Sabres, Pucks, Stretches and Orgasms

The first time the Buffalo Sabres came to Mellon Arena this season, Deanne and I tried everything in our power to get cheap-ass seats. The problem was that the Pens were debuting their powder-blue third jerseys similar to the ones worn in the Winter Classic earlier this year. We didn't have any luck and I was heartbroken because Buffalo is my second favorite team.

THIS time around we were actually able to rush and it was great. Plus, Deanne bought me a Miller shirt for my birthday and I was pumped to wear it. Even though it hurt my heart to openly support the opposing goalie when Dany Sabourin is my favorite Penguin. Whenever the Pens play Buffalo, or any other team I love for that matter, I always want the game to end the same way: in OT, with the Pens pulling out the win. This way, both teams get a point. Shootouts are bad because I like a lot of opposing goalies. Like Miller, Biron, Theodore, Tim Thomas... NOT.

Anyway, as everyone knows, my two favorite Sabres are Ryan Miller and Paul Gaustad. And since I was already wearing a Miller shirt and had made a sign for him last season, I had a great and not cheesy at all idea for a sign. Gaustad's nickname on the team is Goose. So, I made a sign that said, 'PUCK PUCK GOOSE!' And in the left-hand corner I wrote '28' and in the right-hand corner I wrote 'Please?' Yeah, it was lame. But I didn't care, I was too pumped. Molly made a sign for Pominville and Connie made a sign for their head coach, Lindy Ruff. Deanne made one that said 'Buffaslug' and had an arrow pointing to me. Rude!

We ran down right behind the goal and sat there for warm-ups. I propped my sign right up against the glass and every time Gaustad came around, I banged on the glass like a mad person. Warm-ups last for 16 minutes, the first 11 of which were terrible. Gaustad was teasing me so badly. It seemed as though he was the only Sabre not to read my sign and it was making both Molly and I very aggravated.

Molly decided it was because he couldn't understand it. I didn't think he was dumb, so I thought it was okay. But she insisted on turning her sign around and writing on it. No pens. No sharpies. She whips out her mascara, but that failed. We borrowed this thin marker from a woman and Molly wrote, 'Gaustad, puck?' I leaned that one against the glass and our little mindgame continued. I pounded on the glass. I moved my sign around in a dance. I moved it up and made a pouty face below it. I displayed the Buffalo on my shirt proudly. I stuck my arms straight up in the air and pointed down at myself shamelessly. No go.

Gaustad even had the audacity to stand right in front of the net and shoot pucks into the top corner, right in front of me. He stood in the corner chilling and chatting with the guys, waiting in line to shoot. He did everything with a huge smile on his face. He glanced over at my sign from time to time. He was behaving terribly, I must say. He was ignoring my sign and it was frustrating. Therefore, Molly and I had begun to bring out loud oaths of 'bastage' and 'asshole' and 'jerk'. THEN he gets down on the ice and STRETCHES RIGHT THERE!! Right in the corner. I, of course, was watching with my mouth open as he got down on the ice and twisted from left to right and did this swivel thing with his hips...

And then he looked up at me from the ice and our eyes locked. He was looking to make sure I was watching, and I was. Hell yes, I was! He knew full well what he was doing to me, and he was loving it. I was caught. Like the proverbial deer in the headlights. He smiled before getting to his skates and there were about four minutes left. Then, it happened! And I saw it. His eyes flashed up to gauge where the glass ended and the netting began above my head and then he flipped a puck into the netting. It came down between me and the guy beside me and I immediately started scrambling for it and I was kind of shrieking, 'It's mine! It's mine! It's mine! It's mine! It's for me! Can I please have it?!' And the guy next to me was only bending down to hand it to me but I found it first and I sat up and it was cold and wet in my hands and I couldn't breathe.

I displayed it to everyone and held it up to the glass. Molly kept hitting me and making me stop. She said I should leave him alone now, but I was so pumped. She wanted me to show that I could be calm and cool, but I was flipping out and so happy! I kept banging on the glass and grinning like a fool and holding the puck up and mouthing, 'Thank you!' With a few minutes left, he tried to flip three or four more into the netting, but it didn't work. He skated away down to the runway and we went back to our seats.

