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.