Crosschecking

I love hockey. I think it's the perfect combination of grace and brutality. It speaks to both sides of my disagreeable mind.

Thanks to the gentlemen that pay my salary I had the good fortune to go to a Rangers game last weekend (THANK YOU!). Not just to go but to sit in the high class seats. Two rows from the ice, people. I saw the look on the goalie's face when he let that one goal in (only one, though!).

After a little thought and a little luck (I thought he was in Rome for cripes sake, go here for details on that) I called my cousin, MG, to join me. I both love and like my cousins on my dad's side. They're a bunch of intelligent, adventurous, talented, funny and fun people. So, it felt just right to share this with him.

Not only was it the full on hockey experience (I practically got flicked with sweat from this guy's mullety hair) it meant that we had hockey plus conversation. We talked about baseball (the 2 seasons are so damn long you have to be creative about the overlap); journalism and the state of news reporting in America; the extended family; movies; our childhoods; his battles on, with and about the high seas; and probably a ton of other stuff I don't even remember. It was one of those great conversations where you really have to push yourself to keep up and we did it all while paying pretty strict attention to the game. Oh, and whenever we had a hockey question we just turned to the guy next to us who was a veritable font of information.

The fabulous time that was had, however, is not what I'm writing about tonight.

I'm not fat. Look for a post soon to contradict this but go with me for now. I'm not fat in the grand scheme of Americana. I'm probably right on target for average. OK, I'll do it, I'll tell the internet, I'm 5'3" tall and I weigh 155 pounds right now. I don't think, though, that my hip span (side to side right across the front of those large bumps on your pelvis) is any different than when I weighed 107 pounds. I mean, it's bone and I haven't ever been pregnant so I don't think there's reason to believe spreading. Of the ass, yes, of the bones, no.

Anyway, I came away from the game with the sides of my hips fucking grated.

Let me 'splain. There's a lot of standing up and cheering, or standing up and looking or standing up and stretching in hockey. You stand up when there's a goal, you stand up when there might be a goal, you stand up when you want to see the fight more clearly, you stand up when that funny guy in the top tier does the dance in the second intermission, you stand up to protect yourself from the pucks that are headed straight toward you. A lot of standing is what I'm saying. There's more stand up - sit down - fight, fight, fight in hockey than in a double wedding in the Catholic Church.

I didn't fit in the seat. Well, once I sat down I fit fine but the arms were one or two inches skinnier than both the seat and me.

First of all, I don't need this shit because I already feel like a cow.

Second of all, if I'm average then how in hell do above average people fit in these chairs? I won't get all gauche I'll just say that each of these seats cost more than one third of my gross weekly pay when I was temping. Now imagine if you will being an above average person and paying that much money and then not being able to sit in the seat you purchased. How is this good business on the part of the arena?

Eck. Well, just add it to the long list of things that I just don't frigging get. And also, does anyone know where I can get a cheap copy of the NYC Ballet workout on DVD? I'd really like to get into the below average category before I next go to a game.