The game was all right and the Pens ended up losing, 4-3. I tried to cheer for the Sabres, but it just felt so wrong, so I cheered for the Pens. Gaustad even registered an assist!! We stood up waiting for the players to come out after the game and Gaustad was taking so long. The bus driver had to move the bus out further from the garage so cars could get through. Whereas other players avoided us by walking around the other side of the bus where we couldn't see, Gaustad continued the teasing game by walking right below us, pretending to be texting. He walked the length of the bus and then in front of it. Again, I stared.

Molly wouldn't let me ask him to sign my puck, even though I wanted to so badly and they aren't coming back this season. She said that she didn't think it would work out and she didn't want me to get hurt. Such a sweetie! Gaustad got on the bus and the bus driver was nice enough to leave all the lights on inside so we could creep on the players. Gaustad sat next to Pominville on our side of the bus, and right behind Miller. Pominville kept looking out the window, along with the guy behind him and I unzipped my coat and held up my PUCK PUCK GOOSE sign. Pominville looked at it and Gaustad glanced over before smiling and saying something to Pominville. He's such a tease!!! But he's so wonderful at the same time. It's not fair, I tell you!

We got in the car and this is why I love Molly to death. Because the minute we left the garage, she started talking about how she was so happy that Gaustad did that for me and that he was such a nice guy. And then she embarrassed me by saying how no other hockey player would do that, even for the hottest girl in the world. But he did it for me. So I must be the hottest girl. To hear something like that just boosted my confidence and topped off an already-perfect evening.

Apologies

I was pressured into starting this blog by my friend, and until a month or two ago, it's been a nice way to vent about a certain someone and the way he treated me over the summer. Blogs are therapeutical they say. This one has proved to be so. I haven't thought about TJ for a few days now, especially not enough to want to write about him. I did text him and wish him a happy birthday back in November, but since then I've gotten two new phones and lost his number. Which is the best thing to have happened, I believe. He did add me on Myspace (whooo) and has been checking his page more recently since, I've discovered through creeping techniques of my own.

I've decided to move on and stop blogging about him. It's only going to get worse as I go along because all of the time we spent together is blurring together and my already-foggy memory has been battered and run through the gauntlet that we in college like to refer to as Finals. I've always been a fan of the old FINALS = Fuck, I Never Actually Learned this Shit.

However, I believe my life has been exciting lately and I will continue to post randoms about my life. Doesn't matter much anyway. Ashley's the only one that reads this and if she's still curious, I can fill her in over winter break.

Hey Jealousy

I liked TJ, I really did. But I just couldn't get over the whole height issue. Our sizes are so backwards that it's unfair. My low self-esteem didn't help a thing. But flirting was fun... I guess you could say I'm a tease, haha. The whole situation was just something so new to me.

I've never had a real boyfriend. Yeah, there were the stupid little "relationships" in grade school, holding hands and pecking in my treehouse. But they don't count. They don't. I survived middle and high school without a boyfriend and it's been the same story throughout my entire life. I just don't take the chance. I'm afraid of rejection, so I never approach guys. I figure, if they like me they'll make a move, until then... The worst part is that I'm a hopeless romantic. I like to blame it on all of the Disney movies I grew up watching. I want a fairytale ending. But they just don't exist in today's world. The whole thing is depressing, really. Half of all marriages end in divorce. That's so wrong.

Anyway, he kept texting flirty things until this one day when I got scared that he was getting too close and I let him know that I wasn't interested. I told him there was someone else I had in mind, and then told him about Chris. This was actually before I got all those bad texts from Chris. He backed off a bit, saying that it was all in fun.

But then came the one weekend. I should probably call it The Weekend, because it means so much to me. I was laying in bed on a Friday night because I have no social life and I couldn't sleep because my job had totally screwed up my internal clock. So I texted TJ. Which is what I do when I'm bored. He was having a fire and had invited this other girl from our work, Carrie. I joked around (not really) and asked him if he was going to put the moves on her and he said he was trying to. I didn't take that too well. I got insanely ridiculously jealous. It was almost embarrassing to have established that I didn't have feelings for him and then get jealous like that.

