Heaven on Earth is in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Tonight was more than I could have ever imagined. Seriously.

This afternoon, Jenn and I left for Evgeni Malkin's Flight Team Lokomotiv Benefit in Pittsburgh. It was held at a nice restaurant downtown called Bossa Nova. We had absolutely no idea what to expect and, even though it said no autographs and no outside items were permitted, I brought my Crosby jersey...just in case.

When we finally arrived in Pittsburgh, we had an hour to kill. So, I fought the urge to puke, annoyed Jenn, and paced back and forth in a Starbucks for a bit. Finally, it was time.

Bossa Nova was a really, really classy place. Everyone was dressed so nicely (luckily, I actually wore a dress!), but the atmosphere was really laid-back. A DJ was playing popular music, there was a silent auction with tons of Pens items, and a raffle for various prizes. I bought more than a few tickets for the raffle, but didn't end up winning anything.

Our ticket included an open bar and tons of food. They claimed it was "hors d'oeuvres," but it was basically dinner - pizza, quesadillas, potatoes, pasta, etc. So, Jenn and I wandered around the bar for a while, trying our best to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Then, I saw him. Suddenly, in the corner of the bar, acting like he wasn't a god in human clothing, I spotted Geno. I couldn't help it. I actually started crying.

I know I have a problem with my celebrity/athlete worship. I know that my idolatry is in all the wrong places, but I couldn't help it. There he was, acting completely normal and talking to total strangers. Always the voice of reason, Jenn told me to pull it together. I tried my best.

We posted ourselves at the bar, where I ordered a Pepsi and Jenn went to work with the wine. Not even 20 minutes later, while looking around the room, I spotted the man, the myth, the legend - Sidney Crosby. Again, I started crying.

I realized that I would never feel comfortable enough to enjoy myself until I got pictures with my lovers favorite hockey players. So, I worked up the courage and finally approached Sid.

I hate to admit this, but I didn't say anything of substance to him. I simply couldn't. I just asked him for a picture, he obliged, I pet his shoulder like he was an injured puppy (I guess he kind of is), thanked him, and melted into the floor.


Next, Geno - the Russian angel of my dreams. I could try, but I could never accurately explain the level of cuteness achieved by his speaking voice. He really must be a Bond villain (WUYS girls) because he was trying to kill me in his button-up cardigan and vertical stripe pants.


The whole rest of the night was basically a blur. Every single time I turned around, I saw a different Penguin. I thought I was in heaven at Brick Street with the Columbus Blue Jackets? This was an alternate universe with nothing but gorgeous professional athletes, Dr. Pepper showers, and complete bliss.

In total, there were twelve Penguins in attendance: Evgeni Malkin, Sidney Crosby, Jordan Staal, James Neal, Paul Martin, Chris Kunitz, Marc-Andre Fleury, Brooks Orpik, Matt Cooke, Craig Adams, Steve Sullivan, and Richard Park. They posed by a beautiful ice sculpture, so I took a creeper pic. (I don't know where Orpik and Martin were for this)


Later in the night, I happened to see Sidney sign a little kid's jersey. So, after a brief conference with Jenn, I decided to go to the car, get my jersey, sneak it in, and work up the courage to ask him to sign it. The last part, of course, was easier said than done. I just stood there, watching him like a hawk watches its prey...except in this case, the hawk was absolutely terrified.

Out of nowhere, he made a sudden turn toward me and I realized if I didn't do it now, it might not happen. So, I walked right up to him and, instead of being suave, charming, or hilarious, I just stuck my Sharpie in his face and said, "Please?" I define cool.

Being the perfect, kind captain he is, he signed my jersey. Then, in a moment that will somehow both satisfy and haunt my dreams forever, he turned to me like I could continue talking to him. He literally stood there, looking at me and smiling shyly, waiting for me to say something to him other than the "THANKS" I had already whispered. Yet, even with his endearing invitation for conversation and the knowledge that this would NEVER happen again, I just smiled, sighed, and walked away. Idiot. Oh well, at least I have THIS:


The last player that I needed in my mouth a picture with was former Man Meat Monday honoree Jordan Staal. So, like the professional stalkers we are, Jenn and I found him and made our way over. Like Geno's adorable voice, Jordan Staal's body evades accurate description.

Unlike the rest of the players, Jordan seemed to have this insane animal magnetism about him. He was tall, almost awkwardly so, but incredibly confident. He kept taunting me by casually sipping his beer and I can assure you - I have never wanted to be an inanimate object more in my entire life. It literally took everything in me to keep from hurling myself in his general direction.

He started to walk past us, and again, I redefined cool. I tapped him on the shoulder a few times, he looked down at me, and I asked for a picture. He said, "Of course," then wrapped his enormous arm around me. *melt* Right before Jenn took the picture, he started kicking his shoe around frantically. Confused, I looked down and saw what appeared to be a green poker chip. With his arm still around me, he asked, "Is that a lime?" then tried to kick it away. Being 6'4" must throw off your depth perception a bit, because he missed, and kicked my foot instead. I didn't mind. At all.


I also got a picture with Paul Martin and James Neal (who is currently tied for the 2nd most goals in the NHL this season). No big deal.


So, as you can see, the night was a HUGE success. Not only did I avoid the police, sexual harassment charges, and restraining orders, but I got to touch take pictures with my favorite Penguins, got Geno's autograph, completed my Canadian Olympic dream team by getting a signed Crosby jersey (to go alongside my Rick Nash one), and helped support a great cause in the process.

...and it's all because of Jenn, the best friend on planet Earth. Thanks a lot, Jenn. You are responsible for my life peaking at the tender age of 23. It's all downhill from here.