You Knew I’d Get Around to it Eventually

Hockey playoffs are just around the corner.  I’m surprised no one asked where all my Bruins posts were hiding yet.  Oh wait, no I’m not.  Most of my readers have no interest in the Bruins or hockey.  Well, sorry, you’re getting it anyway.

First of all, if you do like hockey, know anything about the Bruins or just want a good laugh, this video is a must see.

Classic, right?  Well I think it is, and I know my Aunt thinks it is as well because we’re both complete and utter dork fans who are in love with how the Bruins personnel/player’s personalities come shining through in the video.  And who doesn’t love Bears?  Especially Bears that vacuum and use a typewriter.

Watching this and receiving the email in the picture at the top of this post really got me thinking about a couple things in the past week. 

The team has struggled on and off this season.  It started out being called the Stanley Cup hangover.  Then they won every single game in November.  For those keeping track that’s thirteen straight games.  Then they won another 9 out of 12 in December.  The team literally went from worst to first in a matter of weeks.  And we’ve been pretty content to hover near the top of the Eastern Conference standings for the rest of the season.

But something was still off.  Something wasn’t really clicking, it didn’t feel the same as last season’s magic and it was like everyone, including the players, could feel it.

Last week I figured out exactly what it was - they became way too serious and they lost their fun.

During most of last season there was the infamous jacket that Andy Ference bought on eBay.  The jacket got passed around from teammate to teammate after each game to congratulate who they felt had a stellar performance.  At the Stanley Cup banner raising the jacket was presented as a final parting gift to Mark Recchi who retired after last season.  I think I cried a little as the jacket, and my favorite player, would no longer grace the locker room.  The jacket was hideous and barely fit any of the guys.  But it was inspirational, and hilarious.  It was just plain fun.

Last year The Bear and his cantankerous attitude owned Boston, he was everywhere.  He ran around making commercials that berated those who did not respect the game.  He told fans that it was never okay to date a Philly fan, even if she shaved her moustache.  He did a victory dance after every win.

He was the epitome of the attitude of Boston – yeah I’m tough but I’m too cute for anyone to worry about that…unless they poke me, then all bets are off.  The Bear was just fun.

The guys pranked each other and we heard about it all.  They became the people’s team again.  And an entire city stood behind them as they won a Cup that was a long time coming.  Despite bitten fingers and scary as hell concussions in the Finals, the team pulled together, tossed out any thoughts of dirty play, and simply, flat out, won.

They went out on that ice and worked hard but mostly they just had fun.

This year has been different.  Despite one or two funny, locally seen commercials for retail outlets, injuries plagued almost half the starting lineup by mid-season and it took an emotional toll.  New guys did and didn’t seem to gel with the style of the team’s play (I’m looking at you Corvo, get it together man!).  Refs once again seemed to have it in for us this season (Read: every season since our induction into the league, sorry but I speak the truth).

But unlike last season where we brushed it all off and just laughed about it, this year everyone seemed to take it to heart and let it in.  We stopped having fun.  Even Thomas started to look off his game. 

Then a funny thing happened.  We lost a game in such grand fashion a couple weeks ago to the struggling Tampa Bay Lightning that even I was questioning my team.  Our backup goalie Turco got the start, was pulled for Thomas (who desperately needed a night off after Rask was injured a few games before), and then Turco went back in because Timmy couldn’t get it done either.  No one seemed to know how to skate, puck handle, pass, or connect with each other.  But that’s not the funny thing.  The funny thing was that the entire team seemed to share a collective sigh.

I think someone finally poked The Bear because since then we’ve only lost 2 games.

Something in the team clicked. A light bulb went off.  The fear of not making the playoffs wasn’t it.  The chance of a defending Cup team not getting to the big dance wasn’t it.  They all got a good healthy fish-slap and started smiling again.

That’s when “The Bear & The Gang” video came out.  The Bear was back.  The fun was back.  The vibe was rekindled.  The guys were back to their old selves again.  They got on the ice and for better or worse they just remembered to have fun.

With playoff tickets going on sale tomorrow I’m brought back to last season when my Aunt and I spent a small fortune on tickets to Game 4 against Philly.  A game I just knew in my heart we were going to win. A series I just knew in my heart we were going to sweep.  A series win that we’d be in the building to experience.  It was magical.  It was inspired hockey.  It was FUN.

As we come into the last week of the regular season I’m hoping the team can keep the vibe of fun going.  That they can keep enjoying each other out there on the ice again as the season wraps up and we move into the playoffs.  I hope they keep their spark of good fun and go out there to show Boston we can do it all again.

And hey, if it’s any kind of fate, one of the Cup wins in the 70's was during the years ending in a 1 & a 2.  Not sayin’ anything, just sayin’.

