Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Women Are Like Sidney Crosby

I don't understand either of them.

At least I know Sidney Crosby is a bitch and I can cross-check him if I have to.

Women not so much. They confuse me more than the centre-ice trap. Take this past weekend for example.

This chick I haven't seen in over a year calls me out of the blue, which totally freaked me out because I haven't seen you in over a year and the last time I did see you, you were yelling at me and you told me you never wanted to see me again. What the fuck changed? Do you feel sorry for me because I didn't win the Norris trophy this year? But I was like okay, let's hang out.

But it wasn't okay. I'd been beating myself up for a year because I thought I'd done something to drive you away. Is it my fault that when I tried to tell you I love you it came out like I love you when you vote for me for the Norris trophy? Forgive me. I know hockey, I don't know women.

But that wasn't the end of it. I didn't eat breakfast or lunch because I was so nervous. I even threw up in my hot tub because I was so stressed out. I haven't seen you in forever, and I've been in love with you for longer than that, and all you've probably seen of me is my shitty Geico commericals and me playing like ass in the NHL playoffs. I need to make a good first impression.

I didn't. I choked worse than I did in the playoffs.

I should have gone to Summers to have a drink to calm the nerves. At least they're aren't any chicks in Summers.

1 comment:

  1. Thanks. It is always refreshing to peer into the peculiar psyche that is Mike Green Bobblehead. But "(no) chicks in Summers"? I believe there is one bartender who is always there....