I am tired but I cannot sleep. I had a tough hockey game tonight and battled a large Indian that liked to slash the white man. I tallied a hat trick and dropped Tonto like a sack of dirt in the final seconds of the game and we won 6-5.

This was the highlight of my evening.

Earlier tonight, my ex-girlfriend She Who Will Not Be Named and I engaged in the timeless post-relationship shit exchange. On her way home from work, She Who Will Not Be Named stopped by to return a set of house keys, a DMX CD and two shirts. I gave her back her some hair scrunchies and a fucked-up new age book about spirit guides she wanted me to read that I never did.

As she left, we hugged and she cried (apparently I am dead inside as the scenario moved me very little). I reflected on the happy memories of us watching shows about serial killers, playing video games and getting lap dances at strip clubs. I also recalled how difficult it was to argue with her, how emotionally demanding she was and how she infuriated me when she shut down and let the relationship crumble. Still, I wish her the best.

That being said, if there are any hot women that are down for some drunken, non-committal sex, I am your man.

Labels: feelings, hockey, pop culture, she who