So, The Cheerleader I Live With treated me to yet another rad night out last night. He took me to the Canucks/Wild game last night, and we watched the home team whup the arses of the Minnesota boys – sweeeeet! The only downside to the whole night was the fact that we didn’t win the 50/50 draw, which was worth a little over $30k. Apparently the drunk-off-his-ass guy in the seat behind us was pretty upset about the fact that he didn’t win the 50/50 either, as was evidenced to the plethora of phone calls he made to his friends about it. It was magical to hear him slur through the same conversation again and again: “Thirty grand! Yah, thirty. Thirty. THIR-TEE! Can you believe it?! I was off by 49 numbers. 49!! So close…”

I saw a hummingbird! It was wee and fat and buzzy. I will name him George.

So anyway, at the game last night I saw an ad for an upcoming concert: NEW KIDS ON THE BLOCK!! THE BACK STREET BOYS!! and I was suddenly confused as to what decade I was in. But the worst part about the whole thing was the fact that they obviously hired the marketing school reject to do the promos for this show, because it’s actually called “NKOTBSB”, which quite simply reinforces every teen male’s opinion of both bands.

Today The Cheerleader I Live With and I head off on an adventure to drive into the great blue yonder and pick up our new foster dog. The little bugger is named Tucker, and I’m very hopeful that we won’t fall in love with him. We don’t need a third dog. …unless it’s Skip. We fostered Skip for 24 hours, and I fell hopelessly in love with him. Guess I’m a sucker for a hairy beast who likes to lick my face. Wait, what?

It’s a beautiful, sunny day here today, and I’m a happy girl. I love the sunshine, I love the heat. I’m hopeful that I’ll win the lotto someday, and then I can buy a nice vacation property somewhere warm, and then spend my winters there. I’ll be like a snowbird, but younger. And with better driving ability.

Seriously now, I just had a thought – why is it that the older people get and the more their eyesight fails, the more desperately they feel the need to drive a Winnebago? In my opinion, it’s not really a good idea to drive, like, a barn when you need some sort of implement that allows you to, like, see.

And finally,

“…quit playin’ games with my heart…”