Torn Down in the Name of Convenience*

It’s probably about time for me to pull High Fidelity out of the old DVD book.  It’s been a while and, lately, everything seems to be pointing me in the direction of Cusack.  Other than his brief, yet stellar, performance in Sixteen Candles, there was no character quite like Rob Gordon to take the edge off my own life.

Okay, fine, there was that somewhat mysterious, too dorky to realize he was cool, man of every girl’s dreams character, Lloyd Dobler.  But everyone knows that the deeper brooding and overtly-melancholy fucked-up-ness of Rob is way closer to real life.  Lloyd is the one we all want; sweet, devoted, teaches us to drive a stick-shift, supports us when our dad goes to prison, goes with us to London. 

But every woman knows that boom-box thing would never happen in real life.  Instead, he’d probably end up hating London because the cloudy and gloomy days would bring out his inner emo and he’d fly back to the states to ruminate over his failed relationship for the next decade.  In the end Lloyd will just end up owning a flailing record store, borrowing money from us that he’ll never pay back, and cheating.  Sorry but it’s a true fact that the girls looking for Lloyd pretty much universally end up with Rob.

But I digress…back to Cusack.

Another thing pulling me into Cusack-dom was this book I read yesterday “Stupid and Contagious” by Caprice Crane.  The main male character all but tells us that he’s Rob Gordon.  So of course that character was all I could picture through the entire book.  But, you know, with blue eyes. 

The book was phenomenal, recommended by a friend as she said the writing style was so similar to mine she almost thought she was reading my work.  I knew what my friend meant within about 10 pages.  I will definitely read every book Crane has written.  Especially if she has more characters like Rob.

And I almost completely forgot about The Raven coming out in just four short weeks.  I’d heard about this last year but didn’t know how I felt about it.  If I were making the ‘Rob’s Top Five Authors of All Time List’, Poe would pretty much be in the number one and number two spot.  I was convinced they’d take the most well-known of Poe’s poems and hack it to bits (haha, yeah, slight pun intended).  But they’re not.  Hacking it I mean.  The poem is the inspiration for the movie and I seriously can’t wait.

The movie is about a detective who joins up with Poe to solve a whole bunch of murders that someone is perpetuating based on his writing.  Not that I support serial killers or anything but seriously, how cool is that concept?  Only thing better than having a stalker when you write like Poe does is to have someone respect your work so much that they start living it.  That’s hardcore.  I may break my no theater and no horror (ish) rules for this one. 

Oh yeah, Cusack plays Poe.  Not the serial killer (or so we think, who knows right?).  Not a hitman, like some other characters he’s already played.  But he still gets to be all dark and broody.  Oh Cusack, it’s like you were born for this role.

Anyway, seems the world is pushing me to do some kind of list, top five or something, so I’m doing this Sunday Stealing meme.  While I wait for my book’s copyright registration to come through I may just have to have a Cusack movie marathon later this week because I'm clearly running out of interesting blog posts... 

1. Which TV character do you think you are most like?

Other than the baby thing Christina Applegate’s character on “Up All Night” springs to mind.  Otherwise I’ll go with Miranda.  Also sans baby.

2. What time do you go to bed?

At exactly 11:07 every night.  If I stay up until 11:08 I know the world will cave in and the locusts will come.

3. What was the last meal you made from scratch?

AH HAHAHAHAHA!!!!  Oh wait, you’re serious about that question?  Does throw-everything-into-a-crockpot-and-pray count as “from scratch”?

4. What is your favorite type of music?

Obviously I should be saying something about outer limit progressive hipster shit that no one has ever heard of (including the hipsters, seriously) but I don’t drink enough Starbucks to be that cool.  Plus I don’t have the effort to keep up my work out routine enough to get into black skinny jeans.  So I’ll just go with pop.  Just like Rob, who was a progressive hipster.  Maybe.  Makes me feel like I'm in good company or something.

“What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?”

- Rob Gordon

5. In what position do you sleep?

I’ll go with lying down like most of the other humans I know.

6. What is your first memory?

I forget.

7. What is your least favorite smell?

Top 5 all-time least favorite smells: skunk, puke, horse poop, wet dog, and cat pee.

8. Its your round at the pub and your friends asked you to surprise them. What drink would you buy and why?

Beer.  Because I’m cheap and boring.  And we’re in a pub for god sake.  What do you want, a fucking mojito?

9. What was the last thing you read/watched that made you cry?

America’s Next Top Model.  Every time they send a girl home for being beautiful and skinny but just not "modely" enough I feel so sad for her…

10. They say that you learn something new every day. What was the last thing you have learned?

That my husband had no idea how they changed from ice to parquet and back to ice at The Garden.

