Coveting the comfy but thinking of hockey

(Hockey greeting and reminder...)

My fellow Dragons:

Another Friday night. Another soccer practice for my older son. And me once again at Starbucks coveting the comfy chair.

The thing is this: I don't even like Starbucks. Oh I know that's horrible to say and I risk their free Internet service detecting the words "hate" and "Starbucks" in the same sentence and somehow doing permanent, horrible things to my iPad, but I'm honestly indifferent bordering on dismissive of Starbucks. I'd much rather go to Second Cup, but (a) it's not as convenient, (b) I'm not sure if they have free wi-fi, and (c) it doesn't have the comfy chair.

I don't know if it's a Pee-Wee's Playhouse thing or a Blue's Clues thing or a 'remember that poster from the movie 'Scandal' that was the famous image in Britain' thing, but I like the idea of the comfy chair, I covet the comfy chair, I want the comfy chair.

But I've decided in 2012 to be not only more plodding but also more patient. Like the Margaret Thatcher haters who will wait until she's dead to tramp the dirt down, I figure I can out-wait the two 20-something women who are hogging the chairs and using the word "like" an awful lot: "He said to me, like, 'You can't mean it.' And I said to him, like, 'Yeah, I do.' So he was like all upset and everything." I don't even know if they like the word, but they sure use it a lot.

And yet as I wait patiently (and wonder if I should switch chairs so I don't appear over-eager, but at the same time I don't want to risk someone scooping them up when my back is turned, but if I look anxious there's a chance they'll realize I'm observing them and -- oh my god, I just realized that the comfy chair has somehow become a symbol of my pathetic days as a young man who was perhaps uncertain, perhaps unconfident and perhaps a wee bit desperate when it came to women)...

And yet as I wait patiently, I know that my time will come. Patient and plodding -- that's me. Or maybe it is patient and *plotting* and I'm merely presenting a charade of plodditude? After all, I'm one-eighth Italian so perhaps I'm more Machiavellian than even I myself suspect. Could I be so Machiavellian that even the other seven-eighths of me does not suspect my own 0.125 percent's motives? Was Machiavelli even Italian? I don't care; I'm gonna go with it anyways.

As for HOCKEY....

Sunday night at 10:00 my friends. And as I write that I think "ten o'clock" and as I type this I think I'm writing it because "writing" sounds infinitively more creative than "typing" and I'm thinking about scoring and assisting and winning and all of those things. And if I'm thinking about all of those things as I compose this email, I simply must be *writing* because typing is just qwerty-fying to communicate while this, THIS, is oh so much more.

Oi! Does this guy got his eye on my comfy chair? Oops, he's just been told by his I-guess-it's-his mom that Starbucks doesn't have the hot chocolate that he wants, so he says "screw it". He's now trying to convince her to go to EB Games. He looks like he eats at Burger King / McDonald's / Pizza Hut for breakfast, lunch and dinner and eats his ice cream with gravy instead of chocolate sauce. I will slap his face silly if he even thinks of encroaching on the comfy chair, slap him so hard that his jowls will vibrate in such a violent fashion that a sonic boom will occur. Do not even think of looking at the comfy chair!!!

And with that he leaves to once again dwell in his mother's basement. And I quietly thank god that I'm drinking decaf or I might have got really upset.

Hockey! Sunday night against Shock. I don't know if they are collectively known as "the Shock", "the Shocks" or just "Losers" but somehow we were defeated by them back on December 11th so I think it'd be a wonderful idea to beat them this time. They were beaten by CIP two weeks ago, and we hammered those reprobates last week, so I think it's our mathematical destiny to get a wee bit of vengeance on Sunday. Or is that a wee bit of revenge? Do we 'extract vengeance' and 'get revenge'? Is that the way it works? -- Either way, victory shall be ours.

And so, just as the comfy chair has been mine for the past half hour, so too shall sweet, sweet victory be ours on Sunday.

Damn I'm glad I'm drinking decaf. Cuz can you imagine one of these emails on an espresso or two? Now THAT would be a ride.

Gentlemen! Sunday at 10:00. Send your regrets if you're unable to attend. Otherwise I look forward to seeing you there.

All the best,
Kevin.

Sent from my iPad (and the comfy chair)