I don’t see that I have any other choice. There are no other options. He must die.
Perhaps I should back up a bit before someone calls 911 with visions of something other than sugarplums dancing in their heads.
My Ducks got knocked out early. His Kings went in the first round. Our friend’s Canucks just had a cap busted in their arses. Depression ensued.
Last night, my boyfriend actually said these words – “I’m rooting for the Sharks.”
Absolutely flabbergasted silence for a moment.
Me: You CANNOT be serious.
He: Don’t you want get the Cup back in California?
Me: Of course, but not by the Gorton’s frozen fish stix!
He: Oh, c’mon, they’re a good team, they haven’t won a cup and since Vancouver got eliminated, don’t you want to see a West Coast team win?
Me: Stop it. Stop it RIGHT NOW!!! If you root for the fish, I swear to God I’ll lock you out of this house. You can go stay with my parents until this thing is over. I am not sharing a home with someone who is going to support the absolute enemy.
He: Well, then who do you want me to support? The Flyers?
Me: {picking up my Dodger Blue baseball bat and advancing slowly}
Okay, maybe NOW someone might want to call 911.
**Disclaimer: No violence ensued, my guy is still in one contiguous piece and there is absodamnlutely no way in Heck either of us would ever support the Flyers…unless, of course, they were up against the Red Wings or the Devils, but we don’t have to worry about those losers this year!!!!