Everything's Eventual

Finally, the weekend is here.

I have to get in touch with leopard_lady about tonight. I've become less and less sure that I want to see X2 with someone who's already seen it. Unintentional spoilage, you know? On the other hand, I hate going to the cinema alone. Jeez. Also, I think I'm too tired and sore to go anywhere just now. I did 42.5 hours this week. I normally do 32 or so. Overtime sucks.

Well, sort of sucks. After all, it has its compensations. For instance, I'm now the owner of a Decepticons logo T-shirt. I used to love the Transformers as a kid (yes, tomboy, how did you guess?). I'm also the proud owner of "Ghost in the Shell". This is, thank you, the first DVD I've ever purchased full price. But I figure it's in a good cause. Why? Because they're actually selling anime here. Not just bits and bobs anymore. There are rows devoted to what they call manga now (but I thought manga was the comics?). Anyway, I've seen so far:

* Blue Gender
* Bubblegum Crisis
* Escaflowne
* Neon Genesis Evangelion (not just the movies -- the first two DVDs as well)
* Patlabor
* Macross II
* Oh, My Goddess
* Sailor Moon (yeick)
* Samurai X

And a whole bunch of other stuff I've never heard of. But I'm going to enjoy finding out! No Lain, though, which is a bummer. And I don't see why -- apart from the suicide, there's nothing in it that's any worse than what's in, for example, "Perfect Blue". Hell, "Perfect Blue" is a lot more violent, as are "Blood" and Eva and ... well, you get the idea. Well, maybe one day. The fact remains that the country I live in (and my DVD works in) has finally achieved cluehood! There is anime! That's just too bloody eventual!

(If you need me to explain that, go read the latest King short story anthology.)

Anyway, I think I'll go do the reach-out-and-bug-someone thing, and then ... well, I dunno what then.

Note to self -- GET THE GLASSES FIXED! Damnit, I'm getting sick of misreading things.

Thess

Shite vs. Substance

The Mighty Fucks of Anaheim are winning three games to none. The Wild haven't scored a point in any of those three games. The most they managed was a nil-nil draw for four and a half periods, and that was the first game. Now they're going downhill in the kind of slump no team ever wants to see in the playoffs. I mean, game 2 -- ANA 2, MIN 0. Game 3 -- ANA 4, MIN 0.

And the Sens aren't doing much better. At least they're scoring, or at least they were until yesterday. Okay, it won't kill me if the Devils make the finals. But I did so want to root for a Canadian team for a change. Well, I can put on my Joisey accent and dig out my devil horns from Halloween, I guess.

God help me if the Mighty Fucks of Anaheim take the Cup. If they do, I'm going to seriously consider joining the Socialist party. I mean, I'm a Canadian. Hell, I'm from Montreal. I was born in the home of hockey as we know it, and I'm watching the Original Six getting thrashed by Johnny Come Latelies with more dollars than sense. Money shouldn't be able to buy everything. And yet it does.

More disturbing is that I just found out what everyone else who's into hockey probably already knew -- Anaheim is just a movie tie-in for some piece of crap involving Emilio Estevez. I knew they were connected; I was just naive enough to think that the hockey team came first. And yet, despite the crappy movie, its crappy sequels and a really crappy cartoon series, this hockey team tie-in to a legacy of crap is running ... or rather, skating off with the Conference fucking Finals!

I come from the home of hockey. The Montrealais damn near invented the game. We certainly guided it into the modern era. The Montreal Canadiens have won the Stanley Cup 24 times -- more than any other team in the league, and the only team in any sport who's ever won their championship more times is the New York Yankees. And yet I have to watch us fade because of budget constraints and have fucktards like that threaten to have their names engraved on the Cup my people practically forged.

Fine, I sound a little overblown. It's national pride. I want things to mean things. The history seems to have gone completely by the wayside in favour of movie tie-ins and cheap tat and "Show me the money!". Fifteen minutes of fame instead of a well-earned legacy.

Hockey God, oh Hockey God, why hast Thou forsaken me?

Thess