Why Not Having MSG is Hazardous to My Health

By S(h)ara

And so, I triumphantly return from the blogging dead. Did you miss me? No? You like Anne better? Excellent. Then you won't have to read the drivel I'm about to post. Carry on.

As those of you who know me outside of blogging world are aware, I lack cable TV. While it prevents me from watching such superb shows as Mythbusters, The Daily Show and Project Runway, it also keeps me from watching Sabres games in my PJ's in the comfort of my own home. And so, I listen to Rick and Harry's dulcet tones on WGR 550 whenever there is a Sabres game on. (Unless of course, I've bribed Anne into letting me come over to watch the game.) I've since developed a radio crush on Brian Koziol (who is super cute, FYI according to his WGR profile. Whenever we go to Sabres games I make noises about wanting to go accost him, but Anne manages to restrain me.) and I get to listen to Paul Hamilton wax poetic about how the Sabres are playing.

Brian, who knew you were a dreamboat?

However, while all these things are fine and dandy, only having the radio to listen to sucks like a whore during fleet week. Why you ask? Because as awesome as RJ is he gets way to excited about everything, which leads me to believe that the Sabres are about to score when in fact they are nowhere near the net. It makes my hockey-induced ulcer act up, people. So really, it's for my own health and sanity that I be provided with MSG.

Meanwhile, Ol' Blue-Eyes Paetsch is back in the lineup and the Funky Chicken has been sent back down the 90 to Rochester. We're gonna miss you, Chicken. Keep up the good work.

I think I've totally (well, almost) gotten over Brian Campbell. I still miss him, but now that King Derek and I have a full-time relationship, I just don't have the time to pine over him anymore. Though I do get a good chuckle when I hear that he's currently living with Thorny and he makes Soupy do all the laundry. Hah.

I can't even talk about tonight's game. I just can't. I'm seriously contemplating not listening, that's how stressed out I am. THREE POINTS. THREE POINTS. That's all I can say. I seriously hate that we're not sitting pretty in the playoff standings right now. It makes Anne's magnetic playoff tracker sad. (Though we did try cursing certain teams by placing them in the space reserved for The Cup-winning team. Let's hope that did the trick.)