Go Canada Go

I'm not looking for a brawl over this, but I have a vent and since it is Friday, I'm typing this up in Letters of Intent form .. head over to Foursons to read more letters or add your own ... 

Dear World Stage,

I watched last nights game. And I cheered and clapped and even shed a tear when my Canadian team won the Gold medal. And I watched the entire arena cheer loudly when the Silver medal winners were announced ... the Americans. I watched each of them accept their medals and shake hands, but it wasn't until I saw Julie Chu smile and wave big to the crowd that I realized most of the team hadn't smiled, or waved to the crowd, or held up their medal. I could clearly see some tears being shed, but I wondered if the tears were out of disappointment, and not happiness? The US team played a great game, as they've done the entire Olympics. And not just the womens hockey team, but the entire US Olympic team (32 medals and counting ...). The whole world has watched. And cheered. Then I heard the commentator (a 1998 silver medal winner) say that the American women 'will learn to love their silver medals, although it may be a disappointment at this time'. Well wtf!? I'm sorry, but really?! I hope they learn to love their Silver medals too. They should wear them with pride, and really, they should have been hootin n hollerin like the Fins were when they were awarded their bronze medals. Or hootin and hollerin like the American womens bobsleigh team was when they were awarded their Bronze medals (those were some happy American girls...) And although T-Bone tried to explain to me this morning that the Americans don't want Silver anymore .. coming in second place is nothing new to them, and they want their Gold, I still think that winning a Silver medal in the Olympics seems like a great great accomplishment. Better than not placing at all and certainly better than never having given it a shot.

And secondly, my biggest vent of the day .... less than 24 hours after our women win a GOLD medal for our country in hockey ... the most important Gold medal a Canadian can win (because we do believe Hockey is Canada's game), the media is all over the team for having a beer and smoking a cigar to celebrate. Let em!! Geeze ... I've been reading comments and articles about this all morning and I have to agree with one comment in particular ... These ladies are old enough to represent our country in the Olympics, win a GOLD medal for our country in the Olympics, hell .. they're even old enough to serve in our military to defend our country .. and they are getting shit on for one 18 year old having a beer to celebrate their win. Yes, I realize that 19 is legal drinking age in BC, but still ... Unbelievable. I came to work today wearing my Team Canada jersey proud. In my second coversation with a co-worker, I learned that the most talked about headline this morning was not that our women hockey team is #1, that they shut out the Americans, that they played a great game, or that they won a freaking GOLD medal ... but that they got a little carried away with their celebrations last night! A little carried away?! 1 freaking drink and a cigar. Gimme a break.

Signed,

A proud Canadian girl

Congratulations Team Canada!

Letting it all hang out ....

I just caught a glimpse of the phrase "let it all hang out" on my dashboard under Boobs, Ballgames, and Beer so I thought I'd hop on over and catch up on her blog. I was immediately attracted to Janie Woods' blog for a few reasons ... 1 because I read the word fuck and any blog that says fuck is usually a good read, 2 because our last names are almost identical, and 3 because she also talked about sex in one of her blogs and I too, like sex. So I was due to catch up with some valuable reading. And a good decision it was because in reading, I was then brought to the Girl Talk Thursday blog and WOW ... not only did someone say fuck, they also said whore (well actually today's blog by Janie made me choke on my coffee the most when she dropped the C bomb .. and in the right company, I sure do like that word ....). Anyway, I don't quite know who's hosting what, but over at Girl Talk Thursday, it's time to bitch, or be a bitch, whatever you want I'm guessing ...  and I'm usually good at that, so I thought I'd give it a go. Even though I already blogged today about being a worn out ol drunken fart, there's always room to bitch. I've spent the better part of the last 24 hours on my couch, and really, there's NOTHING about doing that that pisses me off, so I'm trying hard to find things ....

1. I hate when I open some blogs some times and 46 more windows pop open and I have to reboot the computer because they're comin at me too fast to close them individually ... Do I have a virus? This is a work pc and I use it to blog so I can't really call IT to help with this issue ...

2. I hate when my supervisor does my work. Seriously. You have a staff of 8 and I get the best damn reviews .. maybe go help someone who needs it, one of the "special" people down the hall ... I had a stack of crap prepared to do when I got back from vacation (my vacation being a drunken good time in Vancouver with good friends and lots of beer celebrating the olympics ...) that she knew about. I get back to my desk to get it done when I am back to see she has done ONE thing in my stack ... a $30 entry out of hmmm maybe $10,000 I had to do .... why bother? Seriously, get your nose the fuck out of my shit. I've been here for 5 years combined, you've been here less than 1, mind yo business.

