I went to the Raptors' game this evening. Muchly fun stuff, even though the local boys in white and purple got smacked down by the visiting boys in purple and white.
We were doing really well for most of the game, but we fell apart in the middle part of the fourth quarter. (The eleventh twelfth?)
I write "we" although, let's face it, I'm not the one who lost. I did my job. I sat there, I yelled a bit, I took photos without the express written premission of the NBA, and I commiserated with the guy beside me who needed the Raptors to win by 5 to cover the spread. Nobody can claim I didn't cover my man, so point those accusing gazes elsewhere.
I was willing to do more. I wanted to wave one of those Waving Things to help the defense. I was willing … nay eager to wave one of those Colorful Waving Things. But did they give me a Magical Colorful Waving Thing?
No they did not.
I think it's pretty clear that the rest of the people in my section were waving their Beautiful Magical Colorful Waving Things at me as much as at the players. Smug bastards.
I mean, come on: does he look distracted? No, he does not. Was I distracted? Yes I was. You do the math. Do it!
Looking away from that field of Beautiful Magical Colorful Waving Things, I spotted some beautiful magical colorful waving hair a few rows in front of me.
Hey, I thought, I think I know that hair. I might even know the person it's sitting on.
Turns out, it was Corrine and her cousin, so the adjectives I'd selected were bang on. She said she'd read my blog and I told her now she'd be in it.
And now she is.