I kept pressing him for more information, and from what I gathered, it wasn't working out too well. Mainly because the idiot had shown her my text. So he kind of dragged me into it. Thanks a lot. Even I knew that wasn't such a good idea. Whatever. And of course, that made it even harder for me to sleep, knowing they were off drinking and having fun.

My reaction made me realize that I did like him, obviously. But now what was I supposed to do? I finally drowsed off and accidentally left the volume on my phone up. He started texting me again around 2:30 in the morning and I was fully awake as soon as I saw it was him. He asked if I was awake, and I said of course! Now I don't know how we got on the subject, to be honest, but we started talking about us again. Then he told me that he does find me attractive. But then he pulled the "You're too good for me. You don't deserve someone like me. I have a lot of problems" bullshit and it pissed me off.

The next text I sent contained two words, "Try me."

In Fate's Hands

At the same time all this was happening, I had also given my number to Chris, the hottie from 2nd. He texted me one night and I thought I was going to lose it. So I kind of had all these guys thrust into my life after complaining all the time about being single. I still didn't think of TJ in that way yet, because I was too preoccupied with Noah and Chris. Especially after Chris and I started texting.

But to make a long story short and get back on the right track, neither one of them panned out. First of all, I asked my friends for help with my dilemma and they chose Chris over Noah. And then I found out that Noah was sleeping with this other girl on our shift. Who also happened to be engaged, FYI... and I didn't want any of that, so I put all of my attention on Chris.

And then my friend said she saw him at the Applebee's where she worked and he was with a girl. So I casually approached him about it and he of course steered clear of that subject. Then one night he started texting me the worst things. He was sending me really dirty things about threesomes and just all sorts of bad stuff. he apologized the next day and said he had been drinking, but I saw a side of him that I just didn't like.

I didn't really have that high of hopes for either one working out, so they weren't big let-downs. TJ and I were still texting back and forth through all of this, and we didn't really start getting flirty until the one day when he texted me and said he was bored. This was right after work. I'm always dead to the world right after work. I can't tell you how many times I almost fell asleep on the drive home and every morning as soon as I got home I would eat some breakfast and then go straight to bed. I would fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Anyway, he texted me that he was bored. And I said, because I was so tired, that he should come over and we would have a nap. I was just kidding. I wasn't even thinking about it, I was just so tired. He actually thought it sounded like a good idea. And then of course my heart did that little flippy thing that they do sometimes and I started thinking. It was a thrill. Like when you get on a roller coaster and you're all buckled in and they begin to pull you up the hill. That's how I felt. Excited in a way. You know what I mean? I got goose bumps and would get this goofy-ass grin just thinking about it. I still do.

Divine Intervention

My first night back on 3rd was one of the best. I was so happy to be back. But they forgot to put me on the schedule, so they had to look for something for me to do. While waiting to ask Renee what to do, I waltzed by TJ and he said,

"Get to work!"
"I can't, I'm not on the schedule. That means I get to go home."
"Ten bucks says you'll be back over here packing for me."
(Yeah, so I include quotes. They may not be direct, but they're as close as I can remember and they help me get it all out better, so don't judge me. lol)

I hoped so. Lo and behold, he only had one packer, Melissa, and he needed someone else. So I got to take the cups off the chute and pack them in boxes. Again, it was the same old thing. I stood there quietly packing boxes while Melissa and TJ chatted. They're pretty good friends, and Melissa flirts like a fiend with everyone, so I kind of got a bit jealous here. But then they got a little carried away with their conversation and I had to go over and make up some of my own boxes. Which wasn't a bid deal at all. I didn't mind. I just thought it was funny to see him get all embarrassed because he was supposed to make me boxes. He's also supposed to put bags in the boxes to line them, but he sucks at it and it's so funny because he gets so mad and frustrated when they won't stay in the box that all you can do is laugh.

He asked me why I came back and I told him about my epilepsy and he said that he has it too. Common bond! The little voice in my head was going off. I'm going to tell you right now that most of our conversations revolved around him. I didn't mind. I bet he doesn't even know how many sisters I have or what my major in school is. We talked about the time he spent living in Georgia and how he worked for the sheriff's department down there. He told me about how he had to be tazed and sprayed in the face with pepper spray as part of his training. OUCH!

