly exit said bar.

See what I mean? I wouldn't have traded my high school dance experiences for anything. For the most part, I had a great time with my best friends, took plenty of humiliating pictures, and have some good stories. I can say, however, that I wouldn't want to re-live them.

Spring Playlist

Do yourself a favor and listen to Ray LaMontagne. Seriously.

Between Ray and Explosions in the Sky, I have my spring playlist set. Windows down, music up.

...Oh yeah - I also love the new song from the Black Eyed Peas - "Just Can't Get Enough."

Wordless.

Some nights, I sit with the computer on my lap, staring at the blank screen for hours. I want the perfect words to come to me, to flow out of my fingertips with ease. I want to be witty, interesting, insightful, and entertaining. I want people to read my blog and laugh, cry, learn, relate. Some nights, no matter how hard I try, I have no words to share.

This is one of those nights.

An ounce of realism in movies.

There is absolutely no denying that I'm a movie buff. I love everything about them. In my opinion, there is no better way to escape from reality for a couple hours.

That being said, I often find myself pondering the unrealistic nature of some movie endings. You know - that moment when everything miraculously comes together for the perfectly forced 'happily ever after' moment. I've always wanted to write a completely realistic screenplay - one that people could relate to because...well, it'd be real. However, on second thought, I realized that no one would like that movie.

People watch movies for a number of reasons, but one of the main reasons is because most movies have a perfect ending. She finds prince charming. He saves the president's life. The underdog football team wins the big game. I'll admit it - I'm a sucker for a happy ending. Sometimes, however, these endings frustrate me.

So, I thought I would write some more realistic endings for movies that ended a little too perfectly. Enjoy.

The Sandlot - When Scotty Smalls and Benny 'the Jet' Rodriguez help "The Beast" escape from under the enormous fence that has fallen on him, the rabid dog doesn't have a change of heart. Instead, he darts out from under the fence and bites Benny on his throwing arm, a wound that requires 24 stitches and a rabies shot. Of course, Benny's parents threaten to sue old Mr. Mertle and, as a result, "The Beast" is euthanized. Angry about his injury, Benny bans Smalls from the sandlot for the rest of eternity, condemning him to a socially awkward life filled with nothing but homework and erector sets.

Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory - After Wonka throws his fit about Charlie and Grandpa Joe stealing a sip of the Fizzy Lifting Drink, he kicks them out of the factory. Terrified by what he has seen, Charlie leaves without returning the everlasting gobstopper. Grandpa Joe immediately goes to the authorities, where he details the ugly truth about William Wonka - he is responsible for the untimely death of four children. He is also found guilty of breaking a number of employment laws - he has forced slave labor from an entire race of people and the work environment in the candy factory falls far short of federal safety regulations. Shortly thereafter, Wonka is apprehended and sentenced to life in prison.

Titanic - After finding the floating wall panel that can only sustain one person's weight, Jack and Rose decide unselfishly to take turns lying on it. Unfortunately, this effort is futile: both suffer from severe hypothermia and die. (Either way, the necklace ends up on the seafloor)

Grease - After Sandy drastically changes her appearance and squeezes her way into the iconic black outfit, Danny decides that he wants someone else. Sandy was fun for the summer, but with graduation approaching, he knows a relationship is pointless...especially with someone who is pretending to be someone else in a desperate attempt to please him. Sandy is left at the fair, crying and clearly in the middle of an identity crisis. Rizzo admits to Kenickie that she is, in fact, pregnant. He promptly leaves her to raise the child on her own in a small town of judging eyes. (At least this avoids the cheesy flying car scene)

Never Been Kissed - After waiting until the clock expires for Sam to show up and sweep her off her feet, Josie stands on the baseball field, dejected and humiliated in front of the entire town. Depressed and alone, Josie swears men off altogether and becomes an alcoholic. After submitting multiple cynical, anti-male articles laced with expletives and death threats, she is fired from her job at the Chicago Sun-Times and hired at a local bar. During her tenure there, she creates a popular new cocktail that consists of Jose Cuervo, melted butter, and chili powder - a drink she calls the "Josie Grossie."

2012 - The world actually does end. No survivors. Not even John Cusack.

The Lion King - After Scar convinces Simba that he is responsible for the death of his father, Simba runs away in shame. He escapes the hyenas that Scar sends to kill him and collapses in the desert, starving and exhausted. Upon waking up, Simba runs across a meerkat and a particularly juicy-looking warthog. Although the duo seem to be singing a happy song, Simba is overtaken by his immense hunger and eats both animals. Meanwhile, Rafiki calls Scar a dick, summons the ghost of Mufasa to haunt the new tyrant, and leaves Pride Rock in search of other baby lions to dangle dangerously over the edge of a cliff.

How very Michael Jackson of Rafiki.