11. Which Literary love interests would you snog, marry and avoid.

Seriously no opinion on this, never even thought about it before.  But now I will.  And I'll get back to you.  Maybe.

12. What is your oldest memory?

See #6

13. Paperback, Hardback or Kindle? Which of these is your favorite reading format and why?

Books.  Real ones.  I can’t bring myself to use a tablet.  I even downloaded Kindle to my phone and I’ve made it through about 10 pages of a book I’m actually enjoying.  I also added it to my library queue.  There is something Zen and gratifying to flip actual pages even if its heavier to carry.  Technology is not always the better choice for me.

14. If you could bring back any canceled TV series for another run what would you pick and why?

“Family Ties”, I think there was just so much more they could have done with Skippy.

Sunday Stealing provided the questions.  As a side note I deleted #15 because it was word for word the same question as #13.

A meme really is an excellent choice for those “feeling basic”. 

*“Pointes” to you if you got the reference in the title.

Samantha Baker, Eat Your Heart Out

Last night I went to my first ever book reading and signing.  The evening was made possible by Jen Lancaster, Author of many memoirs.  Hilarious, snarky and bitterly honest memoirs.  Now her first fiction novel called “If You Were Here” is out and I’ve wanted to buy it since the day it dropped.  Not only because I love her work as a general rule but also, see the linked tab up above on my blog - “Vacation In the Ghetto”?  Yeah, well her book is apparently the fiction equivalent of my real life experience.  It has to be read.

Since arriving in Arizona last year I’ve run around doing all kinds of stuff I’d never done before.  It started to occur to me that life is just way too short not to enjoy myself.  And why would I ever want to limit the possibilities of things I might enjoy because maybe somewhere in my mind I convinced myself it wouldn’t be fun?  I wouldn’t.  That’s why I decided to go to this book reading and signing last night.

And insert complete dork here.

Why did I consider myself such a dork?  Well, it occurred to me while I was standing in line, waiting for my turn at the table, that this woman is probably in my top five Authors of all time.  And there she was.  Right in front of me in real life, not just a photo on the back of her book.  Sitting at the Barnes & Noble at Desert Ridge in all her hilarious, tan and fabulous, snarky and brutally honest beauty, with a black Sharpie marker and a head full of the same movie references that I’ve been spewing for over twenty-five years.

But here’s the trick, I only know one other person who devours her work like I do and that friend lives in California.  I was on my own for this experience.

If there is a Chick-Lit equivalent in memoir writing Jen Lancaster has cornered the market.  Her work is witty, sharp, self-depreciating, honest, self-educational and bitter.  These are the kinds of events a girl is supposed to go to with her girlfriends so they can grab a glass of wine afterwards and rehash all the hilarious bits of the night.  Instead, I had Matt drop me off and he went to get us a Kinect while I giggled and nodded alone for an hour.

As I inched slowly toward the front of the line I realized that, not only had I just listened to one of the funniest passages from a memoir I’d ever heard in my entire life (because oh goodness how it resonates), but that I was literally about ten people away from meeting my I-aspire-to-be-you inspiration Author.  My palms literally started sweating.

I don’t run in any kind of celebrity circle or anything but I’m pretty sure celebrity types would all say that unless you made the most lasting impression ever – threw up on them, squealed uncontrollably, got arrested for trying to kidnap them – they are never going to remember you specifically.  Your face, clothes, inane stories about how your friend spells your name JenN so she doesn’t forget the second N, and pout when your favorite Author calls that second N “superfluous”, will all just blend into a vast sea of other idiot dorks who think their stories are somehow going to be the thing that makes her want to get your cell phone number and ask you to hang out after the event to grab a drink.

Because they do that, right?

Okay, in all fairness to myself here I wasn’t quite that deluded, I’m not a total moron, but I did at least want to make a good first impression on this woman.  I’m a Writer.  A Writer of snarky, witty, punchy, Tomboy-Lit.  The chances we will find ourselves in the same room at the same conference or event in the future is more than very possible.

So I didn’t want to be a complete fan-girl dork.  But I was.  At least in my head I was.

After my verbal equivalent of throwing up on the very person I aspire to mimic (career wise) was over, I came around the back of the table and headed for the door where Matt had stowed the escape vehicle that would hopefully get me out of my own head. 

As soon as I got in the car I texted my sister (who knew I was going to this because I believe I somehow managed to evoke jumping up and down, clapping and squealing in a text when I was on the way there).  I professed my utter dork-hood.  I lamented that I’m just freakishly awkward and that meeting people I admire forces the dork-o-meter up about a billion times higher. 

She said “Bet you only felt awkward you were great I’m sure.”

And somewhere in my head I heard “I don’t think you’re a dork.  I don’t think Mom thinks you’re a dork.”  “Mike thinks I’m a dork.”  “Mike is a dork.”