3. I hate when the T-Bone tells me he's going to come over and doesn't. Come on ... we're going on 3 years here, grow up. Not that I care what he's doing or where is his (at home ... I am a trusting woman) and not that I wanted him around yesterday intruding on my couch & Olympics time, but really, why?

4. I hate that I have driven by my fave car wash about 3 times in the last 2 days and it's been closed. Gimme a break .. this is chinook weather in Calgary where all of our cars have had truck loads of shit thrown at them, we need them washed ... fix your damn car wash. Or at the very least, put the sign the the parking lot entrance, not at the friggin car wash so we're all wasting our damn time going in cirlces to get back to the street.

5. I hate when my kid takes her PMS out on me .. I'm sorry she turned all womanly way before she/I was ready, but the sooner she learns to keep her mouth shut those days, the less I have to yell at her for something I know she has a hard time understanding. March 18, she's grounded!

6. I hate my fat gut today ... big time. I am bloated to shit and can't suck it in. Even my bcwf said "whoa" when I showed her. I'm terrified to take my scarf off incase someone asks when I'm due.

7. I hate that even though I am a growing monstrosity, I am STILL going to get something gross and fatty for lunch.

Well, that about sums it up for today ... I can't think of much else, and that's pretty good for me, I can fly off the handle pretty fast and usually often. I don't know if I feel better for getting it all off my chest, or worse because I had to scrounge those up to take part when I wasn't even really pissed off about most of that to begin with. At any rate, I was introduced to a new blog today and that always makes me happy.

Am I a cougar, or just an old fart?

As I was driving in to work this morning, I was thinking of all sorts of things to write in today's blog about being old. I decided this topic was worth another discussion because I have changed my viewpoint slightly from a previous blog where I was trying to determine how old I really am. The stand I took was that we are as old as our children make us and since my daughter is 12, that makes me ... well ... old! And after spending a weekend of utter debauchery in Vancouver taking in some Olympic festivities, my body has proved to me that, yes indeed, I am old. This year, and this year alone, I have seen the signs, but I have never admitted them. But today, I'm letting it all hang out. I came to this realization after waking up on the couch at 5:15 this morning. And I had been there for over 12 hours! I got home from work at four yesterday afternoon and hit the couch immediately. I channel surfed to catch all the Olympic events for the entire night. And if anyone reading this doesn't already know ... Canada whooped Russia's ass in hockey ... something that hasn't been done in the Olympics in 50+ years. And to brag a little more about my country, 4 Canadian women won the Gold AND Silver medals in the bobsleigh event and Clara Hughes took the Bronze medal in the 5000m speed skating event .. but really, what kind of of Canadians would they be if they didn't place in those events? That is how us Canadians get around the streets of our frozen cities between September and May every year .... we've been training our whole lives ... at any rate, Congratulations ladies. Back to my point .... after watching 5 hours of Olympic events on TV last night, I was getting mighty tired. Too tired even to make it up to bed apparently because I woke up on the couch, fully clothed, lights & TV still on with a tiny blanket and no pillow. Now that's tired. I had an 8 hour sleep the night before and enough sleep prior to that after returning home from Vancouver ... so I thought. I did go hard in Vancouver, I wont try to deny that. I started the 12 hour drive from Calgary at 9pm Wednesday night with a coffee and Baileys (no, I was not the driver), continued with a beer in Canmore, 2 tall Strongbows, a nap, woke up for breakfast in Abbotsford, took another nap when we got to the condo, started drinking at about 3pm Thursday and didn't quit until we hit Kamloops on our way home Sunday night. I had a few hours of sleep each night in between (and even had some schnoo schnoo - Vancouver-style, thanks T-Bone) but apparently not enough. And it wasn't just us with kids that had a hard time keeping up, even the kid-less on our trip were wiped right the hell out when we got home. But if it takes 3 days to recover from 3 days of hard core partying, I do believe ladies & gentlemen, that makes us old! Again, I kinda figured it was getting to this point. Me and 3 girlfriends hit the Back Alley, a past favorite bar of ours, last February for a night of dancing and shooters. After being on the dance floor for just a few hours (maybe even just one), most of which was spent holding on to the railings catching our breath in the middle of every song, we looked around in horror as we noticed that the girls dancing on the speakers wearing next to nothing were closer in age to our daughters than they were to us. That, along with being called cougars by someone who looked 14 years old marked the end our night of dancing and doing shooters at the Back Alley. And speaking of cougars (another point I wanted to make when I started typing this out), I just read a blog by Single Soccer Mom, who I just started following yesterday, where she referred to women in their 30's as "cougars" ... now contrary to what I've just written today about being a tired old fart, cougar is a term that I refuse to accept. I haven't yet turned 31, so I'm barely in my 30's really. Mid to late 30's sounds about right to be called a cougar. wink wink. Or who knows, maybe it's a term I will never accept because I can't fit into the clothes I wore even last year, I don't accessorize, and I can't walk in high heels. I think a better term for me is "comfortably frumpy with a touch of class".

