Friday, 17 June 2011


     Last night, Vancouver bombed their chance at the Stanley cup.  I'm not a huge hockey fan, but I've followed them to some degree as they made their way though the play off's and the finals.  My night could not have been more different than the rioting down town. 
     Tim Thomas, the Boston Bruins' goalie with mad skillz, is an ice gypsy: enough said.  Caitlin and I are sure he emits a gypsy screech as forwards approach his net to stun his opponents and pin point the location of the puck using echo location.  Has anyone else ever noticed that the viewers never hear what's going on verbally on the ice?  No one would ever know of his secret talent, all those who face him would be too embarrassed to use the excuse that Tim Thomas used his gypsy powers and everyone would think the accuser is just a sore loser.  I swear he has one gold hoop earring tucked into his helmet and wears voluminous, striped cotton bloomers and a billowing peasant shirt. 
     Honestly, that first goal decided the game.  That game decided the night.  I have never seen such reckless vandalism.  I actually felt like I was going to vomit on multiple occasions as I watched the news coverage of the rioting.  Sure, you can't spell patriot without riot, but this was madness.  Upon witnessing the footage of London Drugs falling victim to hooligans smashing the windows then proceeding to loot the store that consistently has supplied me with nail polish, Pringles, and an Xmen trilogy box set, I have lost much of my faith in humanity.  However, I did have the pleasure of seeing an inebriated man dancing in the background of a field reporter's shot that looked exactly like Dimitri from those "dimitri finds out..." videos.
     It is extremely disheartening that I have not found a wealthy benefactor yet to finance my ultimate dream of becoming a PVC clad vigilante. 
     I wouldn't even have to bang him, I'd wait till he wrote me into his will, then I'd set him up so he's killed in the crossfires of a gang battle.  Although I should not have disclosed these plans, now it can all be traced back to me.  This is one for future Cari to deal with later.  Fantasy aside, this was the perfect opportunity for someone to bring justice to the city through masked hero work.  How I would have loved to have dropped out of the sky into the fray of the riot and beat some shit-head 20-something, adolescent minded guy to a bloody pulp with my phallic night stick of glory with retractable spikes. 
     One day.

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