While he lived down there, he played the bass guitar in a rock band called Six Dreams Deep. Which I just thought was the coolest thing ever. Especially since that's what I've been wanting to learn for a few years now. They played local shows all over the place down there and even Warped Tour. He got to play with Joan Jett and he was so excited to tell me about it. His eyes lit up when he talked about his band and everything they did.

Later that night I was talking to another printer and TJ's one good friend at work, Jason. He said that I should ask TJ for his number because apparently people from work hung out all the time on weekends and they were going to be at TJ's house that coming weekend. I was in the middle of telling him "no way, Jose" when speak of the devil, TJ comes walking over. Jason tells him that he should give me his number and I walked away because I didn't want TJ to feel obligated to give it to me because I was standing right there. I went back to my work station and TJ came over.

"You left. I was going to give you my number, but you ran away."
He held out a piece of scrap cardboard with his name and number scrawled on it.
(Here's where I turned into my frustrating, dramatic emo self. I do that.)
"I don't want you to give it to me out of charity."
"It's not. I want to. Here, do whatever you want with it."

So I texted him. And he texted back.

This Week the Trend

One day in the beginning of June I took off work to go to a doctor's appointment in Pittsburgh, which is about three hours away from my house. I have epilepsy and my doctor suggested I follow a normal sleeping pattern in order to avoid having another seizure. Working from 11pm-7am didn't really allow for that, so I went into work the next week and requested to be sent to 2nd shift for a trial run. I was pretty pumped because there's this hottie on 2nd that I had my eye on. There was an opening, and I took it. But of course, my last night of 3rd I worked with this kid, Noah, who kind of has the rocker look with gauges in his ears. He had me laughing the entire time. Then I started getting interested in him... (I'm a serial crusher. I tend to fall for any cute guy that is nice to me. It's bad.)

One night I was out putting lids together in the warehouse (soooooo boring!) when Hottie walked by and began wrapping a strap onto a big roll attached to the wall. So I did what I usually did while employed by these people and I made any excuse to stop working and socialize. I grabbed a strap from nearby and went over and began wrapping it on the huge roll next to him. I can't even remember what we said, only that I thought he was adorable! He smiles. A LOT. He laughs about every little thing and is honestly in a good mood 24/7. It's infectious. The first thing I loved about him was his height. You have to understand, when I see a guy that's tall, I go nuts. It makes me incredibly happy. He's about 6'3", which is perfect. It's yummy. He has brown shaggy hair and brown eyes and a cute smile. His teeth are a little crooked, which I found to be so endearing.

Halfway through that week I realized that 2nd shift was not for me. I was late three out of the five days that I was there, and I missed everyone on 3rd terribly, even though the people on 2nd were just as nice and awesome. Every night that I had to see the 3rd shifters on my way out made me want to stay and work with them. So when I went in at 3pm on Friday, I talked to the 2nd shift foreman and requested to be moved back to 3rd for the following week. He consented.

But I wasn't done yet. I asked around for Hottie's name on my last night and they told me it was Chris. I also found out that he was a returning college student, and that last year he worked on 3rd but was always late, which I thought was funny. I had told my friends about my inner struggle between Noah and Chris and they wanted pictures, so I found Chris after work on that last day and got into stealth mode. I was all sly and genius and told him that he looked like a friend of mine and could I take a picture of him and send it to my "friend"? He agreed, lol! He's the nicest guy, but he's a tad bit dim. Which I thought was even more endearing. Anyway, I was sad to leave him, but I was super excited to head back to 3rd and Noah.