See .... classy ....

Truisms from the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics

After having just spent 4 days in Vancouver celebrating (meaning drinking and not sleeping much) the Olympics, I am too tired and have too many e-mails here at work to check to write a full blog now about my first ever experience in Van. For True Story Tuesday today, I thought I’d leave you with a few Stacy-Truisms from my trip. For more True Stories, visit Rachel and Mr Daddy to read or add your own.

I stood at my back door Wednesday night wondering if I should keep my ratty ol runners on to wear to Vancouver, or put on my brand new sparkling white gym runners. Brand new meaning 1 year old but since I don’t go to the gym … brand new. I opt for the brand new sparkly white pair. I am ridiculously careful with them the entire 14 hours it takes for us to get from Calgary to Vancouver. We arrive in Vancouver at noon Thursday and by that evening when we finally decide we’ve had enough sleep and it’s time to par-tay, I pull the white runners out from under a ledge at the front door of the condo we’ve rented. Brand-new-white-runner FAIL. It wasn’t a “ledge” after all … it was the heater vent thingy. Don't have the pic with me to show my brand new sparkly white runners with the burnt toe, but I'll add it after work. True Story.

We take our seats at the Latvia vs. Czech Republic hockey game Friday afternoon. We’re stoked. We have an $8 beer in each hand, Latvia flags (when in doubt, cheer for the under-dogs … it’s fun and makes you feel good) with dangerously pointed tips for people who have been double fisting alcoholic beverages all day, our cameras to capture this game that we’ve been waiting 7 months to see, and our cell phones to call everyone we know to tell them what we’re wearing and where we’re sitting so they can try to see us in the crowd (with envy). First level, 10th row behind the goalie if anyone’s interested. As Murphy would have it, as soon as I park my fat arse in my seat and put both my $8 dollar drinks on the ground so I can arrange my self, my flag, my camera, and my cell phone, we are troubled to let 2 late-ass fans in to their seats beside us. As the 1st man in was not patient enough for me to grab my drinks, he starts to walk over them. I’m holding my breath watching, just waiting for him to knock them over. He doesn’t. Obviously he hasn’t had enough to drink. What he does get though is the sharp point of my flag right in his crotch. I am mortified for a split second, then start laughing because really, he deserved it. Impatient little man. His wife is coming in just as fast, and just as impatient, but I try with all my might to grab my drinks before they are knocked over. I grabbed them both and they are saved. All is well. Until I try to stand up with them. The impatient little mans big wife is right in front of me, I haven’t moved fast enough. Complete boob and check contact. My cheek. Her boob. And not just a slight brush I can assure you. My face was pushed against her large breast. And I laughed again. What a pervert they must have thought. Oh well, they both got to experience a happy lil Calgarian girl touch their happy places while at the Latvia vs Czech Republic hockey game. True story.

After 2nd intermission, the crowd is riled up. Latvia has scored. And we’ve been drinking many o’ $8 drinks. The wave begins. It goes past me twice before I get the hang of it. And that’s an understatement. I decided half way through the game that I wouldn’t be drinking out of a straw anymore. I ditched my straw, threw my lids away and continued drinking. Not a great idea when I’m trying to get the hang of the wave. 3rd time the wave comes around and I’m ready. I want to be part of the riled up crowd. The wave gets to us, I stand up, my arms above my head …. and enter wave fail. Half my $8 drink is on my lap and up my left arm. I look around to make sure nobody saw … but they did. Everyone is laughing. Me too at that point. I am sticky, wet, but having fun. True Story.

A few more Stacy Truisms from the 2010 Vancouver Olympics ….

