Rantings of a Jilted NHL Star

Welp, the Colorado Avalanche are playing again tonight. It’s been two weeks since they extinguished my Flames and I’m finally more approachable on the subject. May I just say that I despise the new NHL rules? They are contrary to everything the game has always been about. I just hate when organizations (and people for that matter) bend to appeal to the masses.

Y’see, many of you don’t know this but I was on the path to becoming the first female in the NHL. As a Tom Boy Extraordinaire, I could keep up with the best of ‘em in street hockey. For years, I didn’t even know I was a girl except for the times Grandma Wilde would drag me into the kitchen and make me cook as punishment.

Imagine my shock/dismay when all my street boys went to sign up for community hockey and I was turned down. Denied. Discriminated against. If I’d known it possible, I’d have sued for all my future wages lost as an NHL star. My parents explained to me that “nice little girls didn’t play hockey.” Who said anything about being nice? Their solution was to promptly enroll me in figure skating. So instead of killer slap shots, I can do stupid pirouettes. How impractical is that?

We’ve had a busy and fun Saturday. It’s another gorgeous Colorado day so we went hiking up Deer Creek Canyon. Hadley has become the personal trainer from hell. Not only am I hauling a small ton, she has started kicking me when I slow down and bouncing up and down during our ascents. Sometimes I’d rather run suicides than the torment she puts me through.

Hurricane Hadley has also decided she doesn’t need to sleep anymore. Last night was the topper. At 2 a.m., she started bellowing for us. Jamie is usually in denial and doesn’t stir. I think he practices this when I’m not around because there’s no possible way to sleep through our little natural disaster.

Last night, I put his teachings into practice. And it worked until he finally got up and brought her in with us. It’s kinda hard to ignore her when she stretches herself horizontally across our king-size bed. I was her footstool, Jamie her headrest. The topper, though, was when she mounted Jamie’s head and started doing horsy-rides. No amount of parental love could ever tolerate this in the middle of the night so he did what any loving father would do: he ditched me and slept on the couch. I don’t blame him but he got his first warning: if he ever leaves me with her again, he’ll be sleeping in the doghouse next time. Oh, and he’ll be the one hauling her up that mountain….

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