Working Class Hero

Before I get too far, I'll fill you in on what TJ looks like. First off, he's 5'7". And he's a skinny ass. He's just a little guy. And he's Italian, Sicilian, actually. He and his father were quick to tell me that. They're very proud of their heritage, and they should be. He looks Italian. It's great. He's got that dark skin complexion that gets really deep when he's out in the sun. His eyes are amazing. They're a beautiful dark brown and look almost black at times. When I looked him in the eye, it was almost like he could see my soul. I felt like we were the only two people, and everything else literally faded away. They also held all his pain. He's been through a lot, more than any person should, and you can see it in his eyes. There's a sadness there. And when he smiles? It's infectious. I would be having the worst day and as soon as he smiled, I forgot about all the bad. It's not even a smile, that's a bad word to describe it. It doesn't do it justice. He grins. He doesn't fake little smiles, he goes all-out. And it's great. He's got a beautiful grin. And it always reaches his eyes. They shine. And his perfectly white teeth sparkle out of his tan face. It's the best thing in the world when he's happy like that. It all sounds so cliche, but it's as if nothing can go wrong. Everything in the world is right.


TJ has tats. He has quite a few. I never figured myself as a tattoo kind of girl. I always thought they were fine on other guys, but not boyfriend material. But I love his. First of all, they're all on the right side of his body because he has some scarring on his left from the grenade. I'll start with my favorite. It's this huge kind of tribal design that goes pretty far down his right side and his ribs. In it are 4 zodiac symbols: his, both his parents', and his sister's. It twists all the way up over the top of his shoulder and onto his chest. On his shoulder he has this face. It's kind of creepy, but it's one of those things you feel drawn to look at. Right below that he has a band that goes around his arm and has dagger-like designs coming down from it. He has his last name in big letters across his upper back. He also has angel wings on his shoulder blades. He hates them. He thinks they're "chick wings", lol. He wants to go and get them made to look more BA.

On his forearm he has three tats as a reminder of his time in the service. One is of the gun that he used while over there, and it has a helmet on top of it. Which I always thought looked like a brain until I realized what it was. Another one is the same design as a badge he got. And the third are the words NEVER FORGET, which was written on one of his medal recognition letters. He plans to turn it all into one half-sleeve, but hasn't had the chance to go back yet. But the best thing about his tattoos is that he drew up all the artwork for them. They're all original pieces. If that's not sentimental value, then I don't know what is.

11:11 P.M. (Part 2)

We talked about pugs for a bit. And how he used to have one when he lived in Georgia, but had to give it to a friend when he moved back up to PA. Now he wants a black pug puppy. It didn't take long for us to warm up to each other, and he quickly became one of my favorite people to work with. We all pretty much just spent the time talking and joking around with each other, bullshitting.

Over the next few weeks we didn't work together at all. He joked and called me emo every time he walked by and I'd laugh and say, "Damn straight, don't you forget it!" Once I remember I was boxes of foam for our line and he was nearby getting ink for his next run and he came over and said,
"You know I'm just teasing when I call you emo, right?"
"Yeah, of course."
"Okay. I didn't want you to take offense or get mad or something."
"No, no, no, no, no. Don't worry about it, it's cool."
"Okay, good. Now get back to work!"

"Get back to work" became our new thing and we never missed the opportunity to sling it at each other. We would work next to each other, but not with each other. Which didn't really bother me, because we hadn't made that real connection yet. And besides, nothing would ever come out of it because he was too short. And I didn't go for the short guys because of my already low self-esteem issues...

11:11 P.M. (Part 1)

I went into work that night and saw our names on the schedule together and had no idea who he was because I hadn't worked with him before. Luckily, Vikki was also working with us, so I followed her into the back corner of the factory. (TJ says that work keeps his mind occupied, so as soon as he finds out where he's supposed to be, he tears off without looking back.) Here's how it went: the printed cups came down this little ramp in stacks of 12. Vikki stood there and packed them in a box, and then I took the box and put bags of lids and straws in it before sending it through the tape machine and stacking it on a wooden pallet. TJ's job was to make sure the print on the cups looked right, load stacks of cups into the printer and make up boxes for Vikki, other than that he pretty much talked to us.

