I want you inside me is what she said.

I would have liked nothing more than to give her the business, but at this point it almost time for the puck to drop so I hung up my phone and jumped in my car and drove to the local convenience store just down Baum Blvd. to purchase an extra large bag of peanut M&M’s and a jug of cheap, teeth rotting iced tea.

It’s been cold in Pittsburgh. Gray and miserable like it usually is. The rain splattered tiny mist drops on my windshield that refracted the orange street glow light. I continue to want for a consistent Penguins win. I pine for it like I pine over lost loves.

Sidney Crosby is second in the NHL scoring race. Evgeni Malkin is leading the league in assists. The rest of the team, aside from Sergei Gonchar, is tanking it pretty hard. After gaining a two goal lead against the Rangers, and then losing it, and losing the game, I wondered why I wasn’t doing something more worthwhile. I realized I should’ve been getting laid instead of eating Taco Bell and watching a DVR’d hockey game at one in the morning. Jaromir Jagr rocks, and so does Michael Rozival. Ahh, what’s the difference. We have veterans, too. Although, if we need old and washed up players, I’d probably bring Gordie Howe out of retirement.

Sometimes I wish I wouldn’t love hockey so much. Sometimes, I really wish I could just fall into a football haze that fogs up my clarity and takes up all of my sports watching time. That’s not how I was raised.

It never mattered, the Penguins would lose again. I’m not losing faith. I’m not going to panic.

Oh baby, stay warm. Daddy’s coming.