Fond memories of autograph station number four
Alright. I was waiting for photographic proof, but I have been told that such proof might take a while to get into my hands. And I can't keep this story to myself (off the blog...I've hardly kept this story to myself off the internet). My favourite day so far of '06? February 26th. It played out like this...
I arrived home at 4am after depositing various drunkards into their homes. I woke up at 10:30, made some cookies and some phone calls. Then I made myself pretty, put on a great t-shirt and hopped into the trusty Camry (which on second inspection was still vomit-free, much to my relief). I then made my way to Kinsway Garden Mall with items that I have mentioned in previous post in hand. I could feel it was going to be a good day. Yes, I could feel it in my bones. Ok, now we're at 1:15pm, in case you were wondering (which you weren't).
Anyway, I lined up at the Morrison, Horcoff and Ulanov table, which was lucky for me because they are three of my six favourite Oilers. My friend and I made it to the table eventually, hitting Morrison first (not literally...I couldn't hit a face like that), who took one look at my t-shirt and said, "That just makes it." Whatever that means. So he got Igor's attention and Igor started to laugh and told me multiple times that he loved my t-shirt (complete with his hot little Russian accent) so they Oilers picture guy took my picture with him. Apparently they'll e-mail it to me. I probably acted like a teenaged girl meeting the Backstreet Boys, or whoever those teenaged girls listen to nowadays (for the record, I never listened to the Backstreet Boys). I wasn't squealy, I just lost my ability to form coherent sentences. It's funny that I'm normally quite a big fan of Mr. Horcoff as well, but I barely paid him any attention. I had my eye on the prize, I guess.
After that awesome Ulanov-related experience, I dragged my friend to see my other three favourite Oilers, Dvorak, Pisani and Bergeron (I'm a fan of men with hyphenated French names, whether they play for our team or just give the Oilers lengthy power plays). Unfortunately those three were all spread out at different stations and the lines were too long. I also stayed away from the Night Prowler station, as that was the one with the highest concentration of squealing girls. Squealing girls are loathsome.
So, there you have it. That is my success story. And this is a ridiculously long post.
Things I learned on Sunday:
1. There are varying degrees of sexiness of the Russian accent.
2. Shawn Horcoff looks mighty attractive in a tuque.
3. I am incapable of detecting a Massachusetts accent when Igor Ulanov is in my field of vision.
4. It is indeed possible for me to be a bigger fan of Igor Ulanov than I was last week.
And the t-shirt loves you too, Igor.
I arrived home at 4am after depositing various drunkards into their homes. I woke up at 10:30, made some cookies and some phone calls. Then I made myself pretty, put on a great t-shirt and hopped into the trusty Camry (which on second inspection was still vomit-free, much to my relief). I then made my way to Kinsway Garden Mall with items that I have mentioned in previous post in hand. I could feel it was going to be a good day. Yes, I could feel it in my bones. Ok, now we're at 1:15pm, in case you were wondering (which you weren't).
Anyway, I lined up at the Morrison, Horcoff and Ulanov table, which was lucky for me because they are three of my six favourite Oilers. My friend and I made it to the table eventually, hitting Morrison first (not literally...I couldn't hit a face like that), who took one look at my t-shirt and said, "That just makes it." Whatever that means. So he got Igor's attention and Igor started to laugh and told me multiple times that he loved my t-shirt (complete with his hot little Russian accent) so they Oilers picture guy took my picture with him. Apparently they'll e-mail it to me. I probably acted like a teenaged girl meeting the Backstreet Boys, or whoever those teenaged girls listen to nowadays (for the record, I never listened to the Backstreet Boys). I wasn't squealy, I just lost my ability to form coherent sentences. It's funny that I'm normally quite a big fan of Mr. Horcoff as well, but I barely paid him any attention. I had my eye on the prize, I guess.
After that awesome Ulanov-related experience, I dragged my friend to see my other three favourite Oilers, Dvorak, Pisani and Bergeron (I'm a fan of men with hyphenated French names, whether they play for our team or just give the Oilers lengthy power plays). Unfortunately those three were all spread out at different stations and the lines were too long. I also stayed away from the Night Prowler station, as that was the one with the highest concentration of squealing girls. Squealing girls are loathsome.
So, there you have it. That is my success story. And this is a ridiculously long post.
Things I learned on Sunday:
1. There are varying degrees of sexiness of the Russian accent.
2. Shawn Horcoff looks mighty attractive in a tuque.
3. I am incapable of detecting a Massachusetts accent when Igor Ulanov is in my field of vision.
4. It is indeed possible for me to be a bigger fan of Igor Ulanov than I was last week.
And the t-shirt loves you too, Igor.
posted by the Prez at 1:53 PM
3 Comments:
You did, however, listen to Hanson. A lot. It was awful.
I admit it. I've made mistakes in my life. MMMBop.
The RC, you should have gotten the старый парень to put his sharpie on that one for ya, now that would have been super cool : )
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