For the first half hour or so, I basically carried on with my job, listening to them talk back and forth, not saying much. It's part of my nature. I'm perfectly content to sit and listen to other people talk, not contributing anything to the conversation. Then the subject of music came around and we all talked about our interests. TJ said that he liked rock and metal the most and I commented on how I knew as much because every night he comes in to work with his music absolutely blaring. I always thought his truck was going to rattle apart. And then he told me about how he can't hear out of his left ear because he had been in the service and while he was over there, a grenade exploded close to him and he lost all hearing in his left ear. So he plays his music loud enough to hear it. He also can't see very well out of his left eye and has a pair of glasses that he wears at work to help him. (editor's note: he looks ADORABLE in his glasses! hehe)

The first thing he ever said to me was, "Are you a vegetarian?" I was wearing a hoodie that night that said ADOPT A TREE, I had stolen it from my sister, who's in the middle of this vegetarian stage. I remember saying something along the lines of, "Oh God, no!" Then he asked if I was a hippie and I laughed and said no. And then he asked what kind of music I like and I admitted, with a little shame, that my tastes tend to run off in the emo direction. That went over well, lol! He started teasing me and calling me emo, and I didn't mind one bit. I don't mind. It was all for fun. I have the emo glasses, the side-parted bangs, an industrial in my ear... I'm pretty emo. And then he said, "So there are two things I know about you: you're emo, and you love your pug." I was a little thrown about the pug part because we hadn't talked about them, but then I remembered that I have one of those sign thingies in my car that says I LOVE MY PUG.

The Curse of Curves

I arrived at work that first night scared shitless. I didn't talk to anyone when I got there, and I probably came off as a frigid bitch. The foreman took me on a tour of the factory, explaining how each machine worked. When we got to the area where TJ was working, I remember thinking he was hot. He's got that badass look with tattoos and the faint signs of facial hair. You know, just the shading around his lip and chin. He's hot. He really is. I didn't want to leave and go on to the next machine, I wanted to stay there and watch him work. Partly because I was interested in him, and partly because I was interested in his work. He's a printer. One of the elite, you might say. There are only 7 printers on our shift, putting the designs on the cups. I find the whole process fascinating, with all the different ink colors and the fountains and the tin sheets. It's cool to me. Probably because I'm a dork, lol.

I thought he was hot, yes, but out of the question. You see, he's short. I'm tall. He's 5'7" and I'm 6". Quite the difference. He's also really small. A scrapper, if you will. And I am quite literally twice the size of him. My height makes me insecure. That coupled with the fact that I'm carrying around some extra pounds makes me REALLY insecure. Guys don't talk to me. And I don't talk to them. I've never initiated a conversation with a guy because I've already got myself convinced that they won't like me. Guys talk to skinny, pretty girls that are outgoing. Not me. So with these thoughts running through my mind, I turned and obediently followed our foreman to the next work station.

For the next few weeks at work, I began making myself at home and finally got comfortable with the other people on my shift. TJ never really crossed my mind because I never worked with him and he kind of kept to himself. Then the day finally came when I DID work with him.

Here It Goes

Every story has a beginning. And every beginning has an end. This is the story of how TJ dropped into my life in May and thrust me out of his in August. A friend of mine once told me that everyone has a story. And all they want is for someone to sit down, shut the fuck up and listen to it. Well, pop a squat and get comfy, because this is my story. Our story. And let me warn you right now, it'll probably be choppy. Like all of the papers I write. My mind just bounces around from one thought to another in a split second and I have the sneaking suspicion that ADD might be present...

It all began back in May when I started work as a 3rd shift assembler at a factory that makes plastic cups. Yeah, I know, what a shitty job. And it all came courtesy of my father, who firmly believed the experience would encourage me to stay in college so I didn't have to spend the rest of my life there. And he was absolutely right. And it didn't help that I finished school on a Thursday and started working that Sunday night either.

I hate starting new jobs. I am the most anti-social person I know. It all stems from chronic shyness. I don't know how or when it developed, or when it will finally go away, but until then, I don't talk to people. And I worry about the dumbest things you could possibly imagine. I get myself so worked up about these things that I often spend my life on the verge of an emotional and mental breakdown. And I cry. A lot. I'm pretty lame. And I'll be the first to admit it. Wow, this is sounding boring. And whoever is singing over there has an okay voice, but she can't really hit those high notes... perhaps she should take her headphones off so she knows just how loud she is. Ahhhh, the joys of the school library! I just hope my laptop arrives soon so I can avoid this place. Til then, I'm stuck. I hate to leave you hanging, but it is bedtime. At 10:30, you ask? Told you I'm lame.