*Flames fans will seek out other Flames fans to take pictures (and hug you and request you to flash them) to prove that some of us are brave enough to walk the streets of Van proudly sporting a Calgary Flames shirt and will high five you when you say Vancouverites suck (under your breath of course because you don’t want one of them to hear you …)

*The import police will not take away your open can of liquor in the Starbucks while waiting for washroom. They will, though, let you put it down while taking a picture with them.

*The security guards in the mall with the liquor store will not stop you from having a good time, open liquor and all.

*Vancouver, will however, close down all the liquor stores at 7pm on a Saturday night because of all the open liquor and public drunkenness from the night before. True Story ... see it here.

Hope you enjoy my money

Dear Office Thief ...

You are a slimy piece of pooh and when you are caught, I hope you end up homeless and on welfare. I believe in karma, so even if you aren't caught & fired over your sticky fingers, I believe that will happen to you one day anyway. I just hope you don't have kids that will end up starving when your stupid-ass goes down. Though I don't know yet if you are an office cleaner, an employee, or a security guard ...something will be said about the missing items in the office today! It was bad enough to walk off with our fruit, a pair of cheap sunglasses, a kitchen bowl.. Not to mention soil from someone's plant (I am serious boys and girls ... a lady in our office accused someone on this floor of stealing soil from her plant).... but now money out of my desk?! Come on you poor crack-head little fucker. I hope you feel good about stealing from a single mom you piece of shit. Sure, I wasn't relying on that money to feed my fat arse .... but I was saving it for this seasons Survivor pool. And for your information, I won that money fair and square in the last Survivor pool. Maybe you were a Survivor pool loser and jealous that I won? I don't know what your deal is, but you suck. Whether or not it was smart to leave $60 in my desk drawer is irrelevant .. it was MY $60 and MY desk. Happy Friday you chunk of cow manure .... oh, and thanks for not taking the entire $60 .. leaving me $10 was very thoughtful. Enjoy my money you ass muncher.

Signed,

One pissed off joint venture analyst who won’t starve over $50 but sure wants to see you starve over $50!

I was having a great day up until 7:45am when I opened my desk drawer to dig into my Survivor pool winnings to pay Survivor Man for this pool and realized where there was once $60 .. there was now $10. I know, I know I shouldn't have left that much money in my drawer ... but it was "hidden" and I really thought it would be ok in there. Really. I think I kinda know how an old IT buddy felt when he came to work one Monday and realized money was gone from his desk, his snacks were eaten but wrappers & crumbs left all over his work station, and his chair had been sat in while the security guard enjoyed many o hours of late night porn on his computer .... yucky icky. To read more letters, or to add your own, head over to Foursons blog and link up.

poker is my new "thing"

I leave the employee lounge every day at 1pm and strut back to my office. I love playing poker. It's my new thing. I watch it on TV every chance I get (besides the European poker games and the games where the players use bills and not chips ... it just doesn't sound like poker if you can't hear the chips), and I even manipulate my daughter into watching it and making her tell me what the best hand is when we see the flop. T-Bone taught me to play almost a year ago. Almost in time for the 10 hour, 30 person poker tournament him & buddies put on. I was still chasing straights and/or only betting on for sure wins when I was the big blind then, so it was just as well that I never played in the tournament. Since then though, I've learnt a lot and believe myself to be not too shabby of a player. I have a small fantasy of becoming a fabulous poker player, complete with an unreadable poker face, the ability to gauge every hand at the table, and bluffing like there's no tomorrow. I've been able to pull off some pretty good lies in my life so bluffing should be pretty easy if I could just work on my poker face. I'm probably pretty far from that place though, but am pretty comfortable where I am now anyway. I've even won games and tournaments ... both in person and on-line. I've  had some good games this week. Actually pretty great games this week. I beat a flush with a full house twice, got T-Bone to fold a higher pair than I had after re-raising a big bet of his, got someone else to fold a decent pocket pair with a re-raise after an A-K-J came on the flop when all I had was a 10, and because T-Bone's been saying "good bet" a lot more than he ever has ... oohh and let's not forget my four of a kind - yep 7's. So my increasing success with poker is part of the reason I felt the need to blog about it, but the main reason is because I can finally hold 2 stacks of 3 chips in one hand and lift & shuffle them the way the pros do when they're contimplating a bet. And that made me happy. I didn't think I'd ever be able to do it because I have child-sized hands, but I did it .. over & over & over. Next stop ... Vegas!

