I haven't been to a Canucks game since, let's say, 2002. I went with the Voth brothers, who were all tall and dark-haired and similarly-voiced, so that out of your peripheral vision they were like triplets. I bought a foam puck-head which tragically hasn't survive the many (MANY) move-and-purges since then.
Speaking of moves, did I mention that we're moving to Calgary? Joel got his residency placement, so we'll be hauling ass this summer over to cow-town. We're trying to do All The Vancouvery Things in the next three months.
So last night, despite it being my dad's birthday, my parents stayed in with The Infant and Joel and I jaunted off like childless things. I had a beer! There was a fight! I wore my Authentic Pavel Bure Jersey that my parents got me for Christmas in 1997 (and that my uncle got Bure to sign for me while I was wearing it because he has connections like that, and so every time Joel put his arm around me I'd be all, Pavel Bure touched that shoulder)!
And we lost, sort of badly, and the stadium was full of Habs fans, including this dumpy, middle-aged man in front of us who would dance so smugly and unselfconsciously that I couldn't help laughing.
And then, not to brag, but my baby slept for nine hours. NINE HOURS. My boobs were so angry, but the rest of me was like, Awwwwww yeah. Pop Pop and Gigi should babysit EVERY night.