So George and I went to the hockey game Saturday night (we have season tickets, so we try to go to as many games as possible.) And GUESS who was there again?? Yes, friends n' neighbors, that's right! The CHEERLEADING CONVENTION. I had no idea how accurately George described the scene until I saw it for myself. An example would be when I went to the ladies room. One of the workers at the arena showed me a tucked away bathroom that very few people knew about. It was not only infinitely cleaner than the other bathrooms, but it was huge, as well. There were massive floor-to-ceiling windows facing the sinks, and at nighttime, with the city lights all around, it was stunning. As I turned away from that awesome view, I saw a cheerleader doing a Riverdance routine, in the bathroom, watching herself in the windows. It was quite a sight.

As you walk around the arena on your way to your seats, you are often met with a multitude of people trying to convince you that THEIR booth is the one where you should stop and hand over your cash. Some of them we don't mind giving money to, like the Happy Tails Organization where you donate cash to help their cause of taking the dogs to nursing homes and hospitals to help cheer up the residents. But by the time you get closer to your seat, you are less likely to fork over cash because you're tired of being hounded, and because you're too nice and have given away ENTIRELY too much cash already and you're broke.

So after we'd already given away a boatload of cash, we were just trying to get to our seats. It was wildly crowded (they broke a season record for attendance last night, due in part, no doubt, to all those gawdamned cheerleaders who decided to stay after their competition and watch a happy blood sport) and it was very difficult to maneuver our way to our section. I was becoming increasingly irritated by the idiots surrounding us, so when yet another woman tried to entice us to stop, my patience was nearly exhausted. Here's how it went:

Lady: HI FOLKS!

Gracie: Christ, here it comes. NOBODY starts a sentence with 'hi folks!' without wantin' somethin'.

Lady: Come on over here n' get a free coke!

Gracie: Ain't NOTHIN' free, honey

Lady: Oh, but this is! We're promoting designated drivers. If you'll just sign the form stating that you're going to be the designated driver tonight, we'll give you a free Coke!

Now, I don't drink Coke anymore, because my nerves are so shot lately, that the caffeine just sends me over the edge. George and I also rarely drink alcohol unless we're at home hosting a party, or some special occasion. We don't have anything against alcohol, per se, we just don't partake of The Imbibing very often. So we're in a hurry, trying to get to our seats, and we're just sooo not in the mood for this, and I'm trying to politely get her to move on to someone else, and I want to convey that I don't want a Coke, cause I don't drink Coke, and there's no worry needed on her part, as neither of us will be drinking this evening anyway, and I was just all out of sorts and here's how I responded:

Gracie: No thanks, we don't drink!

Fuckin' duh. That's the whole POINT, Gracie! Which is what her face said, too. Such a dork I am.

Moving on, my true purpose today is to explain to you how you are to behave should you ever find yourself at the same hockey game that Gracie has had the misfortune of choosing to attend:

First and foremost, when you are getting dressed for the game, make sure that you throw caution to the wind and wear 5 or 6 inch spike heels. Sure, you'll be walking up and down the steepest stairs you've ever encountered, but you're legs will look GREAT!

Make sure that you not only wear a mini-skirt, despite the coldness of the arena, but also spend 2 or 3 hours marinating in a bathtub full of your cologne or perfume. This will ensure that the people seated around you are so nauseous from being assaulted by your Stink Purty® that there's no WAY they'll be able to even fathom eating an $8.00 hot dog. You'll save them cash and shrink their ass! They'll be so grateful!

Once at the arena, you will be met with a plethora of escalators. Don't pay any attention to the freak behind you who obviously has 'issues' with these devices, who probably also has fears of something happening where the stairs keep moving, but the people don't and chaos ensues where all the people are trapped and begin falling onto each other and death ensues. Nah, don't go thinking. When you get to the top of the escalator, please make sure that you choose THAT exact moment to stop and stare at all the sights, and chat with your party about your plans for the next year or so. The world ends behind you, so you couldn't possibly be causing harm, danger, or freakin' irritation to anyone else by your actions.

When you get your tickets, look at the time that the game begins, but don't even THINK about paying attention to it. No no. Wait until the game is already in progress to show up, then spill beer on those of us who had the courtesy to be on time as you step on our toes while climbing over us.

If you are sitting in or near the middle of the row, as you should if you are to properly PISS Gracie off, make sure you wait until the best part of the game, when the puck is inches from the goal to suddenly decide that you have to get up RIGHT THAT MINUTE to pee or get a coke or to go drool over the young cheerleaders. Make sure that we are engrossed in the game, then insist on making us lose focus on the play by having to stand, turn our feet outward most unnaturally (like a ballet dancer in

If you have more than 3 people with you, play this game with gusto, and time it so that each of you gets up to leave only AFTER I sit back down and am in the process of trying to pop my kneecap back into place (no really). Remember, only ONE of you should go at a time, and never EVER when it's polite, such as during a break in play, or while the judges and refs are conferring.

When the team isn't doing as well as you feel they should, make sure to scream drunkenly "YOU SUCK!" (but continue to show up for every. single. game during the season, despite their suckitude) and "Shoot it SHOOOOOOT IIIIIIT!!!" or even "Get the puck IN!" because this helps. The team NEEDS your direction, so give it freely.

One thing you should NOT do is wear corduroy unless you are borderline Anorexic. I shit you not, there was a guy at the game, huffing it up 40 or 50 stairs, who wasn't a pound less than 400. And he was wearing corduroy. Oh and not just the pants, no no. his entire outfit was made of the stuff. And do you have ANY CLUE how much material that is? That, my friend, is a fire hazard. Nobody with over 30% body fat should be allowed to wear corduroy. Your thighs alone could catch FIRE just walking to the boiled peanut cart!

At the beginning of the game, before the teams are introduced, the referees come out and skate around the rink. It's an absolute RIOT. At first I was completely offended that so many 'fans' were unabashedly booing the refs. But I soon came to share their disdain over their horrific ineptitude. What was hilarious was that, when they first came out, they all began skating around the rink in a big ole circle at TOP speed, like morons. It was reminiscent of skating rinks from our teen years when the skating 'guards' would skate around the rink, knocking kids over in their need to reach 50mph so that all would witness and revel in their roller skating savvy and utter coolness.

In closing, I'd like to state that, as much as I enjoy the HELL out of a hockey game (the blood, the skill, the absolute passion of the players) I think it best that I stay home and watch it on the big screen in my living room, because I'm just not cut out for dealing with people (who I hate, don't forget) with a white hot loathing. This is evidenced by my mood when people showed up to sit in our row. I really must be the bitch my husband claims that I am, because I was beyond pissed off that people would have the audacity to purchase tickets that were anywhere CLOSE to us. I actually gave these people dirty looks when they showed up and sighed loudly to display my irritation. Dude, I totally need to sell a book (bestseller of course) and make millions, because how ELSE am I going to afford to buy one of those Suites at the arena where only I and the people I can tolerate are allowed in? Rich = blissful isolation from The Little People. I was MADE for that!

Someone Arrived Here Searching For: Should my mail carrier be wearing a uniform? [Ed. Note: Heck no! We want 'em NAKED buddy!]

Search WWW Search AmericanAngst.com

^ back to top

Get a "DING MY FRIES ARE DONE" Mug!