Man-hating Monday

I'm in a foul mood this morning. Have said the C word in my head a few times, said fuck out loud, type it now a few times, and am just too mad to even to get to work just yet. I am on a man-hating mission and I'm just happy that I haven't had to talk to any yet today .. poor bastard that will be my first ... and if I have any dirt on him in his life with his kids or wives, he might be hurt and I might be in trouble.

What makes a man walk away from his family? His kids? Ok ... so just typing that made me chuckle a little inside thinking of possibly terribly possessive wives, maybe wives who cheat, wives who deserve to be left at the curb .. and then I thought of devil spawned children .... ok humour time done, back to hating of the man!

For me, this started back when I was about 4 years old. My mom had married my dad in her late 20's, had me at 28. Sounds responsible hey? Not so much. It was her second marriage and should have just been chalked up to a bad decision ... but he wasn't left in 1984 like he should have been and he's still in the far back of my mind collecting hate and now pity. My mom ran from my dad ... literally. Once when he chased her down the street with a gun, and the last time I think was when he went out of town and she ran through the house collecting what she could grab, jumped in a U-Haul, and took off (really .. she could have at least took the VCR since she left the house and all the damn money ...). But like in O Brother, Where Art Though .... she grabbed her kids and "done R-U-N-N-O-F-T". She never re-married either, so me & my sisters were raised by a single mom. Statistically speaking, this was a bad thing for us girls. You know what happens to girls when they don't have a father figure ... I don't have to get in to this again .. most of you reading this know I was knocked up in high school. Moving on then. I always wondered if my sisters and I, and even my mom would have had a better life if we had a step-dad. Given the type of person my mom was (is) though, I don't think any man she would have scored would have added any positive influences in our lives. It would have been a shit-show from the start and big picture, it's probably a good thing she did it on her own. So, with all that said so far, you can see my life's been a struggle ever since I was born.

So it made perfect sense that when I was 14 years old, I fell in love with the only 14-year old drunk at the school, fought all the hussy little ho's who thought he was the hottest of all hot 14 year old drunks, and scored my baby-daddy. Epic fail. Let me tell ya. We loved each other, no denying that ... so many years later I can't even count, and I know that boy loves me still. If I was the same quiet timid pathetic little girl I was in my late teens, early 20's ... I'd still be his bitch. Stacy + Jason = Love. 4Ever. Right?! Not so much. I may have started my life down the same path my mom was on, but I sure as hell am not going to finish it on that path. I am a strong woman, that much I know. But as strong as I am, there's one thing that breaks me every time. And that's seeing my daughter cry. And last night, she cried. For her dad. The tall funny boy who I loved with all my heart so many years ago it seems like a different life, the tall funny boy who loved his little girl right up until she was about 8 years old. The love he had for her is still there I'm sure. But his strength is not. It never was. He traded us in for a new life with Moslon Dry. He's covered up his guilt for leaving his baby girl with so much Molson Dry that he doesn't know he cares anymore. Sydnerella went through a hard time when he left, I'm not going to pretend she didn't. Time has helped heal her and we've reached a spot where she understands, accepts, and moves on. But like any other normal loving human being, she has memories, and a right to mourn the loss of her dad. Those are the times the rage and fury of a single mother comes to the surface. I want to hurt him ... to make him cry the way he made MY baby girl cry while I held her last night ..not that crying is anything new to that pathetic boy, but when he cries at my words, I can't help but smile most times. I won’t be smiling if I get to make him cry today though, I'm too mad. "Fucking piece of shit loser" has been running through my head since last night. It's sad that that's what he turned into .... No, I guess it's sad that that's what I chose for myself and my daughter all those years ago when I was just a scrawny pathetic little fatherless girl. Again, I'm not that person anymore. I am stronger and smarter, and today, I am fucking angry. Today, it's a good thing he lives too far away for me to just show up at his door, punch him in his junk when he answers, and growl YOU KNOW WHY!

Survivor! .... bringing moms and daughters together

Dear Mark Burnett, Jeff Probst, and everyone else who has a hand in bringing the world Survivor,

