Elbow room…elbow room… got ta

Elbow room…elbow room… got ta got ta get us some elbow room…

You know, there’s an indescript clothing store near the office named “Harriet’s”. It’s one of those scary stores that offers both men’s and women’s clothes, but don’t tell you which is which. I just know I’ll go in there and wind up picking up an adorable little blouse or something. Maybe lace and frills will become manly one of these days.

Anyway, when I see their sign, my mind automatically kicks into…
“Harriet!
Harri-et
Hard-hearted harbinger of haggis…”

Kermit’s singing in my ear now, and he’s overriding Mike Myers. After all, someday we’ll find it – the Rainbow Connection.

I think I’m going to

I think I’m going to be dangerous to the blogger servers. My mind is just too twirly. I’m not sure if that’s what I’m thinking exactly, but it sounds funny.

Anyway, I forgot the other cool thing about the hockey clinic – free jersey! The funny thing is, it’s a black jersey. When you factor in my black pants, skates and gloves, I’m like this little dark spot on the ice that keeps picking itself back up. I’ve become the Johnny Cash of Hockey. Hopefully I’ll eventually skate better than Johnny.

But I checked that man in Reno… just to watch him die…

The more I think about

The more I think about it, I feel surprisingly good. After all, I started up in an ice hockey clinic last night (2 hours per night for 5 days straight) and my body wasn’t very appreciative of me by the time I finally got to bed. It’s a pretty cool clinic though – they teach “powerskating” to us. If they just had a “powerstopping” coach, I’d be set. Maybe if I start knocking down the coaches they’ll teach me to stop…

Things aren’t completely horrible I

Things aren’t completely horrible I suppose. After all, I have a big steaming tupperware box of pasta in front of me. Mmmmmm…. pasta. I can feel the carbos coursing through my body. Almost gives me enough energy to work on more of the web site. Or do the work I’m paid for here at my job. Something like that.

Okay, I’m going to have

Okay, I’m going to have to kill our drink vendor here at work. I walk up to the refrigerator, visions of Coca Cola cans dancing in my head, to discover… 5 Cokes? What the hell is all of this juice doing in here? And all of these Diet Cokes? Diet Cokes?

Another something wrong. There’s this

Another something wrong. There’s this guy who walks by every morning to change the conference room schedule posted (appropriately enough) on the conference room behind me. For some bizarre reason he smells like… baby powder? It’s definitely some cloying, perfumy smell that shouldn’t be on a guy.

Surprisingly enough, he’s not the guy who wears capris pants.

I’ve gotta get out of here.

One last thing before the

One last thing before the re-design. You know, there’s something just wrong about a guy wearing capris pants. I feel like I should tell him, but then he might scorn me for my flannel shirt and ballcap…

Errr… That would be “baseball cap” rather than some new, strange sort of piercing. To be more specific, you could say “hockey cap”.