stopHAWKEYtime

T'was the night before hockey, and all through the land

Not a skater was stirring (for fear they’d get banned).

The sticks were all taped and the goalie pads shortened

And Byfuglien was finally gone from Tim Horton’s.

The players and coaches lay snug in their beds

While visions of trophies danced ‘round in their heads -

Of Vezinas and Harts, of Conn Smythes and Rockets

(though others just hoped for big checks in their pockets).

And the fans lay asleep, oh the dreams that they dreamed!

Of cup-winning squads, and Bettman getting creamed!

The refs all praying, as they tossed through the night,

That just one single game, they might get it all right.

And I had lay down, to catch a few z’s,

When I heard a loud crash, and felt a chill freeze.

I leaped up from the mattress, and rushed down to the stairs,

Little expecting what I’d find to be there;

An impossible scene - why, I had to look thrice -

My living room’d changed into one made of ice!

An immense scene of sport, I knew not what to think

Of a commonplace room turned to huge hockey rink.

And more than just that (and so much much more)

The freshly done ice was hosting a war!

Two sets of men fought for that greatest reward

Stanley in their eyes as they leapt ‘cross the boards

I saw Sidney Crosby battling Claude Giroux

And the Great Gretsky deking one Mario Lemieux.

Brodeur (in young form) diving cross the crease

And Datsyuk’s stick magic ne'er ceasing to cease.

Karlsson streaked in from backline to score

But was rebuffed by the stick of Bob Orr.

I saw Coffey and Gordie and LaFleur and Yzer,

Among hosts of others, some younger, some wiser.

The greatest of greats, from future and past,

Oh would that I’d known that the scene would not last,

For then my eyes opened, and I saw the sun beam,

And I realized that game had been but a dream.

I near shed a tear in sake of regret.

What a game it had been, a sensation, and yet

I thought “What is there to be seen this new season?

Could there not be still better?” I reasoned.

And I say to you all, on this eve of goal lights:

Sleep well and dream, on this last of dark nights.

Prepare for great saves, chanting keep’s name.

Prepare for great shots, near alight with flame.

Prepare for great moves, that make d-men cry

Prepare for great passes, placed through needle’s eye

Prepare for great hits, a great sound like a crack

I continued on to say that just because a boy likes you doesn’t give him an excuse to be a jerk, and you shouldn’t give them a chance to get your attention until they learn how to behave and her face was priceless. Basically, picture a tiny elementary school girl with red bows in her hair embodying the spirit of this gif:

thor:

“Thank you for this incredibly stressful 30 minutes that I have had to re-structure my entire day around and which will give me anxiety poos for the next 24 hours.”

I didn’t get the job.

However, a few weeks later, I was called in to interview with another editor in the same company, and I did get that job. I found out later from the initial editor (the one who didn’t hire me) that he had planned to offer me the job, but since I didn’t follow up with a thank you letter, he assumed I didn’t really want it. He offered the job to another contender–but when he got my letter in the mail shortly after the offer had already been made, he went to HR and gave me a glowing recommendation. It was based on that recommendation that I got called in for the second interview.

So: send an email thank you immediately (same day!) after the interview. If you’re feeling extra, go ahead and send a written one too. OR go immediately to a coffee shop, write the letter, and return to the office and give it to the secretary.

Vrana’s goal leads to an Ovi/Connolly hug, a jumping conga line, and a religious experience for Ovi

Well uh…

1.) one or both of people you see as a “straight couple” could be pan/bi/poly/ace

2.) one or both of them could be trans or non binary