You have filled my life with something I was missing way back when I was 20 years old. I can't believe you're on your 20th season ... and I can't wait for this coming season ... Heroes vs Villains. February 11 will be celebrated in my house more than February 14 will be and I wouldn't have it any other way. Especially now that I have a partner to enjoy you with ... someone who now shares my understanding that no matter what is going on at 8:55pm on a Thursday night between Feb and May, then again in September - December ... everything is dropped to run to the TV. This gets particularly tricky when I'm not home, a few blocks away ... and trust me, if a cop ever tried to stop me while I was speeding home to watch Survivor, they'd have a high speed chase on their hands, then a hostage situation because I wouldn't open my door to them until the castaway voted off the island said their little surprised good-bye speech. My partner was a mere 2 feet tall when you, Survivor, entered my life. She was still hooked on Barney, Teletubbies, and Bear in the Big Blue House. She's since forgiven me for completely ignoring her existence between 9 and 10 o'clock most Thursday nights of her entire life, because when she became an addict fan of you, she understood why I did what I had to do .... She’s none other than my favorite 12 year old hormonal mean-ager in the world, my daughter, Sydnerella. I was thrilled beyond words about two years ago when channel 49 aired an all-day Survivor marathon that Sydnerella appeared interested in. It was a repeat of Season 2 and she sat with me for a few episodes throughout the day. It captured her enough to sit through the rest of the current season with me, the season James was on .. right before Fans vs Favorites, by far the greatest season so far. I have faith though that Heroes vs Villains will be just as good. Russell vs Rupert? Come on .... that's quality television right there. Yes, Sydnerella and I are hooked. Hooked like a pair of crackheads ... minus the crack of course ... and please, no interventions necessary ... you take away Survivor, you take away our will to live. And even though we don't always agree on favorite and/or most hated castaways, and she usually can't believe I chose who I did for my Survivor pools at work, we at least agree that nothing stands in our way Thursday nights at 9pm between February and May, and again September to December. Ask T-Bone ... if he even dares to come over during our Survivor-time, he is bannished to the computer room and is not to make a sound ... So Survivor, as you can see, not only did you add something to my life that was missing way back when I was a struggling new mom (and also, thank you for airing on Global because even when I was too poor to have cable that one year way way back, I still got to watch you .. even though it was fuzzy and hard to see .... ), you also brought me & Sydnerella together in a way I never imagined I'd be bonded with a child of this age. Our bond is unbreakable and I owe it all to you. I wish you the best of luck these coming years and I hope with all my heart that when Sydnerella is older, and off in her own life, she still comes home every Thursday night between 9 and 10 pm to share a bowl of popcorn and watch you, Survivor, with her momma.

Yours truly,

Sydnerella's mom Stacy

(1-half of the biggest and best mother/daughter team of Survivor fans around ... well maybe in Calgary, or who knows, maybe just Martindale ... )

To read more letters, or to add your own, go to Foursons blog to take part of Letters of Intent friday. And for those that noticed, yes, I changed Sydnerella's name back from Australia for this blog. It just doesn't flow and people that know her very well have asked "who's Australia?" ... I thought I should clarify that incase you were thinking I had more kids than I could possible manage.

I rock. Period.

Today's true story is going to be a quick one as I just received a call from the Presidents executive assitant letting me know a little birdie told her that I have been working really hard and doing a great job ... soooo I suppose that means I shouldn't be logged into blogger too long. My true story is simply that I rock! I was just sitting here minding my own business when my ex-supervisor, the biggest (although shortest in height) sweetheart in the company who has just left my department, but is still in accounting came into my office to discuss road use (bills we have to sent a gazillion companies who use our roads out in the field to get to their wells). When we're done trash talking the way they want us to enter the bills (manually ... by hand ... I think not!) she asked me if I like going to hockey games. Heck yes. I used to go to a few hockey games a year in my old companies box suite ... living the high life .... but since the "recession", that company no longer exists and the owner took his suite with him. Oh well ... The company I work at now has season tickets to the Flames games and had been giving them away through draws. I've entered every single draw for every single game for the last 3 years and was never picked. Well we haven't had draws for the games recently because they're trying something new with the tickets ... giving them to people in the company that deserve them. You know where I'm going with this I'm sure ... Yep, the executive assistant to the President of my company was calling to ask if I am interested in going to the Flames game tomorrow night. Why of course I am. T-Bone is going to hate me a little when I break the news to him that I'll be taking Australia to the game instead of him ... he was devastated to hear the news that his beloved Toronto Maple Leafs acquired Phaneuf from Calgary for 3 of his Maple Leafs and I'm sure he'd appreciate seeing his "Calgary Maple Leafs" play tomorrow against Carolina. Unfortunately for him, I haven't done anything like this with Australia in a long time and she asked me the last time I went to a game if I can take her next time I get tickets. Of course sweetie, anything for you, because you, as well as I, rock! 

For  more true stories (and probably a little funnier and more insteresting as this one was solely to brag about myself), check out Once Upon a Miracle ....