Rule #3: People suck
So, with the fighting and eating all behind us, we finally make it to the hockey game and have great seats to watch a pitifully bad team.
Ten minutes into the game, my right arm – wrapped around my wife’s shoulder – gets wet.
Apparently, it’s impossible for a man to carry two beers at the same time while simultaneously trying to get to his seat.
I know this, because my arm is now covered in half of his beer.
Thank you, you f*cking ignorant jackass.
Will it be nachos? Pizza?
The suspense is killing me!!
It’s like “Who Wants to be a Millionaire” but with drunk assholes playing instead of just regular assholes.
Guy: “Hey…that’s what they make washing machines for, right?”
The washing machine was invented for the sole purpose of washing beer out of my sleeve, splashed on there by some stupid douchebag who can’t figure out how to carry two plastic cups and walk simultaneously.
My reply: “Sure.”
I hate people.
Wife: “Jesus…I feel like I’m sitting next to Payton while she’s eating supper.”
Me: “Huh? What?”
Wife: “The guy next to you. Oh. My. God. You can’t hear him?”
Payton is my daughter.
She chews like a goddamn barn animal.
Drives. Me. Nuts.
Great. I get the analogy now.
Here I was….sitting in oblivious bliss watching a hockey game…
…NOW my ears are tuned into…
*smack smack clop smop smack slurp smack*
OH. MY. GOD.
WTF is this guy eating?!?!?
*smaaaack smock smock smack clop*
Is it still alive? Is he trying to chew it to death?!
Does this man have cloven feet?
Or Britney Spears exiting a vehicle…I haven’t quite made up my mind yet.
*smack slop smooch*
Does he not have lips?!
Then I hear this:
Really? He f*cking CHIRPS?
It was that sound when you try to suck something out of your own teeth…that, chirpy sound.
Except he did it EVERY 5 F*CKING SECONDS.
I believe I caused damage.
I TRIED to cause damage.
At least I would have been able to put my left arm down…you don’t need to listen to a hockey game in “stereo.”
Rule #4: The Subway Still Sucks
My Bruins lost, of course…by a score of 6 to 3.
Because, sometimes, God just has to stick it to me all the way.
As we waited for the subway home, some mentally-ill-drunk-guy-with-a-cane started yelling at one of the other guys on the platform for no reason.
“Let’s go, Red Sox!”
It was the middle of winter.
…to no one in particular.
Maybe I should have left him a bowel movement…
You know…so he had someone to talk to.
I’m thoughtful like that.