A ‘Capital’ day

What better way to ring in a new year than to watch the Caps beat the dayglo-orange off the Flyers in an intense shootout? Oh, yeah, hanging out with Ted, Nic and Victor as well as Ted’s family as we watched our boys whoop some ass on those “wuhter”-drinking figure skaters.

I may not root for the Flyers, but I still loves me my Philly boys!


Oh Jeebus H, I’m such a freaking dork. I parked at a Metro station that I absolutely abhor because I didn’t think I had enough time to go to my favorite one, and that brought about the curse.

Nic had thoughtfully purchased the tickets and e-mailed us the PDFs. I know me — I lose shit. So I printed two tix and left them in my car. I even remembered to take one as I got out of my car (which was in the eleventy millionth spot away from said station).

So I went about catching my train, and I started racing up the escalator. Whereupon ….

My ticket was gone!

I looked up and down the escalator — no dice. Who could lose an 8.5″ x 11″ piece of paper?

That would be me.

So I got off the escalator and ran down the stairs. I stopped to see if the paper had landed on the escalator, but I didn’t see it. I knew I’d had the paper when I put my pass into the machine, so I went back there. No dice.

A very nice employee heard my story and let me out to go walk back to my car to see if it was on the way. Nope. But alas, I DID grab my spare copy (I love me for knowing what an IDIOT I can be) and went back to the Metro stop, whereupon the guard waved me through so I wouldn’t have to pay again.

Here’s the deal — I was more nervous that someone had come up behind me and STOLEN the ticket, because the stranger would be sittin’ with my friends and I would have been screwed.

So I trudged up the escalator yet another time. By this time, at least 20 minutes has passed. Wouldn’t you know it, as I stepped off, the paper lay right at the top, face-down and with a footprint on it?

I picked it up and laughed and laughed. Everyone on the platform looked at me strangely as I read it, crumpled it and tossed it. Oh, the hilarity I cause when I’m not even trying — I was quite glad that I would be the one sitting in my seat at the game and that I could stop worrying.

When I came home, the same guard was there and she recognized me immediately. She asked if I’d ever found my paper, and I explained that it was a ticket and that it had apparently ridden up the escalator without me. Go figure. She laughed heartily (at me) and said good, because that woulda been a cruddy way to kick off a new year. I agreed and wished her well and took off.


In any event, Victor learned why it’s best to just never take me in public.

He was very much into the game when I arrived, and he was sort of commenting to himself out loud about it. In any event, I’ve scared many a man in my life, and today was no exception.

Victor: “That’s a high stick.”
Me: (exclamation point forms over head) “A high stick? Heh. I like those!”
Victor: “I think I’m blushing.”

But wait, there’s more.

Announcer: “Please respect your neighbors and refrain from using foul language.”
Me: “Well, fuck me then!”
Victor: (repeats what I said to Ted. Turns back and says) “You’re shit out of luck.”

I’m sure the neighbors weren’t offended — we’re convinced that the row of non-English-speakers behind us were swearing in some sort of Eastern European dialect. 🙂

But my swearing never really ended. Later, as I was making a comment about something, Victor looked at me and said, “You just swore six times!”

Yup, I’m a lady. We’re all just lucky the Caps won, else the expletives woulda REALLY been flying!


I’ve seen sporting events in a handful of cities. Like in Springfield, Ore., all folks have are the University of Oregon Ducks, and people go apeshit at their various games. And Pittsburgh, where I’m from — hoo boy, everyone loves them some of the Black and Gold. I mean, psychotically LOVES their teams.

Not to mention, we had Myron Cope as the color commentator for the Steelers, and then Mike Lange (with the Pens), who could really rile you up. I mean, we’re talking that these arenas and stadiums were on FIRE with fans going ballistic for their teams.

In D.C.? Meh. When the signs came on to make noise, to get louder, to fucking acknowledge that your heart is still beating, you got some half-assed “woo hoos” and that was as good as it gets. Like Nic said, though, D.C. isn’t a hockey town, but she says they do go nuts for their football.

Good lord, if THAT’S what gets this town excited, seriously, yikes. I only root for the ‘Skins when they’re playing New England or Dallas!

In any event, that pretty much ends all I know about sports. So I’d better get off my ass and start cleaning the place up to host the Carnival of the Recipes! Check back in a bit, friends — I’ve got more balls for you than a Wizards game (which, incidentally, are off my radar now that Michael Jordan’s gone). …

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