Your city's on fire

We applied for an apartment today, and I really hope we get approved, and not just because it's only 2 blocks from the 24 hour MacDonalds. It's a bit cheaper than our current place, has laundry, better layout, 2 closed bedrooms, counters in the kitchen, and the bathroom is easily twice the size of our current shoebox. That, and it's close enough to Loyola that we can take the free shuttle to the downtown campus instead of buying metro passes every month. Fingers crossed and all that. The very word 'credit' gives me ulcers, and I'm trying not to think about it. Thank god it's playoff time :)

I'm starting to get playoff fever again, which is a debilitating but FANTASTIC disease. For as long as your team (GO FLAMES GO!) is still in it, you don't care about anything else. I love it, and I'm so looking forward to game 3, when those poor young boys from Chicago step into the Saddledome for the first time in the playoffs. Cause Calgary isn't just a hockey city. The second playoffs start, the entire populace is mentally right back in game 7 of the Stanley Cup finals of '04, rabid, manic, obsessed, desperate. We've had 4 years of foreplay with no O, and we're losing our minds. The fact that Gord and I are in Montreal instead of Calgary is a minor detail, of no consequence. You don't switch teams just because you moved. Where's your loyalty?


And another thing to note - real fans have their own jerseys. The Saddledome is the sea of red because we all think we're on the team, not because some marketing dick passed out free t-shirts in the team colors at the door.

Another stupid marketing ploy - waving the white flag. You do know that's the sign of surrender, right? And anyway, it looks kind of sissy. Hockey fans scream, get drunk, high five, posture and punch things. Grandmothers wave hankies. Get your game face on, people.