Hockeyhockeyhockey

Yeah, thought I was done with hockeyhockeyhockey for a while, huh? Thought you were safe?

Well, tough. Tampa Bay's still in the playoffs, for one thing, and for another, I haven't even babbled about "The Season" with the Colorado Avalanche yet.

First: Peter Forsberg's wolf-eyes creep me the fuck out. Always have, always will. His eyes do not look human. However, five minutes of Peter Forsberg doing hydrotherapy (read: in a bathing suit)? Praise the Lord! Now be a good boy and come sit on Mama's lap...just don't look her in the eye.

The people in charge seemed determined to present the Avs as family-forward. There was footage of the coach, Tony Granato, playing lacrosse with his sons and watching one's hockey practice. There was footage of Matthew Barnaby calling his wife to make sure his kids hadn't seen him get his face busted open, then reading a storybook to his little girl (he had stitches in by then). There was footage (the cutest footage of all) of Joe Sakic playing goalie for his little boys (who are like, four and six) in their driveway.

"Who are you guys?"
"Avalanche!"
"Okay. And who am I?"
"Wed Wings!"
"Oh, the Red Wings. I see how it's gonna be...oh, a save made by...who am I, again?" This was, of course, when the Wings were playing goalie-go-round.

Socute.

However, it would have served them well to show less lacrosse/story time/adorable hockey/dareIsayit, Forsberg in the pool and show more Bertuzzi incident/playoffs/dareIsayit, actual hockey. Steve Moore and his poor neck were like, barely mentioned in passing. All I saw of the playoffs was a rather unmotivating 'Well, we lost to the Sharks...' speech from Granato.

Classics Geek, Who, Me?

I spent about an hour tonight screaming at the History Channel about the Trojan Horse. Namely, about their theories that it was actually a battering ram or a metaphor for an earthquake.

Me: It was a giant freaking HORSE! With PEOPLE in it!
Mom: You're scaring the cat!

Then I showed my true Classics Geek colors when I attempted to explain the timeline of the Big Deaths of the Trojan war to her.

( If You're Living Under a Classics Rock, Spoilers Ahead )

My obsession with Alexander the Great is starting to worry my mom, I think. As a matter of fact, she's offered to buy me books if I'll just not talk about the true love of Alexander and Hephaestion in front of my grandparents. "They're not ready to hear about gay Macedonian generals. You'll give them strokes."

Me: He was bi!

It'll get better once the movie comes out. But until then, she has to hear me rant about Bagoas. And Bucephalus. But I like Bucephalus, unlike Bagoas...little girly eunuch.

Mom: If you could also not mention the bit about them considering casting a transsexual as the Persian boy you apparently hate in front of your grandparents, that'd be good, too.
Me: Well, what can I talk about?
Mom: The horse. Wait. Did he sleep with the horse?
Me: No, but he named a city after it when it died.
Mom: Well, that's okay, then. You can talk about the horse.