Marcus the Ferret

Saw a Salmon Kings game with Squee, Squee's brother, the Schlesbian, and Moon Rock (have I mentioned that I named the Schlesbian's boyfriend?  No?  Well, his new name is Moon Rock.  So there). 

Have to say, it was a pretty fun and interesting game, especially the part where Moon Rock knocked Squee's beer everywhere, making Squee smell like a priest on a weekday.  Also a big fan of the two twenty-ish girls in front of us who were actually watching the game and not, say, texting the entire time (like the ladies brought by their boyfriends sitting a ways to my left).

It's good to know that the tradition of goalies leaving their crease to stop the puck when it goes behind the net isn't just going strong in the NHL, either - often leading to near misses when the opposing team grabs the puck.  Both Squee and I were doing our usual curse and groan each time it happened.  I'm pretty sure that's how I'll die - some sort of stress-induced aneurysm during a playoff game when my team's goalie goes to stop the puck and then isn't in net to protect it from some lame opposing team.

The cops will find my body, face down on my living room floor, with a hockey game on.  "Another Luongo/Nabokov-caused fatality," one of the cops will intone, shaking his head mournfully.

"When will those goalies learn!?" the young rookie will say, wiping a glistening cheek.

"It's a crazy world, Rook... It's a crazy world."

Fade to Black as they walk into the sunset, with the camera slowly focusing on my dead face, frozen in an expression of hockey-panic.   

Completely unrelated, I bought a book about ferrets at the pet store.  And now I want a pet ferret.  Named Marcus.  For some reason, I find the idea of "Marcus the Ferret" particularly amusing.

That is all.