My mind is beginning to wane and wander. I overheard somebody say "hot key" and I misheard it as "hockey" and immediately went into a long diatribe about the fighting is an essential and meritorious part of the game, yelling at some poor woman who only wanted to reply to e-mails faster, her confused eyes conveying a sense of primal fear and a constant string of colorful Outlook signatures.
I fear by week's end I will only be able to sleep in a vertical glass box. I felt bad for a team member who said they had a double minor, only to find out it was in Sociology and Poli Sci. My mind is in a constant daze with no hockey in my future, so now I know what Marc Savard feels like every day.
Hopefully Gary Bettman's heart will grow three sizes and the true meaning of hockey will come through.
Hopefully Gary Bettman's heart will grow three sizes and the true meaning of hockey will come through.
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