blah blah blah melodramatic sports fan blah blah blah

woke up. pretended i hadn't. grabbed for my phone, which was where i keep it at jessica's, not where i keep it at home and so i was confused by my life. checked the score. swore. cried. blamed kulikov for everything, as you do. found out flash had a broken hand. screamed as quietly as possible. remembered garrison may not be back next season. bawled. was not comforted by the potential for ellerby to finally fucking take that slot that was supposed to be his this year. it's going to be strachan's and robak's going to be in the box and ellerby's going to be in winnipeg or some other shithole. stopped caring.

finished this post. which isn't really very in depth, but it was supposed to be just a slice of canon for people who might not, you know, have any desire to go through 800 of Andrew Shaw's tweets and collect his flirting with some random Panthers prospect no one cares about anymore now that we have Trocheck, so whatever. Checked the NFL draft and was delighted to see we took Don Shula's advice and drafted Tannehill. Reacquired my ability to remember to capitalize somewhere in there, but did not acquire a desire to go back and put capital letters in. You'll all live. Have some boys flirting with each other.

( Garrett Wilson, or, Andrew Shaw's First Love: a tale of two twitters )