stupid popup stoppers…

So I pounded out this angry manifesto against Jeremy Roenick and basically 95% of the NHL players in light of recent developments in their negotiations for a new collective bargaining agreement.

Anyway, I finished, and without hitting save as a draft first, I clicked “allow popups” so my spell checker would work.

That cleared my fucking window and my entire blog was lost.

Fuck.

Anyway, here’s the column from ESPN that shows how big of an asshole Roenick is:

PRESTO, Pa. — Philadelphia Flyers center Jeremy Roenick has some advice for hockey fans who blame the NHL lockout on players’ greed: Once it’s finally settled, stay home.
“We’re going to try to make it better for everybody, period, end of subject. And if you don’t realize that, then don’t come,” said Roenick, who spoke at a charity golf event he played in over the weekend.
“We don’t want you at the rink, we don’t want you in the stadium, we don’t want you to watch hockey,” he said Saturday at the Mario Lemieux Celebrity Invitational in suburban Pittsburgh.
The NHL and the players’ association have been in almost daily negotiations to get a new collective bargaining agreement after the lockout that canceled the 2004-05 season.
“I say personally, to everybody who called us ‘spoiled,’ you guys are just jealous … we have tried so, so hard to get this game back on the ice,” Roenick said.
Like New York Rangers right winger Jaromir Jagr, who came out last week and admitted that the union’s gamble didn’t pay off, Roenick said he doesn’t think the players can get a good deal at this point.
“I know we are going to give up probably more than any union has ever given up in the history of [professional] sports and, to me, I think that’s enough to bring the fans back — to know what their players are going to give up as much as they have in the last year,” Roenick said. “If people are going to chastise professional athletes who are making a lot of money they need to look at the deal we are probably going to end up signing in the next three weeks.”

I’m not typing all of that again. Jeremy, you’re an asshole. You’re a greedy, out of touch, no good shitass. I hope you spend the rest of your life getting booed to your face, having your house egged and rolled, and that every time you go to the grocery store, someone lets a cart go free and dings your car with it.

Fucking prima donna.

Is this thing on?

(For those of you that read my last blog, I just wanted to let you know that I will not be continuing my review of spin’s top 100 records. The further down the list I went, the worse it got, and there comes a point where I feel like I’m being lectured like a petulent child for not having a more more well-rounded musical collection, when I already consider my listening tastes quite diverse. There comes a point where if you keep telling me that The Beastie Boys and Beck are geniuses, then I will begin to believe that you’re fucking retarded and thus, your lists has zero credibility).

I now return you to your regularly scheduled bloggage.

I don’t know if I mentioned this, but ever since Lauren had her new baby epiphany, she spends a lot of her day talking into my bride’s bellybutton, hoping for some sort of response. She tells the baby about her day, about what’s on tv, about what she’s eating, and she asks the baby all kinds of questions like “how’d you get in there?” and “do you like chicken baby?” and “do you like scooby doo baby?” Really. It’s gone past bizarre into some wierd falsetto realm of bonding that surprises, scares and delights me.

Anyway, we are trying to take notes now and keep track of the questions as well as the names Lauren comes up with. We told her yesterday that, although Maisy was a nice name, there was already a cartoon mouse and a peace plant in our den that shared the same name. Therefore, we were going to shelve Maisy for right now and pursue some other options. She seemed stunned, but took it okay finally and we hope that’s the last we hear about baby Maisy.

I am shocked at how fast this pregnancy is going compared to last time. My friend Kurt told me that would happen. Apparently on the first one, your whole life comes to a screeching halt as you stare at the growing abdominal mound non-stop for 38 weeks, just wondering, worrying and generally feeling anxious.

I now understand why so many people have so few pictures of the second child.

The second one is, while exciting, kind of old news. Also, you are so fucking busy chasing the first one around, you don’t have a lot of time in the day to worry or fret about the second one. It’s not less special. You as parents just have less time. Hell, I’m starting to wonder how parents that have three, four or (gulp) five or more kids can even prove that they exist. I mean, if you’re holding the hand of one child while crossing the street and carrying the other one in the other arm, what exactly do you use to push the button on the camera?

We are scheduled to find out what we are having Wednesday. Well, what Molly’s having. All I’m having currently are hunger pangs for babyback ribs, brisket and some DizzyPigBBQ salmon. People have been asking me frequently what I want, if I really want a boy this time, blah blah blah.

My answer is the same as last time, only I think I mean it even more now. What I want is a healthy, ten fingered, ten toed, two armed, two legged, over 5.5 pound but under 8 pound baby. If it’s another girl, that’s fine. The whole “carry on the family name” thing is bullshit anyway. This isn’t the middle ages in Europe. Our family moves forward either way, and if it doesn’t, it’s been a good run.

However, if we do have a boy, then all that bullshit I spouted in the previous paragraph is rendered moot and doesn’t matter one iota. I will be the special one that brought upon this family the ultimate gift: a male heir. It will be the first male grandchild on my Father’s side of the family after seven tries. It’s one thing in the family line of importance to produce the first grandchild and heir, regardless of gender. It’s apparently quite another if you can produce the first and only male heir. I expect such a child would be showered with praise and gifts…kind of like the current child already is.

So I guess the only real practical difference for us if it’s a boy is that there will be a lot more pee flying around the room in the short run, and a lot more pee on the floor for next 18 years.

Like I said, either way I’ll be thrilled and can’t wait.

Oh, and now that I’ve written all of this down, I know it sounds like I want a boy, and that’s not true. I will welcome either, and will be thrilled either way. Both have advantages and disadvantages. I imagine that I will be happy my first child is a girl while she is hating my wife for several years at a time. I imagine that I will wish I had another daughter if my child is a boy and he spends seven years (or more) hating me and thinking I’m a dumbass.

I guess I’m saying what I said last time, and that’s that I just want my wife and baby to be okay. I hope that’s not too much to ask.

Stay tuned as I will most assuredly begin carrying a notepad to keep track of things Lauren says to the baby and also the stupid things my wife says as the pregnancy related dumbening continues….