See what I mean? I can't imagine any of these would do very well in the box office.

Man Meat Monday #12

I tried to avoid this. I promise.

I briefly mentioned him in another entry in hopes of getting him out of my system. I missed a week of Man Meat, then I made my March Manness bracket. I tried my hardest to remove him from my subconscious, but I couldn't. So, my friends, it's yet another hockey player this Monday. He is, however, my first blonde honoree and he scored his 100th assist Saturday night. I give you...

Jordan Staal

Claim to Fame: Center and alternate captain for the Pittsburgh Penguins

Birthday: September 10, 1988

I didn't think I would fall for Jordan Staal. I was horribly wrong. Born and raised in Thunder Bay, Ontario, Jordan grew up in a family of hard-working sod farmers...who also happen to play a lot of hockey. His older brothers, Eric and Marc, play in the NHL while his younger brother, Jared, plays in the ECHL.

Drafted second overall in the 2006 NHL draft, Jordan set a number of records his rookie season, including the youngest player to score on a penalty shot and the youngest player to score a hat trick. Alongside his brother Eric, he won gold with Team Canada at the 2007 World Championships and won the Stanley Cup with the Penguins in 2009. He is known as a strong penalty killer with an impressive scoring touch. He can also have an incredibly Amish-looking beard...and awesome novelty t-shirts.


For good measure, I should include that he is 6'4" and 220 pounds. I might need a to-go box for those leftovers.

Random Tidbit: In 2007, Jordan (and Eric) was arrested at Eric's bachelor party for underage drinking. Oops. Want a picture?


Only downfall?: He feels obligated to wear clothes.


Come on. You know you're picturing him naked right there. He is making that shirt (and me) beg for its life.



So, readers: It's your turn. Is Staalsy worth a two-minute roughing penalty for you? I don't know about you, but...

Columbus Extravaganza!

Somehow, I convinced my mom to go with me to the Columbus Blue Jackets vs. Chicago Blackhawks game on Friday. After a long, stressful Craigslist search/debacle, we finally found two tickets (lower bowl for $25/ticket - not bad).

We met up with our ticket seller in front of Buca di Beppo. After a five minute search, she realized that she left our tickets at home. Shock. Tears. Horror. Still recovering from the NYC counterfeit ticket wound, I nearly swore off scalping forever. Luckily, the woman was a season ticket holder and had the arena print new tickets for us! Success. Faith in scalping = Restored.

Our seats were awesome. Lower bowl, Row S, faceoffs in our faces all night long. I wore my Rick Nash shersey, but secretly, I was rooting for the Blackhawks. They have a chance at the play-offs and I love me some Jonny Toews. Nash-ty didn't even play. Murr.


The game was essentially a home game for the Blackhawks. Nationwide Arena was filled 60% with Blackhawks fans. During Leo's national anthem, the Chicago fans cheered like maniacs...because that's what they do in Chicago. Columbus fans didn't get it or appreciate it.


The game was intense and awesome to watch. Chicago shot out to a two-goal lead with goals from Patrick Kane and Brent Seabrook. Columbus, however, had pride on the line and tied it up with goals from Mayorov and Brassard.

The third period saw goals from Chicago's Bickell and Columbus's Pahlsson. The game went into overtime, then a shootout. Both Tazer and Kaner were stopped, but Stalberg scored the shootout-winning goal for Chicago (4-3). Like a good Blue Jackets fan, I pretended to be devastated.


I had a great time with my mom at my last hockey game of the season...and my first Jonathan Toews stalkfest. Prepare for many more.

Blogging Hiatus

After much consideration, I have decided to make a very hard choice: I've decided to stop blogging for now.

I absolutely love the blogosphere and my wonderful blog friends. Writing is extremely cathartic for me. In fact, I've found that I write much better than I talk. My blog allows me to rant, rave, complain, brag, share, remember, and express myself. It has helped me cope with tough times and remember great ones.

However, I spend too much time blogging. In fact, I often find myself thinking, "That would be great for my blog" or "What should I blog about tonight?" I find myself at a difficult crossroad in my life. I'm unemployed, living at home, and I have been since May of last year. It's time to get a move on.

If I dedicated all of my blogging time to finding a job and an apartment, I would be well on my way by now. So, I've decided to put my beloved blog on hiatus for the time being...at least until I get my life on track.

So, until then, goodbye, my beloved readers.

...APRIL FOOLS! Ha - yeah right. Who am I kidding? I would never stop blogging, especially not for the sole purpose of finding a job. Figured I should pull at least one prank today.

But, seriously - I'm going to the Blue Jackets vs. Blackhawks game tonight. Do you think I'd get away with scaling the glass, sliding over to Jonathan Toews and/or Rick Nash, tearing off their jerseys, and straddling them on the ice if I ended it all with "APRIL FOOLS!"?

...no? Me either.